Washington, before he died."
"I laid down the Custis name yesterday," Vesta said, "though not their
better character, I hope. Papa, there is only one law of marriage; it is
where the wife follows the husband."
She looked a little archly at him, wiping her eyes of recent tears, and
though she may not have meant it, he was reminded of his own fear of his
wife.
Aunt Hominy now came in, having been told by Virgie to prepare coffee,
and she followed Roxy, who brought it into the library. The old cook had
a strange look, as of one who had been up all night at a fire, or a
"protracted meeting," and she poked her head in as if afraid to come
farther, till Vesta went out and kissed her kindly.
"Poor Aunty Hominy! did you think I was sold, or abused, because I had
been married? Dear old aunty, I shall never leave you!"
Aunt Hominy had a countenance of profound, almost vacant, melancholy,
mixed with a fear that, the Judge remarked, "he had seen on the faces of
niggers that had stolen something."
"Miss Vessy," she stammered, at last, "is you measured in by ole
Meshach? Is he got you, honey? Dat he has, chile! He's gwyn to bury you
under dat pizen hat. Po' little girl! Po' Miss Vessy!"
"Oh, Aunt Hominy," Vesta said, "he will be a kind master in spite of his
queer hat, and take good care of you and all the children; for he is my
husband, and will love you all for me."
A dumb, terrified look adhered to the old black woman's face.
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