By night five hundred determined white men had answered an alarm bell and assembled in the court house. Every negro save a few faithful servants had disappeared. A strange stillness fell over the village.
Mrs. Gaston sat in her house without a light, looking anxiously out of the window, overwhelmed with the sense of helplessness. Charlie, frightened by the wild stories he had heard, was trying in spite of his fears to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, Mama!”
“I’m not crying because I’m afraid, darling, I’m only crying because your father is not here to-night. I can’t get used to living without him to protect us.”
“I’ll take care of you, Mama—Nelse and me.”
“Where is Nelse?”
“He’s cleaning up the shot gun.”
“Tell him to come here.”
When Nelse approached his Mistress asked, “Nelse, do you really think this tale is true?”
“No, Missy, I doan believe nary word uf it. Same time I’se gettin’ ready fur ’em. Ef er nigger come foolin’ roun’ dis house ter night, he’ll t’ink he’s run ergin er whole regiment! I hain’t been ter wah fur nuttin’.”