CONCLUSION
The New England hills were tinged with that peculiar purplish haze so
common to the Indian summer time, and the warm sunlight of November fell
softly upon Snowdon, whose streets this morning were full of eager,
expectant people, all hurrying on to the old brick church, and
quickening their steps with every stroke of the merry bell, pealing so
joyfully from the tall, dark tower. The Richards' carriage was out, and
waiting before the door of the Riverside Cottage, for the appearance of
Anna, who was this morning to venture out for a short time, and leaving
her baby Hugh alone. Another, and far handsomer carriage, was standing
before the hotel, where Hugh and his mother were yet stopping, and
where, in a pleasant private room, Adah Richards helped Alice Johnson
make her neat, tasteful toilet, smoothing lovingly the rich folds of
grayish-colored silk, arranging the snowy cuffs and collar, and then
bringing the stylish hat of brown Neapolitan, with its pretty face
trimmings of blue, and declaring it a shame to cover up the curls of
golden hair falling so luxuriously about the face and neck of the
blushing bride. For it was Alice's wedding day, and in the room
adjoining, Hugh Worthington stood, waiting impatiently the opening of
the mysterious door which Adah had shut against him, and wondering if,
after all, it were not a dream that the time was coming fast when
neither bolts nor locks would have a right to keep him from his wife.
It seemed too great a joy to be true, and by way of reassuring himself
he had to look often at the crowds of people hurrying by, and down upon
old Sam, who, in full dress, with white cotton gloves drawn awkwardly
upon his cramped distorted fingers, stood by the carriage, bowing to all
who passed, himself the very personification of perfect bliss. Sam was
very happy, inasmuch as he took upon himself the credit of having made
the match, and was never tired of relating the wondrous story to all who
would listen to it.
"Massah Hugh de perfectest massah," he said, "and Miss Ellis a little
more so;" adding that though "Canaan was a mighty nice place, he 'sumed
he'd rather not go thar jist yet, but live a leetle longer to see them
'joy themselves. Thar they comes--dat's miss in gray. She knows how't
orange posies and silks and satins is proper for weddin' nights; but
she's gwine travelin', and dat's why she comed out in dat stun-color,
Sam'll be blamed if he fancies." And having thus explained Alice's
choice of dress, the old negro held the carriage door himself, while
Hugh, handing in his mother, sister and his bride, took his seat beside
them, and was driven to the church.
Twenty minutes passed, and then the streets were filled again; but now
the people were going home, talking as they went of the beauty of the
bride and of the splendid-looking bridegroom, who looked so fondly at
her as she murmured her responses, kissing her first himself when the
ceremony was over, and letting his arm rest for a moment around her
slender form. No one doubted its being a genuine love match, and all
rejoiced in the happiness of the newly-married pair, who, at the village
depot, were waiting for the train which would take them on their way to
Kentucky, for that was their destination.
In the distracted condition of the country, Hugh's presence was needed
there; for, taking advantage of his absence, and the thousand rumors
afloat touching the Proclamation, one of his negroes had already run
away in company with some half dozen of the colonel's, who, in a
terrible state of excitement, talked seriously of emigrating to Canada.
Hugh's timely arrival, however, quieted him somewhat, though he listened
in sorrow, and almost with tears, to Hugh's plan of selling the Spring
Bank farm and removing with his negroes to some New England town, where
Alice, he knew, would be happier than she had been in Kentucky. This was
one object which Hugh had in view in going to Kentucky then, but a
purchaser for Spring Bank was not so easily found in those dark days;
and so, doing with his land the best he could, he called about him his
negroes, and giving to each his freedom, proposed that they stay quietly
where they were until spring, when he hoped to find them all employment
on the farm he went to buy in New England.
Aunt Eunice, who understood managing blacks better than his timid mother
or his inexperienced wife, was to be his housekeeper in that new home of
his, where the colonel and his family would always be welcome; and
having thus provided for those for whom it was his duty to care, he bade
adieu to Kentucky, and returned to Snowdon in time to join the Christmas
party at Terrace Hill, where Irving Stanley was a guest, and where, in
spite of the war clouds darkening our land, and in spite of the sad,
haunting memories of the dead, there was much hilarity and
joy--reminding the villagers of the olden time when Terrace Hill was
filled with gay revelers. Anna Millbrook was there, more beautiful than
in her girlhood, and almost childishly fond of her missionary Charlie,
who she laughingly declared was perfectly incorrigible on the subject of
surplice and gown, adding that as the mountain would not go to Mahomet,
Mahomet must go to the mountain; and so she was fast becoming an
out-and-out Presbyterian of the very bluest stripe.
Sweet Anna! None who looked into her truthful, loving face, or knew the
beautiful consistency of her daily life, could doubt that whether
Presbyterian or Episcopal in sentiment, the heart was right and the feet
were treading the narrow path which leadeth unto life eternal.
It was a happy week spent at Terrace Hill; but one heart ached to its
very core when, at its close, Irving Stanley went back to where duty
called him, trusting that the God who had succored him thus far, would
shield him from future harm, and keep him safely till the coming autumn,
when, with the first falling of the leaf, he would gather to his embrace
his darling Adah, who, with every burden lifted from her spirits, had
grown in girlish beauty until others than himself marveled at her
strange loveliness.
* * * * *
On the white walls of a handsome country seat just on the banks of the
Connecticut, the light of the April sunset falls, and the soft April
wind kisses the fair cheek and lifts the golden curls of the young
mistress of Spring Bank--for so, in memory of the olden time, have they
named their new home--Hugh and Alice, who, arm in arm, walk up and down
the terraced garden, talking softly of the way they have been led, and
gratefully ascribing all praise to Him who rules and overrules, but does
nought save good to those who love Him.
Down in the meadow land and at the rear of the building, dusky forms are
seen--the negroes, who have come to their Northern home, and among them
the runaway, who, ashamed of his desertion, has returned to his former
master, resenting the name of contraband, and dismissing the
ultra-abolitionists as humbugs, who deserved putting in the front of
every battle. Hugh knows it will be hard accustoming these blacks to
Northern usages and ways of doing things, but as he has their good in
view as well as his own, and as they will not leave him, he feels sure
that in time he will succeed, and cares but little for the opinion of
those who wonder what he "expects to do with that lazy lot of niggers."
On a rustic seat, near a rear door, white-haired old Sam is sitting,
listening intently, while dusky Mug reads to him from the book of books,
the one he prizes above all else, stopping occasionally to expound, in
his own way, some point which he fancies may not be clear to her,
likening every good man to "Massah Hugh," and every bad one to the
leader of the "Suddern 'Federacy," whose horse he declares he held once
in "ole Virginny," telling Mug, in an aside, "how, if 'twasn't wicked,
nor agin' de scripter, he should most wish he'd put beech nuts under
Massah Jeffres' saddle, and so broke his fetched neck, 'fore he raise
sich a muss, runnin' calico so high that Miss Ellis 'clar she couldn't
'ford it, and axin' fifteen cents for a paltry spool of cotton."
In the stable yard, Claib, his good-humored face all aglow with pride,
is exercising the fiery Rocket, who arches his neck as proudly as of
old, and dances mincingly around, while Lulu leans over the gate,
watching not so much him as the individual who holds him. And now that
it grows darker, and the ripple of the river sounds more like eventide,
lights gleam from the pleasant parlor, and thither Hugh and Alice
repair, still hand in hand, still looking love into each other's eyes,
but not forgetting others in their own great happiness.
Very pleasantly Alice smiles upon Mrs. Worthington and Aunt Eunice
sitting by the cheerful fire just kindled on the marble hearth; and
then, withdrawing her hand from Hugh's, trips up the stairs and knocking
at a door, goes in where Densie sits, watching the daylight fade from
the western sky, and whispering to herself of the baby she could not
find when she went back to her home in the far-off city. Without turning
her head, she puts to Alice the same question she puts to every one:
"Have you children, madam?" and when Alice answers no, she adds: "Be
thankful then, for they will never call you a white nigger, as 'Lina did
her mother. Poor 'Lina, she died, though saying 'Our Father.' Will you
say that with me?"
"Yes, Densie, it's almost time to say our evening prayer, I came for
you," Alice rejoins, and taking the crazed creature's hand, she leads
her gently down to the parlor below, where, ere long, the blacks are all
assembled, and kneeling side by side, they follow with stammering
tongues, but honest hearts, their beloved master as he says first the
prayer our Savior taught, and then with words of thankful praise asks
God to bless and keep him and his in the days to come, even as He has
blessed and kept them in the days gone by.