“My heart’s dearest, you must not grieve; your time of mourning is past. He is happy now as he sees your future assured. Through you he has conquered death and the grave; justice and honor are his after many years of shame.” And she was comforted.
They made no plans for the future. What necessity was there of making plans for the future? They knew what the future would be. They loved each other; they would marry sooner or later, after they reached England, with the sanction of her grandfather, old Lord George; that was certain. American caste prejudice could not touch them in their home beyond the sea.
A long story full of deep interest might be written concerning the subsequent fortunes of John Brown and his sons and their trusty followers—a story of hardships, ruined homes and persecutions, and retribution to their persecutors, after all, through the happenings of the Civil War. But with these events we are all familiar. Judah never returned to America. After the news of John Brown’s death had aroused the sympathies of all christendom for the slaves, he gave up all thoughts of returning to the land of his birth and entered the service of the Queen. His daring bravery and matchless courage brought its own reward; he was knighted; had honors and wealth heaped upon him, and finally married into one of the best families of the realm.
Winona celebrated in her letters to Mr. Maybee the wonders of her life in England, where all worshipped the last beautiful representative of an ancient family. The premature, crushing experiences of her young girlhood, its shocks and shameful surprises were not without good fruit. She is a noble woman. She is fortified against misfortune now by her deep knowledge of life and its inevitable sorrows, by love. Greater joy than hers, no woman, she believes, has ever known.
At intervals Aunt Vinnie found herself the center of groups of curious neighbors, white and black, who never tired of hearing her tell the story of Winona’s strange fortunes. She invariably ended the tale with a short sermon on the fate of her race.
“Glory to God, we’s boun’ to be free. Dar’s dat gal, she’s got black blood nuff in her to put her on de block in this fersaken country, but over dar she’s a lady with de top crus’ of de crus’. Somethin’s gwine happen.”
An elderly white woman among the visitors drew a long breath, and declared that she had been lifted out of her bed three times the previous night.
“To be course,” said Aunt Vinnie. “That’s de angelic hos’ hoverin’ roun’ you. Somethin’s gwine drap. White folks been ridin’ a turrible hoss in this country, an’ dat hoss gwine to fro ’em; you hyar me.”
“De mule kicked me three times dis mornin’ an’ he never did dat afore in his life,” said a colored brother; “dat means good luck.”