Part 21 (1/2)

”Great G.o.d,” exclaimed the broken hearted old man, ”and Laflin the wretch! Laflin the monster standing there in dumb show, and nodding his head in savage and pantomimic gravity when the hammer fell.”

The old Colonel and his daughter rode back to their home perhaps for the last time. One of the blood-red stars had been blotted out of the tyrants' calendar. Two more like the painted dolphins in the circus at Antioch remained to be taken down, one by one. The search for the missing doc.u.ment was renewed when they reached home, but unavailingly.

Alice however discovered in an old ash barrel in a neatly folded package, two papers signed by Abram Laflin to her father; one a note for five thousand dollars, the other a mortgage securing the payment of the note. No trace however, of the twenty-five thousand dollar mortgage.

Alice carried the Laflin note to her father whose mind for a moment appeared a complete blank; he then remembered the transaction circ.u.mstantially.

”Yes, Yes,” he exclaimed reminiscently; ”the note was executed to me as a fee, when he was indicted and acquitted for murder in 1866. Now he may let slip the dogs of war, and 'd.a.m.ned be he who first cries hold!

Enough!'”

It was painful to observe that Mr. Seymour had become so injuriously affected by the exciting events transpiring from day to day, that his mind upon matters of business was almost inert. Certainly his memory was fast failing; a giving away of the mental poise; and in consequence thereof, poor Alice was picking up here and there great bits of trouble, with as much freedom as the washwoman gathers sticks for her fire.

”Tomorrow she exclaimed will be the Sabbath. Blessed day will it bring surcease from sorrow, a moment's respite from the maelstrom of trouble?”

she asked, ”I can only hope. I feel sometimes like crying aloud, 'What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue'!”

When the morning broke tranquilly upon the old home, the little birds were caroling in the trees, and the poor girl felt that her care worn spirit should rest this holy Sabbath day. After the morning meal, her father perturbed and dejected walked along the river's bank, and she retired to the parlor where she sang and played. In the evening old Ned came to express again his sense of grat.i.tude to his young mistress and his old master, and observed among other things, remorsefully, how foolish he had been to take up with the vagaries of the negroes, who were fomenting so much trouble. ”And mars John,” he continued, ”I seed where I was agwine rong, und I knowed yu wud fetch me outen de miry clay. Times is er gitten so mistrustful dat I c.u.m ter ax yu und yung missis mouten me und Clarissa stay wid yu in de grate house? Whar we kin run on urrans fo yu nite und day.”

Old Ned like the hunted rabbit had been smoked out of his hollow.

Reconstruction with its insipid pageants had come: It had emptied its cornucopia in the old commissariat; not a dust of flour, nor a fluid dram of mola.s.ses, nor a pound of bacon had it put into the jug or sack of the aged and the poor; and the stars and stripes waved as proudly from its mast head as if there were no vacant stomachs, no hungry freedmen in all the South. Colonel Seymour was inexpressibly glad to see the change that had come over the spirit of the old slave. He had been employed in many situations and he was faithful in all. He had been his carriage driver; he had packed old missis trunks when she went to the seaside or the springs in the happy old days; and Ned remembered how contented he was, when an imaginary line separated peace from discord, plenty from squalor. He had seen old missis put away in the ground, and with him were feelings that would not be stifled that were now recasting his nature, however sensual and hardened it had become by contact with vicious companions. When the clouds of war lowered angrily Ned's faith in old missis grew stronger and stronger, and like a watch dog always on duty, so Ned was always at his post; to obey every command, to antic.i.p.ate every wish. It was Ned who held ajar the old plantation gate, that day the young cavalier rode into the deepening shadows on his way to Mana.s.sas, and with hat in hand bade him good-bye with the entreaty, ”Be sh.o.r.e und c.u.m back nex Saddy to yo po mammy. I'll be rite heer to open de gate.” It was Ned who reverently placed the spray of the little immortelle upon the grave of Mars Harry when the procession had turned their faces homeward. It was Ned who carried ”old Missis” in his arms back to the carriage when she swooned at the grave, and now he had come back like the prodigal confessing his sins.

”If Gord spares me ter outlive ole ma.r.s.er, I'm agwine ter put him erway lak ole missis and yung mars Harry, und strow his grave wid hiasents und lillys ob de valley. I haint agwine ter put no mo pendence in de carpet baggers, dey will gouge de eyeb.a.l.l.s outen yo hed, und I'm agwine ter twist my eyes clean erround de tother side when I pa.s.ses de ole kommissery. 'Ole glory' is jess flirting up its skerts, und larfing when poor ole n.i.g.g.e.rs is agwine erlong de rode, jess es scornful es er flop-eared mule when he pokes yu under de jaw wid his hind foot, widout ary warnin. I wishes dat de bosum of struction wud slam de ole kommissery clean clar to de yurth, dat I does.”

”You seem to be very thoroughly disgusted with the situation Ned?”

observed the Colonel.

”I is mars John, deed I is. Ef a pusson fools yu won time, or maybe two times, er yu mout say free time, you mout try him agin, but ef he fools yu all de time ole Ma.r.s.er, what is yu agwine to do den, mout as well be flinging de hook in de crick for Joshaway's munny, as agwine to dat ole kommissery wid yo happysack speckin arry moufful ob wittles.”

”Is that the experience of all the colored people?” the Colonel inquired.

”No sar, no sar,” Ned replied with feeling. ”Dem dat carries woters to de conwenshun, und drinks de bosses sperits dey gits a leetle now und den, but tother wuns sucks de fingers in misury all de time, specktin, un gittin disappinted.”

”By the way tell me something about Ephraim, how is he getting on,”

asked the Colonel.

”Why bress your soul mars John he is clean outen site; er totin great big yaller upper lips on his sholders, und er sword dat runs on a wheel on de groun, und fedders on his hat same as a pee-fowell. He is dun und growd outen my membrance. Dey got norated eroun dat he is agwine ter marry a white gal in de town, und Joshaway und Hannah has dun and got er inwite to de weddin.”

”And Aleck, what is he doing?” asked the Colonel.

”Ugh, Ugh,” exclaimed Ned, ”now yu obersizes my kalkilashuns, mars John.

He's wusser den Efrum, er uprarin fine housen all ober dis plantashun.”

”The savage?” muttered the enraged man. ”All Laflin's doings I suppose.

Sixty days within which to prove your loyalty,” he muttered. ”The black flag of the buccaneers of reconstruction marked not with death's heads but by red stars!” A score of carpenters were plying their vocation on the plantation. A confusion of sounds, such as sawing and hammering, drowned the melody of the singing birds, and Aleck like the boldest of pirates, was caracoling here and there giving orders; and fas.h.i.+onably dressed negro women strolled offensively and imperiously over the grounds.

”Mars Jon,” exclaimed Ned, ”I dun and tole yu so; now yu sees fo yosef.”

Before the deed of purchase was recorded, the devilish freedmen were enforcing their claim to the plantation by visible, notorious and violent occupation. The colonel and Alice were sitting in the verandah one beautiful starlit night; there was scarcely the rustle of a leaf and the full-orbed moon was s.h.i.+ning with a radiant splendour. Of course there was but one event to think about. Was it not a grief that lay like a dead bulk upon the heart, all the day and all the night; and peopled their dreams with negroes and ogres too?