He had refused to know any of the people, ignoring the existence of Elsie’s callers. But he had fallen in love with Marion from the moment he had seen her. The cold eye of the old fox hunter kindled3 with the fire of his forgotten youth at the sight of this beautiful girl seated on the glistening4 back of the mare5 she had saved from death.
As she rode through the village every boy lifted his hat as to passing royalty6, and no one, old or young, could allow her to pass without a cry of admiration7. Her exquisite8 figure had developed into the full tropic splendour of Southern girlhood. 285
She had rejected three proposals from ardent9 lovers, on one of whom her mother had quite set her heart. A great fear had grown in Mrs. Lenoir’s mind lest she were in love with Ben Cameron. She slipped her arm around her one day and timidly asked her.
A faint flush tinged10 Marion’s face up to the roots of her delicate blonde hair, and she answered with a quick laugh:
“Mamma, how silly you are! You know I’ve always been in love with Ben—since I can first remember. I know he is in love with Elsie Stoneman. I am too young, the world too beautiful, and life too sweet to grieve over my first baby love. I expect to dance with him at his wedding, then meet my fate and build my own nest.”
Old Stoneman begged that she come every day to see him. He never tired praising her to Elsie. As she walked gracefully12 up to the house one afternoon, holding Hugh by the hand, he said to Elsie:
“Next to you, my dear, she is the most charming creature I ever saw. Her tenderness for everything that needs help touches the heart of an old lame13 man in a very soft spot.”
“I’ve never seen any one who could resist her,” Elsie answered. “Her gloves may be worn, her feet clad in old shoes, yet she is always neat, graceful11, dainty, and serene14. No wonder her mother worships her.”
Sam Ross, her simple friend, had stopped at the gate, and looked over into the lawn as if afraid to come in.
When Marion saw Sam, she turned back to the gate to invite him in. The keeper of the poor, a vicious-looking 286 negro, suddenly confronted him, and he shrank in terror close to the girl’s side.
“What you doin’ here, sah?” the black keeper railed. “Ain’t I done tole you ’bout runnin’ away?”
“You let him alone,” Marion cried.
The negro pushed her roughly from his side and knocked Sam down. The girl screamed for help, and old Stoneman hobbled down the steps, following Elsie.
When they reached the gate, Marion was bending over the prostrate15 form.
“Oh, my, my, I believe he’s killed him!” she wailed16.
“Run for the doctor, sonny, quick,” Stoneman said to Hugh. The boy darted17 away and brought Dr. Cameron.
“How dare you strike that man, you devil?” thundered the old statesman.
“’Case I tole ’im ter stay home en do de wuk I put ’im at, en he all de time runnin’ off here ter git somfin’ ter eat. I gwine frail18 de life outen ’im, ef he doan min’ me.”
“Well, you make tracks back to the Poorhouse. I’ll attend to this man, and I’ll have you arrested for this before night,” said Stoneman, with a scowl19.
The black keeper laughed as he left.
“Not ’less you’se er bigger man dan Gubner Silas Lynch, you won’t!”
When Dr. Cameron had restored Sam, and dressed the wound on his head where he had struck a stone in falling, Stoneman insisted that the boy be put to bed.
Turning to Dr. Cameron, he asked: 287
“Why should they put a brute20 like this in charge of the poor?”
“That’s a large question, sir, at this time,” said the doctor politely, “and now that you have asked it, I have some things I’ve been longing21 for an opportunity to say to you.”
“Be seated, sir,” the old Commoner answered, “I shall be glad to hear them.”
Elsie’s heart leaped with joy over the possible outcome of this appeal, and she left the room with a smile for the doctor.
“First, allow me,” said the Southerner pleasantly, “to express my sorrow at your long illness, and my pleasure at seeing you so well. Your children have won the love of all our people and have had our deepest sympathy in your illness.”
Stoneman muttered an inaudible reply, and the doctor went on:
“Your question brings up, at once, the problem of the misery22 and degradation23 into which our country has sunk under negro rule——”
Stoneman smiled coldly and interrupted:
“Of course, you understand my position in politics, Doctor Cameron—I am a Radical24 Republican.”
“So much the better,” was the response. “I have been longing for months to get your ear. Your word will be all the more powerful if raised in our behalf. The negro is the master of our State, county, city, and town governments. Every school, college, hospital, asylum25, and poorhouse is his prey26. What you have seen is but a 288 sample. Negro insolence27 grows beyond endurance. Their women are taught to insult their old mistresses and mock their poverty as they pass in their old, faded dresses. Yesterday a black driver struck a white child of six with his whip, and when the mother protested, she was arrested by a negro policeman, taken before a negro magistrate28, and fined $10 for ‘insulting a freedman.’”
Stoneman frowned: “Such things must be very exceptional.”
“They are everyday occurrences and cease to excite comment. Lynch, the Lieutenant-Governor, who has bought a summer home here, is urging this campaign of insult with deliberate purpose——”
The old man shook his head. “I can’t think the Lieutenant-Governor guilty of such petty villainy.”
“Our school commissioner,” the doctor continued, “is a negro who can neither read nor write. The black grand jury last week discharged a negro for stealing cattle and indicted29 the owner for false imprisonment30. No such rate of taxation31 was ever imposed on a civilized32 people. A tithe33 of it cost Great Britain her colonies. There are 5,000 homes in this county—2,900 of them are advertised for sale by the sheriff to meet his tax bills. This house will be sold next court day——”
Stoneman looked up sharply. “Sold for taxes?”
“Yes; with the farm which has always been Mrs. Lenoir’s support. In part her loss came from the cotton tax. Congress, in addition to the desolation of war, and the ruin of black rule, has wrung35 from the cotton farmers of the South a tax of $67,000,000. Every dollar of this 289 money bears the stain of the blood of starving people. They are ready to give up, or to spring some desperate scheme of resistance——”
The old man lifted his massive head and his great jaws36 came together with a snap:
“Resistance to the authority of the National Government?”
“No; resistance to the travesty37 of government and the mockery of civilization under which we are being throttled38! The bayonet is now in the hands of a brutal39 negro militia40. The tyranny of military martinets was child’s play to this. As I answered your call this morning I was stopped and turned back in the street by the drill of a company of negroes under the command of a vicious scoundrel named Gus who was my former slave. He is the captain of this company. Eighty thousand armed negro troops, answerable to no authority save the savage41 instincts of their officers, terrorize the State. Every white company has been disarmed42 and disbanded by our scallawag Governor. I tell you, sir, we are walking on the crust of a volcano——”
Old Stoneman scowled43 as the doctor rose and walked nervously44 to the window and back.
“An appeal from you to the conscience of the North might save us,” he went on eagerly. “Black hordes45 of former slaves, with the intelligence of children and the instincts of savages46, armed with modern rifles, parade daily in front of their unarmed former masters. A white man has no right a negro need respect. The children of the breed of men who speak the tongue of Burns and 290 Shakespeare, Drake and Raleigh, have been disarmed and made subject to the black spawn47 of an African jungle! Can human flesh endure it? When Goth and Vandal barbarians48 overran Rome, the negro was the slave of the Roman Empire. The savages of the North blew out the light of Ancient Civilization, but in all the dark ages which followed they never dreamed the leprous infamy49 of raising a black slave to rule over his former master! No people in the history of the world have ever before been so basely betrayed, so wantonly humiliated50 and degraded!”
Stoneman lifted his head in amazement51 at the burst of passionate52 intensity53 with which the Southerner poured out his protest.
“For a Russian to rule a Pole,” he went on, “a Turk to rule a Greek, or an Austrian to dominate an Italian is hard enough, but for a thick-lipped, flat-nosed, spindle-shanked negro, exuding54 his nauseating55 animal odour, to shout in derision over the hearths56 and homes of white men and women is an atrocity57 too monstrous58 for belief. Our people are yet dazed by its horror. My God! when they realize its meaning, whose arm will be strong enough to hold them?”
“I should think the South was sufficiently59 amused with resistance to authority,” interrupted Stoneman.
“Even so. Yet there is a moral force at the bottom of every living race of men. The sense of right, the feeling of racial destiny—these are unconquered and unconquerable forces. Every man in South Carolina to-day is glad that slavery is dead. The war was not too great a price 291 for us to pay for the lifting of its curse. And now to ask a Southerner to be the slave of a slave——”
“And yet, Doctor,” said Stoneman coolly, “manhood suffrage60 is the one eternal thing fixed61 in the nature of Democracy. It is inevitable62.”
“At the price of racial life? Never!” said the Southerner, with fiery63 emphasis. “This Republic is great, not by reason of the amount of dirt we possess, the size of our census64 roll, or our voting register—we are great because of the genius of the race of pioneer white freemen who settled this continent, dared the might of kings, and made a wilderness65 the home of Freedom. Our future depends on the purity of this racial stock. The grant of the ballot66 to these millions of semi-savages and the riot of debauchery which has followed are crimes against human progress.”
“Yet may we not train him?” asked Stoneman.
“To a point, yes, and then sink to his level if you walk as his equal in physical contact with him. His race is not an infant; it is a degenerate—older than yours in time. At last we are face to face with the man whom slavery concealed67 with its rags. Suffrage is but the new paper cloak with which the Demagogue has sought to hide the issue. Can we assimilate the negro? The very question is pollution. In Hayti no white man can own land. Black dukes and marquises drive over them and swear at them for getting under their wheels. Is civilization a patent cloak with which law-tinkers can wrap an animal and make him a king?”
“But the negro must be protected by the ballot,” protested 292 the statesman. “The humblest man must have the opportunity to rise. The real issue is Democracy.”
“The issue, sir, is Civilization! Not whether a negro shall be protected, but whether Society is worth saving from barbarism.”
“The statesman can educate,” put in the Commoner.
The doctor cleared his throat with a quick little nervous cough he was in the habit of giving when deeply moved.
“Education, sir, is the development of that which is. Since the dawn of history the negro has owned the continent of Africa—rich beyond the dream of poet’s fancy, crunching68 acres of diamonds beneath his bare black feet. Yet he never picked one up from the dust until a white man showed to him its glittering light. His land swarmed69 with powerful and docile70 animals, yet he never dreamed a harness, cart, or sled. A hunter by necessity, he never made an axe34, spear, or arrowhead worth preserving beyond the moment of its use. He lived as an ox, content to graze for an hour. In a land of stone and timber he never sawed a foot of lumber71, carved a block, or built a house save of broken sticks and mud. With league on league of ocean strand72 and miles of inland seas, for four thousand years he watched their surface ripple73 under the wind, heard the thunder of the surf on his beach, the howl of the storm over his head, gazed on the dim blue horizon calling him to worlds that lie beyond, and yet he never dreamed a sail! He lived as his fathers lived—stole his food, worked his wife, sold his children, ate his brother, content to drink, sing, dance, and sport as the ape! 293
“And this creature, half child, half animal, the sport of impulse, whim74, and conceit75, ‘pleased with a rattle76, tickled77 with a straw,’ a being who, left to his will, roams at night and sleeps in the day, whose speech knows no word of love, whose passions, once aroused, are as the fury of the tiger—they have set this thing to rule over the Southern people——”
The doctor sprang to his feet, his face livid, his eyes blazing with emotion. “Merciful God—it surpasses human belief!”
He sank exhausted78 in his chair, and, extending his hand in an eloquent79 gesture, continued:
“Surely, surely, sir, the people of the North are not mad? We can yet appeal to the conscience and the brain of our brethren of a common race?”
Stoneman was silent as if stunned80. Deep down in his strange soul he was drunk with the joy of a triumphant81 vengeance82 he had carried locked in the depths of his being, yet the intensity of this man’s suffering for a people’s cause surprised and distressed83 him as all individual pain hurt him.
Dr. Cameron rose, stung by his silence and the consciousness of the hostility84 with which Stoneman had wrapped himself.
“Pardon my apparent rudeness, Doctor,” he said at length, extending his hand. “The violence of your feeling stunned me for the moment. I’m obliged to you for speaking. I like a plain-spoken man. I am sorry to learn of the stupidity of the former military commandant in this town——” 294
“My personal wrongs, sir,” the doctor broke in, “are nothing!”
“I am sorry, too, about these individual cases of suffering. They are the necessary incidents of a great upheaval85. But may it not all come out right in the end? After the Dark Ages, day broke at last. We have the printing press, railroad, and telegraph—a revolution in human affairs. We may do in years what it took ages to do in the past. May not the black man speedily emerge? Who knows? An appeal to the North will be a waste of breath. This experiment is going to be made. It is written in the book of Fate. But I like you. Come to see me again.”
Dr. Cameron left with a heavy heart. He had grown a great hope in this long-wished-for appeal to Stoneman. It had come to his ears that the old man, who had dwelt as one dead in their village, was a power.
It was ten o’clock before the doctor walked slowly back to the hotel. As he passed the armoury of the black militia, they were still drilling under the command of Gus. The windows were open, through which came the steady tramp of heavy feet and the cry of “Hep! Hep! Hep!” from the Captain’s thick cracked lips. The full-dress officer’s uniform, with its gold epaulets, yellow stripes, and glistening sword, only accentuated86 the coarse bestiality of Gus. His huge jaws seemed to hide completely the gold braid on his collar.
The doctor watched, with a shudder87, his black bloated face covered with perspiration88 and the huge hand gripping his sword. 295
They suddenly halted in double ranks and Gus yelled:
“Odah, arms!”
The butts89 of their rifles crashed to the floor with precision, and they were allowed to break ranks for a brief rest.
They sang “John Brown’s Body,” and as its echoes died away a big negro swung his rifle in a circle over his head, shouting:
“Here’s your regulator for white trash! En dey’s nine hundred ob ’em in dis county!”
“Yas, Lawd!” howled another.
“We got ’em down now en we keep ’em dar, chile!” bawled90 another.
The doctor passed on slowly to the hotel. The night was dark, the streets were without lights under their present rulers, and the stars were hidden with swift-flying clouds which threatened a storm. As he passed under the boughs91 of an oak in front of his house, a voice above him whispered:
“A message for you, sir.”
Had the wings of a spirit suddenly brushed his cheek, he would not have been more startled.
“Who are you?” he asked, with a slight tremor92.
“A Night Hawk93 of the Invisible Empire, with a message from the Grand Dragon of the Realm,” was the low answer, as he thrust a note in the doctor’s hand. “I will wait for your answer.”
The doctor fumbled94 to his office on the corner of the lawn, struck a match, and read:
“A great Scotch-Irish leader of the South from Memphis 296 is here to-night and wishes to see you. If you will meet General Forrest, I will bring him to the hotel in fifteen minutes. Burn this. Ben.”
The doctor walked quickly back to the spot where he had heard the voice, and said:
“I’ll see him with pleasure.”
The invisible messenger wheeled his horse, and in a moment the echo of his muffled95 hoofs96 had died away in the distance.
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1
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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prostrate
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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longing
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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radical
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asylum
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prey
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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indicted
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imprisonment
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taxation
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| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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tithe
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axe
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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throttled
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| v.扼杀( throttle的过去式和过去分词 )；勒死；使窒息；压制 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nervously
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hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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spawn
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| n.卵，产物，后代，结果；vt.产卵，种菌丝于，产生，造成；vi.产卵，大量生产 | |
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barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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exuding
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的现在分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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hearths
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| 壁炉前的地板，炉床，壁炉边( hearth的名词复数 ) | |
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atrocity
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| n.残暴，暴行 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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suffrage
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| n.投票，选举权，参政权 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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census
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| n.(官方的)人口调查，人口普查 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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ballot
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| n.（不记名）投票，投票总数，投票权；vi.投票 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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95
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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