THE SENATOR.
Whenever I awoke in the course of that long and dreary night, it was to
find the black giant standing near the bedside. Once his hand, like the
wing of a buzzard, passed over me, and I muttered a complaint. "I just
wanted to determine whether or not you had a fever, Sir," he said. "You
were talking in your sleep, and I thought it best to investigate the
state of your temperature. But you are all right."
I was half asleep and doubtless could not at morning have remembered a
strain of music or a bit of pleasantry, but at daylight his stilted
words were clear in my mind. I looked about for him but he was gone.
Breakfast was brought in by a negress, tall enough to be his wife. I
asked her if she were, and, showing me her teeth, she assured me that
she was an old maid; that no man, even if one of the best preachers in
the Lord's church, should be her master. She said that she had married
one man on trial, but that, after living with her a year or more, he had
robbed her of a silver piece and run away; and now she was going to
teach her daughter never to take a man except on suspicion, and to be
mighty careful even then. The amusement that she offered assisted me to
eat. She talked incessantly during the time, and as she took up the tray
to go out, the doctor and the gentleman who had advised him to prove to
me that I was still possessed of both legs came into the room.
"Oh, he's all right," said the woman. "Yas, sah, an' you got ter take
'em wid 'spicion even if da is hurt."
The doctor pronounced me much improved, cut short his visit, and left me
with his friend, at whom I now looked with considerable interest. He
was of a manly build, dressed in a black "Prince Albert" coat, buttoned
below, but opened out wide at the breast. The ends of his grayish
mustache were slightly twisted, and on his chin was a "dab" of whiskers.
He appeared to be proud of his bearing, and proud of the belief that no
one could discover the seat of his pride. He moved about rather
gracefully, carrying a soft hat in his hand, as if he were ready to
salute a gentleman or bow profoundly to a lady.
"Pardon me, Sir," I began, and he turned toward me with a slight bow and
with a slow motion made with his hat, "but will you tell me who is the
master of this house?"
"I am," he answered, with a smile.
"But who are you, your name, please?"
"Has no one told you? Hah, don't you know yet?" His voice conveyed a
sense of injury that so important a preliminary had been overlooked.
"No one has told me."
"Then, Sir, I have the pleasure of introducing myself. I am Giles
Talcom."
"Oh, Senator Talcom."
His eyes snapped, he touched his "dab" of beard, and said:
"At your service, Sir."
We shook hands, and he sat down. "I have heard of you, Senator."
"Yes, I have introduced into the Mississippi Senate a great many
reformatory measures, some of which have been adopted by our sister
States."
"And you are the man who whipped Lige Patton."
"What!" he cried, snapping his eyes at me. "Hah, you got that nonsense
from old Zack Mason, the pilot. Confound his old hide, he never will
forget that. I was quite a young man in those days, Sir. I came here
from Virginia, almost straight from the University, and was, if my
examination should prove satisfactory, to take charge of a young ladies'
school. But on the day before the examination took place Mr. Patton
took it into his head to walk over me. He didn't, and, sir, without any
examination at all, the good people gave me the _male_ academy. The
trustees (most of them had been river men, you understand) said that I
was too valuable a piece of timber to waste on a female seminary. They
said it was too much like chasing butterflies with a bloodhound. I
didn't keep the school long; I came into my inheritance, went into
politics, and here I am."
"Senator, I am under lasting obligations to you for--"
"Not at all, Sir, not at all. I spent a very pleasant evening with you
at the St. Charles Theatre in New Orleans, and I said then, as I always
do when a man has entertained me, I hope to be able to do something for
him. And, Sir, while the opportunity was brought about by a sad
misfortune, yet--yet I am really gratified at being the instrument, you
understand, of giving you shelter and attention at this sad hour."
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days. But don't let that worry you. You are to remain until you
feel perfectly able to proceed on your way."
"Were many people killed?"
"Quite a number. Two were found yesterday at the island twenty miles
below. A large number were hurt, but they are being cared for. Our city
is making great strides, but we have no hospital as yet, so our citizens
threw open their doors to receive the wounded. And the dead have been
cared for."
"How did our company fare?"
"Sir, I appreciate your modesty and unselfishness in not asking about
your brethren first of all. The manager was killed, but the others
escaped with slight injuries. Mr. Culpepper called to see you, but you
were asleep at the time. And the old pilot, who escaped with a few
bruises, has sent you his congratulations. He says that united he and
you stood, and that divided you both fell."
"There is something else I should like to ask, about the big negro who
stays here at night?"
"Oh, Washington Smith. But don't make a mistake and call him Wash. He is
a humble servant of the church, but a dignified citizen of the Republic.
Strange fellow. A number of years ago he presented a singular petition
to the city council, begging for an education, and agreeing to work for
the corporation in return for the money expended in his behalf. Most of
the councilmen condemned the petition as a piece of impudence, but I was
a member at the time, and I looked on it with favor, Sir. My enemies
said that I was bidding for the negro vote. I raised money enough to
send Washington to the Fisk University, and I can say with truth that I
have never regretted the step, for he has held before me a constant
example of gratitude. But I have talked to you long enough," he added,
arising. "I don't want to tire you out--I want to see you on your feet
again. And it won't be long. As soon as you are able to sit up we'll
put you into a rocking chair, draw you into the parlor and Mrs. Estell
will read to you."
He gave me a bow, accompanying the act with a slow and graceful sweep of
his hat, and withdrew, leaving me to muse over the prospect of being
compelled to submit to a torture administered by a Mrs. Estell. I could
put up with the reading of a girl in her first poetic era, but I
shuddered at the thought of a woman in her second sentimental
childhood.