"I suspect you do," I rejoined; "and remember, if you do know of any evil about to take place, and do not inform me, you will be an accomplice."
"Master, I do not know anything," replied Zed; "but I do not like the looks of things. I will tell you all I do know, and will lay down my life for you, master, for you have been a very kind master to me. This evening I went out to take a walk all by myself; and, down in the wood out there, I saw a good number of coloured gentlemen together--more nor common--and they were not talking loud and laughing, nor poking fun at each other; but they had all got their heads together and were whispering quite low; and Nat Turner was there, and Nelson, and Harry, and James, and several more who, at the time of the preaching, I overheard say very wild things. So I say to myself, 'I'll go home and load master's pistols--no knowing what may happen.'"
"Did you see any arms amongst them?" I inquired.
"No; they had no arms," he answered; "not even sticks; but they had a great big demi-john of some liquor."
"Most probably they were out upon some frolic," I suggested, entertaining some slight suspicion that my good friend Zed had not entirely forgotten the beating he had received in coming from the camp-meeting. "Give me that light jacket," I continued, "and then you can go, Zed. I have got a good deal to do before I can go to bed." The man did as I bade him, laying the small pistols he had loaded on the table, before he went; and I could hear his step descending, not as usual by the back staircase, but by the great stairs into the hall. There it seemed to stop, and I heard no further, but judged it not at all improbable that Zed had gone to Mr. Stringer's room to communicate his suspicions to that gentleman. I should have explained before, that the great hall ran straight through the middle of the house, dividing it into two equal parts, and being itself divided by a large thick door from what was called the pantry-hall. On entering from the front of the house, the first room on the left hand was the drawing-room, or parlour, as they call it here. Then came a little parlour used as breakfast-room, and then the dining-room. On the opposite side of the hall was, first, Mr. and Mrs. Stringer's bed-room, then a dressing-room; and then, facing the dining-room, another bed-room where the children slept. Mr. McGrubber slept at the top of the house in a room next to the school-room. My room was over that of Mr. and Mrs. Stringer; and Bessy's on the opposite side over the dining-room. Thus, when Zed went down the great staircase, though his tread was very heavy, I should lose the sound of his foot if he entered Mr. Stringer's room or the dressing-room. To say the truth, I did not attach much importance to his information or his fears; and, sitting down at the table, I leaned my head upon my hand and gave myself up to meditation.
"What could be the impediment," I asked myself, "to my union with Bessy Davenport, which seemed so formidable in her eyes?" I traced back the history of my family as far as I knew it. I dwelt upon all that I had ever heard even in my childhood's days, which could in any degree account for her scruples or her doubts. But I could find nothing. My mind was too much excited for sleep to approach my eyes; and, many a time, I went over and over the same ground, turning the question before me in every different direction, and only puzzling myself more and more. Hour passed by after hour; the dull chime of the hall clock sounded one and two; and I resolved at length to lie down to rest. Just, however, as I rose from my chair, I fancied I heard voices speaking in a low tone on the outside of the house; and, approaching the window, I looked out. There was nobody there, and I returned to the table. I had hardly reached it, when I heard distinctly a window raised. I paused to listen; and then came what seemed to me a faint, smothered cry. Snatching up the pistols from the table, I advanced towards the door; but before I could reach it, it was thrown open, and Zed appeared. He carried a large key in his hand, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.
"Run, master, run," he cried, "down the back staircase, out through the little hall into the wood. They are murdering all the white people down below!"
"How many are there?" I exclaimed.
"Oh, thirty or more," answered Zed; "but I have locked the door between the halls, so they can't get through. Run down the back staircase; run, master, quick quick!" Resistance was evidently in vain, and I rushed out of the room, but not to the top of the back staircase. Something dearer to me than my own life was to be protected; and, darting across, I threw open Bessy's door and went in, followed by Zed. For the last two or three nights, she had burnt a light in her room; and, while my faithful servant locked the door behind us, I hurried towards her bedside. She had started up at the first sound of our coming, and gazed at me with eyes full of terror and surprise.
"The house is attacked by revolted negroes, Bessy," I exclaimed. "They are murdering every one below. Come quick, come quick! I will protect you with my life." She sprang out of bed and was seeking for some clothes, but a piercing shriek rang up from the rooms below, and I caught her hand, saying, "For God's sake, come!"