You will find
us ignorant and backward, worshipping our old idols, and setting up no
new ones; our young men leaving us, and none coming in to take their
place. Had you, and men like you, remained with us, we might have
hoped for better things."
"And perhaps not, Laura. Environment controls the making of men. Some
rise above it, the majority do not. We might have followed in the
well-worn rut. But let us not spoil this delightful evening by
speaking of anything sad or gloomy. This is your daily life; to me it
is like a scene from a play, over which one sighs to see the curtain
fall--all enchantment, all light, all happiness."
But even while he spoke of light, a shadow loomed up beside them. The
coloured woman who had waited at the table came around the house from
the back yard and stood by the piazza railing.
"Miss Laura!" she called, softly and appealingly. "Kin you come hyuh a
minute?"
"What is it, Catherine?"
"Kin I speak just a word to you, ma'am? It's somethin'
partic'lar--mighty partic'lar, ma'am."
"Excuse me a minute, Henry," said Miss Laura, rising with evident
reluctance.
She stepped down from the piazza, and walked beside the woman down one
of the garden paths. The colonel, as he sat there smoking--with Miss
Laura's permission he had lighted a cigar--could see the light stuff
of the lady's gown against the green background, though she was
walking in the shadow of the elms. From the murmur which came to him,
he gathered that the black woman was pleading earnestly, passionately,
and he could hear Miss Laura's regretful voice, as she closed the
interview:
"I am sorry, Catherine, but it is simply impossible.
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