The Story of a Country Town

by E. W. Howe

Getting up from my bed, I joined him in the walk, putting my arm through his, and as we paced up and down, encountering a cruel stone wall at every turn, I bitterly accused myself that I had not been with him more during his trouble, but when I mentioned it I knew that he believed I had done all I could, though he did not speak a word, and I could not see his face; I knew it, though I did not know why. Up and down, from the right to the left; I thought half the night had passed before he returned to his bed, and even then I was convinced that he ceased walking more out of consideration for me than because he was tired. When the first rays of morning light came straggling into the dismal place I wakened again, but Jo was not in bed; he had climbed up to the grated window, and was looking out in the direction of Fairview, motionless as a statue. What was in his mind will never be known, but I have always believed that it was a longing to see his wife and the house at the mill. I fell into a light sleep again, and when it was broad daylight, he was still looking longingly toward Fairview, the little world in which his simple life had been passed; where he had created and destroyed, and where he hoped to find rest at last in the shadow of the old church.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
REAPING THE WHIRLWIND.

AFRAID to trust my own judgment with reference to Jo, whom I always thought of now as standing in the shadow of a scaffold, about four weeks after he went to jail, I resolved to visit the mill on Bull River and solicit Damon Barker’s advice, which I knew would be friendly and sensible. He was a man of excellent judgment, and though he had been to Twin Mounds but once since the trouble, I knew he was ready at any time to aid Jo, as he had said, no difference what necessity might require, and that he was only waiting a summons, trusting to me to bring it. I felt sure that Jo’s intention was to admit his guilt when called upon, and suffer the penalty, and I was not satisfied that I had done enough to dissuade him from the intention. Barker had great influence with him, and for this reason I sought his counsel and advice.

I intended to start in the middle of the afternoon, hoping to reach the mill by nightfall, and return early the next day, and an hour before my departure I went into the jail to announce to Jo that I would be away during the night. It was the first night I had been out of his company since his confinement in the prison, and I was therefore surprised that he seemed rather pleased with the prospect, though he apologized for it by saying that I had been there so long that I would enjoy a night out. He seemed to know that I was going to Barker’s to talk about him, for he asked me to thank him and Agnes for any good they might find it in their hearts to say of him; and he said over and over again how kind we all were, and how much trouble we had been to on his account.

“You must not go away feeling down at heart, or ill at ease, but cheerful,” he said, when I confessed that I was going to Barker’s in his behalf. “I will tell you something that will please you. I have studied over this matter a great deal during the past few weeks, and have come to a conclusion that will relieve us all. I will only say now that it will end all confusion and worry, and that it is the very best thing that can be done. I know that you have confidence in my judgment, and will be content to wait until you return, when you shall know all. It is not a plan that will cause you more trouble, but one that will be a relief to you, therefore be as happy as you can while away, and carry my kindest wishes to Agnes and her father. Tell them that I am well, and that in a little while we shall be through worrying over this matter, for I have hit upon a plan to relieve us of it. It is sure to work, tell them, and that they need not fear as to that. I may say it is the only thing that can be done, which you will be glad to hear, for it is sometimes hard to hit upon the right plan, but after a great deal of thought I have it. You feel better now, do you not?”

I answered him that I did, which was the case, for I believed that while I was away during the day he was thinking, and hoped that he had hit upon something that would meet with the approval of all his friends. Probably it was an escape, and a life in some distant country, where I would join him in course of time, or perhaps a plea of self-defence, backed by circumstances of which I knew nothing, but at any rate I was sure the plan was a good one, for Jo did not often make mistakes in such matters, and I felt a relief of which I was greatly in need. I determined at once to bring Barker back with me to hear the plan, and aid in its execution.

“You look happier to-day,” he said, taking both my hands in his own, “than I have seen you in a long while. I am very glad of that, and I hope I, too, look pleasant, for I am sure the plan is a good one. Do I not look much as I did when we were happy boys together; when I was your good friend, and loved you more than any one else in the world? Look at me and answer.”

I did as he requested, and saw that there was the old cheerfulness in his smile, as there had been the old tenderness in his voice.

“A little older, and a little paler,” I replied, “but certainly you look more natural to me this moment than you have for four years. And you look more like my old friend, too; for when we were boys, and you told me of your friendship, you were so earnest and feeling that tears came into your eyes. There are tears in your eyes now.”

He did not brush them away, as I expected he would, but let them roll down his cheeks and fall to the floor.