But the passion grew and grew, and one dark night, when the wind in the swamp-willows was still and there was scarce a ripple, even out to the middle of the river, Unc’ Caspar took ’Liza down to the bank, and, making a mist to rise, showed ’Liza, through the mist, the treasures of the earth.
Up from the bed of the river rose a great white house, with its massive pillars shadowy but true, and its white curtains swinging outward to the mist.
Then around her form Unc’ Caspar wound a cloth of silk and pearls; and on her ankles and wrists golden bands gleamed even through the dark night and the mist; in her ears were the great gold rings of an African princess, and round and round her neck Unc’ Caspar wound the beads that shone like stars.
For a moment the hoodoo paused, that ’Liza might look well; then, without breaking the silence, he stood behind the girl, waving for the mystery to disappear, and the great white house slipped into the bed of the river, the cloth of pearl and gold dropped away, the beads that shone like stars faded, and there was only a broken fish-net around ’Liza’s shoulders and wisps of river reeds on her wrists. Through the dark came the voice of the hoodoo:
“Ole Caspar rich—ole Caspar free—all dis gwine be yourn if yo’ des mairey Caspar.”
But ’Liza shivered under the damp fish-net, and asked Unc’ Caspar to give her time.
In the long night she alternately laughed and wept and wrung her hands.
“Which I gwine ter do? Which I gwine ter tek—de ole un er de young un?” she cried.
“Dat,” said Mammy, “were de sperrits er good an’ ebil stribin’ in her, but she nebber eben call de name er de Lord, so she needn’ ’spec’ no he’p.”
The glitter of the gorgeous thing was still in ’Liza’s mind, but through it all would rise the ugly, wrinkled face of Unc’ Caspar; but Unc’ Caspar was rich—Unc’ Caspar had houses and gold. Then out of the dark would leap the form of the young Amaziah, stretching his great, strong arms towards her, even though the veil of the white beard floated between them.