Love's bitterest cup — Inside the Classic

’tain’t no use for you to take all dis yere trouble for to come ober yere ebery week to see as de rooms is all opened and aired and dried—’deed it ain’t. You can trust me—’deed you can. Now did you eber come ober yere on a Wednesday morning, and not find a fire kindled into ebery room in de house, and de windows all opened, ef it was clear? And likewise, if you war to come at night, you’d find the fires all out, and the windows all shut, and the rooms all dry as a toast.”

“I know I can trust you thoroughly, Molly, but you see I like to come. It seems to bring me nearer Le, you know,” Odalite replied, in her gentle and confiding way.

“Yes, honey, so it do, indeed. Well, it was a awful set-down to us w’en dat forriner come yere an’ cut Marse Le out, an’ him a married man, too, Lord save us!”

“Hush, Molly. You must not speak of that person to me,” said Odalite, sternly.

“Lord, honey, I ain’t a-blamin’ of you. Well I knows as you couldn’t help it. Well I knows as he give you witch powders, or summut, to make you like him whedder or no. W’ite people don’t believe nuffin ’bout dese witch powders, but we dem colored people we knows, honey. But now he is foun’ out an’ druv away, we dem all sees as you is a fo’gettin’ de nonsense, honey, ’cause he can’t give you no mo’ witch powders. Lor’! why, if it had been true love you feeled for him, you couldn’t a got ober it as soon as you has, eben if yer had foun’ him out to be de gran’ vilyun as he is, ’cause it would a took time. But as it war not true love, but only witch powders, you see you got ober it eber since he went away. Lor’! I knows about witch powders.”

“Please, Mollie,” pleaded Odalite.

But the negro woman, having mounted her hobby, rocked on:

“Neber mind, honey. You and Marse Le is young ’nough to spare t’ree years, an’ next time he come home, please de Lord, we’ll all ’joy a merry marridge, an’ you an’ him to come to housekeeping ’long of us.”

Odalite took leave, and went home. That was the only way in which she could escape the painful subject.

She found a letter from Le on her return. It was dated last from Rio de Janeiro. It contained the daily record of the young midshipman’s life on the man-of-war, and no end to the vows of love and constancy.

This letter came under cover to her mother. It cheered Odalite up for days.

But again her spirits sank.

At length her health began to suffer, and then her parents took into consideration a plan that had been discussed a month before. This was to leave the plantation under the competent direction of their long-known overseer and their family solicitor, and to take a furnished house in Washington City for three years, during which time they could place their two younger daughters at a good finishing school, and introduce their eldest into society.

It was Mrs. Force who had first proposed the plan, and it was she who now recurred to it.

“You know, dear Abel,” she said to her husband, while they were sitting together one morning in her little parlor, “you know that two considerations press on us now—the health of Odalite and the education of Wynnette and Elva. I really fear for Odalite, and so does Dr. Ingle, if she should be permitted to remain in this neighborhood, where everything reminds her of the distress and mortification she has suffered. Odalite must have a thorough change. And no better change can be thought of for her than a winter in Washington. The gay season is just commencing in that city, and with all that we could do for her there Odalite would be sure to improve. Think what a contrast Washington in its season—Washington with its splendid official receptions, its operas and concerts, every day and night—would be to the secluded life we all lead here. And especially what a contrast in the conception of Odalite, who will see the city for the first time.”

“I appreciate all that; but, my love, your simple wish to go to the city would be quite sufficient for me,” said the squire.

Mrs. Force turned away her head and breathed a sigh, as she often did at any especial mark of love or trust from her good husband.