THE PARTING OF THE WAYS.
Afflictive dispensations had so often heaped up against the horizon of
Alice's affections, frowning, angry clouds; the memory of bier and pall
had so cruelly overlaid her young life with its gloom that but for the
solace of religion, there would be no refuge from the bitterness of her
grief; from the shadows of the grave. But in her mother's chamber, with
her mother's precious Bible in her hands, she felt that there was a
fountain opened up before her, yes in the very house of David. "Blessed
Book! What is life without thee?" she exclaimed. "Is it not a faithful
transcript of the last will of our Redeemer? Is it not the key that
unlocks the door of Heaven? Yea the guide that elaborates its beauties?
'Eye hath not seen; ear hath not heard; neither hath it entered into the
heart of man to conceive of those things which He hath prepared for them
that love Him.'" She felt that in the world's tragedy of sin it was
indeed a savor of life unto life; that it erects in the human soul,
where there is sin, sorrow and despair, a sanitarium; rendering good for
evil, giving back pardon for injury; preferring pity to vengeance;
kneeling always upon the heights of virtue to uplift the broken-hearted.
Whether its blessed truths be spoken in prophecy or narrative; whether
whispered from the sepulchre or the crypt; whether thundered from Sinai
or Mars Hill; they tenderly lead poor, fallen human nature into the
portals of immortality, into the very gate of Heaven. "Has not
religion," she asked, "given to humanity an uplifted brow? Has it not
admonished man to put away from him every mercenary calculation and to
realize that the scourges of sin are rotting whip cords? Ah yes,
wherever there is a tear, there is love, wherever anguish there is
consolation, whenever the night is dark and starless and there are deep
shadows, an angel stands with bowed head and welcoming arms. What a balm
for the scarified, bleeding heart! A precious pearl of great price in a
casket of exceeding beauty; a sword of ethereal temper that divides unto
the sundering of bone and marrow; but there are diamonds upon the hilt
and golden tracery upon the scabbard. Ah, the resurrection, who gives
this promise, this faith, this hope? In all the dead aeons of dead
centuries, science, nature, man, have asked in vain 'If a man die shall
he live again?'--But just as in scaling a beautiful mountain, it needs
no chemistry to analyze the air, to tell us that it is free from miasma,
as every breath which paints a ruddier glow upon the cheek and sends a
tonic tide through the body, will tell of its invigorating touch; so it
needs no analysis, no reasoning, to persuade a spiritual mind that the
air of Heaven, the breath of God is in this book; and just as on Tabor's
brow, when from Christ His own glory pierced its callous, unfeeling
sides, it needed no refracting prism to tell us that it was the sunburst
of more than earthly radiance the pilgrims were gazing upon. So when a
Bible chapter is transfigured, when the Holy Spirit transmutes into it
his grace and glory, it will require neither a Paley or Shenstone to
prove that the power and wisdom of God are there; but radiant with
emitted splendor, in God's own light we will see it to be God's own
Book, and know it to be His blessed revelation. 'I know that my Redeemer
liveth and that in my flesh I shall see God.' The light of faith in the
afflicted man of God was burning feebly, but he begins to feel now the
strength, the virtue, which lies in innocency, as if God were beginning
to reveal Himself within him. He heeds no longer the hyper-Calvinist
when he tells him, 'Thou has taken a pledge from thy brother for naught,
and stripped the naked of their clothing; thou has not given water to
the weary, and thou hast withholden bread from the hungry.' He raises
his finger as if he would command attention and exclaims, not in irony,
but in tranquil self-possession, 'God forbid that I should justify you;
till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me. My righteousness I
will not let go. My heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.'
"Pictorial scriptures, truly, comprehending all manners, all conditions,
all countries. Egypt with the Nile and the Pyramids, the nomad Arabs,
the bewildered caravans, the heat of the tropics, the ice of the north,
are there; all save the frozen heart of Jewish traditions and
ceremonials. How divinely transfigured every page of the precious Book,
wherein is life eternal!"
In the great voiceless halls and chambers there was no sound but her
poor, tumultuous heart beating wildly against a bosom sore with weeping.
Alas, for ties that are so fragile, for pleasures that are so
transitory! Old Clarissa would steal tip-toe to her chamber, but she
dared not enter, and would return as softly to the kitchen.
"Po Miss Alice, she do suffer mazin. Pears lak ebery now und den when
her eyes gits bright und her face is sunny und sweet, und her lafter is
lak de ripplin ob de little brook in de medder, dat de good Lord draps
anudder drug in de cup und maks her drink ebery drap. Dere aint a gwine
to be no mo sorrer for Miss Alice now; yung Mars Harry is gon, und
missis is gon, und ole marser is gon, und bimeby her eyes is agwine to
git bright agin, und her purty solemcholly face is er gwine to be full
of smiles, und de little birds is ergwine to hang dere heads und drap to
sleep when she sings dem lubly ole fashined himes agin."
The poor girl finally fell asleep. It was the only anodyne that nature
had in her laboratory for a broken heart; and she slept as tranquilly as
a little child. She awoke refreshed by dreams, peopled by friends of her
early childhood, many of whom were living and happy. She went into the
kitchen, to give directions to Clarissa, whom she found at her
accustomed labor. Crushed and spiritless as she was, there was comfort
for her in the broken, incoherent utterances of the old negro.
"Don't cry no mo," said Clarissa quite sympathetically. "I used to heer
ole missis say when she was ailin monstrous bad, dat ebery cloud had a
silver linin, und I beliebs it pine plank. I beliebs dat when de good
Lord sends trouble on dis here lan He's ergwine ter sen grace too. Dat's
my belief, yung misses, und I'm ergwine to lib by it und I'm ergwine to
die by it. When I looked down into ole marser's grave and seed all dem
lilies ob de walley kivered up in de dirt, I node de good Lord was not
ergwine to mommuck up ole marser's soul fur nuthin. I node dere wuz
ergwine to be a transplantin in His hebenly garden of all de
beautifullest flowers dat withers and parishes here in dese low grouns
oh sorror, und I sez to mysef, dat I specks ole missis is er runnin ter
meet ole marser dis bery minit, wid boff hans chock full ob white roses
und jonquils und lilies ob de walley. Duz yer kno what I beliebs, Miss
Alice?" she continued, as she wiped her eyes in her old checked apron.
"When I sees a little white flower er droopin und er dying in ole
missis' garden, I nose dat she hez cum down fru de purly gates to pull
it und tak it back in her busum to yung Mars Harry; und when I sees a
little teensy baby a droopin und er dyin jest lak dat little flower, I
nose de good Lawd is er takin it home in His busum too. Wun ob dese days
yu und me is agwine ter see fur oursefs. Bress de Lawd!"
The days were passing now so languidly, and wretchedness was still
brooding in the heart of Alice. To one event, however, she looked
forward with intense yearnings. There was somewhere in the wide, wide
world a great sympathetic heart perpetually telegraphing its love, and
she was feeling the electric current in its pulsations every moment in
the day. He had promised to come again in the mellow, fragrant month of
October, before the flowers fade and die; when the artist of nature is
painting the foliage upon the trees green, purple and golden, and with a
richer iris the twilight sky, and dappling the fleecy clouds. Yes, he is
coming, not as the judge of the assizes, but as a prisoner of hope. Her
affections hitherto were divided--now he yearns for the whole heart.
Coming to endow her with a treasure selfishly coveted above rubies and
diamonds, above principalities and thrones; coming to plight his troth
at God's altar, that in sickness and in health they would cling to one
another till death doth part them.
How would Alice appear in her funereal robes before him, before the
altar? Perhaps Clarissa can reassure her in this dilemma.
"Miss Alice," she exclaimed as she clapped her hands approvingly, "If
yer is as butiful when the jedge cums as yer is now, dat er po man is
ergwine stracted wid hissef. I clare fore my blessed Marster up yander
if I had er node how butiful yer is agwine ter look in dat black
mourning, I wuld er swaded yer to dun und dun it fore ole marsa died."
And what is going to become of Clarissa and Ned? The mildew of age is
upon them both. For years past their old heads have been whitening with
the hoar frost. "Now ole marsa is dun und gon, de fambly is ergwine to
break up und de grate house is agwine to be the home of de owls, und de
swallers und de bull-bats." So thought Clarissa as in the quiet gloaming
she stood in the verandah, and listened to the melancholy winds and the
more melancholy bleating of the cattle. Ned had been doing little chores
about the house all the day, and after he had eaten his supper, he and
Clarissa had by permission assembled in the dining-room where they found
their young mistress engaged in some light needle work. She of course
welcomed the negroes heartily. They were her friends and had been
through many sore trials.
Clarissa was the first to break the silence, as she enquired of her
young mistress the day of the month.
"It is the 27th day of September replied Alice."
"Ugh! Ugh! I tole yer so Ned. Aint nex mont October?" she asked again.
"Yes, why do you ask?" replied Alice.
"Kase Ned sed the jedge warnt agwine to cum no mo twell juvember. Ned is
flustrated monstrus, Miss Alice. So skeered de jedge is ergwine to tak
yer away frum me und him."
"And if he does, I am sure you will both be very glad," Alice replied.
"Dat mout be so, yung mistress ef me und Clarsy wus peerter und cud fend
fur deyselves. But bofe uv us is mity cranksided now er days, und de
Lord in Heaben only nose whar we'se agwine to git ary moufful ob wittles
when yu is dun und gon to de tother eend ov de yearth. Me und Clarsy
slaved fur ole marsa fore de bellyun fell, und we aint got no ole marsa
to look bak to now, und we puts our pendence in yu yung mistress."
"If I go away, Uncle Ned," replied Alice, "you and Clarissa shall never
suffer as long as I live."
"Ugh! Ugh! now yer got de wurd," exclaimed Clarissa in tears.
"I haint er mistrusting yu Miss Alice," Ned answered, quite dejectedly,
as he raised his old coat sleeve to his face, "but when yer is dun und
gon clean away how is yer eber agwine to git to us, ef me er Clarissy
mout need ye? Dar is de pint right dar, misses. Ef I hes er bad miserry
in my head, und calls fur Miss Alice she cums lak er butterfly und lays
her soft hands on my po head und de missery stops rite short; und ef I
hankers arter er chiken it is de same fing. Ef yer duz go erway, misses,
old Ned will follow yer with his shaky jints twill yer gits clean, clar
outen site, und pray ebery day de Lord sens, dat yer mout be ez happy as
de angels."
It was Alice's turn as a matter of conceit to ask the old negro what he
thought of Judge Livingstone?
"Dat is a pinted questun," Ned answered hesitatingly.
"You mout ax me ef he was er suple man und dat wudn't be a pinted
questun, but yung missis I'm bleeged to mistrust dese furreners dat cums
down here und spreads deyselves all ober de lan, und fetches freedum und
de horg colery, und plays ruination wid our white fokses, und den runs
clean clar away wid our white gals, upsotting de whole creashun wid dey
flamborgasted fixments. You mout be happy way off yander to de tuther
eend ob de yearth, den agin you mouten. Yer can't tell misses how fur de
bull-frog is ergwine ter jump by lookin at his mouf."
To the foregoing argument Clarissa was assenting by repeated nods of
the head, ejaculating occasionally "Ugh! Ugh! dats de gospel trufe."
"But Uncle Ned," enquired Alice, "would you have me as your friend, a
poor lonely girl to remain at Ingleside without protection? Why don't
you know I would be miserable?"
"Yer mout be miserabler dan yer is, misses. Heep er times our white gals
finks dey is er upsotting de yearth by gittin jined to de furreners when
dey is er flinging de fat in de fire. Look at dat white gal ober de
medder. She run away wid wun ob dese carpet-sackers, und she wus dat
proud dat she wud hold her nose ef de po white trash breshed up agin her
cote skeerts. Und where is she now?"
"Ugh! Ugh!" ejaculated Clarissa. "Wid de furrener in de penitenshur, und
she ergwine to de ole kommissary fur her rashuns. Don't yer see?"
exclaimed Clarissa.
"Now misses I aint er sensing yer wid nun ob dis bad luck, und I aint er
putting de jedge on er ekality wid de furrener in de penitenshur, but
yer don't know misses what is ergwine to happen when de rope is er roun
yer neck, und de furrener has got hold ob de tuther eend."
"Dat yer don't," exclaimed Clarissa, rocking to and fro.
"Und yer don't know missis whar me und Clarissa is ergwine when dat ar
jedge gits to be de boss ob dis heer plantashun."
"Oh my Lord," shouted Clarissa as she burst into tears. "Dats maks me
ses wat I dos, yung missis, dat yu axes me a pinted questun. Dats de
truf. It sho is."
Old Ned groaned as the gravity of the argument seemed to affect him and
brushed a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his coat. The matter was
of momentous consequence to these old landmarks of a decayed
civilization, and they felt it acutely. Old Master as long as he lived
had held out the lighted candle to light up the dreary, tortuous paths
into which reconstruction was driving the old negroes; but the flame had
died down into cold ashes, and the hand that held it aloft was nerveless
and dead. There came as it were to their old hearts a sad, sad
refrain--"Breaking up! breaking up!" It came from the winds that moaned
in and out of broken window shutters. It came from the feathered
songsters, Prima Donnas of the air, who were sending forth their advance
agents to secure homes in Southern climes. "Breaking up! breaking up!"
Between such as these and their former masters were there not higher and
holier feelings and relations than those of master and servant? Without
them the South would have been the mere appurtenance of the commercial
North, dragging after it the weary chain of colonial dependence. What a
wilderness of wealth they brought to our firesides, what a teeming
aggregation of populous and powerful states! Let us at least give these
old slaves one look of kindness in the desolate twilight of their
lingering days.
The old negroes bade their young mistress a hearty good night. "May de
angels shelter yer dis nite und all tuther nites wid dere whings,
missis," exclaimed Ned as he followed Clarissa out of the door. It was
the saddest of all anticipations. They loved Alice as if she were the
apple of the eye--the heart's core. Their sufferings and privations,
their joys and happiness in common, had touched as it were the two
extremes of the varied horizon of life. And now they were advancing
toward the parting of the ways. Ned and Clarissa, with unsteady,
faltering footsteps toward the sunset, the gloaming, the end of life;
the young mistress toward the sunrise, never so resplendent as now.
* * * * *
Judge Livingstone, with his clerical friend from the North, arrived at
the appointed time at Ingleside; he a bachelor of thirty-five, to wed
this beautiful heiress, the exquisite flower that had budded and bloomed
like a rose for twenty-six seasons. Arrived to lacerate the old slavish
hearts, that clung so helplessly to the young mistress, like morning
glories around the fair flower. Arrived to snatch from Ingleside so
rudely its life, its hope, its promise--the all in all to poor Clarissa
and old Ned. "Eben ole Jube knows dat sumfing solemkolly is ergwine to
happin," observed Clarissa to her young mistress, as she assisted the
bride in her adornments for the nuptial hour. "Jess look at dat ole
fafeful dorg a lyin dare jess a strugglin wid his moshuns, lak he was a
humans sho nuff."
The minister stood at the little altar in the parlor. The ring that
Alice had given to "Arthur" was slipped upon her finger, and in the
presence of the angels, Judge Livingstone and Alice were made man and
wife. As Ned and Clarissa passed out of the little verandah, Ned
observed with streaming eyes, "Now Clarsy, dere is no mo music fur us
but de crickets upon de hath. Miss Alice has dun und sung her las hime
und we kaint foller Miss Alice whar she is ergwine no mo. Ef we uns is
tuk sick we kaint holler fur Miss Alice no mo. I feels lak I haint got
no frend now. Miss Alice dun jined hersef to dat furriner."
"Dat is Gords truf Ned," exclaimed Clarissa as she drew her old checked
apron across her eyes, "Hit pears lak dere is nuffin in dis wurrel
epseps tribulashun of sperits. But bress her dear heart," the old negro
continued, "I hope she may be jes es happy es de larks down in de
medder, und dat when she arrivs way ober yander whar she is er gwine she
will send her membrunces to me und yu fortwid."
It was necessary that Ingleside should be placed in first class order.
Above all things else it was necessary that ample provision should be
made for Clarissa and Ned. These arrangements in minutest detail were
satisfactorily made, as the Judge observed to his bride one morning
after the wedding, "Do you not grieve to part from your old friends, my
dear?"
Tears came into the sweet girl's eyes as she replied so tenderly, "Yes,
yes, they cling so helplessly to me, but dear Arthur, you will not
forget them, will you?"
[THE END.]
ERRATA.
In the 15th line, page 78, for "permit" read "pretermit."
In line 25, page 99, the word "first" should read "fifth."
In line 2, page 139, for "preservingly" read "perseveringly."
Transcriber's Note:
Added List of Illustrations.
The Errata noted at the end of the text have been corrected in this
version.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Broken Sword, by Dennison Worthington