Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER II

  IN WHICH TWO STRANGERS VISIT RED ROCK AND ARE INVITED TO COME AGAIN

  Everyone knows what a seething ferment there was for some time beforethe great explosion in the beginning of the Sixties—that strangedecade that changed the civilization of the country. Red Rock, likethe rest of the land, was turned from a haunt of peace into a forum.Politics were rampant; every meeting was a lyceum; boys became orators;young girls wore partisan badges; children used party-catchwords,which they did not understand—except one thing: that they represented“their side.” There existed an irreconcilable difference between thetwo sections of the country. It could not be crushed. Hydra-headed, itappeared after every extirpation.

  One side held slavery right under the double title of the Bible andof the Constitution. The leader of the other side said, “If it wasnot wrong, then nothing was wrong”; but declared that he would notinterfere with it.

  “Bosh!” said Major Legaie. “That is not a man to condone what he thinkswrong. If he is elected, it means the end of slavery.” And so said manyothers. Most of them, rather than yield, were for War. To them War wasonly an episode: a pageant: a threshold to glory. Dr. Cary, who wasa Whig, was opposed to it; he had seen it, and he took the stump inopposition to Major Legaie.

  “We could whip them with pop-guns,” said the fire-eaters. FordyceLambly and Hurlbut Bail were two of them.

  “But will they fight with that weapon?” asked Dr. Cary, scornfully. Henever liked Lambly and Bail; he said they had no convictions. “A manwith convictions may be wrong; but you know where to meet him, sir. Younever know where to find these men.”

  “Do you know what War is?” he said in a speech, in reply to asecession-speech by Major Legaie. “War is the most terrible of alldisasters, except Dishonor. I do not speak of the dangers. For everybrave man must face danger as it comes, and should court glory; anddeath for one’s Country is glorious. I speak merely of the changethat War inevitably brings. War is the destruction of everythingthat exists. You may fail or you may win, but what exists passes,and something different takes its place. The plough-share becomes aspear, and the pruning-hook a sword; the poor may become richer, butthe rich must become poorer. You are the wealthiest people in theworld to-day—not in mere riches, but in wealth. You may become thepoorest. No people who enter a war wealthy and content ever come outof war so. I do not say that this is an unanswerable reason for notgoing to war. For war may be right at any cost. But it is not to beentered on unadvisedly or lightly; but in the fear of God. It shouldnot be undertaken from mere enthusiasm; but deliberately, with a fullrecognition of its cost, and resolution to support its possible anddirest consequences.”

  When he had ended, Mr. Hurlbut Bail, a speaker from the city, who hadcome to the county to stir up the people, said:

  “Oh! Dr. Cary is nothing but a Cassandra.”

  “Did Troy fall or not?” asked Dr. Cary, calmly.

  This, of course, changed no one. In times of high feeling debate onlyfuses opinions into convictions; only fans the flames and makes thefire a conflagration.

  When the war came the old Doctor flung in his lot with his friends, andhis gravity, that had grown on him of late, was lighted up by the oldfire; he took his place and performed his part with kindling eyes andan erecter mien. Hurlbut Bail became an editor. This, however, waslater on.

  The constantly increasing public ferment and the ever-enlarging anddeepening cloud did not prevent the ordinary course of life fromflowing in its accustomed channels: men planned and performed; sowedand reaped; bought and sold, as in ordinary times. And as in the periodbefore that other flood, there was marrying and giving in marriage; sonow, with the cloud ever mounting up the sky, men loved and married,and made their homes as the birds paired and built their nests.

  Among those who builded in that period in the Red Rock district werea young couple, both of them cousins in some degree of nearly everygentle family in the county, including the Grays and Carys. And afterthe blessing by old Mr. Langstaff, at St. Ann’s, amid the roses andsmiles of the whole neighborhood, they spent their honeymoon, as thecustom was then, in being entertained from house to house, through theneighborhood. In this round of gayety they came in due order to RedRock, where the entertainment was perhaps to be the greatest of all.The amount of preparation was almost unprecedented, and the gentryof the whole county were invited and expected. As it was a notableoccasion and near the holidays, Jacquelin was permitted to come homefrom Dr. Maule’s on the joint application of his mother, his AuntThomasia, and Blair Cary; and Blair was allowed to come over with hermother and father and spend the night, and was promised to be allowedto sit up as late as she pleased—a privilege not to be lightlyesteemed.

  Steve Allen, with a faint mustache curled above his smiling mouth, washome from the University, and so were Morris Cary and the other youngfellows; and the office in the yard, blue with tobacco-smoke, was asfull of young men and pipes and dogs, as the upstairs chambers in themansion were of young girls and ribbons and muslin.

  What a heaven that outer office was to Jacquelin, and what an angelSteve was to call him “Kid” and let him adore him!

  Among the company that night there were two guests who “happenedin” quite unexpectedly, but who were “all the more welcome on thataccount,” the host said graciously in greeting them. They were twogentlemen from quite another part of the country, or, perhaps, thoseresident there would have said, of the world; as they came from theNorth. They had come South on business connected with a sort oftraditionary claim to mineral lands lying somewhere in the range ofmountains which could be seen from the Red Rock plantation. At least,Mr. Welch, the elder of the two, came on that errand. The younger,Mr. Lawrence Middleton, came simply for pleasure, and because Mr.Welch, his cousin, had invited him. He had just spoiled his career atcollege by engaging, with his chum and crony, Aurelius Thurston, inthe awful crime of painting the President’s gray horse a brilliantred, and being caught at it. He was suspended for this prank, and nowwas spending his time, literally rusticating, seeing a little of theworld, while he made up his mind whether he should study Law and accepthis cousin’s offer to go into his office, or whether he should engagein a manufacturing business which his family owned. His preferencewas rather for the latter, which was now being managed by a man namedBolter, who had made it very successful; but Reely Thurston intended tobe a lawyer, and wanted Lawrence to go in with him; so he was takingtime to consider. This visit South had inclined him to the law.

  Mr. Welch and Middleton had concluded their business in the mountains:finding the lands they were seeking to lie partly in the clouds andpartly in the possession of those whom they had always heard spoken ofas “squatters;” but now found to be a population who had been theresince before the Revolution, and had built villages and towns. Theywere now returning home and were making their way back toward therailroad, half a day’s journey farther on. They had expected to reachBrutusville, the county seat, that night; but a rain the day before hadwashed away the bridges, and compelled them to take a circuitous routeby a ford higher up the river. There, not knowing the ford, they hadalmost been swept away, and would certainly have lost their vehicle butfor the timely appearance of a young countryman, who happened to comealong on his way home from a political gathering somewhere.

  AMONG THE COMPANY THAT NIGHT THERE WERE TWO GUESTS WHO“HAPPENED IN” QUITE UNEXPECTEDLY.]

  Their deliverer: a certain Mr. Andy Stamper, was so small that ata distance he looked like a boy, but on nearer view he might havebeen anywhere from twenty or twenty-five to thirty, and he provedextraordinarily active and efficient. He swam in and helped Middletonget their buggy out of the river, and then amused Mr. Welch very muchand incensed Middleton by his comments. He had just been to a politicalmeeting at the Court House, he said, where he had heard “the finestspeech that ever was made,” from Major Legaie. “He gave the Yankeessut,” and he “just wished he could get every Yankee in that river anddrown ’em—every dog-goned one!” Th
is as he was working up to his neckin water.

  Mr. Welch could not help laughing at the look on Middleton’s ruddy face.

  “Now, where’d you find a Yankee’d go in that river like me an’ you—orcould do it, for that matter?” the little fellow asked of Middleton,confidentially.

  “We are Yankees,” blurted out Middleton, hotly. “And a plenty of themwould.” His eye flashed as he turned to his rescuer.

  The little countryman’s eyes opened wide, and his jaw fell.

  “Well, I’m durned!” he said, slowly, staring in open astonishment, andMiddleton began to look gratified at the impression he had made.

  “You know, you’re the first I ever seen as wan’t ashamed to own it.Why, you looks most like we all!”

  Middleton flushed; but little Stamper looked so sincerely ingenuousthat he suddenly burst out laughing.

  After that they became very friendly, and the travellers learned muchof the glories of the Grays and Carys, and of the charms of a certainMiss Delia Dove, who, Stamper declared, was as pretty as any young ladythat went to the Brick Church. Stamper offered to guide them, but ashe refused to take any money for what he had done, and as he said hewas going to see Miss Delia Dove and could take a nearer cut throughthe woods to his home, Mr. Welch declined to accept his offer, andcontented himself with getting him to draw a map of the roads from thatpoint to the county seat.

  “All you’ve got to do is to follow that map: keep the main plainroad and you can’t get out; but I advise you to turn in at the firstplantation you come to. If you go to Red Rock you’ll have a good time.They’re givin’ a party thar to-night. Major Legaie, he left the meetin’to go thar.”

  He disappeared at a gallop down a bridle-path through the woods.

  Notwithstanding the young countryman’s assurances and map, the twostrangers had gotten “out.” The plantations were large in that sectionand the roads leading off to them from the highway, in the dark wereall alike, so that when night fell the two travellers were in a seriousdilemma. They at length came to a gate and were just consideringturning in at it when a carriage drove up in front of them. A horsemanwho had been riding behind the vehicle came forward at a trot, callingout that he would open the gate.

  “I thought you fellows would have been there hours ago,” he saidfamiliarly to the two strangers as he passed, evidently mistaking themin the dusk for some of his friends. “A laggard in love is a dastard inwar.”

  The rest of his speech was lost in the click of the gate-latch and hisapostrophe to his horse. When he found that Mr. Welch was a stranger,he changed instantly. His tone became graver and more gracious.

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I thought from your vehicle that you weresome of these effeminate youngsters who have given up the saddle forthat new four-wheeled contrivance, and are ruining both our strains ofhorses and of men.”

  Mr. Welch asked if he knew where they could find a night’s lodging.

  “Why, at every house in the State, sir, I hope,” said Dr. Cary; for itwas he. “Certainly, at the nearest one. Drive right in. We are goingto our cousins’, and they will be delighted to have you. You are justin good time; for there is to be quite a company there to-night.” Andrefusing to listen for a moment to Mr. Welch’s suggestion that it mightnot be convenient to have strangers, Dr. Cary held the gate open forthem to pass through.

  “Drive in, sir,” he said, in a tone of gracious command. “I never heardof its being inconvenient to have a guest,” and in they drove.

  “A gentleman by his voice,” the travellers heard him explaining alittle later into the window of the carriage behind them. And then headded, “My only doubt was his vehicle.”

  After a half-mile drive through the woods they entered the open fields,and from a hill afar off, on top of which shone a house lit till itgleamed like a cluster of brilliants, a chorus of dogs sent them aninquiring greeting.

  They passed through a wide gate, and ascended a steep hill through agrove, and Middleton’s heart sank at the idea of facing an invitedcompany, with a wardrobe that had been under water within the lasttwo hours. Instantly they were in a group of welcomers, gentlemen,servants, and dogs; negro boys running; dogs frisking and yelpingand young men laughing about the door of the newly arrived carriage.While through it all sounded the placid voice of Dr. Cary reassuringthe visitors and inviting them in. He brought the host to them, andpresented them:

  “My friends, Mr. Welch and young Mr. Middleton—my cousin and friend,Mr. Gray.” It was his customary formula in introducing. All men werehis friends. And Mr. Welch shortly observed how his manner changedwhenever he addressed a lady or a stranger: to one he was always acourtier, to the other always a host.

  As they were ushered into the hall, Middleton’s blue eyes glistened andopened wide at the scene before him. He found himself facing severalscore of people clustered about in one of the handsomest halls he eversaw, some of whom he took in at the first glance to be remarkablypretty girls in white and pink, and all with their eyes, filled withcuriosity, bent on the new comers. If Middleton’s ruddiness increasedtenfold under these glances, it was only what any other young man’swould have done under similar circumstances, and it was not until hehad been led off under convoy of a tall and very solemn old servantin a blue coat with brass buttons, and shown into a large room withmahogany furniture and a bed so high that it had a set of steps besideit, that he was able to collect his ideas, and recall some of those towhom he had been introduced. What a terrible fix it was for a fellow tobe in! He opened his portmanteau and turned to his cousin in despair.

  “Isn’t this a mess?”

  “What?”

  “This! I can never go out there. All those girls! Just look at theseclothes! Everything dripping!—some of them awfully pretty, too. Thatone with the dark eyes!” He was down on his knees, raking in hisportmanteau, and dragging the soaking garments out one by one. “Now,look at that.”

  “You need not go out. I’ll make your excuses.”

  “What! Of course I’m go——”

  Just then there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.” Middleton finished his sentence.

  The door opened slowly and the old servant entered, bearing with asolemnity that amounted almost to reverence, a waiter with decantersand an array of glasses and bowls. He was followed by the young boy whohad been introduced as their host’s son.

  “My father understood that you had a little accident at the river, andhe wishes to know if he cannot lend you something,” said Jacquelin.

  Mr. Welch spoke first, his eyes twinkling as he glanced at his cousin,who stood a picture of indecision and bewilderment.

  “Why yes, my cousin, Mr. Middleton here, would be greatly obliged,I think. He is a little particular about first impressions, and thepresence of so many charming——”

  Middleton protested.

  “Why, certainly, sir,” Jacquelin began, then turned toMiddleton—“Steve’s would fit you—Steve’s my cousin—he’s at theUniversity—he’s just six feet. Wait, sir——” And before they couldstop him, he was gone, and a few minutes later tapped on the door, withhis arms full of clothes.

  “Uncle Daniel’s as slow as a steer, so I fetched ’em myself,” hepanted, with boyish impatience, as he dropped the clothes partly on asofa and partly on the floor. “Aunt Thomasia was afraid you’d catchcold, so she made me bring these flannels. She always is afraid you’llcatch cold. Steve told her if you’d take a good swig out of a bottle’twould be worth all the flannel in the State—Steve’s always teasingher.” With a boy’s friendliness he had established himself now as thevisitors’ ally.

  “I’m glad you came to-night. We’re going to have lots of fun. Were youat the speaking to-day? They say the Major made the finest speech everwas heard. Some say he’s better than Calhoun ever was; just gave theYankees the mischief! I wish they’d come down here and try us once,don’t you?”

  Mr. Welch glanced amusedly at Middleton, whose face changed; butfortunately the boy was too mu
ch interested in the suit Middleton hadjust put on to notice the effect.

  “I thought Steve’s would fit you,” he said, with that proudsatisfaction in his judgment being verified which characterizes the ageof thirteen, and some other ages as well.

  “Steve’s nineteen, and he’s six feet!—You are six feet too? I thoughtyou were about that. I hope I’ll be six feet. I like that height, don’tyou? Steve’s at the University, but he don’t study much, I reckon. Areyou at college?—Where? Oh! I know. I had a cousin who went there. Heand two or three other Southern fellows laid outside of the hall forone of those abolition chaps who was making a speech, to cut his earsoff when he came out, and they’d have done it if he had come out thatway. I reckon it’s a good college, but I’m going to the Universitywhen I’m sixteen. I’m thirteen now—You thought I was older? I wantedto go to West Point, but my father won’t let me. Maybe, Rupert will gothere. I go to school at the Academy—Doctor Maule’s—everybody knowsabout him. I tell you, he knows a lot.—You have left college? Was ittoo hot for you? Were you after somebody’s ears too? What! paintedthe President’s horse red! Oh! wasn’t that a good one! I wish I’dbeen there. I’ll tell Steve and Blair about that. Steve put a cow upin the Rotunda once. The worst thing I ever did was making Blair jumpoff the high barn. I don’t count flinging old Eliphalet Bush in thecreek, because I believe his teeth were false anyhow! But I’ll rememberpainting that horse. I reckon he was an abolitionist too?”

  So the boy rattled on, his guests drawing him out for the pleasure ofseeing him.

  “What State are you from? Maybe, we are cousins?” he said presently,giving the best evidence of his friendliness.

  “What! Mass—a—! I beg your pardon.”

  He looked so confused that both Mr. Welch and Middleton took some painsto sooth him.

  “Yes, of course I was not talking about you; but I wouldn’t have saidanything about Massachusetts if I had known you came from there. Iwouldn’t like anybody to say anything about _my_ State. You won’t mindwhat I said, will you? I think Massachusetts the best of the NorthernStates—anyhow——” And he left them, his cheeks still glowing fromembarrassment.

  This apology, sincerely given, with a certain stress on the wordNorthern, amused Mr. Welch, and even Middleton, to whom it presented,however, an entirely new view.

  “Aren’t they funny?” asked Middleton of his cousin, after their younghost had left them. “You know I believe they really think it.”

  “Larry, you have understated it. They think they know it.”

  Jacquelin employed the few moments, in which he preceded the visitorsto the hall, in telling all he had learned, and when Mr. Welch andMiddleton appeared they found themselves in the position of the mostdistinguished guests. The fact that they came from the North, andJacquelin’s account of his mistake, had increased the desire to showthem honor. “The hospitality of the South knows no latitude,” saidDr. Cary, in concluding a gracious half apology to Mr. Welch forJacquelin’s error; and he proceeded deftly to name over a list ofgreat men from Massachusetts, and to link their names with those ofthe men of the South whom she most delighted to honor. His dearestfriend at college, he said, was from New England, and unless he wasmistaken, Anson Rockfield would one day be heard of. Nothing couldhave been more gracious or more delicately done; and when supper wasannounced, Mr. Welch was taken to the table by the hostess herself,and his health was drunk before the groom’s. Middleton meanwhilefound himself no less honored. The artistic feat performed on thePresident’s horse had made him a noted personage, and in consequenceof this and of the freemasonry which exists among young college-men,he was soon surrounded by all the younger portion of the company, andwas exchanging views with Steve Allen and the other young fellows withthat exaggerated man-of-the-world air which characterizes the age andoccupation of collegians.

  “Where is Blair?” he asked Jacquelin, presently, who was standing bySteve, open-eyed, drinking in their wisdom as only a boy of thirteencan drink in the sapience of men of nineteen or twenty.

  “Over there.” Jacquelin nodded toward another part of the hall.Middleton looked, but all he saw was a little girl sitting behind abig chair, evidently trying to conceal herself, and shaking her headviolently at Jacquelin, who was beckoning to her. Jacquelin ran over toher and caught her by the hand, whereupon there was a little scufflebetween them behind the chair, and as Middleton watched it he caughther eye. The next second she rose, smoothed her little white frock withquite an air, and came straight across with Jacquelin to where theystood. “This is Blair, Mr. Middleton,” the boy said to the astonishedguest. And Miss Blair held out her hand to him with an odd mixture ofthe child and the lady.

  “How do you do, sir?” She evidently considered him one of the ancients.

  “She jump off a high barn!” Middleton’s eyes opened wide.

  “Blair is the champion jumper of the family,” said Steve, tall andcondescending, catching hold of her half-teasingly, and drawing her upclose to him.

  “And she is a brick,” added Master Jacquelin, with mingledcondescension and admiration, which brought the blushes back to thelittle girl’s cheeks and made her look very charming. The next momentshe was talking to Middleton about the episode of the painted horse;exchanging adventures with him, and asking him questions about hischum, Reely Thurston and his cousin, Ruth Welch, whom he had mentioned,as if she had known him always.

  It was a night that Middleton never forgot. So completely was headopted by his hosts that he could scarcely believe that he had notbeen one of them all his life. As Mr. Welch said truly: they had thegift of hospitality. Jacquelin and Blair constituted themselves youngMiddleton’s especial hosts, and he made an engagement to visit withthem all the points which they wished to show him, provided his cousincould accept their invitation to spend several days there.

  In the midst of their talk an old mammy in a white apron, with a tallbandanna turban around her head, suddenly appeared in a doorway, anddropping a curtsey made her way over to Blair, like a ship bearing downunder full sail. There was a colloquy between the two, inaudible, butnone the less animated and interesting, the old woman urging somethingand the little girl arguing against it. Then Blair went across andappealed to her mother, who, after a little demurring, came overand spoke to the mammy, and thereon began further argument. She wasevidently taking Blair’s side; but she was not commanding, she wasrather pleading. Middleton, new to the customs, was equally surprisedand amused to hear the tones of the old colored woman’s voice:

  “Well, jist a little while.” Then as she turned on her way out, shesaid, half audibly:

  “You all gwine ruin my chile’ looks, meckin’ her set up so late. Howshe gwine have any complexion, settin’ up all times o’ night?” As shepassed out, however, many of the ladies spoke to her, and they musthave said pleasant things; for before she reached the door she wassmiling and curtseying right and left, and carried her head as highas a princess. As for Blair, her eyes were dancing with joy at hervictory, and when the plump figure of the mammy disappeared she gave alittle frisk of delight.

  There were no more speeches that could wound the sensibilities ofthe guests; but there was plenty of discussion. All the young menwere ardent politicians, and Middleton, who was nothing himself, waspartly amused and partly horrified at the violence of some of theirsentiments. Personally, he agreed with them in the main about Slaveryor, at least, about Abolitionism. He thought Slavery rather a finething, and recalled that his grandfather or his great-grandfather,he couldn’t be certain which, had owned a number of slaves. He wasconscious of some pride in this—though his cousin, Patience Welch, whowas an extreme abolitionist, was always bemoaning the fact.

  But he was thunderstruck to hear a young orator of sixteen or seventeendeclaim about breaking up the Union, under certain circumstances, as ifit were a worthless old hulk, stuck in the mud. It had never occurredto Middleton that it was possible, and he had always understood thatit was not. However, he was reassured by the warmth with whic
h othersdefended the Union, and the ardor with which toasts were drunk to it.Jacquelin himself was a stanch Democrat, like his father. He confidedto Middleton that Blair was a Whig, because her father was one; butthat a girl did not know any better, and that she really did not knowthe difference between them.

  The entertainment consisted of dancing—quadrilles and “the Lancers,”and after awhile, the old Virginia reel. In the first, all the youngpeople joined, and in the last, some of the old ones as well. Middletonheard Steve urging their host’s sister, Miss Gray—“Cousin Thomasia”as Steve called her—a sweet patrician-faced lady, to come and dancewith him, and when she smilingly refused, teasing her about MajorLegaie. She gave him a little tap with her fan and sent him off withsmiling eyes, which, after following the handsome boy across the hall,saddened a second later as she lifted the fan close to her face toarrange the feathers. Steve mischievously whisked Blair off from underJacquelin’s nose and took her to the far end of the line of laughinggirls ranged across the hall, responding to Jacquelin’s earnest protestthat he was just going to dance with her himself, with a push—thatunanswerable logic of a bigger boy.

  “But you did not ask me!” said Miss Blair to Jacquelin, readily takingthe stronger side against her sworn friend.

  “Never mind, I’m not going to dance with you any more,” poutedJacquelin as he turned off, his head higher than usual, to which MissBlair promptly replied: “I don’t care if you don’t.” And she heldher head higher than his, dancing through her reel apparently withdouble enjoyment because of his discomfiture. Then when the reelhad been danced again and again, with double couples and fours, toever-quickening music and ever-increasing mirth, until it was a mazeof muslin and radiance and laughter, there was a pause for rest. Andsomeone near the piano struck up a song, and this drew the crowd. Manyof the girls, and some of the young men, had pleasant voices, whichmade up by their natural sweetness and simplicity for want of training,and the choruses drew all the young people, except a few who seemed tofind it necessary to seek something—fans or glasses of water, in themost secluded and unlikely corners, and always in couples.

  There was one song—a new one which had just been picked up somewhereby someone and brought there, and they were all trying to recallit—about “Dixie-land.” It seemed that Blair sang it, and there was auniversal request for her to sing it; but the little girl was shy andwanted to run away. Finally, however, she was brought back and, undercoaxing from Steve and Jacquelin, was persuaded; and she stood up bythe piano and with her cheeks glowing and her child’s-voice quaveringat first at the prominence given her, sang it through. Middleton hadheard the song once at a minstrel-show not long before, and had thoughtit rather a “catchy” thing; but now, when the child sang it, he foundits melody. But when the chorus came, he was astonished at the feelingit evoked. It ran:

  “Away down south in Dixie, away, away— In Dixie land, I’ll take my stand, To live and die for Dixie land— Away, away, away down south in Dixie.”

  It was a burst of genuine feeling, universal, enthusiastic, that madethe old walls resound. Even the young couples came from their secludedcoverts to join in. It was so tremendous that Dr. Cary, who wasstanding near Mr. Welch, said to him, gravely:

  “A gleam of the current that is dammed up?”

  “If the bank ever breaks what will happen?” asked Mr. Welch.

  “A flood.”

  “Then the right will survive.”

  “The strongest,” said Dr. Cary.

  The guest saw that there was deep feeling whenever any politicalsubject was touched on, and he turned to a less dangerous theme. Thewalls of the hall and drawing-room were covered with pictures; scenesfrom the Mythology; battle-pieces; old portraits: all hung togetherin a sort of friendly confusion. The portraits were nearly all inrich-colored dresses: men in velvets or uniforms, ladies in satins andcrinolines, representing the fashions and faces of many generations ofJacquelin-Grays. But one, the most striking figure of them all, stoodalone to itself in a space just over the great fireplace. He was a manstill young, clad in a hunter’s garb. A dark rock loomed behind him.His rifle lay at his feet, apparently broken, and his face wore anexpression of such determination that one knew at once that, whateverhe had been, he had been a master. The other paintings were portraits;this was the man. To add to its distinction, while the other pictureswere in frames richly gilded and carved, this was in straight blackboards apparently built into the wall, as if it had been meant to standhim there and cut him off from all the rest of the world. Wherever oneturned in the hall those piercing eyes followed him. Mr. Welch had beenfor some time observing the picture.

  “An extraordinary picture. It has a singular fascination for me,”he said, as his host turned to him. “One might almost fancy itallegorical, and yet, it is intensely human. An indubitable portrait? Inever saw a stronger face.”

  His host smiled.

  “Yes. It has a somewhat curious history, though whether it is exactlya portrait or not we do not know. It is, or is supposed to be, theportrait of an ancestor of mine, the first of my name who came tothis country. He had been unfortunate on the other side—so the storygoes—was a scholar, and had been a soldier under Cromwell and lostall his property. He fell in love with a young lady whose father wason the King’s side, and married her against her parents’ wishes andcame over here. He built a house on this very spot when it was thefrontier, and his wife was afterward murdered by the Indians, leavinghim one child. It is said that he killed the Indian with his nakedhands just beside a great rock that stands in the grave-yard beyond thegarden, a short distance from the house. He afterward had that picturepainted and placed there. It is reported to be a Lely. It has alwaysbeen recognized as a fine picture, and in all the successive changes ithas been left there. This present house was built around the fireplaceof the old one. In this way a story has grown up about the picture,that it is connected with the fortunes of the house. You know howsuperstitious the negroes are?”

  “I am not surprised,” said Mr. Welch, examining the picture moreclosely. “I never saw a lonelier man. That black frame shutting it inseems to have something to do with the effect.”

  “The tradition has possibly had a good effect. There used to be arecess behind it that was used as a cupboard, perhaps a secret cabinet,because of this very superstition. The picture fell down once a fewyears ago and I found a number of old papers in there, and put somemore in myself.

  “Here, you can see the paint on the frame, where it fell. It was inthe early summer, and one of the servants was just painting the hearthred, and a sudden gust of wind slammed a door and jarred the picturedown, and it fell, getting that paint on it. You never saw anyone sofrightened as that boy was. And I think my overseer was also,” helaughed. “He happened to be present, settling up some matters withwhich I had entrusted him in the South, and although he is a remarkablysensible man—so sensible that I had given him my bonds for a veryconsiderable amount—one for a very large amount, indeed, in case heshould need them in the matter I refer to, and he had managed theaffair with the greatest shrewdness, bringing my bonds back—he was asmuch frightened almost as the boy. You’d have thought that the fallof the picture portended my immediate death. I took advantage of thecircumstance to put the papers in the cupboard, and, to ease his mind,made Still nail the picture up, so that it will never come down again,at least, in my lifetime.”

  “I had no idea the whites were so superstitious,” said Major Welch.

  “Well, I do not suppose he really believed it. But, do you know, afterthat they began to say that stain on it was blood? And here again.”

  He pointed to where three or four little foot-tracks, as of a child’sbare foot, were dimly seen on the hard white floor near the hearth.

  “My little boy, Rupert, was playing in the hall at the time I mention,dabbling his feet in the paint, and the same wind that blew down thepicture scattered my papers, and he ran across the floor and finallystepped on one. There, you can see just where he ca
ught it: the littleheel is there, and the print of the toes is on the bond behind thepicture. His mother would never allow the prints to be scoured out, andso they have remained. And now, I understand, they say the tracks areblood.”

  “On such slim evidence, perhaps other and weightier superstitions havebeen built,” said Mr. Welch, smiling.

  Next morning, as Mr. Welch wished to see a Southern plantation, hedeferred his departure until the afternoon, and rode over the placewith Mr. Gray. Middleton was taken by his young hosts to see all thethings of interest about the plantation: the high barn from whichBlair had jumped into the tree, the bloody rock beside which the“Indian-Killer” had been buried, and the very spot where Steve hadslept that night; together with many other points, whilst Mr. Welch wastaken to see the servants’ quarters, the hands working and singing inthe fields, and such things as interested him. The plantation surpassedany he had yet seen. It was a little world in itself—a sort of feudaldomain: the great house on its lofty hill, surrounded by gardens; thebroad fields stretching away in every direction, with waving grainor green pastures dotted with sheep and cattle, and all shut in andbounded by the distant woods.

  During this tour Mr. Langstaff, the rector, made to Mr. Welch anobservation that he thought there were evidences that the Gardenof Eden was situated not far from that spot, and certainly withinthe limits of the State. Major Welch smiled at the old clergyman’singenuousness, but was graver when, as they strolled through the negroquarters, he began to speak earnestly of the blessings of Slavery. Hepointed out the clean cabins, each surrounded by its little yard andwith its garden; the laughing children and smiling mothers curtseyingfrom their doors. The guest remained silent, and the old gentleman tookit for assent.

  “Why, sir, I have just prepared a paper which my friends thinkestablishes incontrovertibly that Slavery is based on the Scriptures,and is, as it were, a divine institution.” Mr. Welch looked up to seehow the other gentlemen took this. They were all grave, except Dr.Cary, usually the gravest, around whose mouth a slight smile flickered,and in whose eyes, as they met Major Welch’s, there was a little gleamof amusement.

  “It is written, ‘A servant of servants shall he be.’ You will not denythat?” asked the old preacher, a little of the smouldering fire of thecontroversialist sparkling for a moment in his face.

  “Well, no, I don’t think I will.”

  “Then that settles it.”

  “Well, perhaps not altogether,” said Mr. Welch. “There may be aneconomical sin. But I do not wish to engage in a polemical controversy.I will only say that down here you do not seem to me to appreciatefully how strong the feeling of the world at present is againstSlavery. It seems to me, that Slavery is doomed as much as theStage-coach, and the Sailing vessel.”

  “My dear sir,” declared Mr. Gray, “I cannot agree with you. Weinterfere with nobody; all we demand is that they shall not interferewith us.”

  “It is precisely that which you cannot enforce,” said Mr. Welch. “Ido not wish to engage in a discussion in which neither of us couldconvince the other; but I think I have not defined my positionintelligibly. You interfere with everyone—with every nation—and youare only tenants at will of your system—only tenants by sufferance ofthe world.”

  “Oh! my dear sir!” exclaimed his host, his face slightly flushed; andthen the subject was politely changed, and Mr. Welch was consciousthat it was not to be opened again.

  The only additional observation made was by a gentleman who had beenintroduced to Mr. Welch as the leading lawyer of the county, a portlyman with a round face and keen eyes. “Well, as George IV. remarked, itwill last my time,” he said.

  Before the young people had seen half the interesting places ofwhich Jacquelin had told Middleton, they were recalled to the house.Jacquelin’s face fell.

  “School!” he said in disgust.

  As they returned on a road leading up to a farm-house on a hill, theypassed a somewhat rickety buggy containing a plain-looking young girl,a little older than Blair, driven by a thin-shouldered youngster ofeighteen or nineteen, who returned Jacquelin’s and Blair’s greeting,with a surly air. Middleton thought he checked the girl for herpleasant bow. At any rate, he heard his voice in a cross tone, scoldingher after they had passed.

  “That’s Washy Still and Virgy, the overseer’s children,” explainedsomeone.

  “And he’s just as mean to her as he can be. She’s afraid of him. I’llbe bound I wouldn’t be afraid of him!” broke out Blair, her eyesgrowing suddenly sparkling at the idea of wrong to one of her sex.Middleton looked down at her glowing face and thought it unlikely.

  On arrival at the house it proved that Jacquelin’s fears werewell-founded. It had been decided that he must go back to school.Jacquelin appealed to his Aunt Thomasia to intercede for him, and shedid so, as she always interceded for everyone, but it was in vain. Itwas an age of law, and the law had to be obeyed.

  As Middleton was passing from the room he occupied, to the hall, hecame on Blair. She was seated in a window, almost behind the curtainand he would have passed by without seeing her but for a movement shemade to screen herself entirely. Curiosity and mischief promptedthe young man to go up and peep at her. She had a book in her hand,which she held down as if to keep out of sight, and as he looked ather he thought she had been crying. A glance at the book showed itwas “Virgil,” and Middleton supposed, from some personal experience,that the tears were connected with the book. So he offered to construeher lesson for her. She let him do it, and he was just congratulatinghimself that he was doing it tolerably well when she corrected him. Atthe same moment Jacquelin came in. He too looked unusually downcast,and Blair turned away her face, and then suddenly sprang up and ranaway.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Middleton. “Can’t she read her lesson?”

  “No: she can read that well enough. You just ought to hear her readLatin. I wish I could do it as well as she does, that’s all! I’d makeold Eliphalet open his eyes. She’s crying because I’ve got to go backto school—I wish I were grown up, I bet I wouldn’t go to schoolany more! I hate school, and I hate old Eliphalet, and I hate oldMaule—no, I don’t quite hate him; but I hate school and I’m going topaint his horse blue, if he licks the life out of me.” After whichexplosion the youngster appeared relieved, and went off to prepare forthe inevitable.

  When he rode away with Doan behind him, his last call back was toMiddleton, to be sure and remember his promise to come back again, andto bring Reely Thurston with him.