"What do you think of her, Dan?" Bob asked as we drove toward home. "Tell me exactly what you think."
"She is beautiful, sir," I replied, "but somehow her features refuse to remain with me."
"They remain with me—black eyes, black hair, rose-leaf ears. She is an oration of the ancients set forth in nineteenth century flesh and blood."
"Yes, sir," I assented, with my mind on the old man, "but I don't think much of her stock, as Mr. Clem might say."
He snatched the lines from me, lashed the horse to a fierce trot, and looked at me as I sat with my hands fallen in idle submission. "Dan, what's the matter with you? You are getting to be a d—— cynic. Don't like her stock! I suppose you mean her father? He has had to work his way, no doubt, and may not have read as many fine books as certain fellows who have been pampered, but he is a gentleman. Do you hearme?" He lashed the horse. "Do you hear what I say?"
"If you say he is a gentleman, he is, Mars. Bob."
"But why the devil don't you make discoveries of your own?"
"I do, but I have not found the North Pole."
"What do you mean by that? Mean that as a gentleman Mr. Potter is a North Pole to you and is therefore beyond your discovery? Is that what you mean?"
At this instant my wretchedness must have smitten him. He pulled the horse back to a walk; he laid his hand upon mine, limp in my lap, and said: "Dan, I was a brute to talk that way when you've been so sick. You are right. The old fellow is as ignorant as a boar but love poured a basket of flowers over him. Please don't try to apologize—I'd rather you'd hit me than to do that. Yes, the old man is ignorant and coarse but the girl is intelligent and refined. Look there," he added, pointing with his buggy whip, "you see a flower with a weed as its parent. The weed has done some good, for it has brought forth the flower, and after all it must have held an unconscious refinement. Here, you take the lines and drive, just as you were doing back there, and don't think of what I said.Now, you see, we are going along just as if nothing had happened."
The fire and the tenderness of that boy! A passion almost mad, and a gentleness nearly as soft as a young mother's religion, seeking to possess him! I felt even then that he was not fitted to grapple with stern success. Was intuition preparing me for a trial to come, a struggle waiting down the mystic road? Nature may seem to mock her own endeavors, but I believe she creates with a purpose, though the purpose may remain hidden until the end. Nature is pressed upon our many moods, and one mood may strive to pull down the work wrought by another mood. One bent of nature must have had a glorious career marked out for Young Master, though another bent—but of this I will not speak. It is bad enough that it should be told in even the proper place.
That day for dinner there were several guests, among them old 'Squire Boyle, now grown quite feeble. I had been permitted to leave off the service of standing behind Young Master's chair, but on occasions my help was really needed, so I took my old place in the dining-room. It was not expected that even this little gathering could be wholly at peace with itself. There was a rumble, North and Southand disputatious vapors floated in the air. And reason, among the party leaders, had given way to fierce gesticulation, and a strife to say something, not to convince but to cut an adversary. I remember that old man Boyle paused with his mouth full of a turkey's white meat to listen to a remark made by Old Master.
"Sir," said the 'squire, after swallowing as if his absorption had dried his throat, "the institutions of this country are tottering, and cool reason alone can prop them."
"And that's exactly what the South won't listen to," Mr. Clem spoke up. "The South wants to block the humane progress of the world. She is not satisfied with her present unhealthful domain, but wants to shove her slave territory into new lands. Reason's voice is but the squeak of a mouse, sir. They can hear nothing but the roar of a lion, and by G——, sir, they want to be the lion."
"Clem," said Old Miss, "you forget where you are. You are not trading horses on the turn-pike, you are seated at my table."
"Hanna, that's a fact, I am at your table; and I reckon that I'm the first one that ever paid his way here."
"Oh, speaking of horses," interrupted the 'squire with a squeak, "reminds me, Clem, that the one I got of you ain't worth his weight in last year's bird-nests."
"What?" Mr. Clem cried, "I am astonished at you."
"Yes, sir, and I was astonished at him; wouldn't pull a settin' turkey off her nest; lies down in the traces like he wants to go to sleep."
"Why, of course," Mr. Clem shouted. "You have profaned a fine saddle horse. He's not intended to pull; he's intended for a gentleman to ride, sir."
"But didn't you tell me that he was a wheel horse and would pull till both eyes popped out?"
"Oh, no; I said I would rather have him than any wheel horse that would pull that blindly. Saddle horses, you know, are of a higher grade."
"I was in hopes so, sir, and I thought I would try to ride this one, but blast me if he didn't try to shake me off him right into the creek!"
"Oh," said Mr. Clem, "I forgot to tell you that he used to travel with a circus. Yes, sir, and an actor used to stand on him to jump headlong into a tank of water, and he was taught to shake himself to announce his readiness for the leap—"
"But he laid down with me, sir."
"Yes, and I was going to say, that a part of his dutywas to go into the tank after the actor. A fact, Bob," he added, nodding at Young Master, who had begun to laugh at him. "Horses, you know, are taught to do most anything. Yes, sir, but getting back to the question of unrest now so strongly marked throughout the country, I want to say that something is going to happen and happen blunt, too. No human government can long stand the internal pullings and haulings that this one is subjected to."
"But what is going to be done?" Old Master cried.
Mr. Clem shrugged his shoulders. "Something is going to pop pretty soon and pop like a whip," said he. "A glass house is going to be broken and hoar frost will gather on leaves never intended for the chill air. The whole trouble comes from slavery and I, for one, am bold enough to say that the end is surely not far off."
"I don't want you to say it at my table, sir," Old Master almost fiercely shouted. "I don't want you to talk treason at my board."
Not in the least was Mr. Clem offended, nor was he at all put out by Old Master's violence. "Guilford," said he, "the trouble is that the South has got the negro mixed up with its religion and with its notion of good government. To own a slave no longer stopsat the possession of a piece of property, but becomes so much of a sentiment that the man who does not care to own one is looked upon as an outlaw. And if he declares that he would not own one, that his conscience is against it, he is put down as a traitor to the South, seeking to overturn the American government."
Old Miss threw up her head and sniffed the unsavory air. "Clem," she said, "I don't want you to talk that way in the presence of my son. Why, it wouldn't astonish me to hear you say that a negro is as good as a white man!"
'Squire Boyle listened with his fork raised and his mouth half open. He had long been suspected of holding the views of the abolitionists; it was known that he had favored Henry Clay's scheme for gradual emancipation. He had been studiedly discreet, but being by birth a Northern man, suspicion naturally turned an eye upon him. Sometimes when he must have felt that his silence was eating him like an internal cancer, he had come to Old Master to be bold with healthful utterances, but of late, as the country became more deeply stirred, Old Master warned him to swallow rapidly whenever he felt a strong disposition to talk upon the subject of abolition. And now he swallowedwith such vigor and rapidity that a stranger to the precaution placed upon his speech must surely have thought that he was choking to death.
"'Squire, did you swallow something the wrong way?" Mr. Clem asked, leaning over toward him.
"No, something wants to come up the right way," the 'squire piped, the red Adam's apple at his thin throat dodging like a wood-pecker. "I want to say something, but I won't. But the time will come when I will stand on a hill—I've got it picked out—and bawl what I think. Guilford, you are fixing to scold me, sir, and I must ask you not to say a word."
Old Master laughed at this, the old 'squire's desperate threat of rebellion, and had taken up a bit of bread to roll his customary bolus, when yellow Sam, who had been sent to town, came in with a letter. Old Miss began at once to speculate as to whom it could be from, and Old Master, winking at Bob and looking at her as he wiped his glasses, said that he supposed he could put the letter under his plate and wonder a long time as to the identity of the writer. "But happily," said he, again winking his mischievous eye, "we are provided with means whereby we can cut through all speculation and get at once into the heart and thetruth of the subject. To be brief," he added, "we can open the letter."
"Well, for goodness sake, why don't you?" his wife broke in, as she always did when she saw him indulging a droll humor. "Give it to me."
"Oh, no," he laughed, putting back her hand. "There may be secrets in this epistle that belong alone to the great free-masonry of men."
"And your organization is shameful enough," she said, not without a show of ill-temper (for any allusion to an understanding in which she was not included always appeared to cut her). "But I must acknowledge its rare perfection as an organization," she went on. "Its devotees do not have to be sworn, unless nature swears them at birth."
By this time the single leaf of the letter was shaking under Old Master's gaze. "Read it," he said huskily, handing it to Bob. And he bowed his head over the table. The note was from Miss May. It told us that her husband was dead, and that she, with her little child, was about to start for home.
Everything was put in order, the house cleaned and the cabins newly whitewashed, to brighten the place for the daughter's return. But the day looked dull when she came with the little child crying in the nurse's arms. There were tears and embraces and tremulous words of love.
On the steps my Young Mistress turned to the nurse and said, "Give her to me, Titine." And at this moment I felt that an arrow from a bow in the sky had shot through me. Titine! I did not know that the world had presumed to hold a beauty and a charm so exquisite. Her complexion was as the richest cream, her hair showed the merest suggestion of a waver rather than a negro kink, her eyes were black-blue, and her lips—Was it Solomon who said "her lips are as a thread of scarlet"? I was a man now, grown to full strength and passion—from the moment I saw that French, Spanish, negro, Anglo-Saxon girl. Never before had I seen anyone to thrill me; surely not a negress, and certainly I had not presumed toacknowledge the charms of a white woman. I did not fall at once in love with Titine; I was too excited, too breathless as I gazed upon her. I reminded myself of an animal, beholding for the first time a female of his own species—and I verily believe that I felt a desire to throw my head up and scream like a panther.
"Dan," Old Miss cried, "why don't you bring in the things? What do you want to stand there for like a chicken with the gapes?"
In this comparison there was something so appropriate that I could not suppress a laugh, though I took care to hide it from Old Miss. Miss May turned to the girl and told her to help me bring in the bags, but Old Miss objected. "Let her rest, May," she said. "Dan hasn't been doing a thing. He's pretty much as you left him—scarcely worth his salt."
This was a fine recommendation to Titine, and I felt the blood mount to my face, as I turned toward the carriage at the gate. But I glanced back and saw the girl following me with her eyes; and I wondered, selfishly enough, why she had not insisted upon helping me, though I needed no assistance, for I was strong enough at that moment to seize all the bags at once and hurl them over the house.
I saw but little of Titine that afternoon (or eveningas we termed it), for the child was fretful and put a claim upon nearly all her time, but I heard her singing in a room down the hall from our "office," and I stepped about, keeping quick time with the tingling leap of my blood. At the supper hour she came down to stand behind Miss May, and I marched boldly into the dining-room, delighted now to resume a menial service. I stood beside her, but alas! with what scorn did she look at me. The child began to cry and she was sent above, and it was then that I began to hear something of her history. She had belonged to Marston's maiden sister, a peculiar creature who had cared for nothing but Titine and a white woolly dog. The dog died and the mistress, doubling her affection for the girl, sent her to a convent to be educated, greatly to the scandal of her associates. At the old woman's death, of recent date, the girl had fallen to Marston. She complained at this transfer, declaring that her mistress had drawn up a paper to set her free, but the paper could not be found, so she was compelled to submit, stubbornly at first, but after a while becoming so much attached to Miss May that she rejoiced in her good fortune.
"She knows as much and is a far better talker than I am," said Miss May.
"Daughter, you must not say that," Old Miss objected. "It cannot be true and it surely is not right."
"Very well, mother, I won't say it again, but you will soon find out for yourself."
Then they all fell into a family talk, the sudden death of Marston and the entanglement in which his affairs were likely to be found. He was not a good manager, never knew what his income was, and was always in debt. But he was so kind-hearted—and here Miss May wept and the subject was changed.
Immediately after supper young master dressed himself to call on Miss Potter, and when he was gone I threw aside my senseless book and went down into the yard, to dodge behind the trees at the corner of the house, hoping to catch sight of Titine on the veranda. At last she came out, with a red cap on her head, and stood with her hands resting on the balustrade, looking far away at the dying pink in the sky. I stepped out boldly and touched my hat. She glanced down at me and tossed her head. But I knew that she was not displeased.
"Beautiful evening," I said.
"Indeed!"
"This is but one of many of our charming sun-sets."
"Ah, then the sun goes down every evening?"
"Y-e-s," I stammered, for she was beginning to make me feel foolish.
"In the same place?" she asked, cutting her eye at me.
"Well, not exactly. But in the West, generally."
"Startling."
"Oh, not when we have accustomed ourselves to it."
"Indeed. But tell me, is salt very high here, or do you use a great deal of it?"
"I don't quite understand you."
"I heard your old mistress say that you were not worth your salt."
"Yes, she would say anything to humiliate me. I inflicted a mortal wound when I began to study with my Young Master."
"Oh, you have studied, have you? That was foolish. I committed the same indiscretion."
"If you have studied, then it was glorious to study."
"It is bad enough not to be worth your salt, but please don't be a fool."
"I can't help it. You would rob a philosopher of his wisdom."
She laughed, and I believe that had a lancet prickedan artery my blood would have spurted a mile high. I heard a sharp cry from the child, and it smote my heart, not that the little thing might be suffering, but that I was to be robbed. "I must go," she said.
"And shall I stay?"
"Yes, if you sleep standing up, like a horse."
She was gone, and I stood under the trees, gazing at the cabin lights; and I waited there until the lights began to go out, but the girl did not return. I heard Young Master ride up to the gate, and I went out to take his horse. He walked with me to the stable. He said not a word until we were returning, and then, clutching my arm, he told me that Miss Potter had consented to be his wife. "I am the happiest human being on the face of this broad earth," he said, waving his arm so as to take in the entire universe. "And she says that she will wait till I have made myself famous, for I told her I thought that this would be wise, believing with some of the great thinkers, that while marriage might improve a man's judgment, it might also put out a part of his fire. You know I was born with the idea that I was to become an orator, and I have not run against anything to change my opinion. I feel something surging within me, and all I need is a subject. I can be proud of her, Dan; I am proudof her, and I must make myself worthy of her pride. What are you so glum about to-night?"
"You have seen the girl that came with Miss May?"
"Yes, she is a beauty. And she has caught you? I'm glad of it. Oh, it seems that old mother Nature is not disposed to let us drift far apart. In common we felt many an emotion, and love came along to teach one of us what the other did not know. But you don't mean that you have fallen in love with her so soon?"
"I don't know anything when I think of her, Mars. Bob. More than half my life seems to be compressed into the few hours she has been under our roof."
It was getting late, and Bob went to bed soon after we reached the room, to dream of a love that had leaped to meet his own; and I lay there listening to the faint cries of a child, and the almost silent sounds of foot-falls on the floor, down the hall. In the morning I was up before the sun, dodging about among the trees at the east end of the veranda. At last she came down to freshen her eyes with a glimpse of the dawn-couch, purple with the sun's resurrection.
"I am almost persuaded that you are determined to earn your salt, you are up so early," she said with a smile brighter than the new day.
"Is it because you are from the sugar lands of Louisiana that salt is such a novelty to you?" I asked. She did not reply, but stood looking at the hills, far away.
"I never get tired of them," she said; "they are so strange and new. We have no hills in our country, you know; nothing but a level stretch as far as the eye can see, and we know that beyond this another level stretch lies, and beyond that, still another. But here, I don't know what's beyond. Blue mystery everywhere."
"Some time I will take the buggy and drive you over to the hills," I said, and the light of a new interest flew to her eyes.
"Will you? That will be kind. But will they let you take the buggy?"
"My young master will give me permission, and we can slip off from Old Miss. Let us go Sunday, after dinner?"
This was on a Saturday, and the length of time lying dead between then and Sunday afternoon was to me a sunless, moonless and starless age. But the hour, the minute came, and amidst the half contemptuous titterings and envious glances of the negroes, we drove off from the gate, down a lane, far across two white turn-pikes that streaked a hill and striped a valley, upthrough a fern cove to a dark, mysterious spring; and here we left the buggy to climb a crag. She had seen red lumps of sand-stone, but never had she touched a living rock, and at the foot of a cliff, moss-grown and vine-strung, she stood with her head bowed and with her red cap in her hand—a goddess in meditation, a nymph at prayer. I stood apart and in deep reverence looked at her, fearful that my nearness might profane her devotions. I had begun to ascribe to her a super-human quality, a beauty belonging not to this world, and a virtue breathed by the ancient maidens who preferred death to a tarnishment of their chastity. Indeed, had there been such an institution as the supreme bench of sentimental idiots, I should surely have been selected to a seat upon it.
"Is it not divine here, in this air, blown fresh from paradise?" I said, lifting my eyes like an ox.
"Yes, and I wish we had brought something to eat," she replied. "This rough climbing has made me hungry."
"You hungry!" I cried. "Impossible."
"Why impossible?" And she put on her red cap and looked at me from head to foot.
"Because your soul—"
"Bosh!" she said and laughed. "All you Kentuckymen are alike, from what I have read and from what I now see. You try to make love and you declaim like school-boys. They laugh at such love in New Orleans. Don't you know that the first step toward making love to a woman is to interest her by something you do or say?"
"And haven't I interested you?" I asked.
"Why, I can't say that you have. You have been very kind, and attentive, but I haven't seen anything surprising about you. Ever since I came I have heard how smart you were, and I suppose you must have lorded it over those poor ignorant negroes."
"Miss," said I, "I might be ready to drop at your feet and cover your shoes with kisses, but you musn't talk to me that way. What little learning I have, has been a source of reproach and trouble to me, and never have I attempted to show it off. I don't suppose I could say as much if I had been fed upon the hot mush of French romances."
She turned about and sat down, put forth her dainty foot, looked at it and said that hot mush was at all times to be preferred to cold slop. "Won't you sit down?" she asked, turning her foot over so that I might see the exquisite arch of the instep. I sat down, though not beside her; and for a time I musedin silence upon the temper, the unhealthful fancy of the old maid who had presided over the mind of this fair creature. I knew that in her selection of a partner she would look high, but I knew also that her actions must ever be subservient to the will of an owner, invested with far more authority than that granted to a husband by our almost mock ceremony of marriage. But how high could she look? Surely no higher than the plane upon which I stood. These reflections threw a dash of old earth into the countenance of my romance, and in bitterness I laughed at myself and at her.
"What has tickled you so?" she asked.
"Two fools," I replied.
"Two fools, or one fool big enough for two?"
"Two fools," I repeated. "We are owned body and soul, and even sentiment, the gift of God, comes to mock us."
In an instant she had planted her feet firmly upon the ground and was standing in front of me. "I can begin to detect a glimmering of sense in you," she said. "In a negro's courtship there can be nothing absurd," she went on, flooding me with the light from her eyes. "An hour's acquaintance is as good as a year's close relationship. He is an animal looking for a mate andhe makes his proposal of marriage. He may already have a dozen wives, it makes no difference, for neither law nor society takes any account of his relations with women. My mistress was a sensible woman, and she taught me to hate a negro marriage and I do hate it. I have the instincts of a lady and I refuse to be an animal. I saw at once that you were determined to ask me to be your wife and I am glad you have given me a chance to head you off."
Strange talk for a maiden, there on a hill, under a cliff overlooking broad Kentucky. I might have expected it from a wrinkled hag, a sibyl, but from this ripe and creamy maid it came as a blunt blow upon the head.
"There is truth in what you say," I was forced to admit, "but ours would not be a common negro marriage."
"No, but you are making the courtship characteristically negro. Do you reflect upon how short a time we have known each other?"
"Titine, this suddenness is not negro—it is impulse and romance. How long did Romeo know Juliet?"
"And what came of their love but death? Dan, we can be good friends, brother and sister, but you must not ask me to go through with a mock ceremony, thesentimental joke of a plantation, and pretend that I am your wife. When we reflect upon our condition we must be miserable. Education has made us unhappy, except when we lose our minds in a book; and to unite two miseries, two conditions of helplessness—a crime!" she cried. "Yes, I have read French romances. Year after year I sat beside my mistress and read to her and listened to her remarks upon the phases of life that came under our view. She called me precocious—a reflex of her own mind. My mind was apt and it stored many images and caught many a color from my surroundings, and—but what is the use of talking about myself?"
"Titine, listen to me. Something tells me that the world will not always be thus, holding the worshippers of nature in a grip of bondage—"
"Hush!" she cried, putting her hands to her ears. "When you have changed the subject I will listen to you."
"You will listen now!" I cried, springing to my feet, grasping her hands, holding them tight, bending her backward, gazing into her eyes. "You will listen to me now." Her eyes darted forked tongues at mine, and I liberated her. She smiled and sat down."Yes," she said sweetly, her anger vanishing, "I will listen to you now."
"First, let me beg your pardon."
"Oh, another mockery. Let us skip that. Let me hear your speech; you are a lawyer."
"I will not make the speech of a lawyer, but of a lover."
"You can't love. You are a negro." She said this with bitterness and her laugh was cold.
"Titine, even an animal can love."
"Oh, for a season, yes; but nature does not make a mockery of an animal's love. The animal can seize its young and run away, but if the negro runs away to protect his young, he is brought back with the hounds. Dan, I am going to live as my mistress did, and no man shall have a claim on me."
"But Titine, you are a human being, you have passion, the sense of—"
"Sense of justice to myself and to those who might come after me."
"Titine, you are not a girl, you are a beautiful witch. You know too much for one of your age—your shrivelled old mistress left you her mind; and she is now watching you—"
"Ugh!" she cried, putting out her hands, "don't saythat. But if she does watch me she will see that I follow her commands."
"But her commands were against your interests. She would shut you out from all enjoyment, from sentiment and from love. Thank her for her kindness but rebel against her exactions. Be my wife."
"Poor fool," she said, clasping her hands over her knee and gazing at me. "You are not a man to have a wife; you are a piece of property, and no matter how tightly I might cling to you, you could be torn from me and sold, and the howl of the auctioneer, yelling for another animal to be brought forward, would drown my cries of distress. Oh, I have stood in the slave market, and I have seen a child snatched from the arms of its heart-broken mother. Old Mistress used to take me there to show me the bitterness of life. And you would be the father of a stock to be sold! Poor fool, put your foot on such a thought." She rocked herself and laughed, and upon my soul, for a moment I fancied that she was a witch, endowed with a frightful wisdom; but a bough moved, the strong light fell upon her, and she sat there, warm, rich and human.
"Have you given your strange views to Miss May?"
"There are two children in our family and one of them is Miss May," she said.
"But don't you read to her?"
"Yes, the 'Children of the Abbey' and let her cry herself to sleep. She is a child."
"Titine, there is strange blood in you; you are Cleopatra come to earth again; and the serpent of slavery is at your breast."
She shuddered.
"And it may suck out my life, but mine alone," she said.
"Titine, a week ago I could not have believed it possible to be placed in such a position; I could not have believed that a creature like you existed in the world. The knowledge of slavery has always been a burden; you make it a snake and it bites me. But tell me, what are you going to do? Are you going to spend your life in servitude?"
"Who is there to take me away?" she asked, and the look she gave me stilled my blood, but it flowed again with a spurt, and leaping to my feet I ran to the edge of the cliff and looked far below, at the lengthening shadows, the crows sailing round and round, the cattle feeding in a distant meadow. I turned back to her. She did not look at me. I sat down beside her,sought to take her hand, but she moved and motioned me away.
"Titine, once I thought I saw a hangman's rope—the maids have told you a part of the story—and money was thrown at me, but I would not run away so deeply was I devoted to Bob Gradley. I thought that the devil was trying to tempt me, but now I believe that the temptation comes from God."
"You have misunderstood me," she said, and her words were freezing. "I would not suggest a temptation; I would not run away with you. I will be frank—I don't love you, and if I did, I would not run away to be brought back in shame. Let us be fellow servants, Dan?"
"But is there no hope left in the world?"
"Do you read the Bible, and do you find hope there?"
"Come, let us go home," I said.
Now came a political contest to shame the shortsightedness of the wise men who framed our constitution. I do not say this in disparagement of a broad and liberty-loving principle, the Jeffersonian principle that made demagogic men too strong and government too weak, but I do say, as all men now must know, that advantage was taken of the theory of states rights, beast-headed fallacy; and I do aver that Hamilton was the wisest man that saw the birth of our nation. But this is simply seeking to make noon-day clear.
Never was there a campaign of such heat and bitterness. Households were divided and brothers frowned upon one another, and in the distance hovered the vulture-shaped cloud of war. My Young Master supported Kentucky's favorite son, as did Old Master, and for months our house bore the appearance of a committee room. The time came for Bob to display his power as an orator, and never was there a nobler effort. It was in the court-house yard. Great men had spoken before the boy arose to address the crowd.I was standing near, and I thought that I saw his blood leap; I know that his eye shot fire at me. His first sentence caught the assembly, the lawyers, the doctors and the sturdy yeomen. I cannot recall it; I will not try, but I know that it tingled through me. Since then I have listened to many a speech; I have heard Wendell Phillips and the great men in Congress, but never have I been bound by the spell of such impassioned eloquence. To me his words lost their literal meaning—it was an outpour of passion and emotion. The crowd went wild, and when the orator stepped from the platform, he was borne away on the shoulders of men. Old George D. Prentice, author of an immortal poem, was present with genius shining in his eyes, and the next day his newspaper declared that another great orator had arisen in Kentucky, one to take the place of Henry Clay. It was a glad night at our house. The trees were hung with lanterns, so great was the pressure of people come to congratulate the blue-grass Demosthenes.
Upon all these proceedings, Mr. Clem looked with a quiet smile.
"You made a great speech," he said to Bob, when we had gone to the room, late at night. "Yes, you caught me, but what does it all amount to? I told youthat Lincoln would be nominated, and now I tell you he will be elected."
"Nonsense," Old Master cried. He was walking up and down the room, his head high with pride. "This country is not yet ready for a revolution."
"That may be, Guilford," said Mr. Clem, "but it is ready for the election of that man."
"Are you going to support him, sir?" Old Master demanded.
"Did you ever know me to turn my back upon a friend? And he is not only my friend, but the saviour of this country, the greatest statesman that this republic has seen."
"Clem," said Old Master, pausing and resting his hand upon a pile of books that lay on Bob's table, "it is well enough to praise your friend, for he is no doubt droll and amusing, but when you come to call him a great statesman, you do injustice to the memory of Clay and Webster, of Jefferson and Benton."
Mr. Clem laughed. "Guilford," said he, "you are misled just as the majority of men suffer themselves to be misled. A man brays with the solemnity of an ass and you think he is great. Over a vital question he utters a senseless stupidity and you think he has said a wise thing. You don't know that humor is the creamthat rises to the surface of life's wisdom. Lincoln tells a story and throws a bright light on a truth; he does not invest a subject with a gloom so thick that no eye can penetrate it. He makes all things plain, and the province of greatness is not to enshroud but to simplify. But that's neither here nor there; he's going to be elected."
"But can't you understand that the country will not accept him, sir?"
"Not accept him? The people will accept whom the people elect."
"But the South will not accept an abolitionist."
"Then the South will have to make the most of it. Of what good will be her protest? You don't mean that she will secede from the Union?"
"Oh, I hope not," said Old Master. "Surely not," he added. "We cannot afford to throw away the traditions of our fathers."
It was a sore subject to me, and I was glad when they dropped it. I hardly knew why, but my flesh always began to creep when abolition was ventured upon; there was a shudder in it, a threat of trouble, trial and blood.
Bob had shown no interest in the talk; he had sat in a deep muse, his hands listless in his lap, his eyesturned upward; but how handsome was his face, his expression sweetened with success. That day he had been lifted high and given a glimpse, yes a full sight of the heaven his heart so fondly craved; he was to be great and he knew it as he sat there dreaming. Old Master turned to go, and his son came down from the purple clouds. They looked at each other for a moment.
"Bob."
"Yes, sir."
"You have made me the proudest man in the State; you have done what Patrick Henry fired me with an ambition to do. It was denied me, and now I am rejoiced to see it fulfilled in you. The blood of old Kentucky shook your hand to-night. Now give it to me, sir."
Young master arose and they shook hands with solemn ceremony, Bob turning his eyes away. "Your eye, sir," said the old man, and the young man looked into his father's eyes; and they read each other sternly, and with never a sign of flinching, so completely had each mastered himself.
"Father, if I have ability it is indeed the fulfillment of your own ambition, for I felt it as a child, so strongly apart from my own forces that I knew thecurrent must come from you. I have been told by old men that I am a second edition of yourself and—"
"A revised and corrected edition, sir," the old man broke in, still gripping firmly the young fellow's hand.
"But a cheaper edition, I fear," the orator said.
"Enough, captivating flatterer. Good-night."
Old Master strode out, walking hard upon the floor, and Mr. Clem, who with keen amusement had observed this exchange of fine-tempered civility, turned to Bob and said:
"By the flint hoofs, you and that old brother of mine will be snatched out of the sixteenth century before very long. Paw me if I didn't expect one of you to say, 'I come not here to talk, you know too well the story of our thralldom.' Bob, the trouble with the South is the fact that it is not really republican in principle. It is a shapeless aristocracy writhing about to find a head. Tell me, do you believe in a democratic form of government?"
Bob sat down, leaned back and put his feet on the table, leaving Mr. Clem standing behind him; and he glanced back over his shoulder as he replied: "Do I believe in a democracy? I don't believe in the rule of ignorance; I don't believe in a goldocracy, the most insolent and oppressive of all tyrants. I don't believeit just to give to a plebeian mob the right to snatch a brilliant man from public life simply because he refuses to grovel to a vulgar taste; I don't believe—"
"But do you believe in a negro-cracy? Do you believe that the ownership of a hundred slaves should open all doors to a coarse and ignorant man?"
"No, I don't. I would not let ignorance own a slave."
"Ah, but slaves are bought with money, not with intelligence. Bob, you are an orator, but after all you are but a fledgling. Now, I want to ask you a question. What has made this country great, the gentility of Virginia or the dogged industry of New England? To whom do we owe most, the silver buckled gentleman or the steeple-hatted puritan?"
"If you measure greatness by material wealth, Uncle Clem—but there's no use of such an argument. You are too practical for me. You are a Baconian and I would sit at the feet of Socrates. And progress will say that you are right."
"And won't you say so, too?"
"I am not progressive. I worship the utterances of the past; you glory in the achievements of the present. You honor the North because it is rich, and Ilove the South because it is poetic. So there we are, and it is of no use to argue."
"No, I reckon not. Say, did you notice an old fellow with a white hat, riding a chestnut horse? Didn't get down until you were about half through with your speech, and then he rolled off, turned his horse loose and whooped like an Indian. I kept a weather eye on him, and when the bottom dropped out of the proceedings, I looked him up. Yes, sir, and his horse is out yonder in the stable now, and a glandered nag of mine is missing. The old fellow was so wrought up that he was in no condition to defend himself. So much for oratory. Good-night, lad."
Bob laughed at him as he went out, and remarked to me that the speech had brought good to one man even if it had worked an injury upon another member of the human family. "And," he added, "we can't expect to help more than half of mankind at once. Dan," he said, after a thoughtful moment, "this has been a great day for me. And she was there, sitting in a buggy. And when she took my arm to-night I knew she was proud of me."
I said that her soul must have been filled with an intoxicating joy, and I lied, for I did not believe that she could entertain an exalted pride. I knew that hervanity was flattered, a hard luster in her eye told me that, but I saw that her victory was cold and selfish. I acknowledged to myself that I had surrounded the young woman with a prejudice (and in a prejudice there is always more or less of intuition) and I tried hard to pull it apart that I might see her clearer; but the prejudice was strong and could not be torn asunder.
Bob was undressing when I left him to go out into the yard, to walk among the trees. I loved my master, and his success I felt was my advancement, but with all that I was wretched. To hold aloft a light that I had found was but to illumine a hopelessness.
As I passed out into the hall, I saw Titine step from the door of Miss May's room. She carried a pitcher in her hand and I knew that she was going to the well. I walked slowly behind her until she reached the hall below and then I called her. She stopped and looked back at me.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Going for water at this time of night?"
"When water is wanted, the time of night makes no difference," she said as I joined her to pass out upon the rear veranda. We walked along together toward the well.
"Titine, I don't know you any better now than I did when you first came."
"And I don't know myself any better, and are you presumed to know me better than I know myself?"
"No, I suppose not. But since that day we went to the hills you have never consented to go out alone with me."
"Don't you know why?"
"I can't say that I do."
"Then you are duller than I took you to be."
The moon was shining and the light fell full upon her face, upward turned; she was smiling and her smile was cold. We had now reached the well, and I unwound the chain to let the bucket down. She placed her arms on the curbing and hummed a cool tune of idleness, of a total lack of interest in what I might be doing.
"Yes, I do know," I said.
"Then you are no duller than I thought you were," she ceased humming long enough to say. I drew up the dripping bucket and poured the pitcher full. She reached forth her hand to take it.
"Wait a moment," I pleaded, catching at her hand, but it flew away like a bird.
"Well," she said, straightening up and looking at me.
"Titine, if you and I were free—"
"If I were free I would be a nun," she broke in. "Give me the pitcher."
"Wait just a moment. Let me kiss you."
She shrieked with laughter. "Oh, how blunt you are. Look out, you'll break that pitcher."
"Then I could be classed with Gideon's men. They broke their pitchers before they fought."
"But you are not going to break the pitcher and fight."
"Yes, I'm going to break it and fight for a kiss."
"Oh, what a fool you are. What good would breaking the pitcher do? Give it to me."
She spoke in a tone of such command that I gave her the vessel, but I pleaded with her to stay longer; and now I caught her hand. She struggled to free herself but my grasp was vice-like. "Wait until I have told you something. Nature intended you for me and I am going to have you—"
She spat at me like an angry cat, snatched her hand away, so strong was she, and ran up the path toward the house, the water leaping from the mouth of the pitcher. I caught up with her.
"Are you offended, Titine?"
"Oh, no, it was too good a joke. Nature intended me for you, indeed. Nature doesn't know you, simpleton. If she should meet you in the road she would say, 'who's your master, boy? Oh, young Mr. Gradley, eh? Tell him with my compliments that he possesses a very fine piece of yellow property.' Then what would you do? Tell nature that you wanted to marry another piece of yellow property? She would laugh at you and tell you to black your master's boots."
She bounded up the stairway, splashing the water, and at the top she turned to laugh at me.
Over events of national importance I am compelled to pass swiftly, for in no way am I seeking to write the history of a struggle, and by giving only a glimpse here and there shall I try to set forth the disaffection that led to it. Lincoln was elected and for a time the South stood in dumb surprise, and then she shook herself and the nation began to go to pieces, crumbling apart with secession. Further south it was but natural to expect that all would go one way, but in Kentucky there were contending factions in almost every household; and the friendships and affections of a life-time were torn to shreds. Tennessee, our respected neighbor on the south, went out of the Union and beat old drums under a new flag; and it was expected that Kentucky would follow, but her grim old leaders set their teeth and swore that the commonwealth should not budge from her time-honored allegiance to the government of Washington and Monroe. Old Master was firm for the Union. Once he heard a drum beating at midnight and he gotout of his bed and went to town. And when he came back his countenance was sad but hard-set. "They are beating up men for the rebel army," he said. "I raised my hand and in the name of our fathers commanded them to disperse, but they laughed at me. Let them go. The devil is waiting for them."
Within a few days it seemed that every accent of the human voice was a martial tone. There was no talk but of war. Brothers denounced one another in the street, and fathers drove their sons from home. Society was mad. Over line-fences irate neighbors gazed at one another, gun in hand. Day and night the turn-pikes resounded with the clatter of galloping hoofs. Brass cannon were dragged by our house; men camped under our trees, without asking permission. Fifes were screaming everywhere, and negro drummers strutted about wearing the cast-off and faded finery of a former war. From the South came the startling report that the conflict was begun. And the drums in Kentucky beat louder.
One evening, just as the family had sat down to supper, Sam came in and said that a man outside wanted to see Old Master. "Tell him to come in here," the old man spoke up. Presently a man entered, dressed and accoutered as a cavalryman. OldMaster glanced at him as he crossed the threshold, and seeing that his uniform was gray, demanded the cause of his visit.
"The government has sent me to buy your crib of corn, sir."
"The government! I don't understand you, sir," Old Master declared, frowning at the man's clothes.
"The Confederate government," the man said.
"Indeed! I didn't know that such a government existed. You may return, sir, and tell the Confederate government to go back to h—, where it belongs."
The man smiled, touched his cap with a military salute and withdrew. He had been a neighbor, but now he was a stranger.
"Guilford," said Mr. Clem, "nearly everybody was surprised when the news went out that you were for the Union. You are so strongly a Southerner and have always tried so hard to justify slavery that—"
"Sir, with me my country is my first consideration," Old Master broke in.
"But I can't, for the life of me, understand why you should deliberately turn your back on your own interests," said Old Miss. "The South is more your country than the North is, and yet you turn against the South."
"Madam, the whole country, the traditions of the American people are mine. And I don't believe that the government will interfere with slavery, but if it should, I say, let it go ahead. The first consideration is to save the country."
Bob had said not a word. Many a time when the drums struck up had he gone out to walk in the woods alone, and I knew that a struggle was raging within his breast, but I asked him no question and he offered not a word. Of late he had gone forth at night, sometimes remaining away until nearly dawn, and in his sleep he had cried sharp words, "right about face," "forward march," "halt!"—
"Bob," said Old Master, "I have waited to hear you express your views; I have given you plenty of time, but you have said nothing. I know without asking, still I would like to hear your say. Which side do you favor? But wait, you needn't answer so foolish a question."
"Father, the question is not foolish. I am raising a company of men for the Confederate army."
It seemed that every dish and cup leaped from the table. Old Master was on his feet, then on his chair, then leaning against the wall, his face hidden. He uttered a cry such as I had never heard, a groan set tothe tune of despair. He turned from the wall and looked at his son, now standing with his hands resting on the back of a chair. The young man bowed his head, and I saw the tears trickling down his face. Old Master dragged his feet forward, feeling out with his hands as if to keep from falling. Old Mistress stood with her arms folded and with cold pride on her face. Miss May was pale with an air of fright; and Titine, looking across at me, slowly closed her eyes and smiled.
Old Master reached the table and leaned forward with both hands pressed flat upon it, in the helpless condition of a man hoping and trying not to fall, a man who has received a knock-down blow and who is expecting another. His chin shook and his old lips worked and I thought I heard them rasp like dry corn-blades as he strove to talk. He looked at Mr. Clem as if imploring his help, at his daughter as if to summon strength from her gentle and affectionate nature. His body began to sway like the snag of an old tree about to fall, then stiffened; and now he stood unsupported, straight, head high, in a strength that seemed to turn upon his years and defy them. He spoke and his voice was as clear as the yelp of the hound that leads the pack. "Robert Gradley, your eye, sir."
The young man raised his eyes and they looked at each other, Bob with an expression akin to pleading, Old Master hard and cold.
"Do you mean, sir, to tell me that you are raising a company of men to fight against your country?"
"No, sir, not against my country, but for a principle that some of my countrymen are trying to trample under foot. Instinctively I hate the cold exactions of the Puritan. His aim is not so much to preserve the Union as to humiliate the men who own slaves. For the slave he has no real feeling; to serve his ends he would see the negro drawn and quartered. His hatred of the men of the South is older than the creed of abolition; it began when old Peter Wentworth stood in the English parliament and raised his voice against refinement and gentility. I honor the memory of the men who made our flag the symbol of a mighty nation; but I love poetry more than I do commerce, and a sentiment is stronger with me than a woollen mill. A cold and feelingless duty might call me to the other side, but emotion, stronger than any sense of duty, impels me toward the South. It grieves me to oppose you; it is like boring tender flesh with a red hot iron, and I have wandered up and down the woods at night and in the dawn, praying—"
"Theatrical fool!" the old man shouted.
"No!" Old Mistress cried. I have seen resolute turkey hens turn out their feathers in warning against a trespasser upon the sward where their young ones were squatted. And at this moment Old Mistress reminded me of a turkey hen. "No! he is not a theatrical fool. He has as much right to his convictions as you have to yours. You have taught him to be independent—you sent him from home to school when he was a child to teach him self-reliance; and he found it."
Here Mr. Clem walked round the table and laid his hand upon Old Master's shoulder. "Guilford," said he, "the young fellow is honest, he has evidently suffered over the question, and it is of no use to take bitter issue with him."
"By G—! I'll turn him out of the house!" Old Master shouted, shaking himself free of his brother's touch. "He shan't—"
"Then you turn me out, too!" Old Miss cried.
Miss May ran to her father, and put her arms about his neck. "Please don't say anything that you'll be sorry for," she pleaded.
He took her arms from about his neck, but stood holding her hands; and his eyes were not so cold nor did his skin look so dry and harsh. Not in the leastwas Young Master excited, nor did he appear to be astonished at the denunciations heaped upon him. Indeed, it was clear to me that for months he had been expecting it and was relieved now to think that the blow had fallen. The young man spoke and his voice was soft and musical. "If I were to leave the house before the time comes for me to go, I would but add to an injury which you threaten to inflict upon yourself. You would regret your expulsion of me, and could never forgive yourself if I should be killed. It seems to me now that all my training was to fit me for this step, rather than to equip me for an orator—to stimulate my impulse rather than to train my judgment. I will not say that your cause is unjust, but I must say that I cannot fight with the Puritan. My troop leaves on the day after to-morrow, and until then I will be your obedient son."
Old Master lifted his hand as if his words were to fall as a blow, but Mr. Clem took his arm and eased it down. "Guilford," said he, "the young man has simply gone you one better in his worship of the tinsel of the past. You have taught him that the Southerner is the only real gentleman in this country and you can't blame him for the course he is determined to take."
And now Old Master was surprisingly calm. "But, sir, I never thought to teach him to join in rebellion against his country."
"You didn't measure the extent of your teaching. It went a mile further than your intention. And as it has gone beyond your control, let us make the most of it, or rather the best of it. Let him follow his own bent, let him fight for an aristocracy, and let him go with a blessing rather than with a curse. That's the sensible view to take. I am going to fight for the Union, and I now give him my hand, hoping that one day he may see his error and repent of it."
He stretched forth his hand and Young Master clasped it. "I thank you, Uncle Clem. You have told me how sharp you can be and now you prove how broad and liberal you are."
Old Master reached forth his hand. "It is that you may feel how sore my heart is," said he, as the young man gripped his palm. "You have wounded me and the wound will never heal, but you are my son and I have been proud of you. Not another word," he said, quickly withdrawing his hand and lifting it to enjoin silence. "On this subject no more words shall pass between us; and when the time comes, you may goyour way in silence. Daniel," he said, turning to me, "let me see you in the library."
I followed him into the library, and when he had closed the door he said to me. "You know what his intentions were."
"No, sir, he said not a word to me."
"Don't lie to me, Dan."
"As God is my judge, sir, I knew nothing of his plans until he gave them to you."
"And has he said nothing as to what you shall do? Hasn't he told you that you must go with him?
"I tell you that he has said nothing to me."
"But he will ask you to go with him."
"And I will go, sir."
"What?" I sprang back or I believe he would have leaped upon me. "Come back to me, sir. Don't run away from me. I'll shoot you down like a dog. Come here."
"I am not going to run away from you, Master."
He put his hands behind him, leaned forward and bored me with his eyes. "Some men don't believe it, but I see the end of slavery," said he. "And are you going to assist a cause that is fighting against your own freedom, Dan?" His manner changed and he put his hand on my shoulder. "Don't go away andleave me. I need you—I am a miserable old man, looking about for a prop. Don't leave me."
I dropped upon my knees and bowed my head to the floor, and I heard him sob over me. "I must follow him," I supplicated. "I can't stay behind. He saved my life. Listen to me a moment. I killed Dr. Bates—killed him in the manner my young master described—killed him to save my own life. They would have hanged me, but he took the blood upon himself to save me. And though for months nothing has been said, no one has uttered the doctor's name in his presence, I know that some people look upon him as a slaughterer of his brother, and I know that he has suffered, and for me. Money was offered me and I could have run away, but love, ignorance and superstition held me back, though the rope was ready for my neck. Never but once have I been tempted to leave him, never but once has my heart found a rebellion against him, and that was a woman—"
He put his hands under my arms and bade me arise. I got up and dared not look into his eyes, for I knew they were filled with tears. "Speak not a word of this to a living soul," he said. "Seal your mouth, for they would hang you even now. Go with him."
Old Mistress opened the door, unable longer to bearthe thought that he might be taking me into a confidence, and as she entered, the old man turned wrathfully upon me. "Yau can go to the d——!" he said, his voice high and sharp. "You may go with the rebels and be hanged with them. Madam, this negro boy is going with his master."
"Why, of course," she said with a brightening countenance, and speaking as if I were but to discharge a trivial duty. "He will need someone to wait on him and that's Dan's place, I am sure. And besides, it won't be for long. Everybody knows that it won't be much of a war. The North will soon be compelled to grant every demand made by the South; so for gracious sake, let us not take it so to heart. Come on into the parlor. May will sing an old song for us."
"Madam, I want no song. The rest of you may sing and make merry over the disgrace of my country, but I will not. Good-night."
He strode out, Old Mistress following him, begging him to come back, but he went to his room up stairs and shut the door. Surely no one felt disposed to hear a song, no one except myself, as I listened to the old-time lullaby with which Titine was wont to soothe the little one to sleep.
When I went to my Young Master's room I foundhim sitting there alone. His books were put out of sight and a sword lay upon his table. As I entered, he looked up at me and pointed to a chair. "I want to talk to you," he said, and when I had sat down, he continued: "I will not compel you to go with me—"
"I am going Mars. Bob," I broke in. He looked at me with a sad smile.
"Dan, you are a faithful friend."
"I am a grateful slave, sir. And never but once was I ungrateful, and then my heart was on fire and my soul smothered with the smoke that arose. Titine laughed at me when I asked her to be my wife. She said that our marriage would be but a mockery, the multiplication of miseries; and I would have run away with her, but she told me that she did not love me. Don't credit me with more than my due. I am a weak man and under certain conditions might forget a great favor and prove treacherous. Don't trust me too far."
"I would trust you to the end of the earth," he said. "You are a negro, but you are a gentleman. You say Titine doesn't love you?" he continued after pausing to reflect. "What sort of a creature is she? What does she expect?"
"I don't know what she expects, but I believe thatshe hopes one day to be a nun. Her old mistress poisoned her."
He reached over, took hold of the sword and drew it part way out of the scabbard. "For a long time I have kept it hidden in my closet," he said, pulling the blade further out and then shoving it back to the hilt. "I was afraid of a sharper and perhaps a juster weapon—my old father's tongue." He got up with a shudder, turned his back upon me and stood at the window. "The time may come when I shall acknowledge that I was bewitched," he said, looking out into the darkness. "But her love and her encouragement urge me on. Dan,"—and now he faced about—"Dan, the woman I love is a champion of the Southern cause. She said that she could not love me if—but it is cruel of me to tell you of love and of smiles. Your heart is sore; I have long known it. But—"
"Master, please don't think of me. Do you need me now?" I asked. "If not, I will go out."
"Go and stay as long as you choose," he said.
Titine was singing to the little child. The door was partly open and I looked into the room. She was bending over the cradle, her long hair hanging loose. I heard Miss May talking in Old Master's room.
"Titine."
"What do you want?" she asked, looking at me.
"Is the child asleep?"
"What is that to you?"
"Please don't snap at me that way. I want to talk to you—in the yard alone."
"I know what you would say, and you needn't say it."
"No, you don't. I have something to tell you that I never told before. I am going away and I want to talk to you."
"Oh, going with your master? Poor fool, to fight against your own interest, but you can't help it—You are a piece of yellow property."
"So is gold," I declared.
"Yes, so is gold, a piece of yellow property."
"But will you come down?"
"What is the use? You have already told me."
"And have you said all that you could say?"
"Yes, you are a poor fool."
"Your frankness will become insulting, the first thing you know."
"Indeed! Shut the door, please."
"Are you a human being?"
"No."
"I believe you are but a beautiful witch."
"Thank you. Even witches like a compliment. Shut the door, please."
I shut the door with a slam and I heard the child crying as I strode down the stairs.