FREEDOM IN FLOWER.
Ned, who was now in his seventy-third year, was drinking to intoxication
from the cup the carpet-baggers had lifted to his lips.
He sat in the shade of a mulberry tree near his cabin furbishing his
musket for the next company inspection, and stopping now and then to
observe the sportive pranks of a domesticated raccoon.
He heard the irritable voice of his old master calling him from the
verandah of the mansion, and observed with gravity to his wife--
"Jes lissen at dat! Golly! to be sho ole Semo dun und furgit dat dis
Soufland is konkered und de niggers sot free. Haint dat a purefied
scandle? De werry fust munny I gits outen de bero, arter I pays fur de
clay-banks und de lan und de grate-house, I'm ergwine to uprare er silum
fer dat po stractified creetur way out in de big woods, twixt dis
plantashun und de crick, whay he kin call 'Ned, Ned!' und nobody's
ergwine ter ansur but de blue herrons. Don't yu heer his gwines on,
Clarsy? Jeemes' ribber! don't yu heer dat ofe he's dun und swore! Sposin
de surcus rider had er heerd dat cuss wurd he flung at me und yu? Golly!
he'd histe him upon de horns o' de haltar twell he riggled same ez er
fettered wezul. Dat makes me sez whot I duz erbout dese ole isshu white
fokeses. When dare aint no grass in de crap und de smoke house am full
o' meat, hits brudder dis und sister dat; but bimeby, when de ole isshu
draps inter de trap sot by de scalyhorgs, Jeemes' ribber! 'ligion hez
dun und tuck er backsot. Don't yu see? Yu mout sot down whey dat ole
man is wid yo teef clinched same ez er hasp in de lock, und he mout be
gwine on wid his stractified nonsense, und ef yu didn't spishun nuffin,
de fust fing you node hit mout be ole marser dis und ole marser dat, und
bimeby yu'd clean clare furgit yosef, dat yu wud, und be totin de
grubbin ho und er swettin ober de wire grass fur de secesh. Don't yu
see? Me und yu's jes bleeged ter walk perpendikler ur we's gwine ter be
kotched agen lak minks."
"Dat's de troof, hit sho is," interrupted Clarissa with emphasis.
"Und den," Ned continued, "me und yu mout be wusser niggers dan in
slabery time."
"Pend upon it dat po ole white man has dun und gon plum strakted. I
nebber seed sich shines as he is a cuttin up, by his lone lorn sef, in
all my born days, nur yu nudder. Dar he now trapesing furwards and
baccards wid boff hans ahin his back und histin up his cote skeerts, und
a callin, Ned, Ned! jes lac slabery times. Ef de good Lord puts off his
wisitation much furder, und don't take him outen his misry, hes gwine to
sassinate hissef fore de time kums. 'Ned, Ned; I ses Ned Ned,'" grunted
the old freedman mockingly. "Jes as well be callin wun of Joshaway's
catfishes outen de crick, ebery bit an grane. Clarsy, don't it mak you
sorter solumkolly to see how idjeotick ole mister Semo is a gittin, sens
de culled fokes is franksized?"
"It sho do," replied Clarissa with some force of expression.
"Pend erpon it woman, ef we culled genmen don't take holt of dis here
plantashun, und de house, und de craps, us is all agwine to suck sorrer,
shows you born."
"Dats de Lords truff" exclaimed Clarissa.
"Mr. Semo, he don't look arter nuffin, dat he don't," Ned continued, as
he laid his musket on the ground to rub his back against the jamb of the
chimney, "De hoppergrasses is avourin de craps, und de cotton is in de
gras up to de tip ends, und de dratted, flop-yeared dorgs is jamby et up
all de sheepses, und dere is dem hosses in de stable, a whinkering und a
whinkering fur a moufful ob fodder, un de cattle beastes is er strayin
erway inter de mash, und cum rane er shine, dare is ole Mars Jon asottin
dare lak er ole settin turkey hen er callin Ned, Ned; lak dare want no
freedum in de lan. Twant fur Miss Alice dat ole man und all tother
fokeses on dis here plantashun wud be lak a passel ob gizzard shads,
plum run down to nuffin."
"Now yu is a woicin it Ned," again exclaimed Clarissa, as she stitched
the last feather in Ned's military cap.
"Dare aint but one way fur dat ole man to eber sucker hissef outen his
misery und be spectable," said Ned.
"Und hows he agwine tu du dat Ned?" interrupted Clarissa.
"Don't hit stan ter reson dat ef ole Marse Jon wud jine de publikins und
go erbout de kentry baccards and furrards a speechifyin fur de
franksized woters, dat he wud git a offis? I don't blame ole marser fur
fitin arter Mars Harry got kilt. I'd fout tu, fur my onliest boy, but
whar Mars Jon dun rong wus kase he didn't stop Mars Harry fore he rid
off to Manassy. Kase Mars Harry he didn't no no better und ole marster
did, don't you see de pint, Clarsy?"
"I sho duz," again exclaimed Clarissa.
"Dere is de shuriff, he fit in de war, jess lak Mars Jon dun, and whars
dat man now? de high shuriff! Kase he seed what wus agwine tu kum when
de bellum fell, und he flopped ober to de publikins, und de fust fing
yu noes, dat man is ergwine tu be de pressiden ob de Newnited States."
"Haint yu seed fo now" continued Ned argumentatively, "wun of dem dare
lorgerhed turkles drap back into de mud, ergwine furder und furder und
er setlin down und downer twell he kivers hisself all epseps his two rad
eyes, und bimeby heer cums erlong ole Joshaway er probing wid de gig,
und bimeby he gits his konfedence, und den he flings him on de back und
tells him rite saft lak, 'please stay dar twell he cums back ergin;'
well den de skalyhorgs day dun und got deyselves skotched in de offusses
jes lak dat ar turkle, und de fust fing yu nose ef ole Mars Jon haint
ergwine to flop ur nuffin heer cums erlong ole Jeff Davis, de secesh
man, und ole Mars Jon er probin wid dare ole debbil fork, und bimeby day
flings dem publekins on de back und tells dem to stay rite dar twell day
cums back. Don't yu see; und den de fat is dun und flung in de fire und
de bellyun is dun un riz ergin."
"Ole Mars Jon ain't agwine to flop no whers, dat he aint," ejaculated
Clarissa.
"Den he aint agwine tu git no offis nudder," rejoined Ned, quite
seriously and relapsed into silence.
"Ned, whats yu agwine tu du wid yosef dis arternoon?" she asked.
"Me" asked Ned, "Ise agwine tu scotch mysef on dis here plank fur a nap,
dats what."
"Whats yu gwine to do," he asked.
"Me," asked Clarissa, "I'm agwine tu slabe fur er nocount free nigger,
lak yu, jess lak I has ben doin fur forty yers, dats what."
"No count free nigger hay! dats a sin to yu Clarsy, who keeps dat ar pot
bilin?"
"Bilin" she asked, in disgust, "Sposin yu lift dat ar led often dat pot
an see whats a bilin, taint nuffin yu fotched home, I tells yu dat."
Ned distrustfully advanced to the fire place and lifted the top from the
pot and sank back with a groan, into an old bottomless chair.
"What do ail you, Ned?" asked Clarissa, laughingly.
"Lors a massy, I wudn't a had yu projjeck wid me dat ar fashun fur a
hundred dollars. I wus skert tu ax yu what yu had in dare, und I kep a
studdin and a studdin, und I kep tryin to smel sum yerbs or udder ur
snuffin an er snuffin an er snuffin, und I kep listenin fur yu to say
'Ned, lift dat bilin pot offen de farr wid dem yurbs und horg meat; hit
ar sho dun by dis time', und Bress de Lord, it haint nuffin ceptin er
ole kalliker skeert; dat dar mistake is wurf a hundred dollars. Jess as
well flung a hundred dollars outen my pocket into de fire, as to gib me
dat ar set back."
"A hundred dollars," mockingly repeated Clarissa, "How much money has yu
had sence de belyun dun fell?"
"Me?" asked Ned.
"Yes, you, dats who, how many cents yu had most fo yer sence freedum cum
in de lan, und yu is as ragged as a settin pefowell."
"Nebber mind," said Ned, "I'm ergwine to git forty akers ob dis here
plantashun, und maby de grate house flung in, und I'm gwine to git de
peertest mule on de hill, und when I flings de whoop und pulls de
ribbuns, yu is ergwine to see a yerthshake."
"Ugh, Ugh!" ejaculated Clarissa, "I mout, und den agen I moutent. I sees
yu a flinging de whoop now, but taint ober nary wun ob ole Mars Jon's
mules, dat it taint. I seed a passel ob niggers tother day, jess lak yu,
a flingin de whup und a pullin de ribbuns, but twas in de conwic camp
jess whar yus agwine to be fo de hoppergrasses wours ole Mar's Jon's
crap. Dars yer a stretcht out on dat plank in de brilin sun, lak wun ob
dem streked lizzards on de wurm ob de fense, wid nary a moufful ob
wittles in de house, high nur lo. Cum here an see who dat is agwine long
yander ercross de medder in de hot brilin sun, wid her bonnit skeerts
lak de wings ob a white hearon, a floppin backards an furards, haint dat
Miss Alice?"
Ned raised his hand to shield his eyes from the hot glaring sun as he
observed, "Tain't nobody else. Ef dat ar white gal don't hab de
tarryfyin feber ur de brownskeeters, den I haint no doctor."
"I wunder whar dat ar gal is ergwine to here at twel erclock in de day,
und de July flies er farely deefnin de fokeses wid der racket?" asked
Clarissa.
"Lordy! Lordy! Clarsy," exclaimed Ned, "ef we uns only hed sum ob dem
gud wittles Miss Alice got in dat basket, I wudn't be in narry grane ob
a hurry fur dem forty akers ob lan und de mule nudder, wud yu?"
"Mout hab had gud wittles all dis time ef yu hadn't ben sich er
flambergastered fule. Yu und Joshaway er tarnally spasheating erbout
hopperrattucks und pianny fortys und de freedmun's bero und de
conwenshun und de miluntary, und bress de Lord nary wun ob yu's seed a
hunk o' meat ur a dust o' flour sense freedum cum in de lan, und boff ob
yu luks dis werry minit lak perishin conwicks, ur de sutler's mules
turned out to grass. Neber herd dat yungun open her mouf agin enybody in
my life, white er black. Ef yu axes her fer enyfing, she is er smolin de
butifulist smile all de bressed time, und ef de cullud fokeses' chillun
is er hongry she feeds dem wid lasses and homny und gud truck twell dey
is fitten ter pop open; und when dey is sick, she is jes lak er hark
angel, und bress Gord, dat ar gal is ergwine tu hab er golen krown, und
er harp too, und gole slippers, when her hed is lade low; und ef she
goes fust I'm ergwine ter keep her grabe kivered wid de butifulist
flowers in ole missus' flower garden." And Clarissa, overburdened with
the tumult of her tender soul, began to sob and cry.
"Hit nachully tares my ole hart strings outen my body to sen her dat
wurd; kase yu nose, Ned, dat Miss Alice's hans is tu swete und tender tu
cut de wud fur de kitchen und lif dem hebby pots in dis yer bilin sun.
Ef I had my chusin I wudn't gib wun stran ob her golen hare fur all de
freedum in de lan, und ole Lincum frowed in, dat I wudn't."
Clarissa could maintain her equilibrium whenever Ned expatiated upon
matters, persons and events unconnected with her young mistress, but
every chord of feeling in her black bosom was instantly vibrant with
emotion if anything in disparagement of her was spoken.
Dear, dear child! She was now oblivious to all that was passing in the
little cabin.
There she goes, singing a sweet lullaby, on her mission of love, moving
along in the sunshine that encircles her as with a magic zone of glory.
The little daisies lift up their heads to laugh as they whisper to each
other, "There she goes, our little sweetheart!" And an old woman
essaying to free herself from the fetters of the tyrant Death at the
other end of the line is whispering, "Here she comes, my darling!" Her
great, sympathetic nature, whose capacity was enlarged to embrace all
the poor, white and black, made the black cruel heart of Aleck, even,
unwittingly to relent after he had torn her fair face with the thorn
bush in the meadow.
When the paralytic, Alexander MacLaren, died twelve months ago, he
bequeathed a redundance of squalor and misery to his widow, and now
death in slouching strides was coming toward her little hut beyond the
meadow; coming as if unwilling to take away the old friend of sweet
Alice; coming, not like the swift cruel messenger, but languidly, even
dubiously; halting to ask if his commission would permit him to spare
her yet a little while for Alice's sake. There was a footfall upon the
door block; there was the low voice from within, "Come in, dearie," and
Alice and a flood of sunshine entered together.
"My sweet bairn," the old lady exclaimed, in the language of the
highlands, "how you do gladden my auld een! Let me kiss you, my lassie,
ond touch your bonnie hair with my auld stiffened fingers. I want to
feel your presence ivery minute."
Alice bowed lovingly at the bedside of the poor widow and kissed the
pallid cheek, and looking into the faded eyes asked, with heartfelt
sympathy, if she knew who had kissed her?
"Ah, vera well lassie," she answered smilingly. "I ken nae ane in this
puir auld world but you; And why should I dearie? Do you think I shall
ever cease to love you, Allie, you are sae bright and trustful; your
gentle spirit is like the little star that shines just yonner when the
twilight deepens into the night, its light ond joy ond comfort are for
some ither fauk, for some ither fauk," she repeated with earnestness.
"Oh, I do thank you, Mrs. MacLaren, for such kind, yet undeserved
expressions, they are sweet dewdrops that are always leaking from a
heart, kind and true," said Alice, as she brought from her little basket
such delicacies as she thought would tempt the sick lady.
"Now that you love me so dearly," continued Alice, "will you not take a
little nourishment, for my sake?"
"For your sake, dearie," interrogated the old lady, "thot I will, and
thank you with an auld ruck of a heart thot has but ane love--all for
you, chiel, all for you. If I live it will be to bless you, ond if I dee
I will whisper to the angels to love my sweet chiel as I have loved you,
Allie."
The old head was very tired and the eyes that now mirrored another light
than that which came through the natural senses were closing as Alice
sang so tenderly, so softly her favorite hymn; and it appeared to come
fragrant, laden with the aroma of the heather, with the memories of the
gude auld days from the glades and trossachs.
"It's here we hae oor trials, ond it is here that He prepares
A' his chosen for the raiment, which the ransomed sinner wears
Ond it is here that he would hear us, mid oor tribulations sing
We'll trust oor God who reigneth in the Palace of the King.
"Though his palace is up yonner, He has kingdoms here below;
Ond we are his ambassadors, wherever we may go;
We've a message to deliver, ond we've lost anes hame to bring
To be leal and loyal hearted, in the Palace of the King.
"Its ivory halls are bonnie, upon which the rainbows shine,
Ond its Eden bowers are trellised with a never fading vine;
Ond the pearly gates of Heaven do a glorious radiance fling,
On the starry floor that shimmers in the Palace of the King.
"Noo nicht shall be in Heaven ond nae desolating sea,
Ond nae tyrant's hoof shall trample in the City of the free;
There is everlasting daylight ond a never-fading Spring,
Where the Lamb is all the glory in the Palace of the King."
The widow lay as though she were dead, so tranquil was the slumber that
had kissed down her heavy eyelids, and her crossed hands were laid upon
the light coverlid that rested upon her bosom.
"Oh," thought Alice as she looked upon the scarcely animated human body,
"if it were not a sin, and if you were not so wearied, how I would envy
you, Mrs. MacLaren; you are soon to be so happy. Your tired feet will
soon press the 'Starry floor that shimmers in the palace of the King'
ond your tired een will soon 'behold the King in his beauty,' ond your
tired heart will throb with a divine feeling when He bids you welcome in
the 'palace of the King; ond he will gae you the title to your mansion
with a smile, ond you ken fine it is your ain hoose, ond after sich sae
travail you have coom hame to abide for aye.'"
After a while the old lady awoke to find Alice kneeling at her head, to
wipe the damp from her brow with her handkerchief.
Alice was the first to speak and she said quite endearingly "How are you
now, my dear Mrs. MacLaren? I hope you feel ever so much better."
The old lady with some effort raised her eyes and responded feebly,
"Better chiel. Ah my dearie," she said almost hopefully, "may be I'll
nae go to my ain hame the day. Just then I was so weary and I had almost
forgotten that you were still with me. Ond were you nae singing a wee
bit ago dearie? or was I dreaming ond heard the Angels singing, 'We'll
trust our God who reigneth in the palace of the King?' It might have
been the voice of my auld mither, I dinna ken, I dinna ken," she
repeated emotionally.
"If you are not tired, Allie, will you not read a passage from the
blessed book, just to make me think of the auld, auld story."
Alice took the Bible from the little deal table and upon opening its
pages a five dollar treasury note of the Confederate government, of the
issue of eighteen hundred and sixty two, fell upon the floor. It
appeared to Alice as a pictorial representation of war, its havoc, its
chariot wheels, with great cruel tires and knives, and its heaps of
slain. She turned it over and saw this writing, in a neat feminine hand
on the back, "It was not for the like of this that my lad was slain at
Gettysburg, it was for honor. With the tidings of his death came this
note from his hands. 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away,
blessed be the name of the Lord.'"
Alice placed the note back in the Bible with the thought almost
expressed by her tongue, "The liveliest emblems of Heaven are His
saints, who in the deep sense of anguish can uplift their hearts to Him
in simple child-like faith."
The old lady again expressed herself as feeling so much better. Poor
woman, perhaps it was but a momentary reinforcement of the vital energy,
that was preparing her for the last interview with death, when he should
come again with shroud and coffin. "And the Spirit and the bride say
come," the sweet girl began to read, "and let him that heareth say come,
and let him that is athirst come, and whosoever will let him take of the
water of life freely."
"The water of life freely, and let him that is athirst say come," echoed
the old lady feelingly. "Ond all, all, dearie, we shall hae in ower
aboondance in the palace of the King, bye and bye. Ond wud you mind
putting up a wee bit prayer for sich an auld rack of a body?"
Alice got down upon her knees and clasping the hands of the sick lady in
her own she prayed fervently that the Father of all mercies would watch
over her charge who had been faithful through her life; deal lovingly
with her, for she is thy child; be with her now and always to comfort
her and give her that peace which the world cannot give or take away.
Alice rose from her supplications to kiss the old lady once more before
taking her departure, when the invalid, pointing to a little box in
beautiful Mosaic upon the mantel, said to her, "You will find there a
little siller that I have put by for my beerial chiel, for the gown ond
the coffin ond the grave."
As Alice entered the old mansion at Ingleside with her mind tranquilized
by the experience through which she had just passed, she heard her
father in quite a loud voice, call one of his old servants, "Ned, Ned,
where is that black rascal Ephraim?"
"Don't know, mars Jon, came back the answer, Specks he is dun gone to de
baptising in de crick sar."
"Where is my saddle mare?"
"Don't know dat sar, nudder, specks she's dun gone wid Ephraim tu sar."
"Where is my new hat and umbrella?"
"Don't know mars Jon, specks dey is dun took demselves off en wid
Ephraim tu sar."
"Who is that banging on Miss Alice's piano?"
"Dey is dem culled ladies sar, Miss Maria und Miss Susan, er playin high
opperattucks sar. I seed dem er gwine in dere und spishoned dey wur
gwine rong, und I axed dem to play de high opperattucks some wheys else,
kase dis grate house was too dimmycratuck fur dem, but dey lowed dat
dere daddy had worked fur hit und dey wus hissen und den I didn't say no
mo, kase I wus afeared. Pend erpun hit, mars Jon, de bottom rail has dun
got on top now sho nuff."
Reconstruction had come with its mildew. Black cavernous mouths were
lapping up the virus and spitting it out everywhere. Retribution in
history had come too with the evolution of the negro.
The old master like a besieged baron of mediaeval civilization, was
still looking out upon his broad domains and his cattle upon a hundred
hills, but there was rust upon the plow shares, tares in the wheat,
cockles in the rye, and the high noon bell in its tower hung lifeless
and tongueless. No summons thence to the tired hands and feet and backs
upon the old plantation. Labor was disorganized--discipline a dead
precedent--the negroes, like the swallows and ravens in the old rookery,
homeward and townward as they list, were pluming their flight.
The many-gabled mansion lay fast asleep in the Sabbath nooning. A
bee-martin, as it leaped to wing from the neglected meadow, piped a
shrill note or two and scurried away after the thieving crow; and the
interlacing oaks and elms of a century's growth coquetted with the
whispering winds.
Alice felt that she had sustained a mortal shock when she heard the
sound of her mother's piano, every chord thrilling with strange
dissonance; boisterous, vulgar singing and the shuffling of feet upon
the richly carpeted floor.
She started to enter the room when a rude black hand was placed with
violence upon her arm, and she was thrust back into the hall, with the
remark, "jess git outen here forthwid. Us ladies is musin our selfs er
makin dis ole fing farly howl. Daddy ses how dat ef we cullud ladies
notices white trash lak yu is eny mo he's ergwine ter whup us an' whup
us good," and with this they courtesied toward each other and retired as
if they had been princesses of some black realm.
Alice wept out her indignation in her mother's room. Poor Alice! Sowing
the wind! By and by what shall the harvest be?
"Ned," called Colonel Seymour, "tell Aleck to come to me." Ned came back
in a few minutes concealing a grin with his open hand to his mouth.
"Boss," he said, "I seed Ellick, und he tole me how dat I mout tell yu
pintedly dat ef yu wants ter see him wusser dan he do yu, yu mout cum
ter him er let hit erlone udder. Dem wus his berry wurds." The old man
turned away with the wish in his heart that the black vat of
reconstruction might be heaped up to the brim with the freedmen who had
turned their backs upon their only friends.
As the evening sun was drawing a watery cloud before its face to shut
out, if possible, the degradation of the white people of the South,
Ephraim rode up at break-neck speed upon the exhausted mare and as he
alighted upon the foot-block he threw the bridle towards his old master
with the insulting demand, "unsaddle dat beastis Semo, widout yu wants
her tu tote de saddle all her life."
"You insolent scoundrel!" exclaimed the old man in white heat, "has it
come to this?"
"Looker heer, po white man, dus yu no who's yu er sassin? Ise er
spectable cullud gemman, sar, er franksized woter, sar, und what's yu
sar? Po down white trash. Take yer ole mar und yer ole umbrill, und yer
ole hat, und go ter de debbil." Thus was slipping away the eventide of
the day that God, in his infinite condescension aeons ago, had hallowed
and blessed.
In the excitement of these almost tragical events Alice had quite
forgotten the sick woman across the meadow, and she was hurrying there
as fast as she could, when she was intercepted in her journey by Aleck,
who commanded,
"Hole up dar, white 'oman! Whar is yer agwine wid dat baskit und dem
wittles?"
The girl was greatly alarmed at the presence of the brutish negro in
this solitary place and she spoke as complacently as possible and told
him that she was carrying some food to poor Mrs. MacLaren. "Will you not
let me go on?" she said; "the poor woman is very ill, and I am sure that
I am doing no one any harm."
"Yes yu is fer a fac, the negro replied with anger, pears lak yu an yer
yo ole daddy is terminated tu gin de culled genmen all de tribulashun yu
kin und we haint ergwine tu stan hit no longer. Boff ob yu is jist got
tu git outen de grate house und stop toting wittles tu de po white
trash. When we takes holt ob dis plantashun dey haint ergwine ter be
nary horg, nur chickin, nur pefowell on de lan und de culled genmen und
ladies will be bleeged to look at tother wuns and suck dey fingers in
misery."
As the negro turned away from the affrighted girl he purposely threw
against her fair face, with a deft hand a thorn switch, that tore the
flesh and caused the cheek to bleed and then laughed with the
gratification of an arch-fiend.
She went on her way in silence but her outraged spirit could hardly
contain itself, and this she said to herself with burning anger is
reconstruction! A civilization that with whipcords and chains has
suspended law and love and benevolence.
When Alice reached the little home of the widow she knew that the death
angel had entered before her and was putting his icy finger upon the eye
and the heart, and with an almost inaudible exclamation of "poor Allie"
she passed away.
With tenderness and love Alice arranged the coverlid over the body and
locked the door and went in search of help to prepare the old woman for
burial. She saw aunt Charlotte gathering sticks for fuel for the pot
that was boiling in her yard, for it was wash day, and told her that
poor old Mrs. MacLaren was dead. "Will you not go with me and give such
assistance as you can?" "Dat I wont," sharply replied the old negress
"Ise dun und got way by any sich drudgery as dat now a days. When wun ob
our siety ceases we has grate blowin' ob horns und muskits shooting at
de grabe und ebery body is as hapy as er rane frog in de willer tree.
Yu sees dem dere bilin cloes in de pot don't yu, and yu sees dat ar sun
ergwine down as peert as er race hoss, well den Ise got my orders from
Joe und I don't ame tu git a beatin when he cums home ef I kin hep it."
Alice went on and there were fantastic shadows here and there in the
primitive landscaping of nature and timid rays of the setting sun were
stealing softly through thorn and bush and bough. She found Mary Perkins
and her younger sister Gussie at home and she knew that poverty had not
destroyed their kindly natures. She told them with sadness her mission
and when the little assemblage gathered reverently in the little glebe
the next day and the man of God uncovered his white locks and looked
upon the forbidding pall and grave, there was a broken column of white
flowers resting over the dead heart of poor Mrs. MacLaren. "Earth to
earth, ashes to ashes," is the universal requiem of nature--the
proclamation an offended God uttered when he placed sentinel Cherubim
with flaming swords in Paradise to guard its portals. It was the voice
of the aged ambassador of Christ this day, when there was no responsive
sound to come forth from the dark chamber hidden under the clods of the
valley.
Alice returned from the burial in a spirit of resignation, clad in a
coat of mail figuratively speaking, strong and riveted in every joint.
"What sore need for the upbuilding of character in this degenerate age;
when evil is personified; when courage is so sadly needed," said the
girl, "I will try ever so hard to be pure in heart."
She joined her father in the verandah for a few moments, and she saw at
a glance that the old man was battling with conflicting emotions.
He said at last very disconsolately, as he stroked her golden tresses.
"I had hoped my darling child to go to my grave in a green old age, but
if it please God to take me and my child I should not murmur. God knows
I am drinking the lees from a cup full of bitterness. The
reconstructionists say that they are making treason odious and are
scouring the land for distinguished examples."
"Let us not despair, dear father" said Alice as she threw her arms
around the old man's neck. "You still own dear old Ingleside. Let us
sell what we have and flee ere the whirlwind shall overwhelm us with
evil, I will work for you father and we may be happy again some day,
somewhere. The good Lord will stay the hands of our oppressors but let
us not wait for that, let us go hence as quickly as we can."
"You almost unnerve me my dear child with your eloquence and tears, but
that will not do. I--I can clean the rust from my old sword and I am
sure it will cut as red a swath now as it did in '63. Our Scotch-Irish
blood is thicker than water. Never shall it be said by the craven
hearted enemy that John Seymour has ever defiled the proud lineage of
his people. Let us dismiss these unhappy thoughts and pray at least for
our disenthralment."
Monday came and the shadows began to deepen. The patriarchal oaks and
elms were still bowing gracefully each to its vis a vis. There was no
cook in the old mansion, no stable boy to feed the horses, and old
Jupiter like the old sexton among the graves was groping hither and
thither abstractedly, perhaps in quest of memories.
Clarissa the old standby had rebelled, rebelled against the sovereignty
that had been too indulgent and too patriarchal perhaps; rebelled
against a mistress and a master who condoned every failing of her
nature; rebelled against a destiny made up of the comforts of life,
without its sacrifices.
You will come back home some fair day Clarissa and there will be tears
in your eyes, there will be sorrow in your old black heart, and
penitence syllabled upon your tongue. You will come back to tell your
dear young mistress something of the delusions that made you swerve from
interest and duty and you will see the light of forgiveness in the
pretty blue eyes of Alice.
The message came as it were wrapped up in cactus leaves. "Tell Miss
Alice dat she needn't speck culled ladies is ergwine to mommick up dey
sevs no mo, cooking wittles fur de white trash. Ned is ergwine tu git er
organ und hosses und kerridge und she wus ergwine tu split de rode rate
wide open er cummin und ergwine. He's dun und jined de milintery company
und sakes er live dat genmen does hab de butifullist feathers and
buttons und muskit tu be sho!" Poor Alice in her heart "felt like one
who treads alone, some banquet hall deserted; whose lights had fled,
whose garlands dead and all but her departed."