"'Tis done! I saw it in my dreams.
No more with hope the future beams;
My days of happiness are few.
Chilled by misfortune's wintry blast,
My dream of life is overcast.
Love, hope, and joy, adieu--
Would I could add, remembrance too."
Byron.
Arthur was at his place in the morning, almost as soon as Jeff opened
the door. His face was pale and haggard, and wore upon it a look of
unbroken gloom, and his eye wandered restlessly, as if dreading to meet
another's gaze. He had arrived at his post so early, however, that no
clerks were yet in the store, and for some time his only companion was
the busy negro.
"Jeff," said he, at last, in a hesitating tone.
"Yes, massa, I'se here, sah."
"Did you sleep here behind the store-door last night, as usual?"
"Yes, massa, ob course."
"Did my brother go to bed early that you know of?"
"Well, no, massa, he didn't. He and Massa Wilkins sat back dar by de
fire pretty late, sah!"
"Indeed! what could they have been talking of to keep them sitting up?"
"Well, massa, I don't 'spect 'twould be berry hon'ble in me to tell,
case I know dey taut I was sleepin', and didn't know I couldn't help
hearin' ebery word dey sed."
Arthur blushed as the thought crossed his mind, that the negro's sense
of honor was higher than his own; but his curiosity overcame his
scruples, and he went on questioning Jeff, as he rubbed up and trimmed
the lamps for evening.
"Perhaps you heard my name, Jeff, eh?"
"Well, 'casionally, I 'spect I did, sah. Bery common ting for brudders
to talk of one anudder," said Jeff, rubbing away on the lamp he held
with redoubled earnestness.
"Did Mr. Wilkins leave the store, that you know of, after it was
closed?"
"Well, I bleeb he did, sah! He couldn't a come in widout he'd been out,
and I know one ob my toes got pinched in de crack ob de door by his
coming in when 'twas most mornin'."
"My brother was not with him then, was he?"
"Well, I had my eyes shut, sah! and it was too dark to see if I'd a had
'em open. 'Alus de darkest hour 'fore day,' you know, sah."
"You don't know whether my brother asked Mr. Wilkins to go out, or not,
I suppose?"
"Really, couldn't tell anyting 'bout it, sah," said Jeff, mounting on a
wooden stool, and taking down another lamp carefully. As he gained the
floor his eyes met Arthur's face.
"Bless de Lord, young massa, how came you by dat offal bump 'long side
ob your head?"
Arthur drew his hat hastily over his brow, and turned away with a
dissatisfied air, without giving any reply.
He stood in the door, half-angry at the unsatisfactory answers he had
received, but ashamed to show, even to the black, that he felt any real
interest in the matter. Preferring, too, to continue the conversation in
any way rather than be left to silent communion with his thoughts, he
turned suddenly, and said:--
"Jeff, wouldn't you like to be free?"
"Free, massa!" exclaimed the negro, rolling up his great eyes at his
questioner, in earnest wonder; "why, what de debil put dat in your head?
No, sah! I wouldn't be free for nuffin. If dares one ting in dis world
more mean dan anudder, I 'spect it's a free nigger. Guy! de Lord deliber
dis chile from anyting ob dat kind."
"You astound me, Jeff. This is all nonsense."
"You'se not de fuss pusson from de Norf, massa, dat's been 'stounded by
what de niggers say in de Souf here. I 'member wunst old Massar hab a
fren cum here from somewhar, State of York, I tink 'twas, an' he taut a
great sight ob him, and took him roun' de city in de big carriage, and
made big dinners for him, and 'vited all his notorious 'quaintances to
meet him at his house, and all dat. Well, all de time dat Master was
makin' so much ob him, dat man was catching ebery chance to try and git
his niggers away from him, and de Master knowin' nuffin 'tall 'bout it,
and treatin' him like a king.
"Well, one day, dis ole debbil cum to me, ('scuse me for calling him so
'fore you, Mister Pratt, but he warn't nuffin else,) an' stood an'
looked at me awhile, as I was workin' away, and he sez, 'Jeffrey'--he
allus called me by my hull name, and wus a kind of pious-lookin' man,
wore a white neck-tie, and alus folded up his hands kinder solemn when
he spoke--'Jeffrey,' sez he, puttin' on a bery long face, 'I do feel so
much pity for you!'
"'Caus why, massa?' sez I.
"'Why, 'cause I see you here sich a fine, strong, young man, with sich
able powers o' your own, and sich excellent caperbilities to make a fine
livin' for yourself, a workin' here, day in and day out, an' a givin'
all your life fur de benefit ob anudder. Oh, I feel so sorry fur you!'
an' he sighed when he sed dat, like a tired mule.
"'Well,' sez I, 'massa, I'se contented where I is. I hab my victuals and
clothes, and a good hum, and for all I can see, dat's all my Master
has. Ob de two I does tink I'm de best off. Sometimes, when I see him
cum in lookin' all pale and flurried like, from his business, I tink to
myself I wouldn't hab all his 'sponsibilities on my back fur de world.
Guy! I'd rather be de slave dan de master, any time; and as fur when de
time comes to die, I reckon I'll take jist as much out of de world as he
will.'
"'Poor benighted soul,' sez he, liftin' up his hands again, mighty
solemn, 'so they've really learn't you to talk so, eh? To think ob
perwerting a human soul in dis way! Drefful! drefful!'
"'Now,' sez I, 'massa, nobody told me to say dat at all. Don't you
'spect brack man's got sum common sense, and can see as fur into a
cane-brake as anybody else? A brack man's nebber a fool 'cept when he's
coaxed to run away from a good master, sah! Better bleeb dat.'
"'But only to tink,' sez he, 'ob bein' whipped like a hoss when you do
anyting wrong, and all dat.'
"'Well,' sez I, 'I 'spect if you've got any chillen, you puts de gad on
to dem when dey do wrong, too. I'se got a kind Master, and one ob de bes
young Mistresses in de world. Fur my part, I'm happy as de day is long.'
"'But,' sez the ole feller, 'if you get away, and go North, see how much
happier you'll be. You'll have all you earn to yourself, and can buy
your own clothes, and can have your own hum, and be out ob de chains of
slavery--be a free man, tink ob dat! Cum, if you want to go, I'll help
you to run away.'
"'Tank you, massa,' sez I, 'but I'd rather stay, and hab ebery ting
provided fur me, to trying to be free, and habbin' to dig like a dog to
airn my living, an' den not half live. But if you want to set me free so
bery bad, and feel so 'stremely bad 'bout my sitiation, if you'll jist
walk into de house, an' offer to buy me ob my Master, you can get me, I
'spect, because I ain't one ob de best niggers in the world, an' I'll
jist try dis freedom you talk ob, for awhile.'
"'Buy you!' sez he, wavin' of his white hand at an orful rate, 'nebber!
'Spose I'll lay out my money to buy a nigger free? Be dem, no! Go free!
you've a right to be free; jist cut, and run 'cross de line, an' be
happy."
"'Cross de line, and go to de debbil!' sez I. 'No, sah! I'se got too
much respect for my Master to leeb him in dat style; 'side dat, I'd
never 'spec to go to Hebben in de wurld, 'cause I might jist as well rob
him ob so much money, fur he paid a good price for me, I tell you. No,
sah! I say. I'll stay where I am as long as I can, fur, 'cording to my
idee, dar's nuffin meaner in all creation dan a free nigger, 'cept it's
a hypercritical abolitionist.'
"Lord! I had to run den, as if de ole scratch was at my heels, fur he
flung his cane at me so hard, dat when it struck, it stood straight up
in de ground. I peeked roun' de ara winder when I got out ob reach, and
he was shakin' all ober, he wus so mad, and swarin' fit to kill. Yah,
yah, I fixed de ole feller dat time, Massa Pratt, I 'sure you."
Arthur could not help smiling at Jeff's enthusiastic relation of the
circumstance, and at the same time he saw it was useless to carry on a
conversation upon this subject with one of his quick wit; so he only
remarked to the negro, who seemed waiting for some encomiums, that he
"served him right," and then turned away, and began arranging the goods
in his department for the day's sale. Steps were now heard upon the
stairs, and Wilkins, followed by Guly, came down into the store, the
latter looking pale, and half-sick, from the previous night of lonely
and anxious vigils. Wilkins passed Arthur with a cheerful "good
morning," and Guly advanced to his side, trying to smile; but the
attempt was futile, and he gained his side, and took his hand, silently.
Arthur's heart had not become so hardened, in so short a space of time,
as to lose all its generous impulses, and he was deeply touched by the
expression of his brother's face, so full of grief, yet with such an
apparent effort to conceal all sorrow from him. Wilkins was engaged with
his books, and Jeff was busy in the back part of the store; and, assured
that he would not be observed, he threw an arm about his brother, and
drew him close to his side.
Guly lifted his large blue eyes, sad and moistened, to Arthur's face.
"Dear Arthur," he whispered, "could you but know how much I loved you,
you would never--never--" he could get no farther, and stopped suddenly,
struggling to keep down his rising emotion.
"I would never go astray thus, you would say, Guly; but think not so. It
is my fate; I cannot turn aside from it, nor avert it; when I would stop
and struggle, on this slippery, downward path, I find it impossible, and
I rush on, like one who must keep moving, or fall."
"You do not call upon One to aid you, who would surely hear your cry."
Arthur was silent.
"If we knelt oftener, side by side, as we used to, dear brother, do you
not think that your heart would grow more humble and more submissive?
and that we both would be happier far?"
"Guly! do not charge me with having totally neglected those duties. The
past night must, indeed, have been a long one, if you can believe that
we no longer do as we _used to do_. Night before last, remember, Guly, I
was by your side, looking over with you the pages of the Holy Word, and
kneeling to Him who bids us obey it."
"True, Arthur; but the night has seemed to me almost interminable. It is
very lonely without you, Arthur."
"I am not sorry you miss me, Guly; it seems to whisper of so much love;
and your love is very dear to me. Remember what I told you the other
night upon the step, and always try to feel this affection for me."
"Always, Arthur."
"There is a terrible weight upon my spirits this morning," added the
elder brother, speaking huskily; "I have never felt such a heaviness of
heart before. All that was ever bright in my past life, comes up to my
memory with a pall wrapped around it, and the future shows no fairer
scene. In truth, I have witnessed more vice since I parted from you,
Guly, than I have ever imagined the world contained."
"Don't you feel ill, Arthur? If you will lie down, I will see that your
place is taken care of."
"No, Guly, I am getting used to it; I require no rest now; and I may as
well bear up, after a night's dissipation, first as last."
"I beg you, Arthur, not to talk in this way. Surely you do not mean to
continue this course; you will not, you cannot, I am sure. What would I
ever do, dear brother, left utterly alone and friendless here?"
"My poor Guly! alas, I dare not promise myself to make another attempt
to do better; my pride is my misfortune; and I feel as if the hopes and
promises of all my young life were dead. I am wretched, wretched!"
At this moment Quirk entered the store; and as Arthur looked up, he
caught the leer of significant meaning, sent from a quick wink of the
eye, and a momentary elongation of the visage, of his late companion.
He smiled in return, but at the same moment blushed deeply, as if
ashamed to be seen exchanging significant glances with such a being. He
also gently withdrew the arm which was about his brother, and moved a
little away from him. The clerks now began rapidly to fill their
respective places, and the brothers started forth, accompanied by
Wilkins, to the restaurant. Wilkins observed, that at breakfast Arthur
helped himself freely to claret, and drank heartily, as if to satisfy a
burning thirst. He made no remark upon it, however, and the meal was
altogether a sad and silent one. All were reflecting upon the events of
the past night, a subject which each felt a peculiar sensitiveness about
broaching, and with the mere table ceremonies, which even in such a
place the brothers did not fail to observe, the breakfast was finished.
As was frequently the case, Wilkins was the first to be through, and as
soon as he had taken the last mouthful, he took his hat and started for
the store, as if there was something painful in the silence which had
fallen over them. Though left to themselves, the brothers did not resume
the subject they had been discussing before Quirk's appearance, and
though Guly longed to ask about the bruise standing out blue and
prominent on his brother's brow, he could not frame the words with which
to ask the question. He felt, too, that the knowledge might bring him
much more trouble and uneasiness, than the unexplained sight of the
blow, and they passed forth into the street, with linked arms, but
divided hearts, and turned their steps toward the store.
They had gone but a short distance, when Guly's attention was attracted
by a gathering crowd upon the opposite side of the way, and, with a
natural feeling of curiosity, he hastened across the street, accompanied
by Arthur, to discover the cause of the excitement.
What was his astonishment, to see extended upon the pavement, face
downwards, while with his long arms he swept his crutches around him,
like a pair of oars, to keep his tormentors, the boys, away, his old
acquaintance, the dwarf. He had evidently fallen down, and in his
descent had dropped his greasy cap, from which had rolled a few of his
precious picayunes. He either was unable to rise, or else would not do
so, lest while he was engaged in righting himself, the boys should rob
him of his scattered silver. They had gathered about him at his fall,
but he had swung his long crutches so dexterously around him, keeping
his one eye fixed gloatingly upon the bits of change meanwhile, that not
one dared to approach him closer.
The moment Guly's eye fell upon him, he hastened forward with an
exclamation of pity upon his lips, and in spite of the crutches, he
stepped behind the unfortunate old man, and raised him to his feet.
Without hesitation he commanded the boys to leave the picayunes
untouched, placed the cane properly in the dwarf's hand, then restored
to him the cap, and its scattered contents, at the same time adding a
trifle from his own purse, to the little stock.
"Hih, hih!" chuckled the little man, for the first time looking up, as
he received his treasure; "hih, hih."
His one eye, with its odious expression, lit suddenly upon Guly's face,
and became illuminated instantly with a new light. It regarded him
earnestly, and though he stepped back to avoid the gaze, the immense
head, with that one eye burning in it, turned still toward him, on the
slim, wrinkled neck.
"You pick me up, Monsieur?"
Guly smiled, and nodded.
"Hih, hih; I am obliged to you; will you keep the boys away till I get
started?"
"They shall not touch you."
Taking one more earnest look of Guly, he threw his weight upon his long
crutches, and swung away between them, with the skirts of his coat, as
usual, trailing behind him.
"You have met this miserable object every morning, for more than a
month, now, Guly, and he has always begged for alms, and you have never
refused. How do you know whether he is worthy or not?" said Arthur.
"His deformity is sufficient to testify to that, brother."
"With your salary, I can't imagine how you can afford it."
"A picayune a day is a mere trifle; I save for him what I might
otherwise spend in selfish indulgence."
"Well, charity begins at home. _I_ can't afford to be so benevolent."
"Whoso giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord," replied Guly, with a
smile, as they entered the store.