Part 16 (1/2)
”Did she tell you that?” he asked quizzically.
”Yes, and I'm sorry for her. She wants a good home among decent white people and I'm not going to give her up. I don't care what you say.”
The husband ignored the finality of this decision and went on with his argument as though she had not spoken.
”Old Peeler is not only a low white scoundrel who would marry this girl's mulatto mother if he dared, but he is trying to break into politics as a negro champion. He denies it, but he is a henchman of the Governor. I'm in a fight with this man to the death. There's not room for us both in the state----”
”And you think this laughing child cares anything about the Governor or his dirty politics? Such a thing has never entered her head.”
”I'm not sure of that.”
”You're crazy, Dan.”
”But I'm not so crazy, my dear, that I can't see that this girl's presence in our house is dangerous. She already knows too much about my affairs--enough, in fact, to endanger my life if she should turn traitor.”
”But she won't tell, I tell you--she's loyal--I'd trust her with my life, or yours, or the baby's, without hesitation. She proved her loyalty to me and to you last night.”
”Yes, and that's just why she's so dangerous.” He spoke slowly, as if talking to himself. ”You can't understand, dear, I am entering now the last phase of a desperate struggle with the little Scalawag who sits in the Governor's chair for the mastery of this state and its life. The next two weeks and this election will decide whether white civilization shall live or a permanent negroid mongrel government, after the pattern of Haiti and San Domingo, shall be established. If we submit, we are not worth saving.
We ought to die and our civilization with us! We are not going to submit, we are not going to die, we are going to win. I want you to help me now by getting rid of this girl.”
”I won't give her up. There's no sense in it. A man who fought four years in the war is not afraid of a laughing girl who loves his baby and his wife! I can't risk a green, incompetent girl in the nursery now. I can't think of breaking in a new one. I like Cleo. She's a breath of fresh air when she comes into my room; she's clean and neat; she sings beautifully; her voice is soft and low and deep; I love her touch when she dresses me; the baby wors.h.i.+ps her--is all this nothing to you?”
”Is my work nothing to you?” he answered soberly.
”Bah! It's a joke! Your work has nothing to do with this girl. She knows nothing, cares nothing for politics--it's absurd!”
”My dear, you must listen to me now----”
”I won't listen. I'll have my way about my servants. It's none of your business. Look after your politics and let the nursery alone!”
”Please be reasonable, my love. I a.s.sure you I'm in dead earnest. The danger is a real one, or I wouldn't ask this of you--please----”
”No--no--no--no!” she fairly shrieked.
His voice was very quiet when he spoke at last:
”I'm sorry to cross you in this, but the girl must leave to-night.”
The tones of his voice and the firm snap of his strong jaw left further argument out of the question and the little woman played her trump card.
She sprang to her feet, pale with rage, and gave way to a fit of hysteria.
He attempted to soothe her, in grave alarm over the possible effects on her health of such a temper.
With a piercing scream she threw herself across the bed and he bent over her tenderly:
”Please, don't act this way!”
Her only answer was another scream, her little fists opening and closing like a bird's talons gripping the white counterpane in her trembling fingers.