It must have been nearly a week later, for I know that the holidays
were drawing to a close, when my young master said to me: "Dan, I must
ask you to do something which may not seem to be very honorable, but
which must be done. I have told you that if Bates wins my sister I
will cut his throat; I have reconsidered that threat--I will not cut
his throat, but I will give him a chance to shoot me, and if he avails
himself of it like a man, all shall be fair, but if he does not, I will
shoot him. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, but what is it you want me to do?"
We were in the stable at the time this conversation took place. He
peered about cautiously to see if any one were within hearing, and then
he said: "As I said, it is not very honorable, but it must be done. I
want you to sneak--I don't know of a softer word, Dan--I want you to
sneak about and--and as best you can listen to what he says to her."
"It is not for me to make an objection by asking such a question,
Mars. Bob; but do you think it is an honorable thing to do?"
He was looking at me over the partition of a stall, and his eyes
snapped. "Did you say something to me about honor?" he asked quietly,
but to me his soft tones were louder than a shout.
"Not of honor on your part, but on mine, Mars. Bob."
"A fine shift. Well, I'll attend to your honor and mine, too. I am
doing this to save my sister and the honor will come in my giving him
an opportunity to defend himself."
"Don't you think you'd better speak to Old Master?"
"No," he snapped. And then he added: "Will you do as I bid you?"
"I am your property, Mars. Bob?"
"Rascal, you disarm me. Listen to me a moment. Has a father ever taken
more care of a son's education than I have of yours? Compare your
condition with that of every other slave in Kentucky, and then form an
estimate of my treatment of you."
"Mars. Bob, I don't have to compare; I already know, and I appreciate.
So far as I am concerned, I don't care--I would crawl after the doctor
and listen to all he says, but I am afraid that after a while you may
think less of yourself for sending me."
"Very thoughtful, I'm sure; but you need have no such fear. I am making
a bright justice of a black necessity, and if there should be any
repentance, I shall be the one to repent. Will you do as I tell you?"
"Yes, sir."
He took my hand, something he rarely did, for although sociable,
familiarity was by him held in quiet abhorrence. I went straightway to
the house, leaving him in the stable, and as best I could, entered upon
the discharge of my distasteful duty. I heard the doctor's voice in the
library, and I was hanging about the door opening out into the large
hall, when Old Miss spied me.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, coming forward with one hand
resting upon her great bunch of keys.
"I am waiting for my Young Master," I replied. "He said that he would
meet me here."
"But you can be better employed than by standing round here. Take out
that library rug and beat it."
I ventured to remind her that the Christmas was not quite over and that
all work was by custom supposed to be suspended. At this impudence,
she lifted her keys and I know that she would have struck me had I
not hastened to obey her order. While I was folding the rug, making
more than necessary work of it that I might listen to the Doctor and
Miss May, I saw him step back from a window, where the two had been
standing, and then I heard him say to her: "I am going to town, but
will be back this evening," and then in a still lower tone, he added:
"And may I have the promise of a talk in the parlor with you to-night?
I have something that I wish to tell you."
"With pleasure," I heard her say as I went out with the rug. And
long before the coming of night my dangerous plan was formed. In the
parlor, usually some distance from the wall, was a large, old-fashioned
horse-hair sofa. I decided to get behind this piece of furniture and
lie flat upon the floor. There was a strong chance of discovery and a
certainty of punishment should I be discovered, but to my young master
I had given my word and I was determined to take the risk. Just before
supper I laid out my plan to him and after a thoughtful moment, he
said: "It's as dangerous as the deuce, but it is the best thing you can
do. Wait a moment. I will do it myself."
"You shall not, sir," I was bold enough to declare, and he looked at
me admiringly. "All right, Dan, but be careful. Just before supper is
over, slip out, and if anyone should ask for you, I will say that I
have sent you off."
Old Master had passed through a moody spell since, with so free a hand,
he had dipped into the egg-nog, and just now his rusted spirits were
brightening. "What, wine at supper, George?" he said, looking at the
doctor.
"Our gracious lady's blackberry cordial," the doctor replied, with a
wave of his hand toward Old Miss. "Won't you have a glass?"
"Not unless I have lost my senses, and I don't think I have," Old
Master rejoined, shrugging his thin shoulders. "When you want to drink,
take whisky, for all those side drams are vicious pretenses."
"The percentage of alcohol--" began the doctor, but Old Master shut
him up with a loud "Tut, tut. I don't give a snap for the percentage
of alcohol," said he. "Take the lowest percentage, drink a little too
much, and then see where you are. So I say that if a man wants to
drink, it is better to take the shortest route."
"That is, if he wants to get drunk," said the doctor, "but I don't see
why any man wants to do that. I don't, I'm sure; I never was drunk in
my life."
"There are better men, sir, who cannot say as much," was Old Master's
reply, and the doctor pretended to laugh, but I could see that the
remark so truthfully delivered by Old Master cut him deeply. I was
waiting for the conversation to become earnest, so that I could slip
away unobserved, but the talk began to lag, and Mars. Bob must have
divined my thoughts for he strove to enliven it.
"Father," said he, "I am ready now to take up law at any time you may
suggest. I think that I have had enough of miscellaneous training--I
have read nearly every book in your library."
"Take your degree, sir; take your degree," Old Master replied.
"That, sir, is a mere matter of form."
"And a form to be observed, sir--to be observed."
"Yes," said Mars. Bob, "but my reading teaches me that an orator can
be trained down to a point too fine--it may weaken his passion, dim
his fire with too much judgment, hem him in with too much criticism
and compel him to dodge. I think that it was Greek art, sir, that kept
Ben Johnson from creating great characters. The perfection of Greek
form rendered it impossible for him to give us anything save talking
moralities."
"Sophistry!" Old Master shouted, and upon the young man he turned with
such a storm that I found my opportunity to escape.
In the parlor the light was dim, the flame in the fire-place not
yet having enveloped logs recently put on, and in my eagerness to
get into my hiding-place, I overturned a chair. It struck the floor
with a deafening noise, I thought, and as I put it back into place I
listened for approaching footsteps, but heard nothing save Old Master's
loud-toned talk upon the necessity of observing all beneficial forms. I
could not understand what he said, nor did I halt long enough to try,
but leaping behind the old sofa, stretched myself out upon the floor.
Of course every sound about the house was now increased to new volume,
and of course my heart beat so hard upon the floor that I was afraid
that someone might hear it. A cat came in and purred against the legs
of the sofa, a yellow, hateful creature that all previous coaxing had
failed to induce to come near me; and I scolded at her under my breath,
but she rubbed against me, and mewed as if to invite discovery of my
shame. I knew that I must get rid of her, and I think that once I felt
in my pocket to find my knife to cut her throat, but by a slight noise
was frightened out of this cruel intention. I did not parley with her,
though I picked her up, clambered over the sofa, raised the window
and as she clawed at me, threw her out. And I had just time enough to
hasten back to my hiding-place when I heard foot-steps in the hall.
There was no opening through which I could see what was passing, for
my peeping-place commanded but a view of the hearth and the rug spread
in front of it. Presently upon the parlor carpet came the doctor's
footsteps--I knew them well--and the soft rustle of skirts. For a few
moments the doctor stood on the rug, and the skirts, which I could just
see, showed me that Miss May had sat down in a rocking chair. I fancied
that the doctor was lighting a cigar, and about the time I thought he
must have it going, he sat down not far from Miss May. For a long time
they talked of neighborhood happenings, parties, marriages, deaths--she
as artless as a child, frank and cheerful; but he, sly and insinuating.
He told her of his adventures, with race horses in the East and with
gamblers on the Mississippi River, and her exclamations from time to
time told me of the effect the recital had upon her; and I could well
understand it, for indeed the rascal interested me. Sometimes I thought
that he had wandered so far from the subject which had on his part
induced this communion that I did not see how he was to approach it,
but somehow he found his way back, though not with perfect ease, for I
saw my young mistress move her chair in her embarrassment. "And May,"
he said, "during all these years, while you were growing and blooming,
my mind dwelt upon you--and but for you, I don't think that I should
have cared to live--"
"Why, Brother George," she broke in, "what are you saying?"
"May, listen to me a moment. Don't call me brother--call me George.
Wait a moment, please." There was a flouncing of her skirts and I
thought that she must have been getting out of the rocking chair. "You
look frightened when, indeed, this should be as quiet as the time when
you say your prayers. May, I am no longer as poor a man as I was--"
"But, brother, has anyone reproached you with your poverty?" she asked.
"There you go, calling me brother again. Not lately, but in the past,
yes. I have eaten the bitter bread of the dependent--"
"Don't say that," she protested. "Did you invite me here to tell me
this? Tell me more of your adventures?"
"May, you are not a child."
"Well, no," she laughed. "I am really getting along in years. I am much
older than Bob, and you know he is nearly a man now."
"We are all getting along in years," he replied. "Time is cutting the
pigeon wing. But now let me talk seriously to you. Your memory of my
devotion to your sister Lou must still be fresh, and God knows I loved
her, but May, my love for you is greater, passes all understanding, and
I ask you to be my wife."
He was leaning toward her, for his hands came down within the sweep
of my vision. It was some time before she replied, and I lay there
waiting, my heart beating loud. He had so impressed her that she was
seeking to frame a graceful answer. Could it be that she was thinking
of accepting him? She got out of the chair and her skirts whisked about
as if she had turned toward the door.
I lost sight of the doctor's hand and I saw his feet move. "May, please
don't go!" he pleaded.
"Doctor Bates," she said, "you insult me and the memory of my sister.
I am going to marry a man that I love and that you hate, although you
have seen him but once."
"You don't mean John Marston, of New Orleans?" he almost cried.
"Yes, I do. I am going to marry him."
"May, if you do I will shoot him."
She laughed. "Oh, you might kill him if called to attend him, doctor,
but you will not shoot him."
"I will pass your insults, Miss. One more moment, please? Does your
mother know about it?"
"I have honored you first, Doctor. See what confidence I have in you?
I have made my own choice and have consulted no one. Perhaps it might
have been better if my poor sister had done the same."
"You shall not insult me this way. I'll call your father."
"Do, puppy."
She whisked out of the room, and I felt myself rising from the floor,
so strong was my impulse to spring upon the scoundrel and choke him,
but when I straightened up, he was no longer in the room. I hastened to
my young master, whom I knew was waiting for me up stairs, and I almost
flung myself into the room. There he sat near a table with two pistols
lying upon it. He strove to control himself, but he was biting his lip
as he looked up at me.
"Well," he said.
"It is well," I replied.
"Out with it--tell me. What did she do?"
"She called him a puppy," I replied. And then I told him all that had
passed, and he listened, motionless, with his hand lying across the two
pistols.