Part 32 (2/2)

We shortly afterward adjourned to the library. After being seated there a while the Colonel, rising quickly, as if a sudden thought had struck him, sent for the old preacher.

The old negro soon appeared, hat in hand, and taking a stand near the door, made a respectful bow to each one of us.

”Take a chair, Pompey,” said Madam P----, kindly.

The black meekly seated himself, when the Colonel asked: ”Well, Pomp, what do you know about Jule's going off?”

”Nuffin', ma.s.sa--I shures you, nuffin'. De pore chile say nuffin to ole Pomp 'bout dat.”

”What did she say?”

”Wal, you see, ma.s.sa, de night arter you gwo 'way, and arter she'd worked hard in de brush all de day, and been a strung up in de ole cabin fur to be whipped, she come ter me wid har baby in har arms, all a-faint and a-tired, and har pore heart clean broke, and she say dat she'm jess ready ter drop down and die. Den I tries ter comfut har, ma.s.sa; I takes har up from de floor, and I say ter har dat de good Lord He pity har--dat He woant bruise de broken reed, and woant put no more on her dan she kin b'ar--dat He'd touch you' heart, and I toled har you'se a good, kine heart at de bottom, ma.s.sa--and I knows it, 'case I toted you 'fore you could gwo, and when you's a bery little chile, not no great sight bigger'n har'n, you'd put your little arms round ole Pomp's neck, and say dat when you war grow'd up you'd be bery kine ter de pore brack folks, and not leff 'em be 'bused like dey war in dem days.”

”Never mind what _you_ said,” interrupted the Colonel, a little impatiently, but showing no displeasure; ”what did _she_ say?”

”Wal, ma.s.sa, she tuk on bery hard 'bout Sam, and axed me ef I raaily reckoned de Lord had forgib'n him, and took'n him ter Heself, and gibin'

him one o' dem hous'n up dar, in de sky. I toled her dat I _know'd_ it; but she say it didn't 'pear so ter har, 'case Sam had a been wid har out dar in de woods, all fru de day; dat she'd a _seed_ him, ma.s.sa, and dough he handn't a said nuffin', he'd lukd at har wid sech a sorry, grebed luk, dat it gwo clean fru har heart, till she'd no strength leff, and fall down on de ground a'most dead. Den she say big Sam come 'long and fine har dar, and struck har great, heaby blows wid de big whip!”

”The brute!” exclaimed the Colonel, rising from his chair, and pacing rapidly up and down the room.

”But p'r'aps he warn't so much ter blame, ma.s.sa,” continued the old negro, in a deprecatory tone; ”maybe he 'spose she war s.h.i.+rkin' de work.

Wal, den she say she know'd nuffin' more, till byme-by, when she come to, and fine big Sam dar, and he struck har agin, and make har gwo ter de work; and she did gwo, but she feel like as ef she'd die. I toled har de good ma'am wudn't leff big Sam 'buse har no more 'fore you c.u.m hum, and dat you'd hab 'pa.s.sion on har, and not leff har gwo out in de woods, but put har 'mong de nusses, like as afore.

”Den she say it 'twarn't de work dat trubble har--dat she orter work, and orter be 'bused, 'case she'd been bad, bery bad. All she axed war dat Sam would forgib har, and c.u.m to har in de oder worle, and tell har so. Den she cried, and tuk on awful; but de good Lord, ma.s.sa, dat am so bery kine ter de bery wuss sinners, He put de words inter my mouf, and I tink dey gib har comfut, fur she say dat it sort o' 'peared to har den dat Sam _would_ forgib har, and take har inter his house up dar, and she warn't afeard ter die no more.

”Den she takes up de chile and gwo 'way, 'pearin' sort o' happy, and more cheerful like dan I'd a seed har eber sense pore Sam war shot.”

My host was sensibly affected by the old man's simple tale, but continued pacing up and down the room, and said nothing.

”It's plain to me, Colonel,” I remarked, as Pompey concluded, ”she has drowned herself and the child--the dog lost the scent at the creek.”

”Oh, no!” he replied; ”I think not. I never heard of a negro committing suicide--they've not the courage to do it.”

”I fear she _has_, David,” said the lady. ”The thought of going to Sam has led her to it; yet, we dragged the run, and found nothing. What do you think about it, Pompey?”

”I dunno, ma'am, but I'se afeard of dat; and now dat I tinks ob it, I'se afeard dat what I tole har put har up ter it,” replied the old preacher, bursting into tears. ”She 'peared so happy like, when I say she'd be 'long wid Sam in de oder worle, dat I'se afeard she's a gone and done it wid har own hands. I tole har, too, dat de Lord would oberlook good many tings dat pore sinners do when dey can't help 'emselfs--and it make har do it! Oh! it make har do it!” and the old black buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly.

”Don't feel so, Pomp,” said his master, _very_ kindly. ”You did the best you could; no one blames you.”

”I knows _you_ doant, ma.s.sa--I knows you doant, and you'se bery good nottur--but oh! ma.s.sa, de Lord!” and his body swayed to and fro with the great grief; ”I fears de Lord do, ma.s.sa, for I'se sent har ter Him wid har own blood, and de blood of dat pore innercent chile, on har hands.

Oh, I fears de Lord neber'll forgib me--neber'll forgib me for _dat_.”

”He will, my good Pomp--He will!” said the Colonel, laying his hand tenderly on the old man's shoulder. ”The Lord will forgive you, for the sake of the Christian example you've set your master, if for nothing else;” and here the proud, strong man's feelings overpowering him, his tears fell in great drops on the breast of the old slave, as they had fallen there in his childhood.

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