The letter which Lawrence Croft had written to Junius Keswick was not
answered for more than a week, and when the answer arrived, it did not
come through the Howlett's post-office, but was brought from a mail
station on the railway by a special messenger. In this epistle Mr
Keswick stated that he would have written much sooner but for the fact
that he had been away from Washington, and having just returned, had
found Mr Croft's letter waiting for him. The answer was written in a
tone which Lawrence did not at all expect. It breathed the spirit of a
man who was determined, and almost defiant. It told Mr Croft that the
writer did not now believe that Miss March's acceptance of the said Mr
Croft, should be considered of any value, whatever. It was the result
of a very peculiar condition of things, in which he regretted having
taken a part, and it was given in a moment of pique and indignation,
which gave Miss March a right to reconsider her hasty decision, if she
chose to do so. It would not be fair for either of them to accept, as
conclusive, words said under the extraordinary circumstances which
surrounded Miss March when she said those words. "You asked me to
do you a favor," wrote Junius Keswick, "and, very much against my
inclination, and against what is now my judgment, I did it. I now ask
you to do me a favor, and I do not think you should refuse it. I ask
you not to communicate with Miss March until I have seen her, and have
obtained from her an explanation of the acceptance in question. I have
a right to this explanation, and I feel confident that it will be
given to me. You ask me what I truly believe Miss March meant by her
message to you. I answer that I do not know, but I intend to find out
what she meant, and as soon as I do so, I will write to you. I think,
therefore, considering what you have asked me to do, and what you
have written to me, about what I have done, that you cannot refuse to
abstain from any further action in the matter, until I am enabled to
answer you. I cannot leave Washington immediately, but I shall go to
Midbranch in a very few days."
This letter was very far from being a categorical answer to Lawrence's
questions, and it disappointed and somewhat annoyed that gentleman;
but after he had read it for the second time, and carefully considered
it, he put it in his pocket and said to himself, "This ends all
discussion of this subject. Mr Keswick may be right in the position
he takes, or he may be wrong. He may go to Midbranch; he may get his
explanation; and he may send it to me. But, without any regard to what
he does, or says, or writes, I shall go to Miss March as soon as I am
able to use my ankle, and, whether she be at her uncle's house, or
whether she has gone to New York, or to any other place, I shall see
her, and, myself, obtain from her an explanation of this acceptance.
This is due to me as well as to Mr Keswick, and if he thinks he ought
to get it, for himself, I also think I ought to get it, for myself."
The good results of Lawrence's great care in regard to his injured
ankle soon began to show themselves. The joint had slowly but steadily
regained its strength and usual healthy condition; and Lawrence now
found that he could walk about without the assistance of his rude
crutch. He was still prudent, however, and took but very short walks,
and in these he leaned upon his trusty cane. The charming autumn days,
which often come to Virginia in late October and early November, were
now at their best. Day after day, the sun shone brightly, but there
was in the air an invigorating coolness, which made its radiance
something to be sought for and not avoided.
It was just after dinner, and it was Saturday afternoon, when Miss
Annie announced that she was going to see old Aunt Patsy, whom she had
somewhat neglected of late.
"May I go with you?" said Lawrence.
Miss Annie shook her head doubtfully. "I should be very glad to have
your company," she said, "but I am afraid it will be entirely too much
of a walk for you. The days are so short that the sun will be low
before we could get back, and if you should be tired, it would not do
for you to sit down and rest, at that time of day."
"I believe," said Lawrence, "that my ankle is quite strong enough for
me to walk to Aunt Patsy's and back, without sitting down to rest. I
would be very glad to go with you, and I would like, too, to see that
venerable colored woman again."
"Well," said Miss Annie, "if you really think you can walk so far, it
will be very nice indeed to have you go, but you ought to feel very
sure that it will not hurt you."
"Come along," said Lawrence, taking up his hat and cane.
After a man has been shut up, as Lawrence had been, a pleasant ramble
like this is a most delightful change, and he did not hesitate to
manifest his pleasure. This touched the very sensitive soul of
his companion, and with such a sparkle of talk did she evince her
gratification, that almost any one would have been able to see that
she was a young lady who had an earnest sympathy with those who had
undergone afflictions, but were now freed from them.
Aunt Patsy was glad to see her visitors, particularly glad, it seemed,
to see Mr Croft. She was quite loquacious, considering the great
length of her days, and the proverbial shortness of her tongue.
"Why, Aunt Patsy," said Miss Annie, "you seem to have grown younger
since I last saw you! I do believe you are getting old backwards! What
are you going to do with that dress-body?" "I's lookin' at dis h'yar,"
said Aunt Patsy, turning over the well-worn body of a black woollen
dress which lay in her lap, instead of the crazy quilt on which she
was usually occupied, "to see if it's done gib way in any ob de seams,
or de elbers. 'Twas a right smart good frock once, an' I's gwine to
wear it ter-morrer."
"To-morrow!" exclaimed Annie. "You don't mean to say you are going to
church!"
"Dat's jus' wot I's gwine to do, Miss Annie. I's gwine to chu'ch
ter-morrer mawnin'. Dar's gwine to be a big preachin'. Brudder Enick
Hines is to be dar, an' dey tell me dey allus has pow'ful wakenin's
when Brudder Enick preaches. I ain't ever heered Brudder Enick yit,
coz he was a little boy when I use to go to chu'ch."
"Will it be in the old church, in the woods just beyond Howlett's?"
asked Annie.
"Right dar," replied Aunt Patsy, with an approving glance towards the
young lady. "You 'members dem ar places fus' rate, Miss Annie. Why you
didn't tole me, when you fus' come h'yar, dat you was dat little Miss
Annie dat I use to tote roun' afore I gin up walkin'?"
"Oh, that's too long a story," said Miss Annie, with a laugh. "You
know I hadn't seen Aunt Keswick, then. I couldn't go about introducing
myself to other people before I had seen her."
Aunt Patsy gave a sagacious nod of her head. "I reckon you thought
she'd be right much disgruntled when she heered you was mar'ed, an'
you wanted to tell her youse'f. But I's pow'ful glad dat it's all
right now. You all don' know how pow'ful glad I is." And she looked
at Mr Croft and Miss Annie with a glance as benignant as her time-set
countenance was capable of.
"But Aunt Patsy," said Annie, quite willing to change the
conversation, although she did not know the import of the old woman's
last remark, "I thought you were not able to go out."
The old woman gave a little chuckle. "Dat's wot eberybody thought, an'
to tell you de truf, Miss Annie, I thought so too. But ef I was strong
'nuf to go to de pos' offis,--an' I did dat, Miss Annie, an' not long
ago nuther,--I reckon I's strong 'nuf to go to chu'ch, an' Uncle Isham
is a comin' wid de oxcart to take me ter-morrer mawnin'. Dar'll be
pow'ful wakenin's, an' I ain't seen de Jerus'lum Jump in a mighty long
time."
"Are they going to have the Jerusalem Jump?" asked Miss Annie.
"Oh, yaas, Miss Annie," said the old woman, "dey's sartin shuh to hab
dat, when dey gits waken'd."
"I should so like to see the Jerusalem Jump again," said Miss Annie.
"I saw it once, when I was a little girl. Did you ever see it?" she
said, turning to Mr Croft.
"I have not," he answered. "I never even heard of it."
"Suppose we go to-morrow, and hear Brother Enoch," she said. "I should
like it very much," answered Lawrence.
"Aunt Patsy," said Miss Annie, "would there be any objection to our
going to your church to-morrow?"
The old woman gave her head a little shake. "Dunno," she said. "As a
gin'ral rule we don't like white folks at our preachin's. Dey's got
dar chu'ches, an' dar ways, an' we's got our chu'ches, an' our ways.
But den it's dif'rent wid you all. An' you all's not like white folks
in gin'ral, an' 'specially strawngers. You all isn't strawngers now. I
don't reckon dar'll be no 'jections to your comin', ef you set sollum,
an' I know you'll do dat, Miss Annie, coz you did it when you was a
little gal. An' I reckon it'll be de same wid him?" looking at Mr
Croft.
Miss Annie assured her that she and her companion would be certain to
"sit solemn," and that they would not think of such a thing as going
to church and behaving indecorously.
"Dar is white folks," said Aunt Patsy, "wot comes to a culled chu'ch
fur nothin' else but to larf. De debbil gits dem folks, but dat don'
do us no good, Miss Annie, an' we'd rudder dey stay away. But you
all's not dat kine. I knows dat, sartin shuh."
When the two had taken leave of the old woman, and Miss Annie had gone
out of the door, Aunt Patsy leaned very far forward, and stretching
out her long arm, seized Mr Croft by the skirt of his coat. He stepped
back, quite surprised, and then she said to him, in a low but very
earnest voice: "I reckon dat dat ar sprain ankle was nuffin but a
acciden'; but you look out, sah, you look out! Hab you got dem little
shoes handy?"
"Oh, yes," said Lawrence. "I have them in my trunk."
"Keep 'em whar you kin put your han' on 'em," said Aunt Patsy,
impressively. "You may want 'em yit. You min' my wuds."
"I shall be sure to remember," said Lawrence, as he hastened out to
rejoin Annie.
"What in the world had Aunt Patsy to say to you?" asked that somewhat
surprised young lady.
Then Lawrence told her how some time before Aunt Patsy had given him a
pair of blue shoes, which she said would act as a preventive charm, in
case Mrs Keswick should ever wish to do him harm, and that she had now
called him back to remind him not to neglect this means of personal
protection. "I can't imagine," said Lawrence, "that your aunt would
ever think of such a thing as doing me a harm, or how those little
shoes would prevent her, if she wanted to, but I suppose Aunt Patsy is
crack-brained on some subjects, and so I thought it best to humor her,
and took the shoes."
"Do you know," said Miss Annie, after walking a little distance in
silence, "that I am afraid Aunt Patsy has done a dreadful thing, and
one I never should have suspected her of. Aunt Keswick had a little
baby once, and it died very young. She keeps its clothes in a box, and
I remember when I was a little girl that she once showed them to me,
and told me I was to take the place of that little girl, and that
frightened me dreadfully, because I thought that I would have to die,
and have my clothes put in a box. I recollect perfectly that there was
a pair of little blue shoes among these clothes, and Aunt Patsy must
have stolen them."
"That surprises me," said Lawrence. "I supposed, from what I had heard
of the old woman, that she was perfectly honest."
"So she is," said Annie. "She has been a trusted servant in our family
nearly all her life. But some negroes have very queer ideas about
taking certain things, and I suppose Aunt Patsy had some particular
reason for taking those shoes, for, of course, they could be of no
value to her."
"I am very sorry," said Lawrence, "that such sacred relics should have
come into my possession, but I must admit that I would not like to
give them back to your aunt."
"Oh, no," said Annie, "that would never do; and I wouldn't dare to try
to find her box, and put them in it. It would seem like a desecration
for any hand but her own to touch those things."
"That is true," said Lawrence, "and you might get yourself into a lot
of trouble by endeavoring to repair the mischief. Before I leave here,
we may think of some plan of disposing of the little trotters. It
might be well to give them back to Aunt Patsy and tell her to restore
them."
"I don't know," said Miss Annie, with a slowness of reply, and an
irrelevance of demeanor, which indicated she was not thinking of the
words she was speaking.
The sun was now very near the horizon, and that evening coolness
which, in the autumn, comes on so quickly after the sunshine fades out
of the air, made Lawrence give a little shrug with his shoulders. He
proposed that they should quicken their pace, and as his companion
made no objection, they soon reached the house.
The next day being Sunday, breakfast was rather later than usual, and
as Lawrence looked out on the bright morning, with the mists just
disengaging themselves from the many-hued foliage which crowned the
tops of the surrounding hills; and on the recently risen sun, hanging
in an atmosphere of grey and lilac, with the smile of Indian summer on
its face; he thought he would like to take a stroll, before that meal;
but either the length of his walk on the previous day, or the rapidity
of the latter portion of it, had been rather too much for the
newly-recovered strength of his ankle, which now felt somewhat stiff
and sore. When he mentioned this at the breakfast table, he received a
good deal of condolence from the two ladies, especially Mrs Keswick.
And, at first, it was thought that it might be well for him to give
up his proposed attendance at the negro church. But to this Lawrence
strongly objected, for he very much desired to see some of the
peculiar religious services of the negroes. He had been talking on the
subject the evening before with Mrs Keswick, who had told him that in
this part of the country, which lay in the "black belt" of Virginia,
where the negro population had always been thickest, these ceremonies
were more characteristic of the religious disposition of the African,
than in those sections of the State where the white race exerted a
greater influence upon the manners and customs of the colored people.
"But it will not be necessary to walk much," said Miss Annie. "We can
take the spring-wagon, and you can go with us, aunt."
The old lady permitted herself a little grin. "When I go to church,"
she said, "I go to a white folks' church, and try to see what I can of
white folks' Christianity, though I must say that Christianity of
the other color is often just as good, as far as works go. But it is
natural that a stranger should want to see what kind of services
the colored people have, so you two might as well get into the
spring-wagon and go along."
"But shall we not deprive you of the vehicle?" said Lawrence.
"I never go to church in the spring-wagon," said the old lady, "so
long as I am able to walk. And, besides, this is not our Sunday for
preaching."
It seemed to Lawrence that an elderly person who went about in a
purple calico sun-bonnet, and with an umbrella of the same material,
might go to church in a wheelbarrow, so far as appearances were
concerned, but he had long ceased to wonder at Mrs Keswick's
idiosyncrasies. "I remember very well," said Miss Annie, after the
old lady had left the table, which she always did as soon as she had
finished a meal, "when Aunt Keswick used to go to church in a big
family carriage, which is now sleeping itself to pieces out there in
the barn. But then she had a pair of big gray horses, one of them
named Doctor and the other Colonel. But now she has only one horse,
and I am going to tell Uncle Isham to harness that one up before he
goes to church himself. You know he is to take Aunt Patsy in the
ox-cart, so he will have to go early."
They went to the negro church in the spring-wagon, Lawrence driving
the jogging sorrel, and Miss Annie on the seat beside him. When they
reached the old frame edifice in the woods beyond Howlett's, they
found gathered there quite a large assemblage, for this was one of
those very attractive occasions called a "big preaching." Horses and
mules, and wagons of various kinds, many of the latter containing
baskets of refreshments, were standing about under the trees; and Mrs
Keswick's cart and oxen, tethered to a little pine tree, gave proof
that Aunt Patsy had arrived. The inside of the church was nearly full,
and outside, around the door, stood a large number of men and boys.
The white visitors were looked upon with some surprise, but way was
made for them to approach the door, and as soon as they entered the
building two of the officers of the church came forward to show them
to one of the uppermost seats; but this honor Miss Annie strenuously
declined. She preferred a seat near the open door, and therefore she
and Mr Croft were given a bench in that vicinity, of which they had
sole possession.
To Lawrence, who had never seen anything of the sort, the services
which now began were exceedingly interesting; and as Annie had not
been to a negro church since she was a little girl, and very seldom
then, she gave very earnest and animated attention to what was going
on. The singing, as it always is among the negroes, was powerful and
melodious, and the long prayer of Brother Enoch Hines was one of those
spirited and emotional statements of personal condition, and wild and
ardent supplication, which generally pave the way for a most powerful
awakening in an assemblage of this kind. Another hymn, sung in more
vigorous tones than the first one, warmed up the congregation to
such a degree that when Brother Hines opened the Bible, and made
preparations for his discourse, he looked out upon an audience as
anxious to be moved and stirred as he was to move and stir it. The
sermon was intended to be a long one, for, had it been otherwise,
Brother Hines had lost his reputation; and, therefore, the preacher,
after a few prefatory statements, delivered in a grave and solemn
manner, plunged boldly into the midst of his exhortations, knowing
that he could go either backward or forward, presenting, with equal
acceptance, fresh subject matter, or that already used, so long as his
strength held out. He had not preached half an hour before his hearers
were so stirred and moved, that a majority of them found it utterly
impossible to merely sit still and listen. In different ways their
awakening was manifested; some began to sing in a low voice; others
gently rocked their bodies; while fervent ejaculations of various
kinds were heard from all parts of the church. From this beginning,
arose gradually a scene of religious activity, such as Lawrence had
never imagined. Each individual allowed his or her fervor to express
itself according to the method which best pleased the worshipper.
Some kept to their seats, and listened to the words of the preacher,
interrupting him occasionally by fervent ejaculations; others sang
and shouted, sometimes standing up, clapping their hands and stamping
their feet; while a large proportion of the able-bodied members left
their seats, and pushed their way forward to the wide, open space
which surrounded the preacher's desk, and prepared to engage in the
exhilarating ceremony of the "Jerusalem Jump."
Two concentric rings were formed around the preacher, the inner one
composed of women, the outer one of men, the faces of those forming
the inner ring being turned towards those in the outer. As soon as all
were in place, each brother reached forth his hand, and took the hand
of the sister opposite to him, and then each couple began to jump up
and down violently, shaking hands and singing at the top of their
voices. After about a minute of this, the two circles moved, one, one
way and one another, so that each brother found himself opposite
a different sister. Hands were again immediately seized, and the
jumping, hand-shaking, and singing went on. Minute by minute the
excitement increased; faster the worshippers jumped, and louder they
sang. Through it all Brother Enoch Hines kept on with his sermon.
It was very difficult now to make himself heard, and the time for
explanation or elucidation had long since passed; all he could do was
to shout forth certain important and moving facts, and this he did
over and over again, holding his hand at the side of his mouth, as if
he were hailing a vessel in the wind. Much of what he said was lost
in the din of the jumpers, but ever and anon could be heard ringing
through the church the announcement: "De wheel ob time is a turnin'
roun'!"
In a group by themselves, in an upper corner of the congregation, were
four or five very old women, who were able to manifest their pious
enthusiasm in no other way than by rocking their bodies backwards
and forwards, and singing with their cracked voices a gruesome
and monotonous chant. This rude song had something of a wild and
uncivilized nature, as if it had come down to these old people from
the savage rites of their African ancestors. They did not sing in
unison, but each squeaked or piped out her, "Yi, wiho, yi, hoo!"
according to the strength of her lungs, and the degree of her
exaltation. Prominent among these was old Aunt Patsy; her little black
eyes sparkling through her great iron-bound spectacles; her head and
body moving in unison with the wild air of the unintelligible chant
she sang; her long, skinny hands clapping up and down upon her
knees; while her feet, encased in their great green baize slippers,
unceasingly beat time upon the floor.
So many persons being absent from their seats, the group of old women
was clearly visible to Annie and Lawrence, and Aunt Patsy also could
easily see them. Whenever her head, in its ceaseless moving from side
to side, allowed her eyes to fall upon the two white visitors, her
ardor and fervency increased, and she seemed to be expressing a pious
gratitude that Miss Annie and he, whom she supposed to be her husband,
were still together in peace and safety.
Annie was much affected by all she saw and heard. Her face was
slightly pale, and occasionally she was moved by a little nervous
tremor. Mr Croft, too, was very attentive. His soul was not moved to
enthusiasm, and he did not feel, as his companion did, now and
then, that he would like to jump up and join in the dancing and the
shouting; but the scene made a very strong impression upon him.
Around and around went the two rings of men and women, jumping,
singing, and hand-shaking. Out from the centre of them came the
stentorian shout: "De wheel ob time is a turnin' roun'!" From all
parts of the church rose snatches of hymns, exultant shouts, groans,
and prayers; and, in the corner, the shrill chants of the old women
were fitfully heard through the storm of discordant worship.
In the midst of all the wild din and hubbub, the soul of Aunt Patsy
looked out from the habitation where it had dwelt so long, and,
without giving the slightest notice to any one, or attracting the
least attention by its movements, it silently slipped away.
The old habitation of the soul still sat in its chair, but no one
noticed that it no longer sang, or beat time with its hands and feet.
Not long after this, Lawrence looked round at his companion, and
noticed that she was slightly trembling. "Don't you think we have had
enough of this?" he whispered.
"Yes," she answered. And they rose and went out. They thought they
were the first who had left.