Chunk felt that he had disgraced himself by running away and leaving Zany, and did not venture back till the second night after the culmination of his schemes.  He found Jute and his associates scared, sullen and inclined to have little to do with him in their present mood.  Then he hooted in vain for Zany.  The girl heard him but made no sign, muttering, “Sence you runned away en lef me I’se done wid runnin’ away.  You tootin’ lak a squinch-owl en kin kep comp’ny wid squinch-owls.”

Only Aun’ Jinkey gave him food and a sort of fearful welcome, and poor Chunk found himself at last a very unhappy and skulking outlaw.

Mr. Baron gradually rallied under his increased responsibilities and resolved to be his own overseer.  Although an exacting master, the negroes knew he was not a severe one if they did their work fairly well.  The spook scare had given Uncle Lusthah renewed influence and he used it in behalf of peace and order.  “Our fren Miss Lou, sick,” he urged.  “We mek her trouble en we mek oursefs trouble ef we doan go on peac’ble.  What kin we do eny way at dis yer time?  De Norf fightin’ fer us en hit all ‘pen’ on de Norf.  We mus’ kep a gwine ez we is till de times en seasons ob de Lawd is ’vealed.”

And so for a period, quiet again settled down on the old plantation.  Mrs. Whately and Aun’ Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on the piazza.  This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic look on her thin face.  She was greatly changed, her old rounded outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to blow away.  The old, fearless, spirited look in her blue eyes had departed utterly, leaving only an expression of settled sadness, varied by an anxious, expectant gaze, suggesting a lingering hope that some one might come or something happen to break the dreadful silence which began, she felt, when Scoville fell from his horse in the darkening forest.  It remained unbroken, and her heart sank into more hopeless despondency daily.  Aun’ Jinkey and Zany were charged so sternly to say nothing to disturb the mind of their young mistress that they obeyed.  She was merely given the impression that Perkins had gone away of his own will, and this was a relief.  She supposed Chunk had returned to his Union friends, and this also became the generally accepted view of all except Aun’ Jinkey.

Mrs. Whately came to spend part of the time at The Oaks and part on her own plantation, where her presence was needed.  Her devotion would have won Miss Lou’s whole heart but for the girl’s ever-present consciousness of Mad Whately in the background.  The mother now had the tact to say nothing about him except in a natural and general way, occasionally trying the experiment of reading extracts from his brief letters, made up, as they were, chiefly of ardent messages to his cousin.  These Miss Lou received in silence and unfeigned apathy.