PARALYZED WITH SHAME
So far from obeying her aunt's injunctions, Miss Lou sat down by her
window, but she did not note the smiling spring landscape over which
the western sun was throwing its long, misty rays. Tears so blurred her
eyes and blinded her vision that she could scarcely see at all. At last
she was aroused by the crunching of wheels, and became aware that Mrs.
Whately had arrived. From what she knew of this aunt she had a good
deal of hope from her appeal, for Mrs. Whately had always seemed a
kind-hearted woman. True, she had been over-indulgent to her son, and,
in her blind idolatry of this only child, blind to his faults, always
comforting herself with the belief that he was merely high-spirited and
would settle down when he grew older.
Miss Lou wished to speak to the mother before the son returned, and in
the hope of securing a merciful ally in the lady, went down immediately
to receive her. Mr. Baron was on the back porch calling, "Chunk, where
in the mischief are you?" Where, indeed, with the start he had gained
for the Union lines?
"My dear niece," cried Mrs. Whately, effusively, "how glad I am to see
you, and to take you in my arms on this deeply interesting occasion!"
but the matron was troubled at the girl's red eyes and pallid face.
"I will show you to your room at once," said Mrs. Baron to her guest,
decisively and significantly.
Miss Lou was right in believing that the situation and the unhappy
appearance of the prospective bride would be explained. She had been
forestalled in her chance to make an appeal. Mrs. Baron emphatically
sustained her husband's purpose, concluding: "My dear sister, in this
crisis you will have to take a firm stand with the rest of us. Louise
is acting like a perverse child, and no more realizes the necessity and
wisdom of our course than a baby."
Meantime the outcry for Chunk increased, and Miss Lou was troubled that
he did not respond. Taking advantage of the fact that her mistress was
upstairs, Zany stole swiftly, with many a misgiving, to Aun' Jinkey's
cabin.
"Whar dat gran'boy o' you'n?" she asked, breathlessly.
"Ain' he in de gyardin?"
"No, he ain'. Does you KNOW whar he is? Bettah tell me de truf. Mout
sabe you a heap ob trouble."
"Des you min' yo' business, en doan cum trapesin' yere 'bout Chunk. You
talks ez ef you own 'im."
"Ole mars'r tinks he own 'im, en he des a yellin' fer 'im. De oberseer
hollerin', too, en de lil niggahs runnin' yere, dar, en yander lookin'
fer 'im. Yere one ob um now."
With new and direful forebodings Aun' Jinkey declared loudly: "I doan
know what he be. He ain' say not'n ter me 'bout gwine anywhar."
Uttering an angry and contemptuous exclamation, Zany sped back, and,
with a scared look, said to Miss Lou, "Aun' Jinkey 'clar she dunno
not'n 'bout Chunk's doin's. Ef she ain' foolin' me, I des belebe he's
runned away."
At these tidings and at this suggestion the young girl was almost
distracted. She went instantly to the cabin, supposing that it would
soon be searched.
"Mammy!" she exclaimed, "where's Chunk?"
"Fo' de Lawd, honey, I doan know. I des gwine all ter pieces wid de
goin's on."
"But people will be here looking. Is he up there?" asked the girl in a
whisper.
"No, he des lit out two hour ago, en he guv me dis" (showing the
money), "en say he see me agin. I'se feared he'n Chunk gwine off
togeder."
"Well, you don't know. Hide the money and declare you don't know
anything. I'll stand by you as far as I can."
As she hastened back she saw a Confederate soldier running toward the
house and Perkins limping after him as fast as possible. Entering the
rear door she heard the soldier demanding fiercely of her uncle,
"Where's that cursed nigger you call Chunk?"
"Whom are you addressing, sir?" asked Mr. Baron, indignantly.
"Well, see yere, boss," was the excited reply, "this ere ain't no time
fer standin' on nice words. That cursed nigger o' your'n took the
lieutenant's horse ter the run fer a drink, an one o' your'n 'long of
him, en me en Perkins kyant find nary one of 'em."
"Yes, sir," added Perkins in great wrath, "we uns follered the
hoof-prints ter the run en inter the water, en there's no hoof-prints
comin' back. That infernal nigger has lit out with the two horses."
"Why don't you go after him then?" shouted Mr. Baron, distracted with
anger and accumulating perplexities. "He can't be far yet."
"I'd like ter see the hoss on this place that could ketch the
lieutenant's black mare. Oh, why didn't I shoot the nigger?" and the
soldier strode up and down as if demented.
"You deserve to be shot yourself, sir, if you, who had been placed on
guard, permitted that black rascal to take the horses."
"Yes," replied the soldier, desperately, "en the lieutenant is ther man
ter shoot me--cuss his red-hot blood!" and he stalked away toward the
stables as if possessed by a sudden resolve.
Turning to enter the house, Mr. Baron encountered his niece, who had
been a witness to the scene, which explained everything to her. "You
see, you see," cried the old man, "everything going to rack and ruin!
Would to Heaven you could be married to-night and sent away to a place
of safety!"
"Uncle," said the girl, almost fiercely, "did you not hear that man say
of my cousin, 'curse his red-hot blood'? Is that the kind of a
protector you would force upon me?"
"Yes," almost shouted the angry man, "because he has the spirit to deal
justly with such reprobates. He's just the kind of protector you need
in these lurid times, when it seems as if no one could be trusted. To
think that that boy Chunk, who has been treated so well, could play us
such an infernal trick! His old crone of a grandam must know something
about it, and I'll make her tell. Perkins!" and Mr. Baron rushed toward
the door again.
The ladies had now descended and joined the excited group on the
veranda. Zany was listening with craned neck from the dining-room door,
and other "yard folks," great and small, were gathering also.
"What IS the matter?" cried Mrs. Baron.
Paying no heed to her, Mr. Baron said to his overseer, "Aun' Jinkey
must know about this rascally flight and theft. Bring her here."
"Uncle," said Miss Lou, firmly, "Aun' Jinkey doesn't know anything
about Chunk's disappearance. I've been to her cabin and asked her."
"As if the cunning old witch would tell you anything! Bring her here, I
say, Perkins. It's time the spirit of insubordination on this place
received a wholesome check."
"Why!" exclaimed Mrs. Baron, "it seems but a little while ago that
Chunk was working quietly in the garden."
"En I reckon hit ain't much more'n two hours gone sence I seed 'im
comin' out o' the cabin, lazin' and eatin' hoe-cake," added Perkins as
he started angrily to obey his orders.
"He had mischief in his mind, though, now I think of it." resumed Mrs.
Baron, "for he seemed startled when he saw me, and tried to edge away
to the cabin. I thought he was afraid I would catch his granny smoking
instead of doing urgent work. Louise, you were in the cabin at the
time. Why should Chunk be so anxious to get there before I did?"
"I have not spoken to him this afternoon, and know nothing of his
movements except what I have heard," replied the girl, coldly.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Whately, "what troublous times we've fallen
upon!"
In the silence which followed they heard the gallop of a horse. A
moment later a negro came running up and exclaiming, "Dat sojer in de
stable des saddle he hoss en put out ez ef de debil wuz arter 'im!"
Miss Lou smiled bitterly as she thought, "He evidently doesn't think it
wise to wait for my protector."
At this moment Mad Whately appeared cantering smartly up the avenue at
the head of his men. Throwing his reins to a colored boy, he strode
smilingly up the steps, exclaiming, "Why, this is a regular committee
of reception. I am doubled honored since my fair cousin is present
also."
Miss Lou made no reply, and the expression on all faces led him to ask
quickly, "Why, what's the matter?"
The young man's brow grew black as Mr. Baron gave a hasty explanation.
A half-suppressed oath rose to his lips as he turned on his heel and
shouted to his men, "Halt, there! Let every man mount and await orders.
Simson, you and two others follow the guard I left with my horse.
Where's that nigger who saw him start? Here, you, put these men on his
track as you value your life! Simson, take him, dead or alive!"
The men saluted, and departed at once. The galloping of their horses
soon died away in the distance. "Now for this beldam," said Whately,
sternly, as Aun' Jinkey approached, tottering in her excess of fear and
accompanied by Perkins.
Miss Lou saw that her cousin was terribly excited; indeed, that he
fairly trembled with passion. She was scarcely less stirred herself,
for she possessed much of the hot blood of her kindled, and during the
last twenty-four hours nearly all that had, occurred tended to fire her
spirit. Now that she saw her own dear old mammy led cowering under the
hostile eyes of every one, she was almost beside herself with pity and
anger. Unaccustomed to conventional restraint, reacting from long years
of repression, a child still in some respects, in others a passionate
woman revolting at a fate from which her whole nature shrank, she was
carried far above and beyond her normal condition, and was capable of
following her impulses, whatever they might be.
Aun' Jinkey turned her eyes appealingly, and was awed, even in that
terrible moment, by the intensity of the girl's expression, as she half
consciously drew nearer and nearer. The field-hands, deeply excited,
had also edged up from the quarters. Mr. Baron and his overseer
observed yet tolerated this, thinking that it might be just as well to
have the negroes learn from Aun' Jinkey's experience that authority
would still be sternly enforced.
Whately's headlong temperament was so overcome by anger that he noted
nothing except the presence of one whom he believed the aider and
abetter in his great loss, for a favorite and trusty horse is one of
the dearest possessions of a cavalryman.
"Where's your grandson?" he demanded, fiercely.
"'Fo' de Lawd, I dunno," gasped Aun' Jinkey.
"The truth, now, or you'll be sorry."
"I dunno, I dunno. Ef he gone, he ain' say neber a word ter me, not
eben good-by."
"No use of your lying. You knew the rascal's purpose. Why didn't you
tell Mr. Baron? Which way did he go?"
"I des declar, mars'r, I dunno."
"You DO know," cried Whately, driven almost to frenzy, "and I'll cut
the truth out of you."
His whip fell before he could arrest it, but it struck the arm and
shoulder of Miss Lou. She had drawn very near, and, swift as light, had
sprung forward and encircled the form of her mammy. There were startled
exclamations from those near, echoed by a groan from the negroes, and
then the girl spoke in stern, deep tones, "You thought to strike ONE
woman, and you have struck TWO."
Whately dropped his whip and stood with bowed head, paralyzed with
shame. There were wild cries and a swaying of the field-hands toward
the house. The mounted soldiers drew their revolvers and looked from
the thronging black faces to that of their commander, but he paid no
heed to them. Perkins did not wait, however, but drawing his weapon,
began to limp toward the threatening mass, with oaths and orders to
disperse. As for Mr. Baron and the ladies, they were just helpless in
the whirl of events.
Although Miss Lou's back was toward this new phase of the drama, she
instantly and instinctively comprehended it. With a fear almost
hereditary, as well as one vaguely dreaded from childhood, she
recognized the possible horrors of an insurrection, her own action the
indirect cause. She turned and sprang forward so swiftly to interpose
that her comb fell away, and her golden hair streamed behind her. She
stood between the blacks and those who could harm them; also those
whom, in their wild excitement, they were ready to attack.
"Silence!" she cried; then in the deep hush that followed she called
out, in clear, ringing tones: "Every friend of mine will go back to
quarters, keep quiet, and obey orders. I promise that no harm shall
come to any of you."
The men doffed their ragged hats, and a voice from the crowd answered,
"We 'bey you, Miss Lou, en we won' let no harm come ter you, noder."
Then as the dense, angry mass of a hundred or more men and women melted
away toward the quarters, it was seen that many a heavy club was
carried among them. Miss Lou watched them silently two or three
moments, the rest looking on in wonder and suppressed anger mingled
with fear. The girl returned, and taking her mammy by the hand, was
about to lead her into the house. Whately started as she essayed to
pass him unheedingly, and seized her hand. "Lou, Cousin Lou, forgive
me!" he cried. "You know I meant you no such indignity."
"I know you mean me a greater one," she replied, coldly, withdrawing
her hand.
"See! I ask your forgiveness on my knees!" he urged, passionately.
But her heart was steeled against him, for her very soul was hot with
indignation. "Come, mammy," she said, firmly, "such shelter and
protection as I still have in this house you shall share."
"Louise, this is monstrous!" began Mrs. Baron.
"NO!" cried the girl. "This poor creature is the nearest approach I
have ever known to a mother. She doesn't know about her grandson, and
no one shall try to cut the truth out of her. Come, mammy," and she led
the trembling old negress up to her room. When hidden from all eyes her
courage and excitement gave way, and she cried on her mammy's breast
like the child she was.