But as the cumbersome barge veered slowly from the Waccamaw River into the Oaks Plantation creek, she felt the old foreboding and melancholy which she had thought conquered. Here every manifestation of nature was dark, weird, and fantastically shaped. The inky water, stained by the gnarled black cypresses, gave forth no reflections. The moss hung down above them like gray tresses of witches' hair. When one of these clumps brushed her cheek, she bit her lips so as not to cry out. The barge progressed ever more sluggishly, butting its prow into the soft mud, first on one bank and then the other. The six negroes who propelled it burst into a minor chant—'Yowdah ... Rowdah ... De weary, weary load'. Their mournful wail mingled with the sucking of the water on their oars. The fetid odor of the swamp and drained rice fields stole around them.

Eleanore, who had been watching the negroes with startled eyes as they sang, shuddered suddenly. 'Je n'aimepas ce pays, Madame. C'est triste.'

Joseph turned from contemplation of his rice fields. 'What does she say?' he snapped. 'Tell the woman to talk English'. Theo smiled faintly. 'She says it's sad here. I'm afraid she doesn't like it, and no more does Louis'. She indicated the gloomy chef, who crouched morosely at the far end of the barge, his chin on his hands, his nose wrinkled in a disgusted sniff which never left him during his stay on the Waccamaw.

Joseph shrugged. The management of the servants was Theo's business, and their emotions interested him not at all. He had been, moreover, exceedingly upset by an occurrence of the morning. His anger had overshadowed the reunion with Theo.

Once they gained the house and the baby had been settled into his cradle, Joseph ordered himself a glass of rum punch and requested Theo's presence in the drawing-room.

Whatever is the matter, Joseph?' she asked, sitting down. 'You have seemed preoccupied and out of sorts ever since my arrival. Is there anything wrong?'

He nodded curtly, leaned his elbow on the mantelpiece and drummed with his fingers, scowling fiercely at the top of the gilt clock.

She sighed. 'It isn't the elections, surely. You got your seat all right, did you not?'

Again he nodded.

'Well, then, what is it?' She began to be alarmed. She knew him too well to think that he was angry with her; at those times his behavior was quite different. Could it be some financial disaster, had a rice cargo been lost, or the factor proved dishonest?

Suddenly Joseph jerked a cigar from his pocket, bit off the end, and spat savagely into the fireplace. 'Venus has run away.'

Theo stared at him blankly, then, before she could check herself, laughed. Thank Heavens! she thought. Is that what he is making all this fuss about? She hastily composed her face, as she saw his expression.