"I ain't nuver sorted her clo'es out into no bureau; I keeps 'em all in her little trunk, perpared to move along."
For a moment the realization of the culmination of her faith seemed to suffuse her soul, and as she proceeded, her voice fell in soft, rhythmic undulations.
"Ya-as, Mars' Harol', Mammy's baby boy, yo' ol' nuss she been waitin', an' o-ole man Isrul he been waitin', an' de Blossom she been waitin'. I 'spec' she had de firmes' faith, arter all, de baby did. Day by day we all waited—an' night by night. An' sometimes when courage would burn low an' de lamp o' faith grow dim, seem like we'd a' broke loose an' started a-wanderin' in a sort o' blind search, 'cep'n' for de river.
"Look like ef we'd ever went beyan' de river's call, we'd been same as de chillen o' Isrul lost in de tanglement o' de wilderness. All we river chillen, we boun' to stay by her, same as toddlin' babies hangs by a mammy's skirts. She'll whup us one day, an' chastise us severe; den she'll bring us into de light, same as she done to-night—same as reel mammies does.
"An', Mars' Harol'—"
She lowered her voice.
"Mars' Harol', don't tell me she don't know! I tell yer, me an' dis River we done spent many a dark night together under de stars, an' we done talked an' answered one another so many lonely hours—an' she done showed us so many mericles on land an' water—
"I tell yer, I done found out some'h'n' about de River, Mars' Harol'. She's—why, she's—
"Oh, ef I could only write it all down to go in a book! We been th'ough some merac'lous times together, sho' 's you born—sho' 's you born.
"She's a mericle mystery, sho'!