Steve as a man of capital proclaimed that the money interests of the North should be cultivated and that a deal with the enemy was always better than a fight.
Sure of his success, he had already promised Stella with boastful certainty a brilliant social season in Washington as his wife. In spite of his immense vanity, he knew that this promise had gone far to win her favour. She too was vain of her beauty, and her social ambitions were boundless. He had received her mild professions of love with a grain of salt. She was yet too young and beautiful to take life seriously. His fortune and his good looks had been the magnets that drew her. But he was content. He would make her love him in due time. He was sure of it. Yet on two occasions he had observed that she had shown a disposition to flirt skilfully and daringly with every handsome fellow who came her way--and it had distressed him not a little.
He was angry and uneasy this morning, and made up his mind to assert his rights with dignity--and yet with a firmness that would leave no question as to who was going to be master in his house. He decided to nip Stella’s acquaintance with John Graham in the bud on the spot. That he had called for any other reason than to see her, never occurred to him.
When Maggie, Stella’s little coal black maid, at length reappeared, she was grinning with more than usual cunning.
“Miss Stella say she be down in a minute,” she said with a giggle.
“You’ve been gone a half hour,” Steve answered frowning.
“I spec I is,” observed Maggie, continuing to giggle and glance furtively at Steve.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked suspiciously.
He held up a quarter and beckoned. She hastened to his side.
She took the money, grinned again and said: “Yassah!”
“Now, what have you been giggling about?”
“Deed he did! Dat’s what dey all come fur. She so purty dey can’t hep it.”
“Yassah!” Maggie went on, walling her eyes with tragic earnestness. “She play de pianer fur ’im long time in de parlour, an’ he sing fur her an’ den she sing fur ’im.”
“Yassah! an’ atter dey git froo singin’ she take him out fur er stroll on de lawn an’ dey go way down in de fur corner an’ set in one er dem rustics fur ’bout er hour. Den dey come in an’ bof un ’em set in de moonlight in de hammock right close side an’ side, and he talk low an’ sof, an’ she laugh, an’ laugh, an’ hit ’im wid er fan--jesso! Yassah. Sh! She comin’ now!”
