CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH
THE TWO SLAVES--THE GLIMMER OF LIGHT.
From the time of Mrs. Wentworth's arrest and imprisonment, the oldnegro had paid every attention to the little boy left under her care.Knowing that she would be likely to receive punishment for having awhite child living with her, she had made several efforts to see hermaster, but each time she called, both the Doctor and Emma wereabsent. She was thus compelled to wait until some opportunity offeredto turn the little boy over to her master, who she knew would promptlygive him a home while he remained unclaimed by his lawful guardians.In her visits to Dr. Humphries' house the old negro had met Elsy, andbeing pleased with the appearance of the girl, had contracted quite afriendship for her, and on every opportunity would hold a conversationwith her. Having called several times without seeing her master orEmma, Elsy enquired if she had anything of consequence to impart tothe Doctor, as, if she had, she would inform him on his return home.
"Yes, gal," replied the old woman, "I got a leetle boy at my cabin datwas lef dar by him mammy, and I want de boss to take him away and puthim in a better place den my room."
"What chile is it, Auntie?" enquired Elsy.
"I do' know what de name is," answered the old woman, "but a lady cumto my cabin one night wid a berry sick gal chile and de leetle boy,and next day de gal die, and in de ebening some police come and takeaway de lady because 'she 'teal money,' and dey lef de dead chile andde libing one wid me."
"Goodness sakes, Auntie," interrupted Elsy, "what did you do wid dedead chile?"
"Why, gal, I bury her next mornin," replied the old woman, "and deleetle boy bin stayin wid me eber since; but I don't want to keep him,for dis nigger hab no right to hab white chile a keepin to herself."
"You better see de Doctor, den," Elsy observed. "When he come in Iwill tell him dat you want to see him patickler."
"Dat's a good gal," answered the old negro, "you tell him dat I wantto see him, but don't tell him what I want him for--I rader tell himdat mysef."
"Berry well, Auntie," she replied, "de Doctor will come in aboutdinner time, and as soon as he is done eatin I will talk to him aboutit. But do you tink he will bring de chile home, yah, and take care obhim?"
"Ob course he will," said the old woman, "he neber see any body wantbut he get him plenty and take care ob him."
"What kind a chile is de one you had at your cabin?" asked Elsy.
"Jes de lubliest baby you eber seed in your life," answered the oldnegro. "He is one ob de best children I eber had taking care ob."
"Don't he cry none for his mudder," enquired Elsy.
"Ob course he cry plenty de first day," she replied, "but aterwards hebehabe well, for I promise him dat he mammy will come back soon. He ama rale good chile, and I would lub to keep him wid me all time, but I'fraid de police will get ater me for habin him."
"Dat's so," remarked Elsy, "but you can take care ob him a'ter youtell de boss--you can come here and stay."
"No, gal," she answered, "I can't leab me old cabin; I been libbingdar dese twelve years, and I got so used to it dat I can't sleep outob it."
"Den I will take care ob de chile for you," said Elsy, "and you cancome ebery now and den and see him."
"Dat's so," she, replied. "But tell me, gal," she continued, "whar youcome from?"
"I come from New Orleans, Auntie," replied Elsy.
"What bring you to Jackson?" continued the old woman.
Elsy repeated the tale she had told Dr. Humphries and Alfred, andafter she had concluded, the old woman clasped her hands as sheexclaimed, "Sake alibe! what become ob your mistis and de childen?"
"I don't know, Auntie, but my New Orleans mass'r is here now, and I'sbeen looking for dem."
"Why de lady and childen dat come to my cabin was from New Orleanstoo," observed the old negro.
"You say you don't know de name?" remarked Elsy.
"No, I forget," she answered; "but what name did your mistis hab?"
"Dey was name Wentworth," she replied.
"Wantworth--Wentworth," repeated the old woman. "No, dat don't soundlike de name ob de lady, but may be I forget. What was de leetle galname?" she added.
"Ella," replied Elsy.
"Dat's it," exclaimed the old negro, "dat's de berry name!"
"Den it was my mistis and her childen," answered Elsy, "and you say depolice take her to prison for stealin."
"Yes, gal," she answered, "dey take her away from de dead body ob herchile and take her to prison for stealin."
"It ain't true," said Elsy, "my mistis is a born lady, and shewouldn't steal for anyting. I don't beliebe a word ob it."
"I don't beliebe neider," replied the old woman, "but for all dat, deydid carry her to prison because dey say she steal money."
"My poh mistis," remarked Elsy, bursting into tears, "I knowed datsome bad ting would happen to her--and I was in town so long and nebereben sawed her."
"Poh lady," observed the old negro, "she look bery bad and sorrowfullike, aldough she didn't cry when de chile die; but she tan up by debedside and look 'pon de dead face widout sayin' a word--it made mefeel bad to see her."
"I must tell my master," said Elsy, "so dat he can go and take her outob prison. It am a shame dat a lady like dat should be locked up in aprison, and Mr. Wentworth will soon take her out."
"You better not say anyting to your master about it, yet," observedthe old woman. "See de Doctor and tell him; he will know what to do,and den he can tell de gemman all about it a'terwards."
"But you certain it am my mistis?" said Elsy.
"I ain't quite sure ob dat," she answered, "for de name sounddifferent to de one I heard, and dats de reason I don't want you tosay noting 'bout it till de Doctor enquire into de matter and findout. I must go now, gal," she added, "don't forget to tell de Doctorall 'bout it when he come home."
"I won't," replied Elsy.
The old woman then left the house and returned to her cabin, where shefound the little boy amusing himself on the floor with some marbles.
Dr. Humphries, accompanied by Harry, returned home at the usual hour.After dinner Elsy requested him to speak to her for a few minutes--arequest which he promptly complied with.
"Well, my good, girl, what do you wish with me?" he enquired.
"Oh! sir," she replied, "I hab found out whar my mistis is."
"You have," answered Dr. Humphries, rather astonished at theintelligence, "where is she?" he added.
"In prison, sah," she replied.
"In prison!" exclaimed the Doctor, "for what?"
"I don'no, sah," she replied, "but I hear it is for stealing."
"Who gave you the information?" asked Dr. Humphries.
"It was your ole slave what libs in de cabin, up town," answered Elsy.
"And how did she learn anything about Mrs. Wentworth?" enquired Dr.Humphries.
"My Mistis went dere wid her chil'en, sah, and her little daughterdied in de ole woman's cabin."
"Good God!" exclaimed the Doctor, "and how was it that I have heardnothing about it until now?"
"It only was a few days ago," replied Elsy, "and Auntie come hereebery day, but you and Miss Emma was not at home ebery time, and sheonly tole me about it dis mornin."
"Are you certain that the woman who has been carried to jail is yourMistress?" asked Dr. Humphries.
"No sah," she answered, "Auntie say dat de name am different, but datde name ob de leetle gal am de same."
"And the little boy you say has been under the care of the old womanever since," remarked Dr. Humphries.
"Yes sah," Elsy replied, "but she want you to take him away from her,so dat he may be under a white pusson, and das de reason why she beenhere wantin' to see you bout it."
"Very well," said. Dr. Humphries, "I will attend to it this evening;in the meantime do you remain here and go with me to the cabin and seeif the child is your Mistress'."
Elsy curtsied as she enquired, "Shall I tell my Master 'bout dis,sah?"
"No, no," replied
the Doctor, "he must know nothing about it until Ihave arranged everything for his wife and removed her from prison. Becertain," he continued, walking to the door, "that you do not breathea word about this until I have seen your Mistress and learned thereason of her imprisonment."
On returning to the parlor, where Harry and Emma were seated, Dr.Humphries called him aside and related what he had heard from Elsy.The young man listened attentively, and was very much shocked to hearof Mrs. Wentworth's being imprisoned for theft. He knew that Alfredwas the soul of honor, and he could not conceive that the wife of hisfriend would be guilty of such an offense.
"It is impossible to believe such a thing," he said, after Dr.Humphries had concluded, "I cannot believe that the wife of such a manas Alfred Wentworth would commit an offense of such a nature; it mustbe some one else, and not Mrs. Wentworth."
"That we can find out this evening," observed the Doctor. "Let usfirst call at the cabin of my old slave and find out whether the childin her keeping is one of Mrs. Wentworth's children."
"How will we be able to discover," asked Harry. "It appears by youraccount that the boy is a mere infant, and he could hardly be expectedto give an account of himself or his parents."
"I have removed any difficulty of that nature," replied Dr. Humphries,"Elsy will accompany us to the cabin, and she will easily recognizethe child if he is the son of your friend."
"You are right," Harry remarked; and then continued, "I trust he maynot be, for Alfred would almost go crazy at the knowledge that hiswife was the inmate of a prison on the charge of robbery."
"I hope so myself, for the sake of your friend," said DoctorHumphries, "Mr. Wentworth appears to be quite a gentleman, and Ishould greatly regret his finding his wife in such an unfortunateposition as the woman in prison is represented to be."
"I know the spirit of the man," remarked Harry, "he is sensitive todishonor, no matter in what form or shape it may come, and theknowledge that his wife was charged with robbery would be a fearfulblow to his pride, stern and unyielding as it is."
"If it is his wife, and she has committed a theft, I pity her, indeed;for I am sure if she is the lady her husband represents, nothing butthe most dire necessity could have induced her to descend to crime."
"Ah, sir," replied Harry, "Heaven only knows if it is not throughwant. Alfred Wentworth feared that his wife was living in penury, forhe knew that she was without adequate means. If she has unfortunatelybeen allowed to suffer, and her children to want with her, whatgratification is it for him to know that he was proving his loyalty tothe South in a foreign prison while his wife and children were wantingbread to eat in our very midst?"
"It will indeed be a sad commentary on our patriotism," remarked Dr.Humphries. "God only knows how willing I should have been to serve thepoor woman and her children had they applied to me for assistance."
"And I fervently wish that every heart in the State beat with the samefeeling of benevolence that yours does," replied Harry. "However, thisis no time to lament or regret what is inexorable; we must see thechild, and afterwards the mother, for, no matter whether they are thefamily of Alfred Wentworth or not, the fact of their being the wifeand child of a soldier entitles them to our assistance, and it is adebt we should always willingly pay to those who are defending ourcountry."
"You are right, Harry, you are right," observed the Doctor, "and it isa debt that we will pay, if no one else does it. Do you return toEmma, now," he continued, "while I order the buggy to take us to thecabin."
Leaving Harry, Dr. Humphries went to the stable and ordered the groomto put the horse in the buggy. He was very much moved at the idea of afriendless woman being necessitated to steal for the purpose offeeding her children, and in his heart he sincerely wished she wouldnot prove to be the wife of Alfred Wentworth. Harry's story of hisfriend's chivalrous conduct to him at Fort Donelson, as well as thehigh toned character evinced by Alfred during the few daysacquaintance he had with him, had combined to procure a favorableopinion of the soldier by Dr. Humphries; at the same time, he couldnot conceive how any one could be so friendless in a land famed forthe generous hospitalities of its people, as the South is; but he knewnot, or rather he had never observed, that there were times when theeye of benevolence and the hand of charity were strangers to theunfortunate.
There are no people on the face of the earth so justly famed for theircharitable actions as that of the Confederate States.--Before theunfortunate war for separation commenced, every stranger who visitedtheir shores was received with a cordial welcome. The exile who hadbeen driven from his home on account of the tyranny of the rulers ofhis native land, always found a shelter and protection from the warmhearts and liberal hands of the people of this sunny land; and thoughoften times those who have received the aid and comfort of the South,shared its hospitalities, received protection from their enemies, andbeen esteemed as brothers, have turned like vipers and stung theirgenerous host, still it passed it heedlessly and was ever ready to doas much in the future as it had done in the past. As genial as theirnative clime, as generous as mortals could ever be, those who soughtthe assistance of the people of the South would find them ready toaccord to the deserving, all that they desired. It was indeed aglorious land; blooming with the loveliest blossoms of charity,flowing with the tears of pity for the unfortunate, and resplendentwith all the attributes of mortal's noblest impulses. Gazing on thepast, we find in the days of which we write no similitude with thedays of the war. A greater curse than had fallen on them when war waswaged on their soil, had fallen on the people of the South; all thosechivalrous ideas which had given to her people a confidence ofsuperiority over the North had vanished from the minds of those whohad not entered the Army. It was in the "tented field" that could befound those qualities which make man the true nobility of the world.It is true that among those who remained aloof from activeparticipation in the bloody contest were many men whose hearts beatwith as magnanimous a pulsation as could be found in those of thepatriots and braves of the battle-field; but they were only flowers ina garden of nature, filled with poisonous weeds that had twinedthemselves over the land and lifted up their heads above the purerplants, which, inhaling the tainted odor emitted by them, sickened anddied, or if by chance they remained and bloomed in the midst ofcontamination, and eventually rose above until they soared over theirpoisonous companions, their members were too few to make an Eden of adesert, and they were compelled to see the blossoms of humanity perishbefore them unrewarded and uncared for, surfeited in the nauseous andloathsome exhalations of a cold and heartless world, without the handof succor being extended or the pitying tear of earth's inhabitantsbeing shed upon their untimely graves.
While they, the curse of the world, how was it with them? But onethought, one desire, filled their hearts; one object, one intention,was their aim. What of the speculator and extortioner of the South,Christian as well as Jew, Turk as well as Infidel! From the hour thatthe spirit of avarice swept through the hearts of the people, theSouth became a vast garden of corruption, in which the pure anduncorrupted were as pearls among rocks. From the hour that theirfearful work after gain commenced, charity fled weeping from the midstof the people, and the demons of avarice strode triumphant over theland, heedless of the cries of the poverty stricken, regardless of themoanings of hungry children, blind to the sufferings it had occasionedand indifferent to the woe and desolation it had brought on the poor.
But all this was seen by God, and the voice of Eternity uttered acurse which will yet have effect. Even now as we write, the voice ofapproaching peace can be heard in the distance, for the waters onwhich our bark of State has been tossing for three years begins togrow calmer, while the haven of independence looms up before us, andas each mariner directs his gaze on the shore of liberty the mistwhich obscured it becomes dispelled, until the blessed resumption ofhappiness and prosperity once more presents itself, like a gleam ofsunshine on a dark and cheerless road of life.
The eye of God is at last turned upon a suffering pe
ople. The pastyears of bloody warfare were not His work; He had no agency instirring up the baser passions of mankind and imbuing the hands of menin each others blood, nor did He knowingly permit the poor to die ofwant and privation. He saw not all these, for the Eye which "seeth allthings" was turned from the scene of our desolation, and fiendstriumphed where Eternity was not, Hell reigned supreme where Heavenruled not--Earth was but a plaything in the hands of Destiny.Philanthropy may deny it--Christianity will declare it heresy--manwill challenge its truth, but it is no less true than is the universea fact beyond doubt, and beyond the comprehension of mortals todiscover its secrets.
The Trials of the Soldier's Wife Page 25