The next day we were bundled off to school, distant more than thirty miles, driven by the family coachman. Old Master and Old Miss walked with us as far as the big gate that opened into a street of the town. I say, walked with us, but they walked with Bob, I keeping close pace behind, constantly afraid that my mistress would turn upon me with her stout parasol, yet too discreet to fall farther back, lest I might by this show of caution call her wrath upon me. At the gate, when the driver got off his seat and stood by the open door of the carriage, Old Miss put her arms about Bob, with more of affection than I had ever seen her show, and bade him be a good boy and keep his mind on his book. She kissed him time and again and then she turned to me, Old Master standing there waiting for the end of her part of the ceremony: "Dan," she said, "I want you to black his shoes every morning." This, with the tears in her eyes, and with sorrow in her voice, touched a foolish sense within me and I giggled, dodging wisely as I did so; and it waswell that I did, for in a fury she struck at me with her parasol. "The infamous imp!" she cried, "standing there laughing at me. General," she demanded, stamping the ground, "wear your cane out on him. I won't be treated in such a manner—I won't put up with everything from that ape."
My impulse was to run, but I killed it with a gentle resolve; I dropped upon my knees in the dust of the road and humbly begged her pardon. This act of grace was most effective. This humility, done, I fancy, with some show of gallantry, won her for the moment, and bowing to me she said: "I know you didn't mean it, Dan. There, go on and be a good boy."
We bade them good-bye and were rolled away, and hour after hour, amid the changing scenes of that charming country, a vision of that woman stood before me, bowing, and my heart was warmer toward her than it had ever been. Strange, and now almost incomprehensible life—absolute despotism in free America.
The Layfield school was set among romantic hills. As a seat of learning, it was unpretentious. The main house was of brick, with dormer windows and green blinds; the other buildings were cottages, mostly oflogs, scattered along a shaded avenue, leading down to the banks of a green river; and I remember that the first sight of this great stream (it must have been fifty feet wide, but it was an Amazon to me, fresh from the little creek running through the pasture) thrilled me with a mysterious delight. Upon a near approach though, I was disappointed, not at its size, but at its quietude; for if our creek could sing, why did not this river shout? And it gave no sound save a low murmur almost as still as silence.
The master of Layfield Academy was an old man with long, white hair. He received us most kindly and himself went with us to the cottage we were to occupy, together with a number of boys, sons of wealthy men, many of them attended by the unmistakable mark of Blue Grass gentility—the favored slave. And it was not without a feeling of pride that I heard a young fellow say, "Gradley's got the best-looking nigger in the crowd." My master and I occupied a small, but comfortable room, that is, comfortable for him, but with regard to me, the line was closer drawn than it had been at home, for instead of sleeping upon a lounge, I was assigned to a rug upon the floor. Bob did not like this, and he grumbled to the Master and was told very emphatically that hemust not seek to interfere with the time-honored regulations of that great educational household. I soon found that my life here was not to be altogether peaceful, for the spirit of rivalry existing among the young masters extended to the slaves. And of a Saturday those blood-loving spirits would match their "niggers" against one another like cocks in a pit and bet on the result. My master was too young to be a leader, but he was forced to take a part in the sport, and it redounded to my credit when I bloodied the flat nose of a black fellow who strove to knock me out of a ring. This made Bob an important factor, gave him a new bearing, and I remember that I lay down upon my rug with a feeling of pride.
"Oh, we'll show 'em what's what," Bob declared. "And after I whip Saunders, we'll be way up."
"But do you think you can whip him?" I asked.
The moon was shining into our room and I saw him rise up in bed. "Why, of course I can. And the fight is set for to-morrow."
"He's bigger'n you," I remarked.
"Yes, but he hasn't got the blood. His people don't amount to anything. You just wait."
I had to wait, but it was not with any great confidence, for Saunders was a lusty youth. I expressedno further fear, however, and early in the morning I rubbed my master down with a coarse towel and with him set out for the battle ground. Saunders was already there, with a party of boys about him, feeling the muscles in his arms. The affair was conducted with great secrecy, and each warrior had to promise that in case his teeth were knocked out he would swear that he had fallen down. I was nervous. The negro boys looking at me, shook their heads. The line was drawn and the combatants stationed. The word was given and I looked away. Then followed the sound of quick blows—then came a shout, all before I looked toward the ring. And when I did look, I saw Saunders on the ground. I threw up my hat and shouted, whereupon a yellow fellow who belonged to Saunders struck me. Well, when we went back to our quarters my master and I both were heroes. And now, having established his standing, Young Master was permitted to enter upon his studies. This had all happened within a week.
It was here that a desire to learn first took strong hold of me. Of course I did not presume to own a book, or to study one except at night, when Bob and I were alone. In a negro any show of intellectual ambition was looked upon as a rebellion against theunwritten law of society, and thus to steal the mind mysteries that made the white man great was doubly sweetened. I kept so good a pace with Bob that in me he sometimes found a helper over rough places, and I even now recall with pride that one night he looked at me admiringly and said: "Dan, it's a shame that you ain't a white boy."
At the end of the fourth week, Old Master and Old Miss drove over in the carriage. The president of the school met them with great ceremony and would not let them rest until he had shown them through his establishment. Bob went with them and I was permitted to hang behind, upon the implied condition that I was not to hear anything that was said. But I did hear and I remembered. In one corner of the main recitation room was a globe and shelves holding numerous books, to me the most learned spot in the world; and here the company halted.
"These books," said the president, "are kept here in constant view of the student to stimulate his ambition, to force upon his mind the power and the importance of thought. He has heard of the earth's great minds, and here he finds the fruit of those minds. I do not believe in shutting books in a stuffy room, sir; they ought to be where the sun-light, the companion oflearning, can constantly fall upon them. Ah, and I am sure that as time passes your son will draw many a draft from this well. Won't you, Robert?"
Bob looked at him, while his parents waited for his answer, and said: "I like books with pictures in 'em."
"Ah, quite a shrewd remark," declared the president, putting his hand upon Bob's head. "His thought turns upon art, no mean branch of learning, I assure you. Of course, he is as yet too young to be consulted, General, but have you thought upon any profession for him?"
"The law," Old Master answered.
"The ministry," said Old Miss.
"Maw, what's that?" Bob asked.
"I want you to be a preacher," his mother replied, drawing him toward her, buttoning his jacket and then unbuttoning it.
"I don't want to be a preacher. They don't have any fun!"
"Hush, sir," she said. "Your grandfather was a preacher."
"But he didn't have any fun."
"Hush, I tell you."
"I will, but did he have any fun?"
Old Master chuckled and Mistress gave him a sourlook. The president coughed. "Both the law and the ministry are learned professions," he said, "and I have no doubt that our little man would grace either calling."
"Bob," said Mistress, "show me your sleeping room. You needn't come with us," she added, speaking to the president. "We will not presume to take up any more of your time—you've been so very, very kind, I assure you."
I think that the president would have urged his attendance, but that he was afraid to show how much time he could spare, so he bowed and said: "I thank you for the confidence you have reposed in me, placing your son in my charge, and I assure you that I shall do my utmost by him. Now, make yourselves perfectly at home."
Old Miss turned up her nose when she entered our room. "Whew, it smells like a bear's den," she said, and Old Master's spare frame shook with laughter. "And for pity sake, what have you got in this cup?" she asked, looking at a tin can on a table.
"Fish-worm oil," Bob spoke up rather proudly. "We dug the worms and roasted their oil out. Rub it on my legs so I can run fast."
Master snorted and Mistress turned to me. "Dan,"she asked, clearing her throat with a dry rasp, "isn't this one of your negro superstitions? Didn't you put him up to it?"
"Madam," said Old Master before I could reply, "the knowledge of the efficacy of angle-worm oil comes down from the ancients and I am astonished that you should impute it to negro superstition. Leander, before trusting himself to the torrent of the Hellespont, rubbed himself with it, and if you read closely, you will find that Byron went through the same performance before tempting the same feat. Haven't you read of the angle-worm oil bearer at the Olympian games?"
He slyly turned his face away to laugh, and Old Miss, like all pretentious persons, afraid of the weapon of wisdom, was willing enough to change the subject. "I am glad to see that you are learning," she said to Bob, "but I don't want you to learn things that will be of no particular use to you. By the way, General, I don't want you to school him into the notion of becoming a lawyer or a doctor."
"Surely not a doctor," Master replied. "We have one doctor in the family and he is quite sufficient—unto himself. What's that in the Bible, 'sufficient untothe day is the evil thereof'? That's it. Well it suits him any way."
Old Miss sat down, gathering her skirts that they might touch nothing. "General, that's no way to talk," she said. She looked about and cried suddenly. "Why, is that a poultice there on the mantle-piece?"
"Boxing glove," said Bob, and Old Master roared again.
"General!" she spoke up in sharp reproof, "I do wish you wouldn't stimulate disrespect by your constant tittering and teheeing. One would think that you had sent the boy here as a monster joke. To send a child away from home is no jest, I assure you."
"Madam," said Master, winking at us, lifting the tails of his long coat and seating himself on a corner of the table, "it makes me young again to come into a place like this, and being young I must be foolish. Well," he added after a pause, "do you want to stay here to-night, or shall we stop on the road?"
"We might as well go," she answered, getting up. "There's nothing to be done here. Bob, you must write to me every other day. And Dan, I want you to see that his shoes are blacked every morning." And here, remembering the disrespect that I had shown her in the road, she seized her parasol as if tostrike me. But with hypocritical gallantry (shrewd rascal that I was) I dropped upon one knee, caught her hand impulsively and assured her that my young master's comfort and good appearance should be the study of my life. And in her eyes there was a light of real kindliness. "There, get up," she said. "I am glad to see that you are improving. General, we may make a respectable servant of him yet."
When the carriage had rolled away, Bob and I ran back to the room, locked the door, rubbed our joints with the fish-worm oil and wrestled with each other in ecstasy.
How hallowed and sun-glinted that school life now seems to me. Many a grave has been opened and closed, the roots of many a greenbriar is embedded in the ashes of a heart that was once alive with fire, the fierce passion of life. The sun is still shining, and the arch of God's many-hued lithograph is still seen in the sky, and hearts have fire shut within them, but I wonder if the sun is as bright as it was in the long ago, if the rain-bow is as purple, if the fire in the heart is as glowing. Ah, and I know that my grand-children, in the far-away years to come, will lean feebly upon the gate and wonder if the world is as full of light as it was. Every emotion you have felt you may know has been felt by other men. It is this that makes nearly all poetry seem old; it is this that sends true poetry to the human heart.
I will not linger over those days at school. I have sought thus far to picture my early life, not that it held incident, but that it revealed a condition. Time has been so sweeping, the hot blast that blew from the Northwas so scorching, and left such dried and brittle stems where green memories grew, that the youth of to-day can scarcely bring himself to comprehend that strange democratic absolutism which once existed in the South. And I wonder now that it could have lasted so long, though for years the wonder was that it could so soon have been broken up. How odd now it would seem to point out a man and say, "He once owned, in this land of freedom, a hundred human beings—owned them in body, but Christian-like yielded to God the direction of their souls."
During the regular sessions, until he had reached his eighteenth year, my young master attended the Layfield Academy, and then he was entered at Center College. I had kept well up with him, a dead secret between us, for Old Mistress had more than once made him promise that I should be kept down upon the servants' proper level. But the secret was discovered and once it was held threateningly over me.
Bob and I were home to spend the Christmas holidays. On the plantation was an Ethiopian Lothario, named Steve, and one evening in his cabin he asked me if I would write for him a letter to a mulatto girl who lived on a distant farm. "I want you," said he, "ter fling in jest ez much sweet pizen ez you kin, cazeI lubs dat lady an' her head is monstus high. I yered de white preacher say sumfin dat he 'lowed wuz frum de dead language. An' kain't you lash in er little o' dat dead talk? I know it'll fetch her caze dat preacher's dead talk fotch me."
"How do you know I can write?" I asked, for I had curbed the pedantic instinct of the negro blood within me and except to a few trusted friends had dropped no hint that I could even read.
"Oh, I 'lowed dat ez smart er boy ez you gwine off ter school an' college wid his young marster oughter larn how ter do dat. Will you write de letter fur me?"
I wrote him a screed that made his eyes snap when I read it to him. It was a mixture of cold Latin grammar and warm persuasion. "Ah, Lawd," he said as he sat, tallowing his Sunday shoes, "ef dat doan fetch her she ain't ter be fotch." He folded the letter, and when he had put it into his pocket he turned upon me. "Oh, yas, you goes off ter school an' l'arns dead talk an' de rest o' us hatter sweat in de fiel'. An' de fust thing we knows you'll be crossin' de Ohio riber ter make speeches 'mong dem 'litionists. I'm gwine tell Ole Miss."
"What!" I cried, "after I have written a letter for you?"
"Oh, I kain't hep de letter. Dat wuz er—wuz er matter o' fack. But it ain't er matter o' fack dat you'se been trying ter put yo-se'f up 'mong de white fo'ks, er turnin' up yo' nose at us caze you'se whiter an' got mo' dead talk den we has."
"Steve," I pleaded, "please don't tell her. I couldn't help learning something, and I pledge you my word that I don't know much. Why, there are hundreds of negroes all about here that can read as well as I can and their masters think nothing of it."
"Doan you fool yo'se'f 'bout dat, honey. Dar's er heap said erbout it. Da reads dem little flat books ter de uder niggers an' da gits whupped fur it, too. And de fust thing we knows you'll be readin' trouble on dis plan'ation. I'm gwine ter de house in de mornin' an' tell Ole Miss."
"Yes, and if you do, I'll have you whipped. Young Master won't put up with such an interference with his affairs. I belong to him and not to Old Miss."
"Ah, hah, but whut Ole Miss say comes mighty nigh bein' law sometimes. I'se had my eye on you fur er laung time, an' I'd like might'ly ter see you out yander in de fiel' er brilin' er laung side o' me."
I argued with him, threatened him, but it was of no use. He shook his head and declared that he wouldtell Old Miss. And the next day he proved his mean nature. I kept a close watch on him and saw him start toward the house just as Old Miss stepped out upon the veranda. I can see him now, wool hat under arm, bowing to her. I knew that he expected a reward and I wondered what it would be. She listened and greatly to my surprise replied: "Well, I hope he'll learn enough to behave himself."
"But goodness me, Ole Miss, ain't you gwine gib me suthin' fur all dis?" the rascally tell-tale pleaded.
She took out a small piece of money, tossed it to him and said: "There. And now I want you to remember one thing—don't come to me with any more stories."
She saw me as I dodged behind a corner of the dairy, and called me to her. "Dan," she said as I came up the steps, "I thought you had more sense than to create jealousies by exhibiting the crumbs of knowledge your master has permitted you to pick from under his table?"
I looked at her in surprise; surely the idea was not her own, but in her expression of it there was almost a majestic rebuke. I can see her now as she stood, her gray eyes fixed upon me, her silver-streaked hair parted flat, a bunch of authoritative keys hanging from her girdle. I gave her the all effective knee-bend ofsubmission, and recounted briefly the manner in which the black rascal had snared me. This amused her and she laughed with a cold cackle, but she did not strike me with her keys, as I had feared she would, though the memory of that feelingless laugh lived with me longer than the ache of a blow would have lasted on my head. Old Master came walking slowly out of the hall, with his spectacles on and with a letter in his hand. "Madam," he said, "Doctor Bates is coming back. Dan, saddle the sorrel horse and bring him round to the front gate."
I hastened to the stable, musing upon the return of that trouble-brewing man. He had been home a number of times while Bob and I were off at school, but I had not seen him. More than once I had half suspected that he sought to marry Miss May, to fasten another grip upon the estate, but it did not seem possible that so gentle a woman could marry so hard a man. Yet, I was wise enough to know that we can never tell. A woman's heart is like a bird, beating upon the window at night, dazzled by the promise of a warmth within a glowing room, and seeing not an icy cruelty sitting beside the fire, lying in wait for a tender victim.
While I was holding the horse, waiting for Master to mount, he paused, with his hand on the horn of thesaddle and said: "Dan, when your Mars. George gets here, I want you to treat him with the greatest respect. Do you hear?"
"Master," I replied grandiloquently, "I might fail to hear it thunder, but I cannot fail to hear what you say."
He looked at me and remarked: "Look here, you are getting to be a good deal of a d—d fool." But I saw him chuckling as he turned his head away, and I knew that he was pleased. Masters liked the flattery of their slaves, and this is the reason that there is so much cozenage, even in the negro of to-day.
"Do you know why he is coming back?" I ventured to ask.
"Coming back because this is his home, sir. And I don't want you to presume to ask such questions, sir. Well," he said, noticing that I was still holding the bridle, "are you going to let me go, or must I stand here until you are ready to release me?"
"I beg your pardon," I replied, stepping back.
"All right," he said as he rode away, and looking back he added: "Remember that I want you to treat him with the greatest of respect."
Doctor Bates came two days later and I saw him at breakfast as I stood behind my Young Master's chair. I was surprised to see that the years had touched him so lightly. Indeed, he appeared but little older than at the time I had thrown the glass tumbler at his head. And this set me to a study of all the faces about me. How slowly they had aged while Young Master and I had grown so fast! The doctor was dressed beyond any former mood of neatness, blue broad-cloth coat and ruffled shirt; and Miss May was beautiful in a long, beflowered gown. There had been a heavy frost, and a low, cheer-giving roar came from the logs in the great fire-place. Outside the negroes were singing and dancing in the crisp air. The looms and the spinning wheels were hushed; it was a time for music, for feasting, for jollification—a whole week of "colored freedom." The talk at the table was full of jest, for in the midst of the company was a great bowl of egg-nog. And even the steely eyes of my old mistress snapped with pleasant mischief.
"Doctor," she said, "Dan has become quite a student, and he writes Latin love-letters for black Steve."
"In Latin to show that Steve is dead in love!" the doctor roared, shaking his ruffled shirt with his mirth. "But I should think," he added, "that a woman who could love him must be color-blind."
"Or still worse, blind to all sentiment," suggested Young Master.
"Or left alone by all lovers," Miss May declared.
"But," said Old Master, "being so ill-favored he may be faithful."
"The ugly are not truer than the beautiful," Miss May spoke up.
The doctor bowed to her. "I am glad that you assert your own fidelity," he said, and Young Master looked up at me. Miss May blushed, and Old Mistress said: "Daughter, that was a charming compliment, quite worthy of a Southern gentleman."
"And accepted by a Southern lady—with blushes," spoke my young master, and I felt a strong impulse to grasp his hand.
"Ah, Bob," said the doctor, "you are improving. You give real evidences of a thoughtful mind, and I have no doubt that you will make a great lawyer." Here he looked at Old Mistress.
"Yes, lawyer," she replied, "for I have given up the hope of his becoming a minister. He does not take to the church."
"Except to get out of a shower of rain," Bob spoke up, and his mother's gray eyes stared at him in reproof: "Why, Robert, I am astonished at you." Old Master put by his egg-nog cup, tittering down in his stock collar, and Old Miss turned upon him.
"Such encouragement on such a day!" she said.
"Upon days of merriment it is meet that we should laugh," Old Master replied.
"And not bread that we should be sad," said Bob.
At this Miss May laughed a stream of music, clear and rippling; but Old Miss rebuked both Bob and his sister by declaring that it was easy enough to make a wise remark appear foolish. Old Master had begun to laugh at everything, for up to the great yellow bowl in the center of the table his cup had been passed many times. His face glowed with good humor and he joked with the doctor. "Really glad to see you back again, George," the old man said, blinking a newly-felt welcome. "We never know how much we think of a fellow until he's gone. By the Lord—"
"Why, General," Old Mistress cried in surprise.
He looked at her. "Why, what did I say? Said Iwas glad to see him, didn't I, and I am. You know it, Hanna, as well as I do. Said I was glad to see him, and you don't seem to believe it. Dan, see that a hogshead of egg-nog is served to the negroes."
"Oh, not that much!" Old Miss protested.
"Hanna, I said a hogshead," he persisted, blinking at her, "and I can't forfeit my word. Go out there, Dan, and tell them that they are to have a hogshead."
That night, after a day of feast and an evening of good-natured riot, Bob and I sat in our room, he listening, and I reading aloud "The Count of Monte Cristo." During the day and the evening, amid the gaiety of the negro quarter, my young master had laughed with as loud a haw-haw as the lustiest buck on the plantation, but I had seen that at times his face was sad; had heard a melancholy note sounding under the jig tune of his revelry.
The hour was late, the fire was growing gray. I put the book aside and raked the chunks together. "We have drunk the warm light and now we'll drink the cooling dregs," he said. And looking at him I replied:
"You are a boy but sometimes you talk like an old man."
"And act like a fool," was his quick retort. He gotup quickly, overturning his chair, and without stopping to right it, strode slowly up and down the room. He walked for some time, with his eyes cast down, half theatrical, treading the forum, for his reading had a deep influence upon him; and then he halted and turned to me.
"Do you see that chair?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why don't you take it up?"
"Pardon me, sir," I replied (at times we were stiffly formal) and then I placed the chair back against the wall. He resumed his walk muttering something, and suddenly his stiff forensic bearing became lithely natural. "Dan," he said, "do you know what I believe?" and before I had time to reply, he continued: "I believe that wolf is trying to marry my sister. And I want to say this, to go no farther, that if he wins her, I'll cut his throat. Mean it?" he cried, his eyes aflame, "I mean it just as sure as there is a God in Heaven. I have always hated that man. I never told you my first recollection of him. I was playing alone in the yard, sitting under a tree. I was very young, I know, but I remember it well. He came along with a bone which he threw to his dog, and then he bent over me and wiped his greasy hands on my head. I howled inanger, and someone came; my words were so few that I could not set forth my resentment." He strode to the door and then hastily came back. "He is a snake, and May is a bird, and he perhaps can charm her, but if he does, I'll let the blood out of his throat. Father always hated him; of late it seems that he is giving way. But I won't give way."
"Mars. Bob, you know what I think of him. One night I tried to kill him, and—"
"Hush!" he cried, glaring at me fiercely. "You are old enough to hang."
"Flattering growth, looking toward a hopeful majority," I replied.
He shot a keen glance at me. "Dan, sometimes you are inspired with a scythe-like wisdom."
"My association with you, Mars. Bob—"
"That will do. You still have the negro's flattery. But it is an infamous shame that you are not white."
"I am, nearly."
He stamped his foot hard upon the floor. "Fool, there is no such thing under social law as nearly white. One drop of negro blood would Africanize humanity."
"Then one drop of unfortunate blood would make the whole world unjust."
"That will do," he said. "If I let you go on you will preach me an abolition sermon."
I bowed and he sat down, drawing his chair near to the dying fire and placing his slippered feet against the chimney. He mused for a long time, and then he said, without looking at me. "I have been reading an old man's book, and it impresses upon me the glorious appreciation of youth. To be young and to place the proper estimate upon it—how magnificent!"
"But isn't there a danger in such early ripeness?" I asked.
"Sir Sage," he said, shifting his feet and crossing them. "Yes, there may be, and you give evidences of it."
Another silence fell, and the candle as well as the fire was dying. "Dan," he said, "I have done enough scanning and soon now I am going to take up the study of the law. You know that it is my ambition to be a great orator, and something within me says that I shall be. I talk to you as I could talk to no one else; with some degree of literal truth, you are a part of myself—I own you." A shadow fell black upon the wall and he looked round at the struggling candle. For a moment the light revived, and he continued: "I believe that one day I shall stand in the Senate, andthe storm that rages within my breast will sweep over the land."
"The hope of every young Kentuckian," I ventured to say, determined not always to be a negro flatterer.
The light was nearly gone, but I saw his anxious face turn toward me.
"A streak of lie and a stripe of truth," he replied. "And why do all young Kentuckians have that hope? Because Kentucky has produced so many orators? Oh, I know that we don't take account of the failures. The failures come largely from the plow, from lack of advantages, but I have advantages, and I have fire and ability. Do you believe that?"
"Mars. Bob, I know it."
I wondered what there was in the tone of my voice to impress him so, whether it was a sadness on my part or a sudden and moving conviction striking deep into his own mind, but I saw his feet fall from the chimney, saw him cover his face with his hands—and then the light was gone save a dim glow in the gray fire; no sound in the house nor from the cabins—the boundless night was dead.
It must have been nearly a week later, for I know that the holidays were drawing to a close, when my young master said to me: "Dan, I must ask you to do something which may not seem to be very honorable, but which must be done. I have told you that if Bates wins my sister I will cut his throat; I have reconsidered that threat—I will not cut his throat, but I will give him a chance to shoot me, and if he avails himself of it like a man, all shall be fair, but if he does not, I will shoot him. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, but what is it you want me to do?"
We were in the stable at the time this conversation took place. He peered about cautiously to see if any one were within hearing, and then he said: "As I said, it is not very honorable, but it must be done. I want you to sneak—I don't know of a softer word, Dan—I want you to sneak about and—and as best you can listen to what he says to her."
"It is not for me to make an objection by askingsuch a question, Mars. Bob; but do you think it is an honorable thing to do?"
He was looking at me over the partition of a stall, and his eyes snapped. "Did you say something to me about honor?" he asked quietly, but to me his soft tones were louder than a shout.
"Not of honor on your part, but on mine, Mars. Bob."
"A fine shift. Well, I'll attend to your honor and mine, too. I am doing this to save my sister and the honor will come in my giving him an opportunity to defend himself."
"Don't you think you'd better speak to Old Master?"
"No," he snapped. And then he added: "Will you do as I bid you?"
"I am your property, Mars. Bob?"
"Rascal, you disarm me. Listen to me a moment. Has a father ever taken more care of a son's education than I have of yours? Compare your condition with that of every other slave in Kentucky, and then form an estimate of my treatment of you."
"Mars. Bob, I don't have to compare; I already know, and I appreciate. So far as I am concerned, I don't care—I would crawl after the doctor and listento all he says, but I am afraid that after a while you may think less of yourself for sending me."
"Very thoughtful, I'm sure; but you need have no such fear. I am making a bright justice of a black necessity, and if there should be any repentance, I shall be the one to repent. Will you do as I tell you?"
"Yes, sir."
He took my hand, something he rarely did, for although sociable, familiarity was by him held in quiet abhorrence. I went straightway to the house, leaving him in the stable, and as best I could, entered upon the discharge of my distasteful duty. I heard the doctor's voice in the library, and I was hanging about the door opening out into the large hall, when Old Miss spied me.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, coming forward with one hand resting upon her great bunch of keys.
"I am waiting for my Young Master," I replied. "He said that he would meet me here."
"But you can be better employed than by standing round here. Take out that library rug and beat it."
I ventured to remind her that the Christmas was not quite over and that all work was by custom supposed to be suspended. At this impudence, she lifted herkeys and I know that she would have struck me had I not hastened to obey her order. While I was folding the rug, making more than necessary work of it that I might listen to the Doctor and Miss May, I saw him step back from a window, where the two had been standing, and then I heard him say to her: "I am going to town, but will be back this evening," and then in a still lower tone, he added: "And may I have the promise of a talk in the parlor with you to-night? I have something that I wish to tell you."
"With pleasure," I heard her say as I went out with the rug. And long before the coming of night my dangerous plan was formed. In the parlor, usually some distance from the wall, was a large, old-fashioned horse-hair sofa. I decided to get behind this piece of furniture and lie flat upon the floor. There was a strong chance of discovery and a certainty of punishment should I be discovered, but to my young master I had given my word and I was determined to take the risk. Just before supper I laid out my plan to him and after a thoughtful moment, he said: "It's as dangerous as the deuce, but it is the best thing you can do. Wait a moment. I will do it myself."
"You shall not, sir," I was bold enough to declare, and he looked at me admiringly. "All right, Dan,but be careful. Just before supper is over, slip out, and if anyone should ask for you, I will say that I have sent you off."
Old Master had passed through a moody spell since, with so free a hand, he had dipped into the egg-nog, and just now his rusted spirits were brightening. "What, wine at supper, George?" he said, looking at the doctor.
"Our gracious lady's blackberry cordial," the doctor replied, with a wave of his hand toward Old Miss. "Won't you have a glass?"
"Not unless I have lost my senses, and I don't think I have," Old Master rejoined, shrugging his thin shoulders. "When you want to drink, take whisky, for all those side drams are vicious pretenses."
"The percentage of alcohol—" began the doctor, but Old Master shut him up with a loud "Tut, tut. I don't give a snap for the percentage of alcohol," said he. "Take the lowest percentage, drink a little too much, and then see where you are. So I say that if a man wants to drink, it is better to take the shortest route."
"That is, if he wants to get drunk," said the doctor, "but I don't see why any man wants to do that. I don't, I'm sure; I never was drunk in my life."
"There are better men, sir, who cannot say as much," was Old Master's reply, and the doctor pretended to laugh, but I could see that the remark so truthfully delivered by Old Master cut him deeply. I was waiting for the conversation to become earnest, so that I could slip away unobserved, but the talk began to lag, and Mars. Bob must have divined my thoughts for he strove to enliven it.
"Father," said he, "I am ready now to take up law at any time you may suggest. I think that I have had enough of miscellaneous training—I have read nearly every book in your library."
"Take your degree, sir; take your degree," Old Master replied.
"That, sir, is a mere matter of form."
"And a form to be observed, sir—to be observed."
"Yes," said Mars. Bob, "but my reading teaches me that an orator can be trained down to a point too fine—it may weaken his passion, dim his fire with too much judgment, hem him in with too much criticism and compel him to dodge. I think that it was Greek art, sir, that kept Ben Johnson from creating great characters. The perfection of Greek form rendered it impossible for him to give us anything save talking moralities."
"Sophistry!" Old Master shouted, and upon the young man he turned with such a storm that I found my opportunity to escape.
In the parlor the light was dim, the flame in the fire-place not yet having enveloped logs recently put on, and in my eagerness to get into my hiding-place, I overturned a chair. It struck the floor with a deafening noise, I thought, and as I put it back into place I listened for approaching footsteps, but heard nothing save Old Master's loud-toned talk upon the necessity of observing all beneficial forms. I could not understand what he said, nor did I halt long enough to try, but leaping behind the old sofa, stretched myself out upon the floor. Of course every sound about the house was now increased to new volume, and of course my heart beat so hard upon the floor that I was afraid that someone might hear it. A cat came in and purred against the legs of the sofa, a yellow, hateful creature that all previous coaxing had failed to induce to come near me; and I scolded at her under my breath, but she rubbed against me, and mewed as if to invite discovery of my shame. I knew that I must get rid of her, and I think that once I felt in my pocket to find my knife to cut her throat, but by a slight noise was frightened out of this cruel intention. I did not parleywith her, though I picked her up, clambered over the sofa, raised the window and as she clawed at me, threw her out. And I had just time enough to hasten back to my hiding-place when I heard foot-steps in the hall. There was no opening through which I could see what was passing, for my peeping-place commanded but a view of the hearth and the rug spread in front of it. Presently upon the parlor carpet came the doctor's footsteps—I knew them well—and the soft rustle of skirts. For a few moments the doctor stood on the rug, and the skirts, which I could just see, showed me that Miss May had sat down in a rocking chair. I fancied that the doctor was lighting a cigar, and about the time I thought he must have it going, he sat down not far from Miss May. For a long time they talked of neighborhood happenings, parties, marriages, deaths—she as artless as a child, frank and cheerful; but he, sly and insinuating. He told her of his adventures, with race horses in the East and with gamblers on the Mississippi River, and her exclamations from time to time told me of the effect the recital had upon her; and I could well understand it, for indeed the rascal interested me. Sometimes I thought that he had wandered so far from the subject which had on his part induced this communion that I did not see how hewas to approach it, but somehow he found his way back, though not with perfect ease, for I saw my young mistress move her chair in her embarrassment. "And May," he said, "during all these years, while you were growing and blooming, my mind dwelt upon you—and but for you, I don't think that I should have cared to live—"
"Why, Brother George," she broke in, "what are you saying?"
"May, listen to me a moment. Don't call me brother—call me George. Wait a moment, please." There was a flouncing of her skirts and I thought that she must have been getting out of the rocking chair. "You look frightened when, indeed, this should be as quiet as the time when you say your prayers. May, I am no longer as poor a man as I was—"
"But, brother, has anyone reproached you with your poverty?" she asked.
"There you go, calling me brother again. Not lately, but in the past, yes. I have eaten the bitter bread of the dependent—"
"Don't say that," she protested. "Did you invite me here to tell me this? Tell me more of your adventures?"
"May, you are not a child."
"Well, no," she laughed. "I am really getting along in years. I am much older than Bob, and you know he is nearly a man now."
"We are all getting along in years," he replied. "Time is cutting the pigeon wing. But now let me talk seriously to you. Your memory of my devotion to your sister Lou must still be fresh, and God knows I loved her, but May, my love for you is greater, passes all understanding, and I ask you to be my wife."
He was leaning toward her, for his hands came down within the sweep of my vision. It was some time before she replied, and I lay there waiting, my heart beating loud. He had so impressed her that she was seeking to frame a graceful answer. Could it be that she was thinking of accepting him? She got out of the chair and her skirts whisked about as if she had turned toward the door.
I lost sight of the doctor's hand and I saw his feet move. "May, please don't go!" he pleaded.
"Doctor Bates," she said, "you insult me and the memory of my sister. I am going to marry a man that I love and that you hate, although you have seen him but once."
"You don't mean John Marston, of New Orleans?" he almost cried.
"Yes, I do. I am going to marry him."
"May, if you do I will shoot him."
She laughed. "Oh, you might kill him if called to attend him, doctor, but you will not shoot him."
"I will pass your insults, Miss. One more moment, please? Does your mother know about it?"
"I have honored you first, Doctor. See what confidence I have in you? I have made my own choice and have consulted no one. Perhaps it might have been better if my poor sister had done the same."
"You shall not insult me this way. I'll call your father."
"Do, puppy."
She whisked out of the room, and I felt myself rising from the floor, so strong was my impulse to spring upon the scoundrel and choke him, but when I straightened up, he was no longer in the room. I hastened to my young master, whom I knew was waiting for me up stairs, and I almost flung myself into the room. There he sat near a table with two pistols lying upon it. He strove to control himself, but he was biting his lip as he looked up at me.
"Well," he said.
"It is well," I replied.
"Out with it—tell me. What did she do?"
"She called him a puppy," I replied. And then I told him all that had passed, and he listened, motionless, with his hand lying across the two pistols.
Early in the morning I arose and kindled a fire and sat beside it, waiting for my master to awake. The day was still and cold, and what was unusual with us, a dark fog lay low on the land, like the skeleton of night left hanging in the air of dawn. Master turned over and I looked round at him. He did not notice me; he lay upon his back with one arm under his head, his great brown eyes wide open, a graceful curl of hair upon his classic brow. A piece of poplar kindling snapped—and he looked at me.
"Dan," he said, rising up, and propping his shoulders against the head-board, "what was it you said last night about John Marston?"
"I repeated what Miss May said; that she was going to marry him."
"Why, he hasn't been here very often."
"But that doesn't seem to have made much difference," I replied.
He smiled at me. "Love comes once and is ever present afterward," he said, half musingly. And thenrousing himself he added: "I am so much pleased to know that she is beyond the artifices of that nimble wolf that the prospect of her marriage with anyone else seems almost a blessing. But I wonder what father will say. I don't know but that he may look at it very much as I do, though I don't suppose he had an inkling that Bates was striving to win her."
"And how about your mother?" I asked.
I was looking straight at him, and I thought that his face darkened. "I could never understand her liking for him," he said.
"Neither can we understand a woman's liking for any man," I ventured to suggest, and he laughed as he got out of bed. He pulled off the snow-white counterpane and wrapped it about his shoulders, and stood before me a Greek poet, ennobled with the pride of a conquered prize.
When we went down to the breakfast table, Dr. Bates was not in his accustomed place, but Miss May was there and her face was as bright as if nothing had happened. "I wonder why the doctor doesn't come on?" said Old Miss. And then she turned to me: "Dan, step up to his room and tell him that breakfast is ready."
"I object," Young Master cried, setting himself backfrom the table, and Old Master gave him a sharp look. "Robert, what do you mean, sir? Object to what?"
"Pardon me, sir," said Young Master, bowing. "I was thinking of something else and didn't really know what I was saying. Yes, Dan, go tell the doctor to come to breakfast. But here he comes now."
The doctor came in smiling. "Glad to see everyone looking so well," he said, sitting down opposite Miss May and beside Young Master. "General, you appear to have enjoyed a good night's rest, and madam, (speaking to Old Miss) to look at you always takes me back ten years. I met old Tom Marshal not long ago, and he told me that at one time you were the most bewitching woman in Kentucky; and with captivating graciousness he added that in one hand you might carry the cares of the present, but that with the other you held up the glowing lamp of the romantic past. And I must be permitted to fancy that Miss May stands as a reproduction of your earlier days. Bob, how are you this morning?"
"A great man has said that one can be below as well as above flattery, and I am one or the other; I shall not say which," Young Master answered. Miss May smiled, Old Master pretended not to hear, but Old Miss heard, and I thought that the wrinkles on her brow grew deeper.
The doctor laughed. "Let us say above, Bob."
"All right, sir; if you desire to be very near the truth."
"But," the doctor added, "let us not agree that you are above truth itself. General, don't you think that his shrewd sophistry more than ever fits him for the law?" And before Old Master could reply, Young Master spoke up. "The law has kept abreast with all human advancement, but I know of a profession that lags in disputatious ignorance, wagging its head at a Harvey and denouncing a Jenner—bleeding the already bloodless patient—"
"Robert!" Old Master cried, dropping his fork with a clang upon his plate, "if you find it impossible to be agreeable, leave the table, sir."
But Young Master was not to be thus driven away. "If I am disagreeable I beg your pardon."
The doctor was laughing. "His words may be disagreeable to some ears, but not to mine," he said. "There is truth in what he says, and that is one of the reasons why I have practically abandoned my profession."
And then Old Mistress spoke. "And I am very sorry you have," she said. "To heal the sick is themost noble of all arts—one that our Saviour practiced."
"Greatly to the insult of the recognized medicine of His time," Young Master declared.
Old Miss cleared her throat and was going to say something but the doctor cut in ahead of her. "Yes," said he, "but it was the lawyers who condemned Him to death."
I stepped back, expecting to see Young Master spring up in wrath, but he didn't; and he was quiet in his answer: "And it was oratory that spread the great news of redemption—the native force of Peter and the cultivated grace of Paul. Yes, the men of the text book condemned Him to death, but borne upon the eloquence that flew from the heart of impulsive man, His name was carried to the ends of the earth."
I thought that the doctor gave him a look of admiration, but it might have been a trick of his hypocritical nature. But Old Miss looked at him proudly, and I saw a warm light glow in Old Master's eye; and this show of respect for the young man influenced the doctor to change the subject. "I am going to town this morning," said he. "Has anyone a commission to give me? Miss May, can I bring you anything?"
"No, I thank you. I am going myself after a while."
"When did you stop calling her May?" Old Mistress inquired.
"I don't know when and I don't know why," the doctor made answer, looking at the young woman. "I suppose it was when I discovered that she had lost her sisterly regard for me, though I don't know exactly when that was."
"Wasn't it last night?" Miss May asked, giving him a straight look. But not in the least was he daunted by it. "Last night? Let me see," he went on, pretending to muse. "Oh, I don't know but it was. We had a little dispute then," he added, turning to Old Miss. "But it was not serious."
"What is it?" Old Miss asked, looking up at a house-maid who had just entered.
"Mr. Marston is in the parlor," the maid answered. Miss May jumped up and ran to her room to adorn herself for his reception, and the doctor, following her with his eyes as she ran up the stairway in the hall, could not conceal the dark bitterness in his heart. Old Master looked on and was silent until Miss May had quite disappeared upon the upper landing and then coming out of his muse with a sudden jerking of his hand which lay upon the table, he said: "It appears to me that his visits are becoming frequent, Madam."
Old Miss smiled, as I had seen her smile some time before when it was incidentally mentioned by someone that the man Marston owned a large sugar plantation in Louisiana. "Yes," she replied, "and for one, I must say that I am pleased." And thereupon the doctor turned his head slowly and gave her a searching look. "I mean it," she said, smiling at him. But he did not smile in return; he rattled his fork upon his plate and sat in silence. My young master was turned about so that I could see his face. The sullen discomfiture of the doctor was pleasing to him, and with a sudden motion of his hand, a forensic gesture which was now unconscious with him (so surely was oratory taking possession of him) said straight at Old Master:
"I don't see why so much import should attach to a few visits. One might suppose that my sister had been living apart from social influences when the fact is that young men have for years ridden from the valleys and the knobs to call upon her. I hope you do not wish to get her off your hands?"
Old Master was rolling a bit of bread between his thumb and finger, a habit with him. And he looked up, still rolling it, and with a mischievous light in his eye, asked if anyone had seen his daughter posted for sale.
"I won't put up with such talk as this," Old Miss declared. "Robert, you and your father would make me out a heathen. Offered for sale, indeed. General, I am ashamed of you."
The old man rolled his bolus of bread and chuckled softly. "I don't know," he said, his eyes blinking, "that anyone has tried to make you out a heathen. In fact, I think you give strong evidences of an advanced state of civilization. The heathen mother would be caught by feathers and paint but it takes a sugar plantation to sweeten your smile."
Young master roared and was still laughing when Miss May passed the door on her way to the parlor. Old Miss was so furious that she would not trust herself to say anything; her face changed from one hue to another, and her eyes looked young with fire, but she held her peace, with her teeth set upon her thin lip. It was now time for the doctor to say something, and with the sympathetic smile of the scoundrel he turned to her. "Nothing is too sacred to escape a man's joke," said he. "Of course, the General meant nothing, but it gives me the opportunity to say that of all mothers I have known, I think you are the noblest."
Young Master looked at him. "My mother needsno one to defend her against a pleasantry uttered at her own board," said he.
"Tut, tut," Old Master cried, slapping his hand upon the table. "It was all nonsense and should have been taken as such. Dan, tell Sam to get my leggings and bring my horse round. I'm going to ride."
During the forenoon, though the air was sharp, I saw Mr. Marston and Miss May walking about the place, along the banks of the smoking creek, in the woods, where the cold birds fluttered; I heard them laugh, and I saw him leading her by the hand as they strolled down the lane. Only twice during the day did I catch sight of the doctor, once as he stood leaning moodily against a tree in the yard, and later as he walked to and fro near the stable, lashing his leg with a riding whip. Old Master rode abroad and remained long away, and when he returned just before the dinner hour, I heard negro Sam tell him that the doctor wished to speak to him in the library. I know not what passed at the interview, but I remember that as I went through the hall I heard Old Master say, "It is a matter, sir, that should concern you very little. You may regard yourself as a member of the family, but I am at the head of the household, sir." I imagined that the doctor was advising against Marston and that Old Master had thus shut him up.
That night Bob and I were in our room, studying an immortal oration, when there came a tap at the door. The young man frowned at the interruption and putting aside his book, went himself to the door. "Come in," he said, stepping back stiffly. And the doctor entered. It was the first time for years that I had seen him in that room and all three of us felt the embarrassment of the visit. "Sit down," my master invited, placing a chair for him. He took the seat, leaned for a moment toward the cheerful blaze, then straightening up, remarked upon the coldness of the night. Master said something in reply and I knew that they were skirmishing; that something must soon follow—through their politeness I saw a deadly hatred.
"How long does that man expect to stay?" the doctor asked.
"What man?" master spoke up, with an air of surprise.
"Marston, of course."
"Why of course?"
The doctor turned nervously, looked at me and said: "Will you please move a little?" motioning with his hand, "You are too close to me."
"Dan," said master, "sit over there."
I went over to the window, the place where I hadstood one night and looked down upon a quarrel between Old Master and the doctor.
"Why of course?" master repeated.
"Thought you knew the man I meant."
"He and almost all other men had passed out of my mind, sir," said the young man, leaning with his elbow upon the table. "There are times when I don't think of man, but of what man has said."
The doctor coughed. "Don't you think there's just a little pretense in all that—this learned abstraction?"
"If there's any pretense at all it is just a little. I know men who have more than a little pretense."
For a time they were silent, listening to the crackling of the fire. "But I didn't come to bicker," said the doctor.
"Didn't you? Have the revivalists brought about a change of heart?"
"I have come to tell you good-bye," said the doctor, graciously overlooking my master's remark.
"Oh, to tell me good-bye? When do you expect to go?"
"Possibly to-night—surely in the morning."
"Expect to be gone long?"
"I may never return."
"You expect to be gone then some time?"
They looked at each other. "It would seem so," said the doctor. And then he added: "I am going South."
"That's all right," said master. "It really makes no difference which way you go."
"You are getting old enough to pass from annoyance to insult," the doctor replied.
"Yes," said master, "one is supposed to progress."
"True," replied the doctor, "but premature progress argues premature decay. Kentucky is full of the dusty shells of young hopefuls. Sometimes at nineteen a boy gives promise of becoming a great orator; at twenty-five he is a haggler—at forty, forgotten. I have known it to be the case."
"Yes," said master, leaning heavier upon the table, "some men change while others are always the same—with low instincts and only the sharpness that appears to be the inheritance of the scoundrel."
I stepped forward. Master noticed me and motioned me back to my place. The doctor did not even wince. He sat gazing into the fire. "I came to make you a proposition," said he.
"All right. Let it be a short one."
"It will not take long to state it."
"Longer to get to it, I presume?"
"It's this," said the doctor. "You are going into the law and I have no doubt that you will make your mark. I don't believe that you are ambitious to acquire wealth, but I feel that you would like to hold intact your father's estate. A part of the estate, you must know, will fall to me. I don't suppose there will be money enough to satisfy my claim, without a division of the land, so to avoid this, I will agree to take a small amount in ready money as part payment, and Dan as the remainder."
A cold shiver ran over me, not that I was afraid of the issue, but because that man's determination to possess me was freezing my blood.
Master did not change his position, neither did he look up. He made this simple answer: "When the time comes, you may take what belongs to you, even to the estate itself. I will keep Dan."
"But I have consulted with your mother and I act upon her advice."
"You may take the estate when the time comes, but I will keep Dan."
The doctor got up. "Bob Gradley," said he, "when you were a child, you toddled into my way, and now that you are nearly a man, you persistently obstruct my path."
Master sprawled flat upon the table and laughed.
"Well, if this isn't gall!" he cried. "I was born on my father's plantation to stand in your way." He got off the table and laughed as he walked up and down the room. "Toddled into your way? And didn't my mother apologize, and didn't my father try to make excuses for me, doctor?" he said, facing about. "Doctor, the first light of reason that fell upon my mind brought the knowledge that I hated you. Once I cut my finger and looking at the blood, wondered if your blood were not black instead of red. And I'd like to satisfy myself upon that point now. Here, (tossing a pen-knife upon the table) prick yourself and let me see if the ooze is not black. I'll bet it is, and what a proclamation the devil could write with such ink, and with a pen made of a lizzard's claw!" This idea brought back his mirth, and laughing he walked up and down the room, the doctor's eyes following him with a sullen gaze. After a time master came back to the table and sat down. "I am much obliged to you for this entertainment," he said.
"Make the most of it," the doctor replied.
"Oh, I will; I have been known to make much out of poor material."
"And you have been known to make too much out of a negro that ought to be in the corn field."
"Yes, more out of him than could have been made out of some white men."
"Look here, sir; do you mean to draw a comparison between me and that negro?"
"Oh, no; not at all, and I beg your pardon for inadvertantly producing that impression. I wouldn't go so far as that."
"I should hope not," said the doctor.
"Oh, surely not," master replied. "I am sometimes wild but I am never frantic. I wouldn't compare you with Dan. I have too high an opinion of him."
"I will not stand this!" the doctor cried springing to his feet. "No gentleman in the State of Kentucky would put up with it and you'll have to take it back or—" He took out his watch and glanced at it. "That was the worst insult I have ever known, Bob Gradley, and I will give you just five minutes to take it back."
"What time have you?" master asked, taking out his watch.
"Fourteen minutes of ten, sir."
"You are just a little slow. I'm fifteen. Fortunate that my derringers are loaded—don't believe I could load them in five minutes." He pulled open a drawerand took out two pistols. "And now," said he, "in the event that I should drop off to sleep, wake me up when the time is out."
"Braggart," muttered the doctor.
I heard Old Master walking in the hall. Once he halted at our door—I heard his hand upon the knob. I hastened to the door and opened it and the old man stepped into the room. Young Master gathered up the pistols and put them into the drawer, and the doctor snapped his watch which he had continued to hold open in his hand. The antipathy that lay between Bob and the doctor was felt by every member of the family, and I saw the old General stiffen with surprise upon discovering the doctor in the room, but he gave no mouth to his astonishment; he sat down upon the chair which his son sprang up to give him, looked from one to another of us, and rubbing his thin hands said that he had a piece of news for us. The doctor, as if he already divined the news and did not care to hear it uttered in words, hastily quitted the room; and then Old Master, paying no attention to the abrupt departure of his son-in-law, told us that he had given his daughter to the man from Louisiana.