without saying what she herself thought of it as an antidote for man's
inconstancy to woman, and her mistress had no means of knowing whether
she ever really tried it or not. In fact, the whole matter passed out of
old lady Gordon's mind as an unimportant incident which had amused her
for a moment. And there was nothing to recall it, the warning which she
had let fall having made Eunice more than ever cautious in keeping out
of her mistress's sight all sign or sound of what was going on.
Thus it was that the danger grew quietly and in darkness, utterly
unknown to everybody except the three dusky persons most closely
concerned. It had long been unsafe for Merica to come into Eunice's
kitchen, and it now became dangerous for her even to venture inside the
back gate, when coming for the young master's clothes or taking them
home. Eunice was the very soul of frankness with all save her mistress,
the only human being of whom she ever stood in awe. She accordingly made
no sort of mystery of her intentions to any one else; on the contrary,
she told Enoch Cotton, in the plainest language at her command, just
what she meant to do:--
"Ef ever dat reg'lar ebo darst set her hoof over dat doo' sill agin!"
And Enoch knew that she meant what she said, and that she would do it,
whatever it was. The only doubt was as to the meaning of "ebo." The term
may have been merely an abbreviation of ebony and nothing worse than a
slur upon Merica's complexion. And yet it can hardly have been anything
quite so simple and harmless, if only for the reason that Eunice was the
blacker of the two rivals--if there be degrees in blackness; and,
moreover, Eunice's way of using the word really made it sound like the
very worst thing that one colored person could possibly say against
another. At any rate, Enoch Cotton felt that the crisis was come, and he
warned Merica, as any honorable man--regardless of the color of his
skin--stands bound to guard, so far as he can, the girl whom he means to
marry in the uncertain event of his being able to escape the widow who
means to marry him. Merica was a little frightened at first, and she
readily agreed to Enoch Cotton's elaborate plan of fetching the young
master's clothes to the althaea hedge every Monday morning at sunup, and
of handing them to her there over the fence, shielded from Eunice's
argus eyes by the thick dusty foliage and the dull purple flowers. The
girl also consented to her lover's waiting at the hedge every Tuesday
evening at sundown to take the clothes when she fetched them back and
handed them to him, under shelter of the leafy screen. Eunice saw Enoch
Cotton going and coming, and knew full well what these manoeuvres
meant; but the althaea hedge stood directly in front of her mistress's
window, so that Eunice could only bide her time, in masterly inactivity,
bound hand and foot to the burning rack of jealousy. Most bitterly
trying of all was the fact that at night--and every night--while she was
still busy in ministering to her mistress's wants, Enoch Cotton nearly
always disappeared, and, try as she would, she could not learn whither
he went.
In the rear of Miss Judy's garden, close to a secluded corner, was a
half-leaning, half-fallen heap of butter-bean poles, rankly covered with
vines. That little lady called it a bower, and thought it very pretty
indeed. She had been somewhat disappointed at first when her
butter-beans ran all to vines and did not bear at all. She had expected
a good deal of those butter-beans; they had been so nice and fat and
white when she planted them, and they had doubled out of the earth in
such thick loops of luscious whiteness when they first came up. She had
indeed told Miss Sophia that she thought there would be enough
butter-beans to exchange for two (and maybe three) pairs of stockings,
which Miss Sophia had needed for some time; possibly there might be so
many that she herself could have a pair. But when the vines utterly
failed to bear, and did nothing but riot in rank and tangled greenness
over the bending, falling poles, Miss Judy consoled Miss Sophia and
comforted herself by observing how very pretty and romantic the bower
was. And when she observed, later in the summer, that Merica had formed
a habit of going to sit in the bower every night, as soon as the day's
work was done, she was quite consoled.
"Sitting there all alone must surely tame her in a measure, poor thing,"
Miss Judy said to Miss Sophia. "It would benefit all of us to have more
time for quiet reflection. Think of the difference it must have made to
Becky if she hadn't been so driven."
Accordingly Miss Judy was delicately careful to keep away from the
bower, for fear of disturbing Merica's reflections. Eunice had never
approached it nor even suspected its existence, thinking, when she
noticed it at all, that the green tangle of vines was a mere neglected
heap of butter-bean poles. Her ceaseless, fruitless search had
heretofore always been turned toward the dark windows of Merica's
deserted kitchen and cabin. And thus it was that the girl in comparative
safety awaited her lover's coming night after night, under the dark of
the moon or after its going down, as the savage women of her tribe must
have awaited their warrior lovers in the deepest jungles of Africa.
Nevertheless, Merica's heart was the heart of her feminine type all the
world over, within and without civilization. With her, as with all her
kind, to love and be loved was not enough; the other woman must see and
know, before her triumph could be entirely complete. In vain Enoch
Cotton pleaded and protested, and even tried again to frighten her.
Every word that he uttered only made her the more determined to parade
her victory openly, in utter disdain of all restraint, in unbounded
contempt of all concealment. What was there for her to be afraid of? she
demanded. Was she not younger than Eunice and better-looking and several
shades lighter in color? And was not her hair ever so much straighter
than Eunice's, when freshly combed out on a Sunday, after being tightly
plaited in very small plaits and carefully wrapped with string through
the whole week? Finally, she and her lover came so close to a violent
quarrel that he dared not say anything more; and although Merica ceased
urging the point, she was fully resolved to overthrow the screen of the
althaea hedge, to scorn its protection, at the earliest opportunity. This
came sooner than she hoped for, on the evening following the accident
when the fatal spark had fallen upon the wash-kettle's biggest, dryest
bubble. Enoch, gravely alarmed, was waiting as usual in the shelter of
the althaea hedge, but she passed him boldly, leaving him trembling with
fear and gray with terror; and, marching fearlessly up to the kitchen
door with a challenging giggle, she thrust the basket of clean clothes
through it and under Eunice's very nose. Then she turned deliberately
and flaunted off, with a loud laugh of scornful, mocking defiance.
For an instant the black widow was daunted, overwhelmed, dumfounded,
utterly routed, by the brown girl's unexpected and brazen audacity. She
could do nothing at first but stand glaring after her in dumb, powerless
fury. Enoch had disappeared as though he had sunk into the earth; as
more self-possessed and more courageous men have done under similar
circumstances. Eunice, thus left alone, could only gather her
self-possession gradually, as best she could, and try to think, and
think, and think. She still kept perfectly quiet; there was not one
outward sign of the turmoil of her fierce spirit. She thought and waited
till night came on, and until her mistress had gone to bed, and even
until she felt sure that old lady Gordon was sound asleep. And then, led
by the blind instinct which leads the wild animal through the trackless
forest in search of its mate, Eunice stealthily opened the door of her
solitary cabin, and noiselessly went forth. She crossed the shadowed
orchard through the soundless darkness, a black and terrible shape of
vengeance, and crept softly, her bare, heavy feet padding like the paws
of a tiger, on and on, straight to the bower.
What happened then only the rivals ever knew. Enoch Cotton himself did
not know. He fled at the first onslaught, as braver and whiter men have
done under the same desperate and hopeless conditions; he--and
they--could do nothing else; could not prevent the conflict, and could
not take part. Enoch could only take refuge in instantaneous and
wordless flight.
Neither Eunice nor Merica had ever a word to say of what transpired
after Enoch was gone and they were left alone to have their wild,
furious will of each other. The wrecked bower, of which hardly one pole
remained upon another or one vine clung untorn from the others, silently
told a part of the story. Eunice's face looked like a red map of darkest
Africa, and Merica's face was much mottled by deep blue bruises; Eunice
limped about her work on the following morning, and Merica cooked
breakfast with one hand, having the other in a sling. And still, oddly
enough, neither Eunice nor Merica bore herself quite as the victorious
nor yet quite as the vanquished. There was, in truth, an air of tense
uncertainty on both sides. Nowadays, everybody would know what was to
follow under such circumstances; both sides nowadays would make
instantaneous and vociferous appeal to the law as soon as the court was
open. But things were different then, and this special case was
peculiarly complicated. Eunice was a slave and had consequently no
clearly discernible individual rights or privileges under the law.
Merica on the other hand was free, and this fact, while placing her
socially far beneath Eunice, gave her, nevertheless, certain rights
before the courts which her rival as a slave could not enjoy.
Accordingly it was with pride and satisfaction unspeakable that Merica
set out, unobserved, soon after breakfast, to do what Eunice fully
expected her to do, which was, to swear out a warrant for Eunice's
arrest. This legal formula was, however, known to Eunice and to Merica,
as it is known to most litigants of their race to-day, as a
"have-his-carcass," which sounds to be a much larger and a much graver
thing. Having, then, seen this document safe in the constable's hand,
and having been duly assured of its prompt service, Merica went home as
quietly as she had come away, and slid unseen through a hole in the
fence, soothed by the completeness of the legal victory which she
foresaw, and which could not fail to make her the admired and envied of
all her race, which then found--as it still finds--a strange distinction
in any sort of legal recognition, either good or bad.
The officer nevertheless took his own time in serving the warrant. It
was not the Oldfield way to hurry over the doing of anything. Moreover,
he had, perhaps, had a rather wide experience of colored quarrels,
notwithstanding the fact that they were brought into court much more
rarely at that period than they have been since. And then, no one,
however daring or energetic, ever hastened under any circumstances to
interfere with the old lady Gordon's affairs. Was it not known--as has
been related--that when Alvarado himself dashed along the big road and
everybody else drove into the fence-corner till he went by, old lady
Gordon always kept straight along the middle of the big road, and it was
Alvarado that went round. Bearing this recollection in mind, the
constable strolled very slowly down the highway toward the Gordon place,
and he was glad to catch sight of Eunice in the garden, gathering
vegetables for dinner. It was better than finding her nearer her
mistress. He laid his hands on the top of the garden fence and swung
himself over the pickets.
"Good morning, Eunice," he said, walking toward her between the tall
rows of yellow-flowering okra, from which she was picking tender green
pods, for a delicious soup which only herself knew the recipe for.
"Good morning, Mr. Jim," responded Eunice, calmly. She knew at once what
he had come for. There was a nice distinction in her calling him "Mr.
Jim," rather than "Marse Jim," a subtle social distinction which was
quite as clear to the constable as to herself, and one which he did not
like.
"I've got a warrant here for your arrest for attempted murder," he
accordingly said somewhat less mildly. "You'll have to come along with
me to jail."
"Yes, sir," answered Eunice, respectfully, but adding calmly, as if
stating an accepted and unalterable fact: "Yes, sir, but in course I'll
have to ask Miss Frances first. I can't stop a-gathering her vegetables
while the dew's on 'em--lessen _she_ say so. You know that, Mr. Jim,
just as well as I do. Miss Frances's vegetables ain't to be left
a-layin' round to swivel in the sun--no, sir, they ain't!"
The officer hesitated; he took off his rough straw hat, and looked for a
moment as if he meant to scratch his head. But remembering the dignity
of office, he fanned himself instead. "Well, come on up to the house,
then, and I'll speak to your mistress," he said, with more composure
than he felt.
They turned toward the house, the officer leading the way, and Eunice
walking in her proper place behind him, carrying in her large, clean,
white apron the okra, the beets, the cucumbers, and tomatoes, and all
the other fresh and good, green and red things which she had already
gathered for the daily noontide feast.
Old lady Gordon's keen eyes caught a glimpse of the constable and the
cook a long way off; and she hailed them sharply as soon as they were
within hearing: "What's this? What are you doing, Eunice? What are _you_
here for, Jim, at this time of day?"
The officer, a good-looking, good-humored young giant, bared his head
with an embarrassed smile. He made a brief explanation, turning his hat
in his awkward hands, and resting his huge bulk first on one foot and
then on the other.
Old lady Gordon hardly allowed him to finish what he found to say, which
was very little. "Now, what's the use of your telling me any such
nonsense as that, Jim Slocum? You know I'm not going to let you come
here, interfering with my cook's getting my dinner."
"Yes, ma'am," said Jim, deferentially. "I do hate to inconvenience you,
ma'am. But you see, ma'am, there's the law and here's the warrant. I'm
bound to do what the law requires--I'll have to serve it."
"Indeed, you won't do anything of the kind! Who ever heard of such
impudence!" exclaimed old lady Gordon. "The very idea! Taking my cook
away from getting my dinner to lock her up in jail! Upon my word, Jim
Slocum, I thought you had some sense. But I'm not going to allow you to
annoy me or get me stirred up on a warm morning like this. I'm not even
going to discuss the matter. Just you run along now, Jim, that's a good
fellow, and let Eunice alone--she's busy--and don't bother me any more."
She settled herself back in her wide, low chair, and began to wave the
turkey-wing fan with one hand, turning the leaves of her novel with the
other.
"But you see, ma'am, it's a mighty grave charge, attempted murder,--the
state--"
"Grave fiddlesticks!" retorted old lady Gordon, looking up from her
novel with real fire blazing now in her fine dark eyes. "The state!"
with infinite scorn. "What difference would it make to me if it were the
United States? I tell you I won't have another word!"
Her raised voice, the lower tone of the officer's mild, but firm,
persistence, the hurried gathering and smothered whispering of the
servants around the windows and doors, all these combined had finally
attracted the attention of Lynn Gordon, who was absorbed in reading in
his own room overhead, and he now came hurrying downstairs. Entering his
grandmother's room, he looked in surprise at the group which he found
there; at her, at the constable, and lastly at Eunice, who had stood
quietly by throughout the whole controversy with the manner of a coolly
disinterested spectator. The officer turned eagerly to Lynn with the
relief that every man feels upon the entrance of another man into a
difficult business transaction with women.
"Maybe you can persuade your grandmother to let Eunice go," the
constable said, addressing him, when a few words had made the matter
clear to Lynn. "It is really the quickest way to get her cook back. The
county judge is in town; I saw him tying his horse to the tavern
hitching-post as I passed coming down here. He'd hurry up the case and
get it over in no time to accommodate your grandma, being as they're
kinder kin--him and your grandma's folks."
"Mr. Slocum is right, grandmother. That is certainly the quickest way,
and the easiest," Lynn said. "Let Eunice go and I'll defend her; I'll
take her as my first case,--shall I?" he added smilingly, looking at old
lady Gordon.
"I don't care what any of you do, so long as you let me alone and have
Eunice back here in time to get my dinner. What have you been up to,
anyway?" she said, suddenly turning to Eunice as if the nature of the
charge had just occurred to her for the first time. "Well, you'd better
be back in plenty of time to boil that blackberry roll, that's all I've
got to say to you. Lynn, send somebody to tell Davy,--that's the judge,
Judge Thompson,--to tell Davy Thompson that I would be much obliged if
he would go to the court-house at once and get this bother over, so that
Eunice may be back within an hour. Please ask him to take the trouble to
hurry; tell him I asked it. Send Enoch Cotton--where is Enoch, anyway?"
she said, glancing over the assemblage of black masks crowding the
windows and doors.
Enoch--naturally enough--was not to be found then nor for hours
afterward, but another servant was despatched running in his stead; and
then the procession moved briskly out through the side gate and on up
the big road toward the court-house. Eunice walked behind the officer as
manners required, but there was nothing abject in her carriage. She held
her head high, feeling glad that she happened to be wearing her gayest
bandanna head-handkerchief and that her white apron was still spotlessly
clean. Hers was an imposing figure, and she knew it, and consequently
bore herself with dignified pride. Her friends, too, began to flock
around her as the procession advanced, thus swelling the crowd; and the
white people living along the big road came to the doors and windows of
their houses to see what was going on.
From the opposite direction approached a much larger and longer
procession, headed by Merica, fairly flamboyant in an ecstasy of
triumph, and tailed by dusky ragged figures, some of them little black
children, trailing in the distance, indistinct as a smoky antique
frieze. Merica's forces largely outnumbered Eunice's, as the attacking
army nearly always outnumbers the defending force. Merica came marching
at the very forefront, as if to the throb of inaudible drums and to the
waving of invisible banners. Eunice trod more slowly, as the garrison
goes cautiously to man the walls.
There was one tense, dangerous moment when the opposing forces met at
the court-house steps; but the judge, the prosecuting attorney, and the
prisoner's counsel chanced, luckily, to arrive at the same instant, so
that, owing to their restraining presence, the danger passed with no
greater violence than an exchange of threatening glances between the
contending parties. Side by side the furious factions crowded into the
small court-room, and straightway the examining trial of Eunice for
attempted murder was then and there begun, without an instant's delay.
And yet everything was done decently and in order. It was a complete
surprise to the defence to find that the assault which had taken place
in the butter-bean bower was entirely ignored in the indictment. The
charge was that Eunice had put poison in the well from which Merica drew
water, thereby attempting to kill, to murder, and to do deadly harm
etc., to the plaintiff. The prosecuting witness testified that she had
heard a noise about daylight; that on going to the well she had found an
empty box, which she was certain had contained rat-poison, lying beside
it; and that a white powder which she was mortally sure was the
rat-poison itself--and nothing else--was plainly to be seen floating on
the surface of the water. Such was the case made out by the prosecution.
It was not at all what the defence was prepared for, but the prisoner's
counsel showed himself to be a person of resources upon sudden demand.
He readily admitted that the prosecuting witness might have heard a
noise about daylight. There were, as he had himself observed, a great
many cats in that part of the village. Also he admitted with equal
readiness that she might have found an empty box which had once
contained a rat-poison. He pointed out the fact that this particular
variety of rat-poison was in such general use in Oldfield,--where
rat-poison was one of the necessities of life, not merely one of its
luxuries,--that the empty boxes which had contained it were to be found
almost anywhere. As for the alleged poison itself, which a notoriously
untruthful and untrustworthy witness had just testified to seeing still
afloat on the surface of the water in the well, after the acknowledged
lapse of several hours--the court could judge the worth of that evidence
without any assistance from the defence.
Here Mr. Pettus unexpectedly appeared in the court-room. He kept the
rat-poison, as he kept everything in daily Oldfield demand, and he had
been hurriedly summoned as an expert witness for the defence, and he now
took the stand. He testified to having handled that particular variety
of rat-poison in very large quantities for many years. He claimed, on
cross-examination, to be perfectly familiar with the kind of box used by
the manufacturers of the rat-poison, and he gave it as his opinion that
the particular box in question--the one which he then held in his hand,
and which he was examining minutely--had been used for several other
purposes, and harmless ones, apparently, since being emptied of its
original deadly contents. He called the attention of the court to the
fact that a particle of sugar still adhered to one corner, while a grain
of coffee still lingered in another corner. Finally, when the prisoner's
counsel was quite ready for the grand stroke, he allowed the
witness--who was an amateur chemist in the line of his business--to
testify from his own personal knowledge of the rat-poison that it
dissolved instantly upon coming in contact with water.
"And yet, your Honor, the prosecution rests its case upon the testimony
of an ignorant, vindictive savage, who swears--who solemnly testifies
under oath, your Honor--that she saw this identical poison, and no
other, floating on the surface of the water in the well several hours
after she claims to have heard a noise; that it was there, plainly to be
seen, several hours after my innocent client is known to have been at
work in her mistress's kitchen and was seen in her mistress's garden,
openly and constantly in view of the whole community. I can summon any
number of unimpeachable witnesses--"
"The declaration is dismissed. The complaint is denied for lack of
evidence," said the judge, as seriously as possible. "Call the next
case."
"You may go home now, Eunice," said Lynn, smiling.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," said Eunice, calm as ever, and deliberately
dropping a clumsy courtesy.
She courtesied still more clumsily to the court and to Mr. Pettus, and
to all the white persons present, and then she turned slowly and
ponderously, like some large and heavy royal personage, and she cast
openly a high glance of infinite scorn over the humbled heads of her
enemies. They might flock like coal-black crows as much as they had a
mind to, she remarked in the dialect which they best understood; they
were no more to her than the dust of the big road which she had
"trompled under foot." She had white folks for her friends, she said
triumphantly. With this single parting volley she went slowly and calmly
down the court-house steps and set off homeward, bearing herself with
all the arrogance of Semiramis returning victorious to Nineveh.
"Well, so you are back in time! No," said old lady Gordon, holding up
the turkey-wing fan with a restraining gesture and resuming her novel
with a yawn, "I don't want to hear a word about it. I know well enough
that you ought to be in the penitentiary. Go on and get my dinner."