JUDGMENT IS COME
THE goddess of sleep seemed to have deserted Westover. Adelaide lay
in her mother's arms, either awake and restless or in fitful sleep
from which she frequently awoke with a muffled scream or a physical
contortion. Once, as she nestled closer, her mother heard her
murmur: "You must pardon me."
Percy, from the southwest room, was sure he heard horses feet at the
side gate. The murmur of low voices reached his ear, and then he
recognized that horsemen were riding away.
The house was astir at early dawn; and as soon as breakfast was over
Mr. West had the colts hitched to the "buckboard" and he drove with
Percy to Montplain.
"I think your testimony will not be needed this morning," said Mr.
West, "but it may be needed later, and it is well that you should
report to the officers at any rate, since you promised to be there
this morning."
Percy pointed out the place where the attack had been made, and he
looked for a stump of a small tree or for any other object upon
which the negro could have fallen with such force as to mash his
eye; but he saw nothing.
As soon as they reached the village, Mr. West drove directly to the
town house; and there two black bodies were seen hanging from the
limb of an old tree in the courthouse yard. Percy noted that his
companion showed no sign of surprise; and, after the first shock of
his complete realization of the work of the night, he looked calmly
upon the scene. They had stopped almost under the tree.
"Are these the brutes who made the attack and whom you captured and
delivered to the officer?" asked Mr. West.
"They are," he replied.
"In your opinion have they received justice?"
"Yes, Sir," Percy replied, "but I fear without due process of law."
"Let me tell you, Sir, there is no law on the statutes under which
justice could be meted out to these devils for the nameless crime
which ends in death by murder or by suicide of the helpless victim,
a crime which these wretches committed only in their black
hearts--thanks to you, Sir."
As he spoke, the town marshall approached followed by the negro
pastor of the local church and a few of his followers. Silently they
lowered the bodies to the ground, placed them upon improvised
stretchers, and carried them to the potters field outside the
village, where rough coffins and graves were ready to receive them.
As Mr. West and Percy returned to Westover they discussed the lands
which in the main were lying abandoned on either side of the road.
"Here," said Mr. West, as he paused on the brow of a sloping
hillside, "was as near to Westover as the Union army came. The
position of the breastworks may still be seen. The Southern army lay
across the valley yonder. These two trees are sprouts from an old
stump of a tree that was shot away. About seventeen hundred
confederate dead were buried in trenches in the valley, but they
were later removed. The federal dead were carried away as the Union
army retreated. We never learned their number. For three days
Westover was made headquarters of the confederate officers, and my
mother worked day and night to prepare food for them."
They stopped at Westover for a few moments, Percy remaining in the
"buckboard" while Mr. West reported to his family what they had seen
in Montplain.
"Our report," said Mr. West, "hideous and horrible as it is, will
help to restore the child to calm and quiet. To speak frankly, Sir,
occurrences of this sort, sometimes with the worst results, are
sufficiently frequent in the South so that we constantly feel the
added weight or burden whenever the sister, wife, or daughter is
left without adequate protection."
The remaining hours of the morning were devoted to a drive over the
country surrounding Westover; and Mr. West consented to Adelaide's
request that she be allowed to drive Percy to the station at
Montplain, where he was to take the afternoon train for Richmond.
She chose the "buckboard" but insisted upon driving.
They talked of their school and college days, of the books they had
read, of anything in fact except of the experiences of the past
twenty-four hours. Even when they entered the valley no shadow
crossed Adelaide's face; but as they neared the station her voice
changed, and as Percy looked into her winsome, frankly upturned
face, she said:
"Have I truly been pardoned for my cruel words last evening? I am
sure you were as manly and noble as any man could have been."
"And I am sure you were the bravest little woman I have ever known,"
replied Percy, "and I admire you the more for calling me a coward
when you thought I was running away; so there is nothing to pardon I
am sure."
She gave him her hand as a child at parting, but he thought as he
looked into her eyes that he saw the soul of a woman.