On our way down the river the next morning, the Colonel reverted to Major Speed’s ill-starred visit.
“I presume that you would think, suh, that the interests of the living ah paramount to those of the dead, and that I ought to tell Majah Speed’s story to the world. His memory and the memory of that black heahted vahlet, Milt Tuttle, would suffeh, and Tuttle’s ought to suffeh, but my vindication would be complete. Natu’ally I do not enjoy being looked at askance, and I sometimes think that I ought to remove the stigma that now rests on my name.”
I advised him to let matters remain as they were, inasmuch as he could produce no proof of the facts, and little would be gained by stirring up the affair.
“But I do not need proof of facts, they would have my wo’d of honah, suh!”
I explained the uncertain value of a “wo’d of honah” in that part of the country. I refrained from telling him that I thought his reputation would not be much improved by his explanation, for he would at least still be regarded as an “accessory after the fact” because of his admission of the protection to Speed.
“By the way, Colonel,” I asked, in order to change the subject, “what did you finally do about Pud Calkins?”
“Pud Calkins? I killed him, suh, at Vicksbu’g. That cuss disappeahed entiahly f’om from memoahs while I was in jail, and I assuah you, suh, that I heaved a sigh of relief when that man fell. I can now go ahead with my combination novel and memoahs without his bobbing up and down in the plot every time I sit down to write.”
It occurred to me that the casualties among those whom the fates whirled into the Colonel’s orbit were becoming rather numerous.
“I am vehy sorry to tell you that when you come down heah again, you will probably not find me,” he continued. “I am in a vehy bad predicament about the place where I live. As you know, I inherited that place in good faith, but I find theah has been a mo’tgage on it that I didn’t know anything about. The damned editeh of that scurrilous sheet has in some way got possession of that mo’tgage. I am unable to meet its obligations, suh, and I must move, probably this winteh. I will go back to Tennessee, wheah the sun shines without expense to anybody, and wheah a gentleman commands respect even though he is unfo’tunate. I may have to walk to Tennessee, but I will make a sho’t call at the home of that buzza’d that runs that newspapah, the evening that I go away, suh!”
The Colonel and I had spent happy days together, and it was with genuine sadness that I bade him farewell a few days later. He was a mellow old soul, ruled by emotions, and not by reason, drifting aimlessly on a sea of troubles, totally lost to every consideration except his childish vanity and the memories of a threadbare chivalry. He easily adjusted his conscience to any point of view that conformed to his interest, and suffered keenly from sensitiveness. Fate had thrown him into an environment with which he could not mingle, and it was perhaps better that he should go. When all else failed, there was a world in his imaginative brain in which he could live, and woe to those who have not these realms of fancy when the shadows come.