Warwick awaited events with some calmness and some philosophy,--he
could hardly have had the one without the other; and it required much
philosophy to make him wait a week in patience for information upon a
subject in which he was so vitally interested. The delay pointed to
disaster. Bad news being expected, delay at least put off the evil day.
At the end of the week he received two letters,--one addressed in his
own hand writing and postmarked Patesville, N. C.; the other in the
handwriting of George Tryon. He opened the Patesville letter, which
ran as follows:--
MY DEAR SON,--Frank is writing this letter for me. I am not well, but,
thank the Lord, I am better than I was.
Rena has had a heap of trouble on account of me and my sickness. If I
could of dreamt that I was going to do so much harm, I would of died
and gone to meet my God without writing one word to spoil my girl's
chances in life; but I didn't know what was going to happen, and I hope
the Lord will forgive me.
Frank knows all about it, and so I am having him write this letter for
me, as Rena is not well enough yet. Frank has been very good to me and
to Rena. He was down to your place and saw Rena there, and never said
a word about it to nobody, not even to me, because he didn't want to do
Rena no harm. Frank is the best friend I have got in town, because he
does so much for me and don't want nothing in return. (He tells me not
to put this in about him, but I want you to know it.)
And now about Rena. She come to see me, and I got better right away,
for it was longing for her as much as anything else that made me sick,
and I was mighty mizzable. When she had been here three days and was
going back next day, she went up town to see the doctor for me, and
while she was up there she fainted and fell down in the street, and Dr.
Green sent her home in his buggy and come down to see her. He couldn't
tell what was the matter with her, but she has been sick ever since and
out of her head some of the time, and keeps on calling on somebody by
the name of George, which was the young white man she told me she was
going to marry. It seems he was in town the day Rena was took sick,
for Frank saw him up street and run all the way down here to tell me,
so that she could keep out of his way, while she was still up town
waiting for the doctor and getting me some camphor gum for my camphor
bottle. Old Judge Straight must have knowed something about it, for he
sent me a note to keep Rena in the house, but the little boy he sent it
by didn't bring it till Rena was already gone up town, and, as I
couldn't read, of course I didn't know what it said. Dr. Green heard
Rena running on while she was out of her head, and I reckon he must
have suspicioned something, for he looked kind of queer and went away
without saying nothing. Frank says she met this man on the street, and
when he found out she wasn't white, he said or done something that
broke her heart and she fainted and fell down.
I am writing you this letter because I know you will be worrying about
Rena not coming back. If it wasn't for Frank, I hardly know how I
could write to you. Frank is not going to say nothing about Rena's
passing for white and meeting this man, and neither am I; and I don't
suppose Judge Straight will say nothing, because he is our good friend;
and Dr. Green won't say nothing about it, because Frank says Dr.
Green's cook Nancy says this young man named George stopped with him
and was some cousin or relation to the family, and they wouldn't want
people to know that any of their kin was thinking about marrying a
colored girl, and the white folks have all been mad since J. B.
Thompson married his black housekeeper when she got religion and
wouldn't live with him no more.
All the rest of the connection are well. I have just been in to see
how Rena is. She is feeling some better, I think, and says give you
her love and she will write you a letter in a few days, as soon as she
is well enough. She bust out crying while she was talking, but I
reckon that is better than being out of her head. I hope this may find
you well, and that this man of Rena's won't say nor do nothing down
there to hurt you. He has not wrote to Rena nor sent her no word. I
reckon he is very mad.
Your affectionate mother,
MARY WALDEN.
This letter, while confirming Warwick's fears, relieved his suspense.
He at least knew the worst, unless there should be something still more
disturbing in Tryon's letter, which he now proceeded to open, and which
ran as follows:--