“He makes too many hogsheads of tobacco to the hand,” answered Archer smiling but speaking with emphasis and slowly.
“Is he cruel to his negroes?”
“Yes, and no. He is always good natured with them and kindly in his fashion, but he works them much too hard. He doesn’t drive them particularly. Indeed I never heard of his striking one of them. But he has invented a system of money rewards and the like, by which he keeps them perpetually racing with each other in their work. They badly overtax themselves, and the community regards the matter with marked disfavor. In the matter of family he isn’t in our class at all, but his father was much respected. He was even a magistrate for some years before his death. But the son has shut himself out of all social position by over working his negroes, and the fact that he does it in ways that are ingenious and not brutal doesn’t alter the fact, at least not greatly. Of course, if he did it in brutal ways he would be driven out of the county. As it is he is only shut out of society. I was jesting when I warned you of danger of that sort. But if you are not careful in your application of ‘practical’ methods down here, you’ll get a reputation for money loving, and that wouldn’t be pleasant.”
Arthur stoutly maintained his right and his duty to market all that the two plantations produced beyond their own needs, especially so long as there were debts upon them. Till these should be discharged, he contended, he had no moral right to let products go to waste which could be turned into money. Archer admitted the justice of his view, but laughingly added:
“It isn’t our way, down here, and we are so conservative that it is never quite prudent to transgress our traditions. At the same time I wish we could all rid our estates from debt before the great trouble comes. For it is surely coming and God only knows what the upshot of it all will be. Don’t quote me as saying that, please. It isn’t fashionable with us to be pessimistic, or to doubt either the righteousness or the ultimate triumph of our cause. But nobody can really foresee the outcome of our present troubles, and whatever it may be, the men who are out of debt when it comes—if there are any—will be better equipped to meet fate with a calm mind than the rest of us.”
XXIX
THE CORRESPONDENCE OF DOROTHY
FROM the very beginning of her travels Dorothy revealed herself to Arthur in rapidly succeeding letters which were—at the first, at least—as frank as had been her talks with him during their long morning rides together. If in the end her utterance became more guarded, with a touch of reserve in it, and with a growing tendency to write rather of other things than of her own emotions, Arthur saw in the fact only an evidence of that increasing maturity of womanhood which he had intended her to gain. For Arthur Brent studied Dorothy’s letters as scrutinizingly as if they had been lessons in biology. Or, more accurately speaking, he studied Dorothy herself in her letters, in that way.
From Richmond she wrote half rejoicings, half lamentations over the long separation she must endure from him and from all else that had hitherto constituted her life. Arthur observed that while she mentioned as a troublesome thing the necessity of having still another gown made before leaving for the North, she told him nothing whatever about the gown itself.
“Gowns,” he reflected, “are merely necessary adjuncts of life to Dorothy—as yet. She’ll think of them differently after a while.”
From Washington she wrote delightedly of things seen, for although the glory of the national capital had not come upon it in 1860, there was even then abundant interest there for a country damsel.