"Marse cap'n, I'se seen de mos' po'ful feelin's en miseries ob de 'victed ones vaperate lak de maunin' dew en I'se larn in my ole age dat de sabin po'r ain' in we uns, ner in any ting we is ob oursefs ner in w'at we po' lil chil'n of yearth kin do. De Lawd say, He come ter seek en sabe de loss; I wuz loss. De wuss ting He enemies cud speak agin 'Im wuz, Dis man 'ceiveth sinners: I wuz a sinner. I des arst 'Im ter sabe me, en He did. I des trus' 'Im fer life en death en does de bes' I kin. Dat's all. But hit's 'SPEARANCE, marse cap'n, en I KNOWS hit. Now, marse cap'n, w'at fo' you go way in the de dark, you dunno whar? De bressed Lawd say, I go ter prepare a place fer you. Now you des let young mistis write ter yo' folks dat you gwine wid Jesus ter dat ar place en dat you gwine ter wait fer dem dar en welcome urn home bime by des lak dey wud welcome you home way up Norf. Dat ud comf't em a heap, en hit's all true. I knows hit. Young mistis berry sens'ble w'en she say we neber orter be bawn ef hit ain' true."
The officer looked fixedly at the tearful, wrinkled face for a few moments and then said firmly, "I'll soon find out if it's true. If I do this thing at all, I'll do it in the only way I can. Miss Baron, you may write to my wife that I accept her faith. It's much the same as Uncle Lusthah's—too simple and unphilosophical, I used to think; but it meets my need now. I can't deal even with God in any other way than this. The mind he has endowed me with revolts at anything else as hypocritical. I can and do say that I will accept in grateful, downright sincerity the terms which Uncle Lusthah accepted, which my wife accepted. I submit myself to His will. I do this calmly, as I would give my hand and pledge my faith to a man, and I cannot do any more. Now He may do with me as He pleases. Miss Baron, you do the same and you'll be just as good—yes, a much better Christian than I, for I've done rough, bad things in my life. Don't you wait till you're in my extremity. I must say that I have a wretched sense of self-contempt that I am looking Heavenward with dying eyes. There's only one thing that reconciles me to it—the words 'Our Father.' God knows that I'd open my arms to my little Sadie under any possible circumstances. What the old man here says must be true, for to trifle with or mock a man in my position presupposes a degree of malignity inconceivable. I ask nothing better than that Christ will receive me as I would receive my child from world-wide wandering."
"Ah, bress He big gret heart," cried Uncle Lusthah, dropping on his knees, "w'en yo' fader en yo' moder forsook you den de Lawd took you up."
"Miss Baron, I wish to think a while and learn from Borden just how much time I have left. You will come to me again?"
"Yes, whenever you wish."
"Well, then, good-by for a short time. Thank God for sending me such an angel of death. You stay with me, uncle, till I send you for Borden."
CHAPTER XXX
GLIMPSES OF MOODS AND MINDS
Dr. Borden's predictions were verified in regard to his friend and patient, Captain Hanfield, but not before the officer had dictated calm, farewell letters to his wife and "little Sadie." To Miss Lou were left the serene, smiling likenesses, a grave to be cared for beside Yarry's, and a memory that could never be blotted out. She was kept from witnessing the terrible convulsions which began soon after her interview, but was present at his death and held his hand until it was cold and lifeless.
Within two weeks after the battle very few patients were left, and all these were to go with Dr. Ackley on the following day, Lieutenant Waldo excepted. He was still too weak to be moved. His mother had become so skilful in the care of his wound that she would be competent, with the help of an aged resident practitioner, to carry him through his convalescence. Mrs. Whately now spent most of the time on her plantation, her presence being needed there to remedy the effects, as far as possible, of the harsh measures at first adopted by her son. It was discouraging effort. The strong ebb tide in the old order of things had set in even far from the Union lines, and only the difficulty in reaching them prevented a general stampede of the negroes. As it was, two or three of her best hands would steal away from time to time, and run the gantlet of many dangers in their travel by night Northward. Her attempts to mollify and render her slaves contented were more than counterbalanced by the threats and severity of her son, who was too vacillating to adopt a fixed policy, and arbitrary by nature.