They rose early in the morning, breakfasted and drove down to Cortlandt Street ferry to take the boat for Jersey City.
They caught the eight-thirty train in good time and without hurry.
282Stuart found their baggage all right, waiting for them, checked it to Washington, and then entered with his companions into the ladies’ car, and the express train started on its Southern flight. Their journey was quick, pleasant and uneventful.
Early in the evening of that day they reached Washington.
Leaving their trunks in the baggage room at the depot, and taking only their hand-bags, they went to one of the best hotels, where they dined and engaged rooms for the night and the next day.
This was Palma’s first sight of the capital of her country, and Cleve determined to linger a few hours to show her the public buildings.
The next morning Stuart engaged a hack and took his two companions for a long, circuitous drive, which should include visits to the White House, the State, War, Navy and Treasury Departments and the Capitol. But these visits were necessarily short. There was no time to pay their respects to the President in the Executive Mansion, or to listen to the debates in the Senate Chamber or in the House of Representatives, or to the cases in the Supreme Court. They had to get back to lunch and then to take the train for West Virginia.
Two o’clock in the afternoon found them again seated in the cars and flying westward.
Up to this hour the day had been clear and mild, but now the sky began to cloud over, and when they reached Alexandria the snow began to fall, and as they left the old town behind them and the short winter afternoon drew to a close, the storm thickened, if that could be called a storm in which there was no wind, but a cataclysm of snow falling directly, silently and continuously upon the earth.
Strange scenes were traced on the window panes without, weird, beautiful, fantastic scenes—cities, palaces, gardens, trees—all drawn in frosted silver. They fascinated the imagination of Palma, who was never tired of gazing and dreaming. Little or nothing could be seen through the storm of the country over which they were flying.
They reached Oaklands, on the Alleghanies, late at night. They had taken through tickets to the end of their railway journey, and the train was going on that night; yet, as the 283storm continued, they determined to lay over until the next morning. Leaving their trunks on the baggage car to go on to their destination, they took their hand-bags and walked through the thickly falling snow to the hotel, where they were comforted by clean rooms, glorious hickory wood fires, and a delicious supper of venison steaks, broiled ham, buckwheat cakes, hot rolls, tea, coffee, and rich cream, and butter, and honey such as is seldom found anywhere.
It had been a fatiguing day, and as they could see nothing of the country for the snowstorm, they all went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.
The next morning they rose to a new life.
The storm had ceased. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining over a splendid, a magnificent, a dazzling world of mountains, valleys, fields and forests, all arrayed in white and decked with diamonds.
“Oh! Cleve,” cried Palma, looking out from the upper window of her bedroom, “does it seem possible that only yesterday we were in a crowded city, not two hundred miles away, and that now we find ourselves in this magnificent scene? Why, Cleve, yesterday seems to be a thousand years behind, and this to be another planet!”
Her rhapsodies were interrupted by the breakfast bell.
And for all answer Cleve smiled, drew her arm within his own and led her down to the breakfast table.
There were some few other wayfarers present in the room, and these men were standing around the great, roaring wood fire and talking politics or crops. But they soon left their position and sat down at the board. Mrs. Pole was there, too, ready to join her friends.
“Did you ever dream of such a world as this, Poley?” whispered Palma as the three sat down in a row, Palma being in the middle.
“No, never in all my life! I never even ’magined as there could be such a place as this! And, oh! ain’t it cold, neither?”
“Cold, but such a fine, pure, healthy cold. And the hot coffee will warm you, Poley.”
The breakfast was in many respects a repetition of the supper, and in all respects equal to it.
“Seems to me I eat twice as much at every meal as I ever eat before in my life, and yet I feel hungry in an hour 284after I have finished. I do believe if I was to live up in these regions I should have such an appetite I should think of nothing but eating and drinking from morning till night, and dreaming of nothing but eating and drinking from night till morning!”
“I wonder how long that would last?” queried Palma, but Mrs. Pole did not answer. She had turned her attention the the venison steaks.
As soon as breakfast was over the three put on their outer garments and walked through the main street of the mountain town to the railway station, where they had to wait for nearly half an hour for the Eastern train to come in. Then they took their seats on board of it, and were once more flying westward through the magnificent mountain world in its splendid winter garb of ice and snow.
All day long our travelers reveled in the glorious panorama that flew past the windows of their car, until night closed in and hid the scene from their vision.
It was quite dark when they reached the little way station of Wolfswalk, where they left the train, which stopped half a minute and then sped on westward.
It was too dark for our party to see anything but the few glimmering lights at the station and in the stable yard of the village tavern on the opposite side of the road, and the ghostly forms of the mountains looming through the obscurity.
“It is now seven o’clock, and we are three miles from Wolfscliff Hall. I shouldn’t wonder if we have to spend the night at the inn here,” said Cleve Stuart as he drew the arm of his wife within his own and prepared to cross the country road, or village street, as you may prefer to call it.
“If the inn is anything like that of Oaklands I shall not be very sorry. Come on, Poley. Keep close behind us,” said Palma.
“’Scuse me, marster; is you Marse Cleve Stuart?” inquired a voice from the darkness at his elbow.
“Yes. Who are you?” demanded Stuart.
“’Sias, sah, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’om Wolfskif; yas, sah, dat’s me,” replied the invisible.
“And you have been sent to meet us, eh? Come in here. Let us take a look at one another,” said Cleve with a laugh, as he led the way into the lighted station.
285The negro was a man of middle age, tall, stout, strong and very black, and clothed in a warm suit of thick, heavy homespun cloth.
“You have been sent to meet us?” again suggested Stuart.
“Yas, sah! along wid de ox cart, to fetch you an’—de ladies, do’ I did’n know as dere wasn’t no more’n one lady; but, laws! de more de better, I say, marster, and my name’s ’Sias, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’m Wolfskif Hall—yas, sah.”
“Did you say you had brought the ox cart for us?” inquired Stuart in some dismay as he thought of his dainty wife.
“Yas, sah! I has fetched the ox cart, wid Baron an’ Markiss yoked on, an’ dey is de best beasts on de plantation, kind and gentle as new milk, ’specially Baron, to fetch you an’ de ladies and de luggage, all at de same time, an’ dere’s a-plenty o’ hay for de ladies to sit on jes’ as clean an’ as dry n’s sweet as wiolits.”
“But was there no carriage in my uncle’s stables?” inquired Cleve.
“Plenty. But, Lor’, marster, dey was one an’ all so ole an’ rusty, an’ flip-floppy, an’ ramshakelly, dat dey couldn’t be trusted on good roads in good wedder by daylight, let alone bad roads in bad wedder by night. An’ wot is true ob de kerridges mought be said ob de hosses, likewise. Dey wouldn’ be sho-futted on sich roads in sich wedder at night. De ox cart is de mos’ safes’ an’ de oxes is de mos’ sho-futtedes’. An’ yo’ wouldn’ like to hab de ladies’ necks broke for de sake ob pomps an’ wanities in kerridges! Would yo’ now?”
Cleve laughed, but Palma put in her word:
“Oh, Cleve, I’m delighted! It is so new! such fun! to ride on the hay in an ox cart! It seems so of a piece with all our strange experiences! Yes! this is some new planet! Not our old familiar earth!”
“How did you happen to be here to meet us? We are a day and a half behind time,” inquired Stuart.
“Ole Marse John Clebe, ob Wolfskif Hall—an’ I am his own man ’Sias, wot nebber would ’mancipate him in de ole ages ob his onnerrubble life fur all de President an’ Con’gess might say—telled me to come yere to meet yer an’ 286stay for de las’ train till you ’rove, an’ dis is de mos’ secondes’ day as I hab been yere to meet yo’! An’ now, young marse, ef yo’ll listen to me, yo’ll put de ladies in de cart an’ we’ll jog off.”
“All right, ’Sias. Show us the way to the chariot,” laughed Cleve.
The negro set his lantern down in a chair, took from it a bit of candle, which he lighted by a match and replaced, and said:
“Now I shows the way, young marster,” and walked out of the station, followed by Stuart, Palma and Poley.
He led them to the lower end of the platform near which the ox cart stood, with its floor thickly carpeted with layers of hay, and with its yoke of oxen standing and pawing in the cold night air. Their heads were turned away from the town, as if all ready for their jog across the country.
Stuart put Palma upon the cart, and she settled herself in the hay with childish delight.
Then he helped Mrs. Pole to a seat beside her.
“And now, Marse Glebe, ef yo’ will jes’ git up dar on dat bench, in front ob de two ladies, yo’ll obleege dis compinny! ’Caze, yo’ see, I’s got to walk at the head ob de creeturs to keep ’em straight on to de road.”
“Is that necessary?” inquired Stuart as he climbed to his place and settled himself comfortably.
“‘N’essary?’” exclaimed ’Sias. “Why, la, bress yer soul, Marse Clebe! dere’s places ’long dis road w’ere ef dis yere nigh beast was to make a misstep, we’d all go ober down free fo’ hunderd feet to the rocks below. No, sah! I’s gwine walk at dis creetur’s head and carry my lantern, too,” concluded ’Sias as the oxen moved slowly and heavily onward as was their manner.
The lantern might have been, and probably was, a help to the vision of ’Sias and so to the safety of his party, but it could show only a small section of the road immediately under the feet of the conductor.
Nothing could be seen of the surrounding country except that it consisted of densely wooded mountains, whose skeleton trees were faintly outlined against the ground of snow.
When their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness the travelers in the cart could see, to their horror, that they were plodding along a rough and narrow road between a 287high rise of rocks on their right and a deep fall on their left; but the cautious negro guide with his lantern walked by the heads of the oxen between them and the precipice, keeping them out of the terrible danger. For an hour their way lay along this road, and then began slowly to descend a gradual slope, and finally turned to the right and entered a thick wood.
’Sias heaved a deep sigh of relief and said:
“Peoples sez, w’en dey gits out’n dif’culty an’ danger, as dey’s ‘out’n de woods.’ But, la! I allers feels as if I wasn’t safe until I was offen dat dar debbil’s shelf, up dar, an’ got down yere in dese woods.”
“How far are we from the house, ’Sias?” inquired Stuart.
“On’y ’bout a mile, young marster. Get dere werry soon now. Dis yere is all ole Marse John Clebe’s lan’.”
“Oh! is it?”
“Yas, sah. An’ dis woods usen to be called Wolfswalk in de ollen times, I’s heern says, ‘cause dar was mos’ as many wolfs as trees, an’ de station ober yonder was just named arter dese yer woods, an’ dats de trufe for a fac’.”
They jogged through the dark, mysterious-looking woods for some time in silence, Palma only once murmuring:
“It is like a dream, or a scene in a fairy tale. I feel as if we should come upon something soon—an ogre’s castle, an enchanted beauty’s palace, or something. Don’t wake me up, please, anybody.”
What they did come upon very soon was a glimmering light, that seemed to shoot here and there through the thick, leafless trees like a firefly, had it been summer instead of winter.
“It’s a lamp in de big hall; it shines right froo de fanlight ober de front do’, an’ it seems to flit about so ’caze sometimes de trees sho’ it an’ sometimes dey doan’t,” ’Sias explained. And as he spoke the ox cart slowly and clumsily drew up before a large, oblong building of the simplest and plainest style of architecture common among the wealthier class of that region at the time the house was planned.
Though the travelers could not, at that time of night, discern its features, yet this seems the best time for their historian to describe it.
The house was built in the rude, strong, plain style of the best old colonial mansions, of rough-hewn gray rocks of 288every variegated shade of red, blue, green, yellow, purple and orange, which gave a mosaic aspect to the walls. It was an oblong double house, with a broad double door, having two long windows on each side of the first floor, and five windows on the second floor, surmounted by a steep roof, with five dormer windows, and buttressed by four huge chimneys, two at each gable end. There were many old oak, elm and chestnut trees around the dwelling, and there were smaller houses, of rude construction, in the rear.
When the ox cart stopped before the door Stuart got off his seat and lifted down his wife and her attendant. He tucked Palma’s hand under his arm and led her up the few steps that went up to the front door. That door was open and full of light from a large lamp that hung from the ceiling of the spacious hall, and within the door stood the master of the house to welcome his coming relatives.
He was a man of middle height—the thinnest, whitest, most shadowy living man they had ever seen.
“You are welcome to Wolfscliff, my dears,” he said, giving a hand each to Palma and to Cleve.
“We are very glad to see you, uncle,” said the two in one breath.
“And this lady?” said the old-fashioned gentleman, with native courtesy as he held out his hand to Mrs. Pole, of whom he had just caught sight.
“Our friend, Mrs. Pole, who never leaves Palma, uncle,” explained Cleve.
“Ah! I am glad to see you, ma’am,” said Mr. Cleve.
“Thank you, sir. I am only Mrs. Cleve Stuart’s housekeeper and attendant,” said Mrs. Pole, who would not consent to seem a half an inch above her real social position.
“Ah! And a very trusted and esteemed friend, also, I have no doubt,” replied the old gentleman.
“She is, indeed, sir, like a mother to my delicate Palma,” assented Stuart.
“I am very glad she consented to accompany you here,” said Mr. Cleve.
In the moment they stood there talking Palma took in with her eyes the whole of the spacious hall. It ran from front to back through the middle of the house, with double doors at each end, four doors on either side and a broad staircase going up from the midst. A hat rack and half a 289dozen heavy oak chairs were the only furniture. There was no carpet on the polished oak floor, no pictures on the paneled wall.
“Will you come into the parlor, or would you prefer, first, to go to your rooms?” inquired the old gentleman, opening a door on his right.
“Which would you rather do, Palma?” inquired Cleve.
“Oh, go into the parlor! You see, uncle, we have not come through dust, but through snow, and we are as clean as when we had washed this morning,” replied Palma.
The old man led the way into a large, square room, with paneled walls, polished floor, heavy walnut chairs and tables, and a broad, open fireplace, with brass andirons, on which was piled about an eighth of a cord of blazing hickory logs. Around this was a brass fender; above it, on the wall, a handsome carved oak mantelpiece surmounted by a broad mirror, and down before it on the floor a rich old Turkey rug. Two large armchairs stood in each chimney corner.
“Now, my dears, and you, ma’am, make yourselves comfortable and be quite at home. Supper will be ready in a few minutes,” said Mr. Cleve as he sank into one of the armchairs.
Then Palma saw how fragile he really was—his transparent face was as white as ashes, his thin hair and thin whiskers were like floss of silver, his hands were the longest, thinnest, fairest hands ever seen. He was clothed in a dark blue dressing-gown which he folded double over his knees, and the bald spot on the top of his head was covered with a much worn old blue velvet skullcap. His aspect suggested frost, cobweb, chrysalis. Only his deep-set, soft brown eyes shone warm and bright with the fire of life, light and love from the true soul, so slightly held by the fragile frame and almost ready to fly.