"So things went on for a year or two, until one night I was waked by hearing that lazy yellow fellow yonder tapping at my window. He had been to Corbin Hall courting a black girl over there, when Corbin died—for he died from a pistol wound."
"I had jes' done tell Ma'y Jane—um! she were a gal—good-night," said Yellow Bob, taking up the thread of the story, "an' I was comin' through de front yard, when I see de lights bu'nin' in de parlor, an' heerd Marse Miles Corbin a-yellin' at Miss Ferginny. I was skeered ter go 'way an' skeered ter stay; but pres'n'y I hear her scream, an' I run in, an' d'yar was Marse Miles layin' on de sofa wid de blood po'in' from he hade. Miss Ferginny she stan' up lookin' mighty cur'us, wid a smokin' pistol in her han'. Marse Miles he groan, but seem like Miss Ferginny didn't hear 'im. I run an' fotch him a piller, an' gin him some water, an' den I tuck out ter de quarters ter raise de black folks an' de overseer. Dey all come runnin'. De overseer he was de po'est kin' of po' white trash. He jes' come right out in cote an' tole ev'ything he see dat night; an' de black folks dey all stan' up for Miss Ferginny, an' 'low dey didn't see nuttin' 'tall."
"That's so," said the colonel; "for Virginia Berkeley had to stand up in the prisoner's dock, and every negro on the land swore they hadn't seen a pistol, hadn't heard a quarrel, didn't know anything about it, and that Virginia was the best mistress in the world. When I got there that night Miles Corbin was dead, the low-lived dog! Virginia met me and the madam. 'I didn't kill him,' she said, as quiet as you please, 'although I meant to do it. He struck me, and I went and got the pistol. He got it from me, and went to the table to withdraw the load, when he got nervous—he always was a coward—and it went off.' Madam looked at her. 'Has he ever really beaten you?' she asked. For answer Virginia laughed a dreadful kind of a laugh, and, pulling up her sleeve, showed her the marks of Corbin's fingers. 'Look here!' she said, showing her a great bruise on her shoulder-blade. Madam just burst out crying, and put her arms around Virginia. 'Thank God,' she said, 'you didn't kill him!' You can just imagine the commotion it raised; but everything would have been settled at the inquest if it hadn't been for that dog of an overseer. He and Miles Corbin had been associates. A gentleman associating with his overseer! And Mrs. Corbin had ordered him out of her drawing-room not long before; so he owed her a grudge, and he paid it. Such a talk and hubbub was raised that at the next county court the grand jury returned a true bill against Virginia Berkeley Corbin for the murder of her husband. By George!" said the colonel, pausing to wipe his forehead. "As for Jack Thornton, he nearly went crazy. At first he said he'd resign the shrievalty, or kill himself, before he'd serve the summons on her. She was staying here where madam had brought her the night Miles Corbin died. But the Board of Magistrates—we didn't have a tuppence-ha'penny county court then, but gentlemen served as magistrates—the board sent for him, and reasoned about the trouble and expense he'd put the county to if he resigned that way without notice; and Mrs. Corbin sent him word that the greatest service he could do her was to remain in office until after the trial was over. So at last he consented, but I thought he'd die the day he served the writ on her."
The colonel paused again, confronted by the dead and gone tragedy.
"Good Gord A'mighty!" said Yellow Bob, slowly and solemnly. "I 'member dat day, an' I gwi' 'member it twell judgment day. 'Twas 'bout time de fish bite in June. Missis didn't 'ten' ter de chickens er de cows er nuttin' den. She was all time projeckin' wid Miss Ferginny. Seem like she didn't keer whe'r de tuckey aigs hatch, er de cows give milk, er de 'taters come up in de g'yarden, she was so tooken up wid Miss Ferginny. When Marse Jack Thornton rid up in de yard dat day I never see a man look like him. He was de color of a ash-cake 'fo' de ashes is washed off. Miss Ferginny she was settin' on de po'ch wid ole marse an' missis when he come up de steps. When he come to'ds her he stop an' look like he gwi' drop. An' ole marse, he go up ter him, an' missis, an' den Miss Ferginny she walk to'ds him an' hol' out her han'."
Another long pause came.
"I dunno what she say, but ole marse help him fin' a paper, an' he show it ter 'em, an' dey all git in de big kerridge an' go up ter de cote-house. An' I set on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she rid on de place fur de trunk behin'. Missis and Miss Ferginny was inside, an' ole marse he rid horseback wid Marse Jack Thornton."
"They bailed her to appear at the next term of the circuit court," said the colonel, whose turn it was now to tell the story; "and half the county was there to ask the honor of going on her bond. But she only took me and her counsel, Mr. Severn. You see everybody knew she was innocent, and that it was only the malice of that villain of an overseer to get even with her. And the county gentry hated Miles Corbin like the devil, and all of 'em sympathized with his wife. The Board of Magistrates rose when she entered; and when she left the court-room, and when she went down to get in my carriage, with me on one side of her and madam on the other, the magistrates had got out by a shorter way, and were bowing on each side of the carriage door. The presiding magistrate, in the name of the others, expressed their regrets that they were unable to go on her bail-piece, and when she drove out of the village, sitting up straight in my carriage, and looking like a queen, every man she met took off his hat to her, because, you see, Virginia Berkeley was a lady, and Miles Corbin was the damnedest villain—" Here the colonel went off into a roaring hurricane of profanity, which somehow didn't sound profane, but rather as a kind of cordial emphasis to what he said.
"She stayed here until the trial came off. Of course she didn't see anybody, but the whole county called on her. Dang me, but I believe they were sorry she hadn't killed Miles Corbin after all; he deserved it, the dog! The day of the trial the madam and I took her up to the cote-house—"
"An' I rid on de boot wid Unc' Torm Driver, an' Patsy she sat on de place fur de trunk behin', an' ole marse rid on horseback with Marse Jack Thornton," echoed Bob the parrot.