THE PARTING OF THE WAYS.
Afflictive dispensations had so often heaped up against the horizon of Alice's affections, frowning, angry clouds; the memory of bier and pall had so cruelly overlaid her young life with its gloom that but for the solace of religion, there would be no refuge from the bitterness of her grief; from the shadows of the grave. But in her mother's chamber, with her mother's precious Bible in her hands, she felt that there was a fountain opened up before her, yes in the very house of David. "Blessed Book! What is life without thee?" she exclaimed. "Is it not a faithful transcript of the last will of our Redeemer? Is it not the key that unlocks the door of Heaven? Yea the guide that elaborates its beauties? 'Eye hath not seen; ear hath not heard; neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive of those things which He hath prepared for them that love Him.'" She felt that in the world's tragedy of sin it was indeed a savor of life unto life; that it erects in the human soul, where there is sin, sorrow and despair, a sanitarium; rendering good for evil, giving back pardon for injury; preferring pity to vengeance; kneeling always upon the heights of virtue to uplift the broken-hearted. Whether its blessed truths be spoken in prophecy or narrative; whether whispered from the sepulchre or the crypt; whether thundered from Sinai or Mars Hill; they tenderly lead poor, fallen human nature into the portals of immortality, into the very gate of Heaven. "Has not religion," she asked, "given to humanity an uplifted brow? Has it not admonished man to put away from him every mercenary calculation and to realize that the scourges of sin are rotting whip cords? Ah yes, wherever there is a tear, there is love, wherever anguish there is consolation, whenever the night is dark and starless and there are deep shadows, an angel stands with bowed head and welcoming arms. What a balm for the scarified, bleeding heart! A precious pearl of great price in a casket of exceeding beauty; a sword of ethereal temper that divides unto the sundering of bone and marrow; but there are diamonds upon the hilt and golden tracery upon the scabbard. Ah, the resurrection, who gives this promise, this faith, this hope? In all the dead aeons of dead centuries, science, nature, man, have asked in vain 'If a man die shall he live again?'—But just as in scaling a beautiful mountain, it needs no chemistry to analyze the air, to tell us that it is free from miasma, as every breath which paints a ruddier glow upon the cheek and sends a tonic tide through the body, will tell of its invigorating touch; so it needs no analysis, no reasoning, to persuade a spiritual mind that the air of Heaven, the breath of God is in this book; and just as on Tabor's brow, when from Christ His own glory pierced its callous, unfeeling sides, it needed no refracting prism to tell us that it was the sunburst of more than earthly radiance the pilgrims were gazing upon. So when a Bible chapter is transfigured, when the Holy Spirit transmutes into it his grace and glory, it will require neither a Paley or Shenstone to prove that the power and wisdom of God are there; but radiant with emitted splendor, in God's own light we will see it to be God's own Book, and know it to be His blessed revelation. 'I know that my Redeemer liveth and that in my flesh I shall see God.' The light of faith in the afflicted man of God was burning feebly, but he begins to feel now the strength, the virtue, which lies in innocency, as if God were beginning to reveal Himself within him. He heeds no longer the hyper-Calvinist when he tells him, 'Thou has taken a pledge from thy brother for naught, and stripped the naked of their clothing; thou has not given water to the weary, and thou hast withholden bread from the hungry.' He raises his finger as if he would command attention and exclaims, not in irony, but in tranquil self-possession, 'God forbid that I should justify you; till I die, I will not remove my integrity from me. My righteousness I will not let go. My heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.'
"Pictorial scriptures, truly, comprehending all manners, all conditions, all countries. Egypt with the Nile and the Pyramids, the nomad Arabs, the bewildered caravans, the heat of the tropics, the ice of the north, are there; all save the frozen heart of Jewish traditions and ceremonials. How divinely transfigured every page of the precious Book, wherein is life eternal!"
In the great voiceless halls and chambers there was no sound but her poor, tumultuous heart beating wildly against a bosom sore with weeping. Alas, for ties that are so fragile, for pleasures that are so transitory! Old Clarissa would steal tip-toe to her chamber, but she dared not enter, and would return as softly to the kitchen.
"Po Miss Alice, she do suffer mazin. Pears lak ebery now und den when her eyes gits bright und her face is sunny und sweet, und her lafter is lak de ripplin ob de little brook in de medder, dat de good Lord draps anudder drug in de cup und maks her drink ebery drap. Dere aint a gwine to be no mo sorrer for Miss Alice now; yung Mars Harry is gon, und missis is gon, und ole marser is gon, und bimeby her eyes is agwine to git bright agin, und her purty solemcholly face is er gwine to be full of smiles, und de little birds is ergwine to hang dere heads und drap to sleep when she sings dem lubly ole fashined himes agin."
The poor girl finally fell asleep. It was the only anodyne that nature had in her laboratory for a broken heart; and she slept as tranquilly as a little child. She awoke refreshed by dreams, peopled by friends of her early childhood, many of whom were living and happy. She went into the kitchen, to give directions to Clarissa, whom she found at her accustomed labor. Crushed and spiritless as she was, there was comfort for her in the broken, incoherent utterances of the old negro.
"Don't cry no mo," said Clarissa quite sympathetically. "I used to heer ole missis say when she was ailin monstrous bad, dat ebery cloud had a silver linin, und I beliebs it pine plank. I beliebs dat when de good Lord sends trouble on dis here lan He's ergwine ter sen grace too. Dat's my belief, yung misses, und I'm ergwine to lib by it und I'm ergwine to die by it. When I looked down into ole marser's grave and seed all dem lilies ob de walley kivered up in de dirt, I node de good Lord was not ergwine to mommuck up ole marser's soul fur nuthin. I node dere wuz ergwine to be a transplantin in His hebenly garden of all de beautifullest flowers dat withers and parishes here in dese low grouns oh sorror, und I sez to mysef, dat I specks ole missis is er runnin ter meet ole marser dis bery minit, wid boff hans chock full ob white roses und jonquils und lilies ob de walley. Duz yer kno what I beliebs, Miss Alice?" she continued, as she wiped her eyes in her old checked apron. "When I sees a little white flower er droopin und er dying in ole missis' garden, I nose dat she hez cum down fru de purly gates to pull it und tak it back in her busum to yung Mars Harry; und when I sees a little teensy baby a droopin und er dyin jest lak dat little flower, I nose de good Lawd is er takin it home in His busum too. Wun ob dese days yu und me is agwine ter see fur oursefs. Bress de Lawd!"
The days were passing now so languidly, and wretchedness was still brooding in the heart of Alice. To one event, however, she looked forward with intense yearnings. There was somewhere in the wide, wide world a great sympathetic heart perpetually telegraphing its love, and she was feeling the electric current in its pulsations every moment in the day. He had promised to come again in the mellow, fragrant month of October, before the flowers fade and die; when the artist of nature is painting the foliage upon the trees green, purple and golden, and with a richer iris the twilight sky, and dappling the fleecy clouds. Yes, he is coming, not as the judge of the assizes, but as a prisoner of hope. Her affections hitherto were divided—now he yearns for the whole heart. Coming to endow her with a treasure selfishly coveted above rubies and diamonds, above principalities and thrones; coming to plight his troth at God's altar, that in sickness and in health they would cling to one another till death doth part them.
How would Alice appear in her funereal robes before him, before the altar? Perhaps Clarissa can reassure her in this dilemma.
"Miss Alice," she exclaimed as she clapped her hands approvingly, "If yer is as butiful when the jedge cums as yer is now, dat er po man is ergwine stracted wid hissef. I clare fore my blessed Marster up yander if I had er node how butiful yer is agwine ter look in dat black mourning, I wuld er swaded yer to dun und dun it fore ole marsa died." And what is going to become of Clarissa and Ned? The mildew of age is upon them both. For years past their old heads have been whitening with the hoar frost. "Now ole marsa is dun und gon, de fambly is ergwine to break up und de grate house is agwine to be the home of de owls, und de swallers und de bull-bats." So thought Clarissa as in the quiet gloaming she stood in the verandah, and listened to the melancholy winds and the more melancholy bleating of the cattle. Ned had been doing little chores about the house all the day, and after he had eaten his supper, he and Clarissa had by permission assembled in the dining-room where they found their young mistress engaged in some light needle work. She of course welcomed the negroes heartily. They were her friends and had been through many sore trials.
Clarissa was the first to break the silence, as she enquired of her young mistress the day of the month.
"It is the 27th day of September replied Alice."
"Ugh! Ugh! I tole yer so Ned. Aint nex mont October?" she asked again.
"Yes, why do you ask?" replied Alice.
"Kase Ned sed the jedge warnt agwine to cum no mo twell juvember. Ned is flustrated monstrus, Miss Alice. So skeered de jedge is ergwine to tak yer away frum me und him."
"And if he does, I am sure you will both be very glad," Alice replied.
"Dat mout be so, yung mistress ef me und Clarsy wus peerter und cud fend fur deyselves. But bofe uv us is mity cranksided now er days, und de Lord in Heaben only nose whar we'se agwine to git ary moufful ob wittles when yu is dun und gon to de tother eend ov de yearth. Me und Clarsy slaved fur ole marsa fore de bellyun fell, und we aint got no ole marsa to look bak to now, und we puts our pendence in yu yung mistress."
"If I go away, Uncle Ned," replied Alice, "you and Clarissa shall never suffer as long as I live."
"Ugh! Ugh! now yer got de wurd," exclaimed Clarissa in tears.
"I haint er mistrusting yu Miss Alice," Ned answered, quite dejectedly, as he raised his old coat sleeve to his face, "but when yer is dun und gon clean away how is yer eber agwine to git to us, ef me er Clarissy mout need ye? Dar is de pint right dar, misses. Ef I hes er bad miserry in my head, und calls fur Miss Alice she cums lak er butterfly und lays her soft hands on my po head und de missery stops rite short; und ef I hankers arter er chiken it is de same fing. Ef yer duz go erway, misses, old Ned will follow yer with his shaky jints twill yer gits clean, clar outen site, und pray ebery day de Lord sens, dat yer mout be ez happy as de angels."
It was Alice's turn as a matter of conceit to ask the old negro what he thought of Judge Livingstone?
"Dat is a pinted questun," Ned answered hesitatingly.
"You mout ax me ef he was er suple man und dat wudn't be a pinted questun, but yung missis I'm bleeged to mistrust dese furreners dat cums down here und spreads deyselves all ober de lan, und fetches freedum und de horg colery, und plays ruination wid our white fokses, und den runs clean clar away wid our white gals, upsotting de whole creashun wid dey flamborgasted fixments. You mout be happy way off yander to de tuther eend ob de yearth, den agin you mouten. Yer can't tell misses how fur de bull-frog is ergwine ter jump by lookin at his mouf."
To the foregoing argument Clarissa was assenting by repeated nods of the head, ejaculating occasionally "Ugh! Ugh! dats de gospel trufe."
"But Uncle Ned," enquired Alice, "would you have me as your friend, a poor lonely girl to remain at Ingleside without protection? Why don't you know I would be miserable?"
"Yer mout be miserabler dan yer is, misses. Heep er times our white gals finks dey is er upsotting de yearth by gittin jined to de furreners when dey is er flinging de fat in de fire. Look at dat white gal ober de medder. She run away wid wun ob dese carpet-sackers, und she wus dat proud dat she wud hold her nose ef de po white trash breshed up agin her cote skeerts. Und where is she now?"
"Ugh! Ugh!" ejaculated Clarissa. "Wid de furrener in de penitenshur, und she ergwine to de ole kommissary fur her rashuns. Don't yer see?" exclaimed Clarissa.
"Now misses I aint er sensing yer wid nun ob dis bad luck, und I aint er putting de jedge on er ekality wid de furrener in de penitenshur, but yer don't know misses what is ergwine to happen when de rope is er roun yer neck, und de furrener has got hold ob de tuther eend."
"Dat yer don't," exclaimed Clarissa, rocking to and fro.
"Und yer don't know missis whar me und Clarissa is ergwine when dat ar jedge gits to be de boss ob dis heer plantashun."
"Oh my Lord," shouted Clarissa as she burst into tears. "Dats maks me ses wat I dos, yung missis, dat yu axes me a pinted questun. Dats de truf. It sho is."
Old Ned groaned as the gravity of the argument seemed to affect him and brushed a tear from his eye with the sleeve of his coat. The matter was of momentous consequence to these old landmarks of a decayed civilization, and they felt it acutely. Old Master as long as he lived had held out the lighted candle to light up the dreary, tortuous paths into which reconstruction was driving the old negroes; but the flame had died down into cold ashes, and the hand that held it aloft was nerveless and dead. There came as it were to their old hearts a sad, sad refrain—"Breaking up! breaking up!" It came from the winds that moaned in and out of broken window shutters. It came from the feathered songsters, Prima Donnas of the air, who were sending forth their advance agents to secure homes in Southern climes. "Breaking up! breaking up!" Between such as these and their former masters were there not higher and holier feelings and relations than those of master and servant? Without them the South would have been the mere appurtenance of the commercial North, dragging after it the weary chain of colonial dependence. What a wilderness of wealth they brought to our firesides, what a teeming aggregation of populous and powerful states! Let us at least give these old slaves one look of kindness in the desolate twilight of their lingering days.
The old negroes bade their young mistress a hearty good night. "May de angels shelter yer dis nite und all tuther nites wid dere whings, missis," exclaimed Ned as he followed Clarissa out of the door. It was the saddest of all anticipations. They loved Alice as if she were the apple of the eye—the heart's core. Their sufferings and privations, their joys and happiness in common, had touched as it were the two extremes of the varied horizon of life. And now they were advancing toward the parting of the ways. Ned and Clarissa, with unsteady, faltering footsteps toward the sunset, the gloaming, the end of life; the young mistress toward the sunrise, never so resplendent as now.
Judge Livingstone, with his clerical friend from the North, arrived at the appointed time at Ingleside; he a bachelor of thirty-five, to wed this beautiful heiress, the exquisite flower that had budded and bloomed like a rose for twenty-six seasons. Arrived to lacerate the old slavish hearts, that clung so helplessly to the young mistress, like morning glories around the fair flower. Arrived to snatch from Ingleside so rudely its life, its hope, its promise—the all in all to poor Clarissa and old Ned. "Eben ole Jube knows dat sumfing solemkolly is ergwine to happin," observed Clarissa to her young mistress, as she assisted the bride in her adornments for the nuptial hour. "Jess look at dat ole fafeful dorg a lyin dare jess a strugglin wid his moshuns, lak he was a humans sho nuff."
The minister stood at the little altar in the parlor. The ring that Alice had given to "Arthur" was slipped upon her finger, and in the presence of the angels, Judge Livingstone and Alice were made man and wife. As Ned and Clarissa passed out of the little verandah, Ned observed with streaming eyes, "Now Clarsy, dere is no mo music fur us but de crickets upon de hath. Miss Alice has dun und sung her las hime und we kaint foller Miss Alice whar she is ergwine no mo. Ef we uns is tuk sick we kaint holler fur Miss Alice no mo. I feels lak I haint got no frend now. Miss Alice dun jined hersef to dat furriner."
"Dat is Gords truf Ned," exclaimed Clarissa as she drew her old checked apron across her eyes, "Hit pears lak dere is nuffin in dis wurrel epseps tribulashun of sperits. But bress her dear heart," the old negro continued, "I hope she may be jes es happy es de larks down in de medder, und dat when she arrivs way ober yander whar she is er gwine she will send her membrunces to me und yu fortwid."
It was necessary that Ingleside should be placed in first class order. Above all things else it was necessary that ample provision should be made for Clarissa and Ned. These arrangements in minutest detail were satisfactorily made, as the Judge observed to his bride one morning after the wedding, "Do you not grieve to part from your old friends, my dear?"
Tears came into the sweet girl's eyes as she replied so tenderly, "Yes, yes, they cling so helplessly to me, but dear Arthur, you will not forget them, will you?"
[THE END.]
[ERRATA.]
In the 15th line, page 78, for "permit" read "pretermit."
In line 25, page 99, the word "first" should read "fifth."
In line 2, page 139, for "preservingly" read "perseveringly."
Transcriber's Note:
- Added List of Illustrations.
- The Errata noted at the end of the text have been corrected in this version.