The sun was approaching his hour of setting; and the scene, lately so
dreary and desolate, was now resplendent with colours which defy all
description. It was not merely the purple and gold with which, in the
weakness of language, we are forced to designate the hues,
which neither pen nor pencil can bring before the mind, but it
was the sparkling vividness, the transparent splendour of those
colours--making them as spirit compared to mere matter--which spread
an atmosphere-like enchantment over the scene, changing its rude
features, brightening its dull heaviness, glorifying its gloom, and
giving startling variety to its monotony. It was like the wonderful
power of imagination, seizing upon the most incongruous materials, and
harmonizing them in the life-like light that streams from itself.
The mind, still subject, like the skin of the cameleon, to the aspect
of things round it, took a brighter tone from the changes of the sky.
Suddenly, however, I heard, as it seemed to me, at some little
distance, a voice calling. At first, I was hardly certain whether it
was not the cry of some wild bird; but presently I distinguished
clearly the tones of a human voice; and, reining in my jaded horse, I
turned round and looked in the direction from which it seemed to
proceed. Running my eye over the ground, I could perceive nothing for
a moment or two; but there were so many stumps and bushes and broken
trees, that a hundred men might have been near me in that dim and
scattered light without my perceiving their proximity. Still, however,
the voice called, and I thought I could distinguish the word, "Mas'r."
Cautiously I turned my horse amongst the bushes, and rode on towards
the spot from which the sound seemed to come; and I soon began to
discern the outline of a figure sitting at the foot of a tall, conical
cypress-tree, almost assuming the form of one of the beautiful
cypresses of Eastern Europe, and perched upon a little knoll, rising
above the rest of the Swamp.
It was not Bessy's figure; but, with no light satisfaction as I drew
near to her and more near, I made out the heavy outline of good aunt
Jenny.
No words can express the good woman's joy and satisfaction when she
saw me; and my own was little less, for I knew that I should now have
a clue, and that some light, at least, would be thrown upon the
mystery which had kept my mind for so many hours in a state of terror
and anxiety.
Poor Jenny, however, was weak and exhausted--to such a degree even,
that she could hardly speak in answer to my questions; and the first
consideration was how to revive her failing strength. At the distance
which I supposed we were from any human habitation, no food, of
course, was to be procured: night was coming on fast, and there seemed
no prospect but of her dying there actually of starvation; till
suddenly I remembered the hunting-flask of brandy which I had brought
from the house of the hapless Mr. Travis, and of which I had never
thought since. It was still in the pocket of my jacket, and it proved
indeed a most seasonable relief to the poor woman, who soon recovered
sufficiently to be able to tell me, vaguely and confusedly, that some
twenty minutes after I had left her and Bessy in the wood, a party of
white men, headed by Colonel Halliday, had forced their way through
the bushes and hurried them away, offering to lodge them securely in
Jerusalem.
At Bessy's request, the leader promised, she said, to leave two men on
the spot to give me warning when I returned; and poor Jenny declared
that she heard him herself give the order to that effect. When they
reached the path, however, they found more men and horses there; and
the party separated into two divisions. Everything was in confusion,
the good woman said; and before they were well aware of what was
happening, she and Miss Davenport were riding away with one division,
while Colonel Halliday took another direction with the other. It was
not till they had gone some hundred yards that either Bessy or herself
perceived that old William Thornton was with their party.
I need not enter into more details, as I shall have to speak of them
more fully hereafter, and as the good woman's account was very
confused; I learned, however, from her that Bessy and herself had been
detained at Mr. Thornton's house all night, but kept separate from
each other; that she, at least, had had no food, and that she had seen
a party of three or four of aunt Bab's negroes who came to the house,
civilly inquiring if Miss Davenport was there, fired at from the
windows without the slightest provocation. Immediately after that,
Bessy had been placed upon horseback against her will and carried
away.
"They turned me out as soon as she was gone," said aunt Jenny,
"without even a cup of cold water; but I knew very well where they
took her, and so I came on after my darling. But you see I got faint,
master, and thought I should die for want here in the Swamp.
"But what did they take her away for, Jenny?" I inquired. "Why did
they not let her remain where she was?"
"Why she see'd them shoot poor 'Ercles and the other two," replied the
old woman; "and they knew she would witness against them; so they got
her out of de State, and will keep her till it's all blown over. Dat's
de reason, I am sure."
"Then why did they not send you away, too?" I asked.
"'Cause I'm a coloured woman, and my oath worth nothing," answered
aunt Jenny.
"But if they have taken her into another State, how shall we ever find
her?" I exclaimed, almost in despair.
"Oh, she close by--not two miles off," she answered. "Why we are in
Nort Carolina now."
"Well, take a little more brandy, aunty," I said. "I will lift you on
my horse, and we will go on, if you can show me the best way, for it
is beginning to grow darkish."
She would fain have walked, declaring that she was quite able, and
that the brandy had done her "a mighty power of good."
But I would have my own way, and we made our road forward just as the
last glowing spot of the sun's disk sank below the horizon. He left a
bright and beautiful twilight behind him, however, and we had no
difficulty in finding our way onward, the road soon after beginning to
rise out of the swamp into the firmer ground beyond.