some little distance from the major's abode stood a long, low rambling house on a slight rise. surrounded by deep verandas, it was placed in the middle of emerald green lawns, smoothly clipped; and these, lower down, were girdled by a belt of ash and sycamores and poplars, which shut out the house from the high road.
the mansion, with its flat roof and wide verandas, had a tropical look, and indeed it had been built by a retired indian nabob at the beginning of this century. when he died the house had been sold, and now it was occupied by mrs. dallas, who leased it because of its suggestion of tropical habitation. she came from the west indies, and had lived in "the wigwam," as the house was called, for over ten years.
mrs. dallas was a large, fat and eminently lazy woman, who passed most of her time in knitting or sleeping or eating. her husband had died before she had come to england, and it was the desire to preserve her daughter's health which had brought her so far from the sun-baked islands which her soul loved.
her languid creole nature and lethargic habits were unsuited to brisk, practical england, and she hated the gray skies, the frequent absence of sunlight and the lack of rich and sensuous coloring. often she threatened to return to barbadoes, but she was too lazy to make the effort of again settling herself in life. with all her longings for the fairy islands of the west, it seemed as though she would end her days in gray and misty england. but she was out of place in this northern land, and so was dido.
this latter was a tall and massively framed negro woman, with very little of the traditional merry nature of the black about her. she looked rather like a priestess, with her stern face and stately mien; and, indeed, in the west indies, it was known among the negroes that dido was high in power among the votaries of obi. she could charm, she could slay by means of vegetable poisons, and she could--as the negroes firmly believed--cause a human being to dwindle, peak and pine, by means of incantations.
this black canidia had left a terrible reputation behind her in barbadoes; and though in skeptical england her powers were unknown, and if they had been made manifest, would have been flouted at, yet her looks, the tragic tones of her voice, inspired the white servants of mrs. dallas with distrust. dido was not a favorite in the servants' part of the wigwam, but for this unpopularity she cared little, being devoted to isabella dallas. she adored her nursling.
the girl was about twenty years of age, tall and straight, with dark hair and darker eyes, with a mouth veritably like cupid's bow, and a figure matchless in contour. with her rich southern coloring and passionate temperament--she was of irish blood on the paternal side--miss dallas looked more like an andalusian lady than a native of the english-speaking race. she had all the sensuous loveliness of a creole woman; and bloomed like a rich tropical flower with poison in its perfume amid the english briar roses of surrey maidenhood.
if mrs. dallas was a bore--and her friends said she was--the daughter was divine, and many young men came to the wigwam to be spellbound by her dark beauty. more men than the three who had dined at "ashantee" were in love with isabella.
upon her dido exercised a powerful, and it must be confessed, malignant influence. she had fed the quick brain of the girl with weird tales of african witchcraft and fanciful notions of terrestrial and sidereal influences. isabella's nature was warped by this domestic necromancy, and had she continued to dwell in the west indies, she might almost have become a witch herself. certainly dido did her best to make her one, and taught her nursling spells and incantations, to which the girl would listen fearfully, half-believing, half-doubting. but her residence in england, her contact with practical english folk, with the sunny side of life, saved her from falling into the terrible abyss of african superstition; and how terrible it is only the initiated can declare. it only needed that she should be removed from the bad influence of the barbaric sybil to render her nature healthy and fill her life with pleasure.
but dido was like a upas tree, and the moral atmosphere with which she surrounded isabella was slowly but surely making the girl morbid and unnatural. mrs. dallas, versed in the negro character, half-guessed this, but she was too indolent to have dido removed. moreover, strange as it may appear, she was more than a trifle afraid of the negress and her unholy arts.
maurice had met with and had fallen in love with isabella, and she returned his affection with all the ardor of her passionate nature. his handsome and frank face, his sunny nature and optimistic ideas appealed strongly to the girl who had been environed from her earliest infancy by the pessimism of dido.
maurice saw well how isabella had deteriorated under the bad influence of the negress, and he did his best to counteract her insidious morality and morbid teachings. he laughed at isabella's stories and superstitions, and succeeded in making her ashamed of her weakness in placing faith in such degraded rubbish. while with him isabella was a bright and laughing girl; quite another sort of being to the grave and nervous creature she was while in the presence of dido. she felt that if she married maurice his bright strong nature would save her from a lamentable and melancholy existence; and as all her affections and instincts inclined to the young man, she hoped to become his wife.
dido saw her thoughts, and hating maurice as one who scoffed at obi, she did her best to put evil ideas in the girl's head concerning the young man. but as yet she had failed to sow dissension between the lovers.
on the day after the major's dinner party, isabella was sitting in the veranda with a book open on her lap and dido standing gravely near her. mrs. dallas, in the cool depths of the drawing-room, was indulging in an after-luncheon siesta. the sunlight poured itself over the velvet lawns, drew forth the perfumes from the flower-beds, and made the earth languorous with heat.
in the veranda all was cool and restful and pleasingly silent. isabella, in her white dress, looked beautiful and pensive; while dido, in a reddish-hued robe, with a crimson 'kerchief twisted round her stately head, gleamed in the semi-gloom like some gorgeous tropical bird astray in our northern climes. both mistress and maid were silent.
it was dido who spoke first. she noticed that the eyes of her mistress constantly strayed in the direction of "ashantee," and with the jealousy begotten of deep affection, she guessed that the girl's thoughts were fixed upon the much-hated maurice. at once she spoke reproachfully, and in the grotesque negro dialect, which, however, coming from dido's mouth, inspired no one with merriment.
"aha, missy," said she, in deep, guttural tones, "you tink ob dat yaller-ha'r'd man!"
"maurice! yes, i am thinking about him; and you know why."
dido's fierce black eyes flashed out a gleam of rage, and she cursed maurice audibly in some barbaric tongue which isabella seemed to understand. at all events she interrupted the woman's speech with an imperious gesture.
"no more of that. dido. you know that i love maurice; i wish to marry him. why are you so bitter against him?"
"he take you from me."
"well, if i marry anyone the same thing will happen," responded isabella, lightly; "and surely. dido; you do not want me to remain a spinster all my life."
"no, missy, no. you marry, an' ole dido am berry pleased. but dat yaller-ha'r'd man, i no like him; if he marry you, he take you away. he a fool--a big fool!"
"oh, you say that because he does not believe in obi or voodoo!"
dido threw up one dark hand with an ejaculation.
"not in de sunlight; dose am de names for de darkness, honey. in de night dey--"
"no, no!" cried isabella, with a shudder. "don't tell me any more of those horrible things."
"aha, dat de yaller-ha'r who makes you fear!" cried dido, bitterly. "he hate obi an' me. he will not marry you, missy!"
"yes he will; we are engaged."
"your mudder, she say no!"
"nonsense! she likes maurice herself," replied isabella, uneasily. "maurice wants our engagement kept quiet for the present, but when i do tell major jen and my mother, i am sure neither of them will object."
"h'm, we see, missy, we see," said dido, darkly. "but why you marry dis man i no like?"
"because i marry to please myself, not you," said isabella, sharply. "oh, i know your thoughts, dido; you would like me to marry david sarby. the idea; as if he can compare with maurice!"
"wrong, missy. i no wish dat man."
"then dr. etwald--that horrid, gloomy creature!"
"him great man!" said dido, solemnly. "him berry--berry great!"
"i don't think so," retorted isabella, rising. "of course, i know that he is clever, but as to being great, he isn't known beyond this place." she walked to the end of the veranda, and stood for a moment in the glare of the sunshine. suddenly an idea seemed to strike her, and she turned toward the negress.
"dido, you wouldn't like to see me the wife of dr. etwald?"
"yes, missy. him berry big great man!"
"but i hate him!"
"um! he lub you. he told ole dido so."
"he seems to have been very confidential," said isabella, scornfully, "and from what i have seen, dido, he has some influence over you."
"no," said the negress. but while her tongue uttered the denial, her eyes rolled uneasily around the lawn, as though dreading some invisible presence. "no, missy. dido a great one, you know. she no 'fraid ob dat doctor; but him big man, missy; you marry him."
"no, no, no! i would rather die. i love maurice."
"you nebber marry him, missy. nebber, nebber!"
"how do you know?"
"i make de spell. i know. de spell say dat doctor, he marry you!"
this time isabella burst out into a girlish laugh of genuine amusement.
"the spell seems to know more about me than i do myself," said she, contemptuously. "i don't believe in your spells, dido. i know from maurice that they are nonsense!"
"you take care, missy! obi! dat not nonsense!" said dido, in a threatening tone.
"what does dr. etwald say about it?"
dido looked sullenly at the fire.
"i no hear him say anytink about obi," she replied; "but de spell; it say you marry dat man and no de yaller-ha'r."
"well, dido, we shall see. and now--"
she never finished what she was about to say, for at that moment dido stretched out one arm, and uttered one name, "batt'sea!"
across the lawn there crept a wizen, gray-haired little man, with a cringing manner. he was white, but darkish in the skin, and there was something negroid about his face. this dwarfish little creature was a tramp, who had become a pensioner of isabella's. he had attached himself to her like some faithful dog, and rarely failed to present himself at least once a day.
what his real name was nobody knew, but he said that he was called battersea, after the parish in which he had been reared as a foundling.
battersea was cringing, dirty, and altogether an unpleasant object to look upon; but isabella was sorry for the creature, and aided him with food and a trifle of money. it may be here mentioned that battersea, although he knew nothing of obi, was terribly afraid of dido. perhaps some instinct in the negro blood--for he undoubtedly had something african in his veins--made him fear this unknown priestess of fetish worship.
"well, battersea," said isabella, kindly, "how are you to-day?"
"very well, lady, very well, indeed. i met mr. alymer, and he gave me half a crown."
"that was generous of him. but why?"
"because i said that a certain lady was--"
"now, now," laughed isabella, "no more of that nonsense, battersea." she turned and ran along the veranda into the house. the tramp and the negress were alone.
"what de doctor say?" asked dido, in a low-voiced whisper.
"two words. the devil-stick!"
the negress started and threw up her hands in surprise.
