"Jim Madison, you are a murderer!" I cried in anger. The negro arose. His eyes dilated and his form seemed to expand. His demeanor lost every vestige of the servant. He stood before me a man, black, but of over-powering dignity. His face was stern, but not angry. From his six feet, he seemed to look down upon me; he spoke to me ungrammatically, but in words almost free from negroism, save in the intonation of his voice. He was my equal, and seemed to feel himself my superior. The servant had departed, and in his place was a man,—a man whose every look and gesture bespoke virile power and self-confidence.
"Mr. Jamison, your words an' indignation ain't uncalled for. In your eyes I am a aider in murder. In my eyes what I done wus right. You try to be a christian gentleman, Mr. Jamison, an' I ain't ever seen a single act to make me doubt your goodness. I've professed Christ, and I want to walk in the paths He laid for me, an' as far as a sinful man can, to be a follower of Jesus. If the Saviour'll forgive my old sins, I ain't got no fear he will hole me to account for what I done, an' seen done to-day.
"Mr. Felden told me the day before he died, that you knowed everything about him but one fact. If the Lord could 'er spared him he'd 'er told you all.
"The las' day he lived he couldn't help feelin' that some great misfortune was comin'. He told me that if anythin' happened to him to get you to be a frien' to his wife; if anything happened to 'em both, that you an' me was to be friens in all things. He didn't tell you he feared his wife's mind hung on a hinge, an' it might be easy broken; that fear made him so keerful of her. He's been afeared ever since little Jack died in Lunnun, les' some sudden shock might drive her out her head. He said if he los' her he had some duties to perform for the colored race which gave him his two trues' friens, an' if him an' Miss Rita both died I was to do it. If it wasn't that I knowed I ought to carry out his plans, I'd wish I was by his side at the bottom of the lake.
"When Miss Rita found whar her husban' laid, she wanted to go to his side. You 'member how calm she got. It was 'cause she made up her min' and was at peace. She tole me what she wanted. I knowed she'd carry it out. To her mine it wus right. Her mind you'll say wusn't balanced. But who can prove it? I'd er killed any man who tried to steal her liberty, and to lock her up."
His eyes gleamed as if the blood of his savage African ancestors was surging in his heart. "She asked me to help 'er; what could I do? If I refused, she'd go alone. If we used force here to prevent her, she'd come back, an' then she couldn't reach him to clasp him in her arms in death, as she promised she'd do when he told her their marriage wasn't legal. I says to myself, I can't prevent her, ain't it best for me to help her? It was self-destruction, but my conscience didn't make a single objection. When you went fur the shot, I helped her make a canvas gown, which covered all her body 'cept her arms. The shot you brought I run in pockets all about the dress, I rowed her to the rock in the canoe. I held the boat to the right place.
"Just before she dropt out, she cried, 'I'm comin' my husban', I'm comin'!' After she sunk, I jumped in an' follered her. She laid by her husban's side, with her breas' on his, an' her cheek close 'gainst his face. One arm was on his shoulder. I bent it roun' his neck. I told her I would. I expect she held her breath an' kep' her will till she was ready, an' then she died. She was Mars Jack's brave wife. I helpt her before she went down, and I helpt her down thar. I had to dive down five times afore I got it all right. The water was cold, but I didn't feel it."
He paused a few minutes and then continued: "Mr. Jamison, the man who could 'er resisted Miss Rita's pleadin' when she begged me to help her, would 'er been hard hearteder than me. I done it, an' I thank God I done it good.
"Mars John when he was a school boy tole me an Dineh about a good man before Christ come to save us sinners. That man took some sort 'er tea"—"Was it hemlock?" I interjected. "Yes, that wus it; he took hemlock tea, kaze the city ordered it. Mars John said that nobody ever 'cused that good man of suicide. He told us of a great many good men a long while ago who killed thar selves an' nobody called it suicide. He tole us of one great man running on a sword held out by his servant an' nobody ain't 'cused that servant of murder. Miss Rita done what the good man done a long while ago. She didn't drown herself; she went to her husband kaze she heard him callin' her. I didn't commit murder. I held the sword as 'er faithful servant oughter do."
"Now Mr. Jamison, is it better she'd be alive, the widow of a unmarried-bed; married in Heaven, but her marriage not by the law; the widow of no lawful husban'; to be pinted at by the finger of scorn? Would it be better fur her to be here, with madness peraps in her mine—maybe in a lunatic sylum, or by her husban's side, down thar in the bottom of the lake?"