THE PIT IS DUG.
Night again, and at the home of Dolly Smith. Dolly Smith and James B.
Lawson, alias Elbridge Noral, feel that they know each other now, and
the gas jet is turned full on. The room is supplied with furniture of a
most costly and gorgeous sort. Lawson, fresh from a home of
magnificence, is dazzled by the splendor of Dolly Smith's parlor.
"Dolly, you are certainly finely fitted up, finely! I must say that I
have not seen better."
"It ought to be fine, Mr. Lawson. It is the price that was paid for the
virtue of my race. How are matters progressing with you and Erma now?"
"Slowly, Dolly, slowly."
"Have you gotten an opportunity to speak to her yet?"
"Oh, yes! I see her and converse with her nearly every day."
"Do you call that progressing slowly?"
"Yes, and dangerously slow. You see, my excuse for calling at Mrs.
Turner's is to see Franzetta Turner, her daughter, while my reason is to
catch a glimpse of Erma. Now, if I keep on going to see Miss Turner as
regularly as I have been, why, I will just have to propose marriage to
her. There will be no way for me to back out. And I did not bargain for
all that. So, you see, I am interested in matters coming to a crisis for
a twofold reason. First, my soul is lost to Erma Wysong, and will never
be found until I have her love and devotion. Secondly, I am not
overanxious to fall into the clutches of Old Maid Franzetta."
"How did you happen to get so many conversations with Erma? Explain the
situation to me fully, so that I may know the next step for you to
take," Dolly Smith said. She now concentrated her soul in her sight and
ears. The realization of her life's purpose depended upon the depth of
the passion of the man before her. As Lawson's evil genius would have
it, he chose this woman of all other people on earth to whom to tell the
story of his love.
Lawson ran his hands through his gold colored locks of hair, bowed his
head as if in meditation, and began his recital, more as a man musing to
himself than as one talking to an auditor. Therefore he held nothing
back.
"Well, Dolly, it was this way. A few days after Erma Wysong went to Mrs.
Turner's, I called over there, ostensibly to see Miss Franzetta Turner,
but in reality to catch a glimpse of Erma. I spoke to Miss Turner in the
midst of our conversation as follows:
"'Miss Turner, my barber tells me that your servant girl is a belle in
Negro society, and has occasioned about as much ado among her people by
becoming a servant girl as your entering a factory to work would do
among us.'
"'Is that true, Mr. Lawson? If she is a belle, she is a worthy one. I
would give a million for her form. It is symmetry itself.'
"'You underrate your own charms, and overrate those of your servant,' is
the unpardonable lie that escaped from my lips, after sticking to my
throat for a century, it seemed.
"'Oh, don't attempt to flatter me by any such outrageous comparisons,
Mr. Lawson. For beauty, I am not to be mentioned in the same breath with
that girl.' This expression was so true that, upon my word, I could not
dispute with my tongue that which my heart acknowledged with every
throb. I sat in silence, eager for more words of praise of Erma. 'And,
strange to say,' she continued, 'the girl is so charming in mind and
manner. She has a smile that somehow reveals all the sweetness there is
in her soul.' I cursed my soul for that luck that had robbed me of one
of those smiles. 'She has so many ways of arranging that glossy, black
hair. Every way she changes it makes her appear more beautiful. Of
course, the thread of her hair is a little coarse.' I could have slapped
Miss Franzetta for even intimating that coarse hair, such as Erma had,
was a defect. 'And the girl plays superbly.' I could stand it no longer.
I should have been destroyed by the process of spontaneous combustion if
I had not said, 'Invite her in and let her play.'
"Miss Turner looked at me inquiringly, to see if I really intended that
she should call the Negro girl to entertain us. Intend it! Of course I
intended it. Was not that why the girl and I both were there? I repeated
my request, hiding my emotion, of course. The greatest currents of the
human heart, whether good or bad, seek subterranean passages. Miss
Turner rose to call Erma, and, wretch that I am, I actually muttered a
prayer of thanks to God. Erma followed Miss Turner into the room, and
smiling such a smile as actually lighted that whole room, she made me
forget everything else. I arose to be introduced. Erma looked just as
much at home and as unembarrassed as though she had been accustomed to
such scenes all her days.
"'Mr. Lawson, let me present to you Miss Erma Wysong.'
"'The son of the popular Ex-Governor of our State?' asked Erma of Miss
Turner.
"'It is he,' was the reply.
"Erma then came toward me and gave me her hand. Her touch thrilled me,
and I actually could not return her greeting, 'I am pleased to know you,
Mr. Lawson.'
"'Mr. Lawson wishes you to play some for us, Erma.'
"Erma looked at me, and I nodded slowly, as I did not care for her to
lift those tender brown eyes away from me too soon. Seeing that it was
my wish, Erma went at once to the piano. Erma did not _play_. No! such
music as she gave was not _playing_. She just dropped bits of her heart
and soul on that keyboard, and the keys cried out in sympathetic tones,
and we sat and listened in awe. Since that time I have wondered why
people can say _play_ music. Music is too serious a matter to be called
play.
"Dolly, that girl has a load of some sort on her heart! Lover-like, I
took it to be the cry of a bird for its mate, and I said all through the
piece, 'Here am I.' When she was through, she politely bowed and left
the room--without a word. I did so much wish it had been Miss Franzetta
to go out. After that day I had Miss Franzetta to call Erma in as often
as I could without arousing suspicion. Often Miss Franzetta would have
occasion to leave the room on some errand or other, and then Erma would
have to talk to me. I would just sit and listen to her talk and gaze
into the depths of her soulful eyes.
"Now, Dolly, that is as far as I have ever gotten. It seems to me that
all unholy thoughts die in her presence. There is something in the very
atmosphere around her that has the effect of destroying the very germs
of evil. I have been told that white men have no hesitancy about making
improper approaches to just any colored woman, as there is no way for
insults to be avenged. For, if a Negro murdered a white man of standing
for any such cause as insulting a Negro woman, he would be lynched.
Notwithstanding this immunity of the white man from punishment and the
protection of the mob spirit accorded him, I would like to see the white
man with the smallest instinct of the gentleman who could wrongfully
approach that girl. You won't find the man this side of the lower
regions that can look into those tender, brown eyes, and feel the loving
warmth of the pure soul that they bring forth, and then part his lips in
an attempt to besmirch such innocence. The way for a woman to keep pure
is to be pure. It is an atmosphere that man knows not how to enter.
"By heavens, Dolly, I can't, I can't. I just can't say the word. And
yet, love for that girl is consuming my soul. If I could only get a word
of love! If she would only kiss me once! If she would but stroke my hair
tenderly--but--ah, Dolly, I am a lost man!"
Lawson buried his face in his hands, and his frame shook with the
violence of his emotions. Dolly Smith stood over him and looked the
tigress that she was, about to spring upon her prey. She repressed all
these feelings of exultation, and taking a seat, said, "Cheer up, Mr.
Lawson. I have discovered a sure plan of action."
Lawson remained in the same despondent attitude, saying, "Dolly, I can't
carry out the plan after you propose it."
"_You_ won't have to carry it out," replied Dolly.
"_Who_, then, will?" said Lawson, raising his head quickly, and flashing
fire from his eyes.
"Be cool Mr. Lawson, be cool. Erma shall be your friend and the friend
of none other. I am Dolly Smith, and my word never fails. My plan is
simply this: If you can't approach Erma, Erma must approach you."
"Erma approach me!" bawled Lawson, excitedly.
"Calm, now, calm. Yes, Erma shall approach you."
"How is that to be, Dolly? I am sure you are crazy, but then go ahead."
"We shall see who is crazy. Erma is to be brought to sin through
poverty. We must in a most merciless manner drive her to want; if need
be, drive her to the very door of starvation. Open but one door for her
to walk out, and let that be the door of sin. She will be less than
human if she fails to come out. Set riches before her, and there can be
no failure."
"That would be terrible. I would hate to see the poor girl suffer so."
"Very true. But it will be better for her in the end. Your love will
sustain her and your money support her while she lives. She well might
climb the rugged side of the mountain for the sake of the glimpse of
glory from its crest."
"Well, what is your plan, Dolly?" asked Lawson.
"I shall present the details to you in a few days. Do not be uneasy. I
pledge you solemnly that they shall bring Erma to her knees. Remember
that Erma is a woman, and that it is not impossible to get a woman to do
as her mother and grandmother did. She is no angel. Now, all that you
are to do for the present is to see Erma alone once more if you can, and
say to her: 'Miss Wysong, if ever you need a friend, remember me.' That
is all that you are required to do in the matter now. You shall hear
from me soon."
"Well, good night, or day, rather, now, Dolly. This is a terrible
business, but I suppose it can't be helped."
"Good night, or day, whichever it is, Mr. Lawson."
When Mr. Lawson was gone, Dolly Smith began at once to indulge in her
dance of joy. She was more jubilant than ever, and danced until she was
thoroughly exhausted and fell down on the floor. Had her exhaustion
ended in death, our story would have been different.
Erma was at Mrs. Turner's, faithfully performing her work and
ingratiating herself in the heart of her employer. She was happy and
prosperous. The pendulum chooses the highest point of its journey as the
proper place to turn back.