"Miss Lou" Part 48

Miss Lou, sitting helplessly in her room, felt instinctively that she did not wish even to speak to him.

To Chunk, this Union advance was a G.o.dsend. He immediately took his horse to the railroad town, sold it for a small sum, and found employment at the station, where his great strength secured him good wages. He could handle with ease a barrel akin to himself in shape and size.

Uncle l.u.s.thah suddenly found immense responsibility thrust upon him. In the opinion of the slaves the time and seasons he had predicted and asked his flock to wait for had come. Negroes from other and nearer plantations were thronging to the town, and those at The Oaks were rapidly forming the purpose to do likewise. They only waited the sanction of their religious teacher to go almost in a body. The old preacher was satisfied they would soon go any way, unless inducements and virtual freedom were offered. He therefore sought Mr. Baron and stated the case to him.

The old planter would listen to nothing. He was too honorable to temporize and make false promises. "Bah!" he said, irritably, "the Yanks will soon be driven off as they were before. I can't say you are free! I can't give you a share in the crops! It's contrary to the law of the State and the whole proper order of things. I wouldn't do it if I could. What would my neighbors think? What would I think of myself?

What a fine condition I'd be in after the Yanks are all driven from the country! No, I shall stand or fall with the South and maintain the inst.i.tutions of my fathers. If you people leave me now and let the crops go to waste you will soon find yourselves starving. When you come whining back I'll have nothing to feed you with."

Uncle l.u.s.thah cast an imploring look on Miss Lou where she sat in her chair, with more interest expressed in her wan face than she had shown for a long time.

"Uncle l.u.s.thah," she said earnestly, "don't you leave me. As soon as I am able I'll buy you of uncle and set you free. Then you can always work for me."

"I doan wanter lebe you, young mistis, I sut'ny doan, ner der ole place whar I al'ays libed. But freedom sweet, young mistis, en I wanter feel I free befo' I die."

"You shall, Uncle l.u.s.thah. You have earned YOUR freedom, anyway."

"Tut, tut, Louise, that's no way to talk," said her uncle testily.

The old slave looked from one to the other sorrowfully, shook his head and slowly retired.

"Remember what I said," Miss Lou called after him, and then sank back in her chair.

Uncle l.u.s.thah had to relate the result of his conference, and the consequence was an immediate outbreak of a reckless, alienated spirit.

That afternoon the field hands paid no attention to Mr. Baron's orders, and he saw that slaves from other plantations were present. Uncle l.u.s.thah sat at his door with his head bowed on his breast. His people would listen to him no more, and he himself was so divided in his feelings that he knew not what to say.

"Hit may be de Lawd's doin's ter set He people free," he muttered, "but somehow I kyant brung mysef ter lebe dat po' sick chile. Ole mars'r en ole miss kyant see en woan see, en dat lil chile w'at stan' up fer us in de 'stremity ob triberlation be lef wid no one ter do fer her. I berry ole en stiff in my jints en I cud die peaceful ef I know I free; but hit 'pears that de Lawd say ter me, 'Uncle l.u.s.thah, stay right yere en look arter dat lil sick lam'. Den I mek you free w'en de right time come.'"

Uncle l.u.s.thah soon had the peace of the martyr who has chosen his course. Mr. Baron also sat on his veranda with head bowed upon his breast. He too had chosen his course, and now in consequence was sunk in more bitter and morose protest than ever. Events were beyond his control and he knew it, but he would neither yield nor change. This was the worst that had yet befallen him. Black ruin stared him in the face, and he stared back with gloomy yet resolute eyes. "I will go down with my old colors flying," he resolved, and that was the end of it.

His wife was with him in sympathy, but her indomitable spirit would not be crushed. She was almost ubiquitous among the house and yard slaves, awing them into a submission which they scarcely understood and inwardly chafed at. She even went to the quarters and produced evident uneasiness by her stern, cutting words. None dared reply to her, but when the spell of her presence was removed all resumed their confused and exultant deliberations as to their future course.

Aun' Jinkey, sitting with Miss Lou, scoffed at the idea of going away.

"Long ez my chimly-corner en my pipe dar I dar too," she said. "Dis freedom business so mux up I kyant smoke hit out nohow."

Zany was in a terribly divided state of mind. Were it not for Miss Lou, she would have been ready enough to go, especially as she had heard that Chunk was at the railroad town. Her restless spirit craved excitement and freedom: a townful of admirers, with Chunk thrown in, was an exceedingly alluring prospect. With all her faults, she had a heart, and the sick girl had won her affection unstintedly. When therefore Miss Lou summoned her and fixed her sad, pleading blue eyes upon her, the girl threw her ap.r.o.n over her head and began to cry "Doan say a word, Miss Lou," she sobbed, "doan ax me not ter go kase ef you does I kyant go."

"Sech foolishness!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Aun' Jinkey with a disdainful sniff.

"She lebe you des lak a cat dat snoop off enywhar en arter enybody w'at got mo' vittles. Wat she keer?"

Down came the ap.r.o.n, revealing black eyes blazing through the tears which were dashed right and left as Zany cried, "You ole himage, w'at you keer? You tink a hun'erd times mo' ob yer pipe ner Miss Lou. Long ez you kin smoke en projeck in dat ar ole cabin hole you woan lebe his 'less you turned out. I des gwine ter stay out'n spite en doan wanter go a hun'erd mile ob dat gran'boy ob yourn."

"There, Zany," said Miss Lou gently, holding out her hand. "I understand you and Aun' Jinkey both, and you both are going to stay out of love for me. I reckon you won't be sorry in the end."

Up went the ap.r.o.n again and Zany admitted, "I kyant lebe you, Miss Lou, I des kyant," as she rushed away to indulge in the feminine relief of tears without stint.

Mr. and Mrs. Baron pa.s.sed a sleepless night, for even the question of food would be problematical if all the able-bodied men and women on the place went away. In the early dawn there were ominous sounds at the quarters, and as the light increased a spectacle which filled the old planter and his wife with rage was revealed. The quarters were empty and all were trooping toward the avenue with bundles containing their belongings. This was to be expected, but the act which excited the direst indignation was the hitching of the only pair of mules left on the place that were worth anything to the old family carriage. Aun'

Suke was waddling toward this with the feeling that a "char'ot wuz waitin' fer her now, sho!"

Mr. and Mrs. Baron looked at each other in quick, comprehensive sympathy, then hastily and partially dressed. Mr. Baron took his revolver while "ole miss" s.n.a.t.c.hed a sharp carving-knife from the dining-room. By the time they reached the scene, Aun' Suke filled the back seat of the carriage and the rest of the s.p.a.ce was being filled with babies.

"Stop that!" shouted Mr. Baron. "Before I'll let you take my mules I'll shoot 'em both."

"Ole miss" wasted no time in threats--she simply cut the traces and there were Aun' Suke and the babies stranded. The negroes drew together on one side and master and mistress on the other. The faces of the latter were aglow with anger; on the countenances of the former were mingled perplexity and sullen defiance, but the old habit of deference still had its restraining influence.

"Go and starve and leave us to starve, if you will," shouted Mr. Baron, "but you shall steal none of my property."

Angry mutterings began among the negroes, and it were hard to say how the scene would have ended if old Uncle l.u.s.thah had not suddenly appeared between the opposing parties, and held up his hand impressively.

"I gib up my charnce ter be free," he began with simple dignity. "My body 'longs ter you yit, mars'r en misus; but not my speret. Out'n dat I gwine ter speak plain fer de fear ob man clean gone fum me. Mars'r, w'at I say ter you? Lak ole Pharo, you t'ink yo'sef bigger'n de Lawd.

Ef you'd done spoke ter de hans en say 'des go home en dar de crops en shar' togeder' dey ud stayed en wucked fer you 'tented like, but you des talk lak ole Pharo. Now de people gwine en you kyant stop dem. We knowed 'bout de prokermation ob de gre't Link.u.m. We know we bin free dis long time. We al'ays know you no right ter keep us slabes. Dis yer G.o.d's worl'. Hit don't 'long ter you en misus. He ain't stoppin' ter 'suit you 'bout He doin's. Ef you s'mitted ter He will you'd a gwine 'long easy lak de crops grow in spring-time. Now hit des de same ez ef you plant de crops in de fall en'spect de Lawd ter turn de winter inter summer ter please you. I berry ole en had 'spearance. I'se prayed all de long night en de Lawd's gib me ter see inter de futer. Lak Moses I may never git in de promised lan' ob freedom, but hit dar en you kyant kep de people out'n hit. Ef you doan bend ter He will, you breaks. Wen all de han's gone en de fiel's is waste t'ink ober de trufe. De Lawd did'n mek dis yer worl' ter suit you en misus. P'raps He t'ink ez much ob dem po' souls dar (pointing at the negroes) ez ob yourn. Didn't I stan' wid dem w'at die ter mek us free? Der blood wateh dis hull lan'

en I feels. .h.i.t in my heart dat de Lawd'll brung up a c.r.a.p dis lan'

neber saw befo'. Please reckermember, mars'r en misus, de gre't wuck ob de Lawd gwine right along des ez ef you ain' dar."

Then the old man turned to the negroes and in his loud, melodious voice concluded, "I gibs you one mo' 'zortation. You IS free, but ez I say so of'un you ain' free ter do foolishness. Tek yo' wibes en chil'un; dey yourn. Tek yo' clo'es; you arned urn en much mo', but you kyant tek de mules en de ker'age: dey mars'r's. Go en wuck lak men en wimmin fer hon'st wages en show you fit ter be free. Reckermember all I tole you so of'un. De Lawd go wid you en kep you in de way ob life everlas'in'."

The better element among the negroes prevailed, for they felt that they had had a spokesman who voiced their best and deepest feelings. One after another came and wrung the hand of the old man and departed. To "Pharo" and his wife few vouchsafed a glance, for they had cut the cord of human sympathy. Many messages of affection, however, were left for Miss Lou. The mothers took the babies from the carriage, Aun' Suke was helped out and she sulkily waddled down the avenue with the rest. By the time she reached the main road her powers of locomotion gave out, causing her to drop, half-hysterical, by the wayside. Some counselled her to go back, saying they would come for her before long; but pride, shame and exhaustion made it almost as difficult to go back as to go forward, and so she was left lamenting. With stern, inflexible faces, master and mistress watched their property depart, then returned to the house, while Uncle l.u.s.thah mended the harness temporarily and took the carriage back to its place. Standing aloof, Zany had watched the scene, wavering between her intense desire to go and her loyalty to Miss Lou.

The sick girl had conquered, the negress winning an heroic victory over herself. When she entered the back door of the mansion, her face rigid from the struggle she had pa.s.sed through, she was in no lamb-like mood.

Neither was her mistress, who was angrier than she had ever been in her life.

"Well," she said to Zany in cold, cutting tones, "what are you doing here? Looking around for something to carry off before you go also?"

Stung to the quick by this implied charge and lack of appreciation of her great self-sacrifice, Zany replied hotly, "I done wid you, misus. I tek no mo' orders fum you. I stay fer sump'n you doan know not'n 'bout--lub, but lub fer Miss Lou. Ef she kyant 'tect em 'gin you den I go."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

A NEW ROUTINE

It certainly was a dismal, shrunken household that Mrs. Baron presided over that morning. Aun' Jinkey came to the rescue and prepared a meagre breakfast. Miss Lou's room being on the side of the house furthest from the scenes of the early morning, she had slept on till Zany wakened her. She listened in a sort of dreary apathy to all that had occurred, feeling that she was too weak physically and too broken-spirited to interfere. She also had the impression that it would have been of no use--that her uncle and aunt were so fixed in their ways and views that nothing but harsh experience could teach them anything. In answer to Zany's appeal for protection against "ole miss" Miss Lou said, "We won't say anything more about it now till you get over your hurt feelings, which are very natural. Of course my aunt can't punish you--that's out of the question now, but by and by I reckon you will do for her out of love for me when you see it will save me trouble. You have done a good, unselfish act in staying with me, and having begun so well, you will keep on in the same way. After all of the rest get free you will, too. What's more, when I come into my property I'll make free all who stand by me now."

So Zany brought her up a nice little breakfast and was comforted.

When at last the young girl with weak, uncertain steps came down to her easy-chair on the piazza, she found her uncle gloomily smoking, and her aunt solacing her perturbed mind with her chief resource--housekeeping affairs. Little was said beyond a formal greeting.

As Miss Lou sat gazing vacantly and sadly down the avenue, a huge figure appeared, making slow, painful progress toward the house. At last Aun' Suke was recognized, and the truth flashed across the girl's mind that the fat old cook had found she could not get away. Finally the woman sat down under a tree not far from the house, not only overcome by heat and fatigue, but also under the impression that she must open negotiations before she could expect to be received.

"There," said Mr. Baron grimly, "is one of them coming back already.

They'll be sneaking, whining back when the crops are spoiled and it's too late."

Miss Lou rose feebly and got an old sunshade from the hall.

"Louise, you are not able--I forbid it."

The girl felt she had strength to get to the old woman but not enough to contend with her uncle, so she went slowly down the steps without a word. Mr. Baron growled, "I might as well speak to the wind as to anybody on the place any more."

When Aun' Suke saw the girl coming to her she scrambled to her feet, and holding up her hands e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed all sorts of remorseful and deprecatory comments.