"Sartin an' sure I does when de right time is come,' I sez. 'Jes' take me to de court-hous' ef you doubt Dinah's word compunctionable. I neber hab bin in dat place yit since I was sold in Georgy on de block befo' de high, wooden steps; but I knows it is more solemn to lie dar dan in Methody meetin'-house.'
"Den Mr. Bainrofe he cum out, hearin' de talk, in dat long-tailed, satin-flowered gownd ob his'n, wid a silk rope tied roun' his waist, an' gole tossels hangin' in front, jes' like a Catholic Roman or a king, an' he sez, 'Walk in here, my fren, an' don't tamper wid my servants—dat ain't gentlem'ly;' den he puts his han' on de ossifer's shoulder, an' dey walked in together, an' I listened at de do', in duty boun', an' I heerd him say, 'Plant a guard if you choose—do wateber you like—but, till dat writ am rectified, you can't sarch through my house, for a man's house is his castle here, as in de Great Britain, till de law reaches out a long arm an' a strong arm.' Dat was wat Mr. Bainrofe spounded to de ossifer, an' he 'peared 'fused-like an' flusterfied, for I peeped fru de key-hole at 'em wen dey wus talkin'. 'An,' sez he, 'dis heah paper does want de secon' seal, sure enough, since I 'xamine it, wat you, is so 'tickiler 'bout; but dat can easily be reconstructified, an' I'll be sartin sure to be here airly to-morrow morning. In de mean while, my man, McDermot, shall keep de house in his eye, an' mus' hab de liberty of lodgment.'
"Den Mr. Bainrofe he say, 'Oh, sartinly—your man, McDermot, am welcome to his bite an' sup, an' all he kin fine out'—an' he laughed, an' dey parted, mighty pleasant-like, and den he called Mrs. Raymun' and Mass' Gregory, an' I listened again. Dat's our colored way for reformation, child. An' I heerd 'em—"
"Dinah! Dinah! what are you muttering about—don't you hear Mrs. Raymond knocking? Miss Monfort must be tired out of your nonsense. What keeps you there so long?"
"I'se spounding another speritual to Miss Mirainy, an', wen I gits 'gaged in dat way, I disregards airthly knockin'. I'se listenin' to de angels hammerin' overhead, an' Mrs. Raymun' will hab to wait a spell—he! he! he!"
"Oh, go at once, Dinah, and open the door for Mrs. Raymond. I can write your song down just as well another time," I remonstrated, taking up and laying down my note-book as I spoke, so as to display my ostensible occupation to the peering eyes of Mrs. Clayton (now sitting bolt upright in her bed, looking like a Chinese bonze), for the purpose of sweeping in my position definitively.
"That will do, Dinah. Now go and get Miss Monfort's bath ready," I heard my dragoness say, after a short whispered communication from her early visitor. It was the idea, probably, to remove me, as well as Dinah, while the plot was being unfolded, and my bath-room, with its closed door, promised security from quick ears and eyes to the brace of conspirators now plotting their final blow.
Once in that belfry, and truly might the sense of Dante's famous inscription become my motto for life: "Here hope is left behind."
I covered my eyes as I recalled that dreary, dreadful prison-house of clock and bell, into which I had clambered once by means of a movable step-ladder, rarely left there by the attendant, in order to rescue my famished cat, shut up there by accident. I recollected the maddened look of the creature, as it flew by me like a flash, frightened out of its wits, Mrs. Austin had said, by the clicking of the machinery of the huge clock, and the chiming of the responsive bell. Both were silent now, and there was room enough for a prisoner's cot in that lonely and dismantled turret as there once had been for a telescope and its rest, used for astronomical purposes at long intervals by my father and a few of his scientific friends, but finally dismantled and put aside forever.
I could imagine myself a denizen, at the will of Bainrothe, of that weird, gray belfry, shut up with that silent clock, in company with a bed, a chair, and table, denied, perchance, even the comfort of a stove, for fear the flue might utter smoke, and, with it, that kind of revelation, said proverbially to accompany such manifestations; denied books, even writing-materials, the sight of a human face, and furnished with food merely sufficing in quantity and quality to keep soul and body together!