The sudden attainment of one’s desires often shocks one; so with our mourner. For a moment her heart stood still and the thought came to her to flee; but her mind flashed back over the words of one of the hymns she had heard down at church, “Let us walk in de light;” and she knew that before she walked in the light she must walk toward it. So she rose and started in the direction of the light. How it flickered and flared, disappeared and reappeared, rose and fell, even as her spirits, as she stumbled and groped her way over fallen logs and through briers. Her limbs were bruised and her dress torn by the thorns. But she heeded it not, she had fixed her eye—physical and spiritual—on the light before her. It drew her with an irresistible fascination. Suddenly she stopped. An idea had occurred to her! Maybe this light was a Jack-o’-lantern! For a moment she hesitated, then promptly turned her pocket wrong side out, murmuring, “De Lawd’ll tek keer o’ me.” On she started; but, lo! the light had disappeared! What! had the turning of the pocket indeed worked so potent a charm?
But no! it reappeared as she got beyond the intervention of a brush pile which had obscured it. The light grew brighter as she grew fainter; but she clasped her hands and raised her eyes in unwavering faith, for she found that the beacon did not recede, but glowed with a steady and stationary flame.
As she drew near, the sound of sharp strokes came to her ears, and she wondered. Then, as she slipped into the narrow circle of light, she saw that it was made by a taper which was set on a log. The strokes came from a man who was chopping down a tree in which a ’coon seemed to have taken refuge. It needed no second glance at the stalwart shoulders to tell her that the man was—Sam. Her step attracted his attention, and he turned.
“Sam!”
“Anner ’Lizer!”
And then they both stood still, too amazed to speak. Finally she walked across to where he was standing, and said: “Sam, I didn’t come out heah to fin’ you, but de Lawd has ’p’inted it so, ’ca’se he knowed I orter speak to you.” Sam leaned hopelessly on his axe; he thought she was going to exhort him.
Anner ’Lizer went on: “Sam, you’s my stumblin’ block in de highroad to salvation; I’s be’n tryin’ to git ’ligion fu’ fou’ nights, an’ I cain’t do it jes’ on yo’ ’count; I prays an’ I prays, an’ jes’ as I’s a’mos’ got it, jes’ as I begin to heah de cha’iot wheels a-rollin’, yo’ face comes right in ’tween an’ drives it all away. Tell me, now, Sam, so’s to put me out ov my ’spense, does you want to ma’y me, er is you goin’ to ma’y Phiny? I jes’ wants you to tell me, not dat I keers pussonally, but so’s my min’ kin be at res’ spi’tu’lly, an’ I kin git ’ligion. Jes’ say yes er no; I wants to be settled one way er ’t other.”
“Anner ’Lizer,” said Sam, reproachfully, “you know I wants to ma’y you jes’ ez soon ez Mas’ Rob’ll let me.”
“Dere now,” said Anner ’Lizer, “bless de Lawd!” And, somehow, Sam had dropped the axe and was holding her in his arms.
It boots not whether the ’coon was caught that night or not; but it is a fact that Anner ’Lizer set the whole place afire by getting religion at home early the next morning. And the same night the minister announced “dat de Lawd had foun’ out de sistah’s stumblin’ block an’ removed it f’om de path.”