“And to be frank and outspoken with you, sir, by heavens! I am saving
him for Lucy’s sake; if she wish him, when she know all, she shall have
him safe and sound if it cost my life.” There was a fierce determination
in Jack’s voice that boded no good to Burton should he attempt to
disappear, nor to any one who attempted to injure the man whom Lucy’s
loyal sailor knight was safe-keeping for his hopeless love’s sake.
“Jack, I love you, lad.” was all that the old Dunlap said, but he knew
and felt the grandeur of the character of the man, who pressed the dagger
down into his own heart, to save a single pang to the woman whom he loved
so unselfishly.
“But to resume the recital of my plans and our situation,” said the old
gentleman settling back in his chair. He had leaned forward to pat Jack
on the shoulder.
“We agree that Lucy cannot be subjected to the scrutiny and criticism of
strangers. I propose, that as the physicians advise a warmer climate,
to charter the ‘Adams,’ have the cabin remodeled to accommodate Lucy,
your mother, the nurse and Lucy’s maid, and to take them all with me to
Haiti, just as soon as the changes in the accommodations on your ship can
be made.”
“Burton goes with us, of course,” said Jack, assertively.
“Well, I had not determined that point. What do you think?”
“Decidedly, yes! The business may suffer, but let it. What is business in
comparison to the restoration of Lucy?” cried Jack in an aggressive tone
of voice.
“It shall be as you think best, my lad. The business will not suffer
in any event, for since Burton’s return to his position as manager, he
has in some extraordinary manner become worthless in the management
of the affairs of the house. He does not inspire the respect that he
did formerly nor does he seem to possess the same self-confidence and
decision of character that marked his manner before the events of the
past few weeks. I don’t know what I should have done had it not been for
Chapman. He has taken full charge of everything and will continue in
control while I am absent, if you decide to take Burton along.”
“You surprise me, sir. I had noticed no alteration in Burton’s manner,”
exclaimed Jack, sincerely astonished at what he heard.
“That is quite likely as he seems to regard you with a kind of awed
respect, but nevertheless what I state is an absolute fact. When first he
made his appearance at the office he endeavored by a brave, bold front to
resume his position, but somehow his attempt was a lamentable failure.
He seemed to feel that everyone was aware that there was something
sham about his assumed dignity and authority and like an urchin caught
masquerading in his father’s coat and hat, he has discarded the borrowed
garments and relapsed into the character that nature gave him. Burton’s
succeeding efforts to impress the office force and people with whom we do
business with a sense of his importance have been absurdly laughable,”
said Mr. Dunlap.
“The secret of the child, and all that concerns our family is confined
to our own people, and a few old and faithful friends, is it not?” asked
Jack in an anxious, troubled voice.
“Certainly, but that apparently does not lessen Burton’s sense of being
garbed in stolen apparel. I can notice the dignity and culture of the
white race growing less day by day in Burton’s speech and manner, just as
frost-pictures on a window pane lessen each hour in the rays of the sun
until naught remains but the naked and bared glass.”
“What will be the end of all this, if you be correct?” cried Jack.
“One by one the purloined habiliments of the superior race will disappear
until finally he will stand forth stripped of the acquired veneering
created by the culture of the white race, a negro. This transformation,
which I think time will effect, recalls to me an example of the
inordinate vanity and love of parading in borrowed plumage common to the
negro race. During one of the numerous insurrections in Haiti I used
to see one of the major generals of the insurgents—they had a dozen
for every hundred privates—a big black fellow, strut about, puffed up
with assumed importance and dignity. In less than one week after the
insurrection was suppressed he was at my door selling fish. While there
he began to ‘pat Juba,’ as he called it, and dance, giggling with
childish glee and winding up the performance by begging me for a quarter.
There you see the negro of it. Prick the balloon and when the borrowed
elevating gas escapes the skin collapses immediately,” said John Dunlap,
with the positiveness of a prophet.
“God grant that the end be not as you surmise or let God in His mercy
continue our Lucy in her present condition. It were more merciful.
History gives the records of men of the negro race who did not end their
lives in the manner you suggest, however,” replied Jack, extracting a
crumb of comfort from the last statement.
“True! my lad, true! There have been white elephants and white crows; in
every forest occasionally a rare bird is found. So with the negro race,
rare exceptions to the general rule do appear but so infrequently as to
only accentuate the accuracy of the general rule.”
* * * * *
Walter Burton was seated at a table in his bedroom at the “Eyrie.” Before
him were scattered letters, papers and writing material. It was late at
night and he had evidently been engaged in assorting and destroying the
contents of an iron box placed beside him on the floor. His elbows were
on the table and his chin rested in both of his hands while he gazed
meditatively at the flame in the lamp before him.
“I am, oh! so weary of this farce. How I long to be able to run away and
be free,” he sighed as he said this to himself. After a little while he
continued.
“The farce has been played to the final act. I know it. What is the use
to continue upon the stage longer? Should Lucy’s mind return to its
normal condition she must be informed of what has transpired and then
my happiness will terminate anyhow. Of what earthly use is it for me to
remain here. She might call for me at first, but only to repulse me at
last. I am tolerated by old John Dunlap, hated or despised by the others
except the noblest of them all, Jack Dunlap. He relies upon my word of
honor. I must not lose his respect. I would to God I had given another
the promise not to disappear.”
The man paused for some time in his soliloquy and then broke out again
by exclaiming,
“The moment that the nurse showed the child to me a curtain of darkness
seemed to roll back. I saw clearly what produced the strange spells
that for so long have mystified me. I am a negro. My blood and natural
inclinations are those common to the descendants of Ham. It matters
not that my skin is white, I am still a negro. The acquirement of the
education, culture and refinement of the white race has made no change in
my blood and inherent instincts. I am ever a negro. Like a jaded harlot I
may paint my face with the hues of health but I am like her, a diseased
imitator of the healthy. I may have every outward and visible sign but
the inward and spiritual grace of the white race is not and can never be
mine. I am a wretched sham, fraud and libel upon the white race with my
fair skin and affected manner.”
The man’s arms fell upon the table and he hid his head in them and
groaned. Thus he remained for a short time, then raised his head and
cried out,
“I even doubt that my Christianity is genuine and not a hollow mockery!
The doctrine of Mahomet is received more readily, and practiced more
consistently by my native race in its ancient home of Africa than the
pure and elevating teachings of Christ. The laws of Mahomet seem more
consistent with the sensual nature of my race than the chaste commands
of Christ. History relates that Islamism is able to turn an African
negro from idolatry where the Christian religion utterly fails. Are my
protestations of faith in Christianity like my refinement, culture and
manners, merely outward manifestations in imitation of the white race and
as deceitful as is the color of my skin?”
Burton sat silent for several moments and then said in a tone of sad
reminiscence.
“I recall how everything in the Christian religion or service that
appealed to the emotional element within me aroused me, but is my
nature as a negro, susceptible of receiving, retaining and appreciating
permanently the truths of that purest and noblest of all faiths?” Again
the man paused as if silently struggling to solve the problem suggested.
“It has of late, I know, become the fashion to refuse to accept
the Scriptures literally, but there is one prophecy concerning the
descendants of Ham which thousands of years have demonstrated as true.”
“The sculpture of that oldest of civilizations, the mother of all
culture, the Egyptian, proves beyond a doubt that the children of Ham
came in contact with the source of Greek and Roman culture yet they
advanced not one step. The profiles of some even of the early Pharaohs
as seen on their tombs furnish unmistakable proof of that contact in the
Negroid type of the features of Egypt’s rulers.”
“The Romans carried civilization to every people whom they conquered and
to those who escaped the Roman domination they bequeathed an impetus that
urged them forward, with the single exception of the accursed Hamites.”
“The Arabs occupied Northern Africa and kept burning the torch of
civilization in the chaos of the Dark Ages in Europe. The Arabs
fraternized more freely with the sons of Ham than all other branches of
the human race, but failed to push, pull or drive them along the highway
of culture.”
“The negro race seems bound by that old Scriptural prophecy concerning
the descendants of Ham. It does not advance beyond being the hewers of
wood and drawers of water for the balance of mankind, notwithstanding
five thousand years of opportunity and inducement.”
“The negro race in Africa, its ancestral land, can point to no ruined
temples, no not even mounds like can the American Indians. It borrowed
not even the art of laying stones from Egypt. It has no written language
though the Phoenicians gave that blessing to the world. It has no
religion worthy of the name, neither laws nor well defined language.
Notwithstanding its association with Egyptian, Roman and Arabian culture
and civilization, fountains for all of the thirsty white race, the negro
race has benefited not at all. It is where it was five thousand years
ago. God’s will be done!”
Burton paused while a sneer came to his lips when he began again speaking.
“Haiti, after decades of freedom, starting with the benefits conferred
by the religion and civilization of one of the leading nations of earth,
is the home today of ignorance, slothfulness and superstition. Every
improvement made by the former white rulers neglected and passing away.
In the hands of the white race it had now been a Paradise. Liberia is as
dead, stagnant and torpid as if progress had vanished with the fostering
care of the white nations that founded that republic.”
The young man ceased in recapitulating the failures of his race, but
added with a sigh,
“In America! Well one may grow oranges in New England by covering the
trees with glass and heating the conservatory, but break the glass or let
the fire expire and the orange trees die. Break the civilization of the
white race in America like the glass, let the fire of its culture become
extinguished and alas for the exotic race and its artificial progress.”
“But enough of my race,” exclaimed Burton impatiently as he arose from
the table and began walking about the room.
“Formerly I tried to curb an inclination that was incomprehensible. Now
that I know the cause I rather enjoy the relapses into my natural self. I
welcome the casting aside of the mask and affectation of the unreal. It
is a relief. The restraint imposed by the presence of those who know me
for what I am, is irksome. I long all day for the freedom of my isolation
here in the ‘Eyrie’ where no prying eye is finely discriminating the
real from the sham. I loath the office and the association there. Each
day I seem to drop a link of the chain that binds me to an artificial
existence.”
Suddenly an idea seemed to present some new phase to the soliloquizing
man. He put his hand to his head as if in pain, and cried out,
“But the end! What shall it be?”