Part 39 (1/2)

Of all the beating hearts on the plantation, none thrilled with such a commingling of delight and grief at the return of Vina and her family, as did that of a maiden named Susanna.

She was a bright mulatto, the daughter of ”Aunt Patsey,” who for the last few years, had taken charge of the young children. Susanna was a quiet well-behaved girl, that had been raised on the place, and ever since they were children, young Peter and herself had loved each other. But when his father went away, and left to his family the a.s.surance that if he lived they should be free. Peter determined to obey his counsel; and so the union of the devoted pair was postponed for an indefinite period.

Now that their great effort to achieve their liberty had failed, the young man's heart would whisper that perhaps his father would consider his request no longer binding. Yet he kept these thoughts hid deep in his own breast, for he saw that in his mother's heart, all hope of freedom was not yet extinct.

But the masters watchful eye had long noticed their attachment, and, imagining that if Peter had a wife he would be less likely to ran off again, he determined that now they should be married. No favorable opportunity however occurred for him to urge the matter, until the crop was laid by in August; when, according to his annual custom, he gave his slaves a barbacue. Then he determined that the marriage should take place.

The long trench was duly prepared with its bed of glowing coals, over which were roasting numerous pigs and chickens, with the flesh of sheep and oxen in abundance. Peter was aiding in the preparation of the feast, when he was summoned into the presence of his master.

”How would you like to marry Susanna, boy?”

”I don't care about marryin' any body now, Sir.”

”But Susanna says she loves you, and you ought to have her.”

”No , Sir, I don't care about marryin' without my people's willin'.”

”It's no matter about your mother, boy, I give you leave, and you needn't ask her anything about it. Go and dress yourself.”

”I've got nothin' to dress in.”

”Well, go and put on clean clothes, any how, and then come back to me.”

Peter went to his mother's cabin. For a time he hesitated, but his master's command was absolute, and he had bid him hasten. His long-years' love for Susanna was not silent, but that voice he knew how to quell at duty's bidding. His mother, he could not bear to vex her.

Half undecided what course would be the wisest, he dressed mechanically in clean working-clothes. (He had a suit of Sunday clothes which he had bought himself, but these he would not wear to please his master) His toilette completed, he sat down again to think. He could not long defer his decision, for his master would be as angry at his delay, as if he should refuse obedience to his orders; so at last, scarcely knowing whether he was doing right or wrong, he left the cabin, and approached the spot where he had left McKiernan.

Susanna, having previously received an order from her master to dress and come to him, was already there.

One of their fellow-slaves, a preacher, named William Handy was now called to marry them; and in a few minutes they were marching around the field at the head of a troop of their young companions, who with gay songs and merry laughter were celebrating the marriage of their friends.

Vina soon heard what had occurred; but she was one of the cooks, and she continued quietly to baste the meat, though every moment her wrath was rising higher. Levin stood by her side, and he, too, was indignant. Soon the master approached. ”Why don't you march with the others?” said he to Vina.

”I aint a soldier,” replied she, ”and I don't know nuthin' about marchin'.”

”Why, what is the matter with you?”

”Nuthin' more'n common; and things that's common yer is shockin'

to strangers.”

”What's that? Say that again.”

She repeated her words. ”There's not a plantation in a million o'

miles whar thar's such works as thar is yar.”

”Better mind how you talk, girl, or I'll give you a slap.”

”I don't keer what you do. I would n't keer if you killed him and me too. You've done made a heap o' matches, and none of 'em never prospered, no how.”