pWA R W I C K J A M E, S P K I 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY O^ CALIFOHNIA 
 DAVIS 
 


 
Stephen the Black 
 
 BY 
 
 Tuth 
 
 AROLINE H. PEMBERTON 
 
 or of " Your Little Brother James" 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO 
 
 103-105 SOUTH FIFTEENTH STREET 
 
Copyright, 1899, ty 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & Co 
 
" Look not upon me because I am black, 
 Because the sun hath looked upon me ! 
 My mother's children were angry with me ; 
 They made me the keeper of the vineyards ; 
 But mine own vineyard have I not kept." 
 SONG OF SOLOMON. 
 
Stephen the Black 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ONE Sunday morning in April, Wesley 
 Anderson sat as usual before the door of his 
 cabin under the shade of a fragrant China- 
 berry tree. A hazy cloud of gnats which 
 shared with him the sweet odors and the 
 pleasant shade did not disturb his meditations. 
 This black field hand of an Alabama plantation 
 was enjoying an hour's restrospection, much 
 as a New England farmer enjoys his weekly 
 newspaper. The events of the past thirty- 
 three years lay open before him, and he re 
 called them deliberately, as one reads from a 
 newspaper the occurrences of the past week. 
 
 These memories were made up mostly of 
 national events, in which his own personality 
 was lost in the great issues of American his 
 tory. His long, black, knotty hand clasped a 
 
6 Stephen the Black 
 
 worn and greasy Bible firmly by the cover, 
 and the other lay spread out on its open page, 
 as if to draw inspiration through contact. But 
 Wesley's eyes were fixed on the great expanse 
 of ploughed land that lay before him, nearly 
 all of it bearing the marks of his own toil. 
 The impress of his plodding feet in the wet 
 earth was observable at close range, for they 
 had trudged behind the plough immediately 
 after a recent heavy rain. His eyes were gaz 
 ing into space and saw not the field, or the 
 deep furrows, or the tiny, sprouting leaves 
 of the cotton plant just beginning to show 
 between the furrows, or the fringe of dark 
 woods beyond, which met a range of soft 
 white clouds on the edge of the horizon. 
 
 He saw, instead, soldiers in blue and grey; 
 dashing horsemen, fire, flame, smoke and 
 ashes; houses burning, women and children 
 fleeing, while screams, groans, cheers, curses, 
 bugle calls and merry marches rang in his ears. 
 
 With solemn enjoyment he recalled many 
 an incident in his personal experience. He re 
 membered his week of terrible anxiety in the 
 
Stephen the Black 7 
 
 swamp back of "Old Massa's" plantation, 
 where he lay concealing twelve mules by his 
 master's orders while Wilson's troops were 
 passing through the country like avenging 
 angels. This military event is officially re 
 corded as a vigorous raid planned by General 
 Sherman during the siege of Atlanta, but in 
 the annals of the blacks of that neighborhood 
 it has crystallized into folk-lore as "Wilson's 
 rage," that hero having been unable, it was 
 supposed, to suppress any longer the violence 
 of his splendid, righteous anger. 
 
 Wesley recalled the day when he left the 
 swamp to get fodder for his mules, and met a 
 scouting party of Union soldiers as he was 
 climbing a fence that separated his master's 
 fields from the public road. 
 
 A short colloquy took place, every word of 
 which was engraved on his memory. Al 
 though he had repeated it many hundred 
 times since, not a word nor an accent had 
 been changed from the original dialogue: 
 
 " Hallo, John, you know the roads between 
 here and Selma? 
 
8 Stephen the Black 
 
 "Yes, sah, I know de roads off dis way for 
 twenty mile front o' yer." 
 
 " Who lives in yonder white house ?" 
 
 "Massa Anderson, sah." 
 
 "Who's at home there ? " 
 
 "Dere ain't supposed to be nobody dere 
 but us niggers, dere ain't supposed to be, sah." 
 
 "I asked you who is there. Speak out like 
 a man." 
 
 "Massa Anderson's dere, sah, when he ain't 
 hidin' from de conscripts or de Yanks." 
 
 "What is he, a Reb?" 
 
 "He ain't neither Reb nor Yank; he hide 
 from bofe, sah. He don't want de Yanks to 
 take his cattle an' his niggers, and he don't 
 want de Rebs to take hisself and make him 
 fight. He just want to be let alone, sah, until 
 dis crule wah be over." 
 
 "I'll leave him to take care of his skin, but 
 you come with me, my man, and tell me some 
 things I want to know about the lay of the 
 land ahead. Got a mule ?" 
 
 "I kin git one, sah, but Massa Anderson 
 he tole me to keep his mules whar dey be." 
 
Stephen the Black 9 
 
 "Get your mule and be quick. I don't 
 want to hear what Massa Anderson said. He 
 ain't your master now. You're a free man. 
 Get your mule and join me over there by that 
 little bridge. Be quick." 
 
 It was thus that freedom had come to 
 Wesley, informally and incidentally, as if 
 merely to suit the convenience of a military 
 detachment that happened to be passing by. 
 With the rest of his race he had hoped for 
 freedom when the war first broke out, but it 
 had never entered his head that this mighty 
 change was to be brought about by a few care 
 lessly uttered words of an obscure Union officer 
 commanding a mere handful of men. News 
 of Lincoln's Proclamation had traveled slowly 
 in the cotton-growing states, and reached the 
 Anderson plantation more as a rumor than a 
 statement of fact. Wesley had often pictured 
 Lincoln with arms raised to heaven pronounc 
 ing the wonderful words: 
 
 "By the grace of God these bonds are 
 broken, you are now free!" 
 
 But that any one but Lincoln had the right 
 
10 Stephen the Black 
 
 to utter such words he did not believe. 
 Nevertheless obedience to the authority of the 
 hour was an old habit of mind, and Wesley 
 obeyed the young officer as he had obeyed 
 his poor old skulking master, but with a much 
 more joyful heart. He accepted him as a new 
 master and served him devotedly, though still 
 convinced at heart that freedom had not yet 
 come. 
 
 Old Wesley, sitting under the shade of the 
 China-berry tree, thirty-three years afterward, 
 remembered distinctly all his ignorant sur 
 mises on this subject, and with a half smile, 
 followed closely the line of thought which 
 had led him from incredulity into the full 
 knowledge of his freedom. The conscious 
 ness of it had dawned upon him when he 
 found himself standing one day in a soldier's 
 uniform. 
 
 As the old negro recalled the scenes of his 
 military life, he smiled proudly, and gazed 
 with a rapt expression at the distant horizon. 
 His soldier's life had been brief. It did not 
 begin until the last year of the war. It in- 
 
Stephen the Black 1 1 
 
 eluded one terrible battle, during which the 
 blacks were mowed down like grass all 
 around him; some long, dusty marches, some 
 horridly sickening sights; it was more con 
 fused than any other set of reminiscences, but 
 it ended in an exalted climax. 
 
 The last scene in the glorious panorama of 
 memory which for one hour obscured the 
 ugly reality of a poor field-hand's dreary ex 
 istence, was the entry of the black troops into 
 the city of Richmond. Wesley now beheld 
 himself seated on a high, bony, long-necked, 
 brown mare, surrounded by innumerable 
 black faces looking still darker in the shadow 
 of their soldier's caps. With gleaming eyes 
 they gazed in awe-struck triumph at the va 
 cant streets and burning houses, to the right 
 and left, from which the owners had fled. No 
 white face did he remember on those streets, 
 but from doorways and windows, astonished, 
 rapturous black countenances peered forth, 
 while black hands were raised to heaven and 
 awe-stricken, trembling voices chanted praises 
 to the Lord Jesus. 
 
12 Stephen the Black 
 
 At that moment, Wesley had seen what he 
 thought was a vision of the near future. He 
 saw his whole race freed, uplifted, glorified. 
 He saw his children and his children's children 
 occupying positions of honor and responsi 
 bility. He beheld them reading the white 
 man's books, attending the white man's 
 school, and reading aloud to each other the 
 thoughts of the illustrious white man across 
 the ocean, that Mr. Shakespeare, for instance, 
 of whom the white folks were always talk 
 ing, doubtless they were even to read Mr. 
 Shakespeare's books aloud to each other and 
 to their children! It had been whispered in 
 his ear once by a very knowing housemaid 
 that this Mr. Shakespeare had written a book 
 about a black, for she had seen his picture in 
 her master's library. 
 
 This book and all the other wonders of the 
 world were to be within the reach of his 
 people. They had reached the "promised 
 land"; all behind them lay misery, degrada 
 tion and suffering; all before them lay honor, 
 happiness and prosperity, held securely within 
 
Stephen the Black 13 
 
 the protecting arms of the good Lincoln, and 
 the mighty armies of the North. Their pa 
 tient faithfulness had won at last the love of 
 heaven. Looking over his horse's head, Wes 
 ley beheld the apotheosis of the black race; 
 they were to be as gods in comparison with 
 what they had been. Not by their own 
 might, but by the hand of the Lord Jesus, 
 were they now to be raised up, and every 
 thing was to be as it had never been before! 
 
 Wesley gave a deep sigh, for the climax 
 was reached in his reminiscent dream. A 
 dreary waste of years lay between those dra 
 matic scenes and to-day, during which the 
 sublime hope of his race had burned feebly 
 and without enthusiasm. 
 
 The prophetic spirit which had seemed to 
 stir his soul on that day when the Union 
 army took possession of Richmond must 
 have been a false spirit, or at least a very 
 shortsighted one. It gave no hint of the des 
 ert of grinding, unremunerative toil through 
 which he and his people had been plodding 
 since the war. Ignorance enveloped them 
 
14 Stephen the Black 
 
 still, as in the days of slavery. They worked 
 steadily and uncomplainingly, but only a very 
 few of them had land, houses, money, or 
 education. They lived in the same miserable 
 cabins; they toiled for the benefit of others; 
 they reaped not what they sowed. 
 
 With trouble in his eyes, Wesley scanned 
 the distant horizon for an answer to the ques 
 tion which he now propounded to himself, 
 timidly and with much humility, why should 
 the Lord Jesus have taken such pains to free 
 his people, if they were not worthy of a bet 
 ter fate than this ? Why so much shedding 
 of blood, ay, and of the white man's blood 
 too, if his people were not to be lifted up 
 after all ? 
 
 Far away indeed seemed those beneficent 
 beings whom he had once known and rever 
 enced under the name of ''Yanks." How 
 they had rushed down from their mountain- 
 tops and their magnificent golden cities (Wes 
 ley had always pictured them as living on 
 mountain-tops and in cities like the new Je 
 rusalem) to gather up his people by the hun- 
 
Stephen the Black 15 
 
 dreds and thousands as they marched through 
 the plantations of the South, not only the 
 men who were able to work, and fight, but 
 the helpless women and children as well. 
 They scooped them all up as they went 
 marching through; the word was always 
 " Come along," to young and old, babies and 
 little children, old men and old women. A 
 guard of young fellows marched back of 
 them, and the great army ahead of them, and 
 the cannon beside them, and thus those heroes 
 went through the country they had conquered, 
 " setting his people free! " 
 
 It did not occur to Wesley that this was a 
 measure of war and a political necessity. To 
 his unsophisticated mind it was pure benevo 
 lence. And they did not leave them to starve 
 either, he reflected. He remembered the great 
 camp-fires of the Union army, over which had 
 hung pots full of fragrant messes, and others 
 full of steaming coffee all for his people! 
 
 "Dey acted like dey loved us in dose days," 
 mused Wesley, in his perplexity, as he rubbed 
 a black finger up and down his forehead to 
 
16 Stephen the Black 
 
 smooth out the creases, "but I reckon dey'se 
 forgot our black faces 'cause we ain't slaves 
 no mo' and dere ain't no more crule wah to 
 bring 'em down dis yere way. We's in de 
 wilderness now; dat's whar we be, not in 
 bondage, praise de Lord, but in de wilderness, 
 whar de chillen o' Israel pass forty year arter 
 dey come out o' bondage; ya-as, dat's so 
 forty year." 
 
 Wesley began to count on his fingers the 
 years following the war, for in this calculation 
 there was abundant food for thought. He 
 rubbed his eyes and smiled to himself as his 
 simple mind seized on what seemed to him 
 an extraordinary analogy. He reflected that 
 there would be an opportunity that afternoon 
 to expound this new scriptural view to many 
 of his neighbors and friends when they as 
 sembled at the turn of the road in the little 
 frame building that served as schoolhouse 
 and church. There would be many present 
 who were known to be chronic grumblers 
 and were never weary of chanting their dis 
 content in and out of season, Some were 
 
Stephen the Black 17 
 
 fond of saying that they might just as well 
 be slaves again; they didn't have to work any 
 harder in the old days than they did now. 
 Wesley counted these as lazy fellows, but 
 there were many earnest, plodding souls 
 against whom this reproach could not be 
 brought, and who like himself had moments 
 of profound discouragement over their own 
 prospects and the future of their race. One 
 of these, a frail, gentle old man, had ventured 
 so far as to whisper once to Wesley his soul- 
 benumbing doubt that the Lord Jesus in His 
 heart really could not care as much for His 
 black children as He did for His white ones. 
 
 " Tears like He kinder feel 'shamed o' His- 
 self once in awhile for neglectin' us, and He 
 make amend all to once, and den He forgit us 
 agin and not look arter us for anudder long 
 spell widout somefin' happen to remind Him, 
 an' den He feel shame ag'in, and stir Hisself 
 up real hard to do somefin' great; but I 'spec' 
 it do cause Him a heap o' trouble to keep His 
 black chillen in mind, what you tink o' dat, 
 Brudder Anderson ?" 
 
i8 Stephen the Black 
 
 But Wesley had not agreed with this view, 
 and he now felt that he could effectively re 
 lieve his doubting brother's mind as to the 
 Lord's intentions regarding His black children. 
 He determined to spare no pains to make his 
 argument clear to his hearers by fortifying 
 himself with numerous texts and much pray 
 erful study of the subject beforehand. He 
 turned over the pages of his Bible to the book 
 of Exodus, which he knew contained the nar 
 rative he wanted, but hard as he rubbed his 
 spectacles, long as he gazed at the black letters 
 on the page, they refused to deliver up the 
 message of the text. 
 
 "De chillen'll read it to me, dey'll be back 
 soon, I reckon," he murmured, patiently. 
 
 Raising his eyes, he was able to discern two 
 slender figures climbing the fence that separated 
 the cotton-field from the thick woods against 
 the horizon. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A BOY of fifteen and a girl of eighteen came 
 slowly into view carrying a bucket of water 
 between them. Wesley observed them 
 thoughtfully. Their slight, thinly-clad figures 
 were sharply outlined against the background 
 of dull earth and cloudless sky. Their cloth 
 ing looked colorless and their faces black, but 
 as they drew near it was noticeable that while 
 the boy was dark-skinned, the girl's face was 
 shadowed by a large sunbonnet, and as she 
 lifted her head to speak to her grandfather, the 
 young face in the recess of the bonnet ap 
 peared fair, rosy, and beautful. A waving 
 lock of black hair blew across her temples; she 
 pushed it back with a hand that, while it was 
 browned by exposure to the wind and sun, 
 was to all appearances the hand of a white 
 woman. The grandfather of these two 
 strangely assorted children of one mother 
 
 each apparently representing a separate race 
 19 
 
20 Stephen the Black 
 
 eyed them with more than his usual gentle 
 ness, though his words indicated a feeble 
 effort at reproof. 
 
 " You hadn't ought to wear yer good shoes 
 to git water, Tressy. De wet'll spile 'em, 
 chile." 
 
 "Wet ain't spiled 'em yet," answered the 
 girl, examining each shoe, solicitously. 
 
 "Dat's 'cause I done tote de pail all de 
 way," remarked her brother, opening his big 
 black eyes upon her with an air of reproach. 
 "Tressy, she don't look whar she go, grand- 
 pap. Yer mought tink she war in love, so yer 
 might, by de way she's been actin' o' late. 
 Says she ain't agwine to skule no more. 
 What yer tink o' dat, now, grandpap ? 
 Tressy don't 'predate de 'vantage what a edi- 
 cation give yer, do she, grandpap ?" 
 
 " I ain't said I didn't want to go to skule no 
 more," cried the girl, plaintively. "I said I 
 didn't want to go no more to nigger skule; 
 that's what I said, an' no more I do, 'cause no 
 nigger can learn me what he don't know his- 
 self. What's use in a big girl like me settin' 
 
Stephen the Black 21 
 
 down aside a heap o' little chillen and heark- 
 enin' to a ignorant nigger showin' off hisself ? 
 I kin read as well as that teacher we had las' 
 winter." 
 
 Lemuel rolled his eyes. "My! Tressy! 
 Yo' dunno yer mul'cation tables! " 
 
 " I know 'em as well as teacher. He dunno 
 know how many time nine go into sixty-tree 
 till you tole him yo'self when he was doin' 
 that long sum on er blackboard afore de 
 county superintendent an' him mos' killin' 
 hisself a-laughin' at de kind o' skule de niggers 
 war a-keepin' up!" 
 
 "He forgot hisself, I reckon," interposed 
 her grandfather, hastily. "Yer mustn't look 
 down and despise yer perfessors, chillen; dat 
 perfessor, I dare say, was all struck down in a 
 heap, obfustocated, as de sayin' is, by de 
 presence o' dat county superintendent a gran' 
 white gentleman come to look him up and 
 see if he war obstructin' de youth o' de coun 
 try like he should. It war like to make him 
 skairt and narvous, and I 'spec' he done forget 
 all he knowed." 
 
22 Stephen the Black 
 
 "Well, he ain't comirr back, anyway, sence 
 he been sick," said Lemuel. "He's gwine to 
 work in a hotel, and dey's got anudder hired 
 a'ready to finish out de term; so dere ain't no 
 fit 'cuse fo' you not gwine to skule no mo', 
 Tressy." 
 
 "Don't argufy, chillen; yer larn yerselves 
 nuffin' with argufyin'. Set down yer pail, 
 Tressy, an' come an' stan' by me an' read out 
 o' dis yere book. Lemme see how much you's 
 improve' in yer readin', or if you's been back- 
 slidin'." 
 
 Theresa handed the bucket of water to her 
 brother, and, tilting her sunbonnet far back 
 from her forehead, leaned over her grand 
 father's chair, placing one hand on his shoul 
 der while with the other she turned over the 
 leaves and found the chapter he wanted, 
 pointing her finger to each verse and drawing 
 it slowly down the page as she read. 
 
 Lemuel had deposited the pail hastily within 
 the cabin, and now stood listening with a 
 critical ear to his sister's reading. The open 
 ing verses of the sixteenth chapter of Exodus 
 
Stephen the Black 23 
 
 fell smoothly enough from Theresa's lips. 
 Her soft voice began listlessly enough at first, 
 but the dramatic murmurings of the children 
 of Israel had always charmed her fancy, and 
 she read on with much expression. 
 
 Her active-minded brother found something 
 suspicious, however, in the unusual nimble- 
 ness of Theresa's tongue. He knew the limit 
 of her accomplishments, and just where her 
 careless eye and too quick imagination would 
 cause her to stumble. He stepped forward 
 and looked over her shoulder, following with 
 his eye her swiftly moving finger. 
 
 "Why, Tressy, what you 'bout? You's 
 p'intin' one place an' readin' t'other! She's jes' 
 recitin' dat's what she doin', grandpap! Re- 
 citin' ain't readin'," he cried, excitedly. 
 
 Wesley pulled the Bible from the girl's hand 
 and looked at her his ancient, black counte 
 nance full of distress. 
 
 "Chile, you gwine deceive yer ole gran'dad, 
 'cause he can't read hisself, an' has to mak' per- 
 tend ? Ain't it bad enough for a' ole man like 
 me to mak' pertend widout you's neglectin' 
 
24 Stephen the Black 
 
 yer opportunities like dis ? Dese opportuni 
 ties is pore 'nough, I grant yer, but dey's de 
 berry bes' I bin able to afford, an' I's worked < 
 soon and late and scrimped myself and hired 
 hands for ter pick cotton an' to hoe, so's to 
 keep you an' yer brudder out o' de field an' 
 into skule while it last. Fo' de Lord, I done 
 widout 'baccy dese tree years 'count o' 
 skulin' you two, done widout a ox I might 
 a had, jes' fo' you's sake. Now you go de 
 ceive yer ole gran'dad and pertend you's 
 readin' when you's only recitin' ! Go 'way, 
 Tressy, I nebber tink you such a, deceivin' 
 piece like dat." His quivering voice ceased 
 almost in a sob. Quickly Theresa clasped; 
 one arm around his neck while she pressed 
 her young face close to his black wrinkled 
 cheek. 
 
 " I warrit deceivin' yer! I kin read, most as 
 good as that, but I jes didn't want to take the 
 trouble. Lemme sing to you," she cried, 
 soothingly. "What shall I sing yer, gran' 
 dad?" 
 
 The dark old face became suddenly illu- 
 
Stephen the Black 25 
 
 mined; his eye kindled with its old-time en 
 thusiasm, he began to beat time rhythmically 
 with his hand. 
 
 "Sing fo'm de beginnin' de beginnin' ob 
 de gran' hope fo' de colored folks." 
 
 He drew her down to a stool at his feet, 
 where she sat gracefully, her scant calico skirt 
 barely covering her ankles. Her sunbonnet 
 had fallen off her head, and her crisp black 
 hair displayed itself in two heavy plaits looped 
 up with a piece of faded ribbon. The two 
 faces bending closely together, one fair and 
 lovely, the other black as ebony, showed a 
 striking similarity of profile. Wesley Ander 
 son's features reminded one of the figures 
 sometimes seen on Egyptian monuments, 
 and the low brow, the arch of the long nose, 
 the small ears and quivering nostrils, were re 
 produced in his granddaughter's fair face. 
 The family likeness repeated itself further in 
 Lemuel's dark features, but although he pos 
 sessed his sister's pleasing regularity of out 
 line, the effect was obscured by the* thick 
 brown skin through which no blush could 
 
26 Stephen the Black 
 
 make itself seen, and by the crowning racial 
 mark of tightly curling black wool that grew 
 so low on his forehead. 
 Theresa lifting a tremulous soprano, began r 
 
 " My mudder has gone to ]owc-ney away 
 In de kingdom, in de kingdom, in de king-afa/w away," 
 
 her voice rising and dwelling on each accented 
 syllable with the intense pathos of the old 
 plantation singers. She could reproduce ex 
 actly the cry of a childlike race, in whose 
 heart were mingled pain and patience with a 
 long suppressed but never-to-be-extinguished 
 hope. Lemuel joined in the chorus, and after 
 they had sung several more melodies in the 
 same approved, heart-breaking style each one 
 touching the long-drawn-out, high note of 
 weary waiting he said impatiently, 
 
 " We'se troo wid de gran' mis'ry, gran'dad; 
 let's go on wid de little mis'ry; dose mis'ry 
 songs mak' me feel bad, all broke up inside." 
 He laid his hand over his cotton shirt and 
 looked up into his grandfather's face with a 
 woe-begone expression. The old man hastily 
 
Stephen the Black 27 
 
 began another chant, waving both hands 
 dramatically: 
 
 " De Lord spoke to Moses from Sinai mountain-top ; 
 Said Moses, lead my people until I bid you stop,' " 
 
 and they sang with great spirit through a suc 
 cession of verses, until Wesley, with eyes 
 snapping and feet going, suddenly checked 
 himself to whisper in piercing accents 
 "Oberseer crossiri de hedge, look out, ma 
 boys, look out " and instantly they dropped 
 their voices to 
 
 " Swing low, sweet chariot, swing low ; 
 I don't want to leave me behind." 
 
 " Moses war a gran' ole suspicious character 
 in dem days same as Abe Lincoln; de two 
 o' 'em was hated like de berry ole debbil," 
 chuckled Wesley, as the children paused for 
 breath. "Now, we's all alone, ag'in; de 
 war's begun; ole massa's two sons is off to 
 Richmond, an' here we be down in de field 
 hoein' an' diggin' so come on, boys" and 
 with a great shout they all three sang 
 
 " Slavery chain done broke at last, 
 De Lord done set us free " 
 
28 Stephen the Black 
 
 until Wesley, in another dramatic whisper in 
 dicating the approach of the suspicious over 
 seer, changed the song to 
 
 " Stay in de field, stay in de field ! 
 Until de war be ended ; 
 Mine eyes are turned to de Hebbenly gate, 
 I'll keep on my way or I'll be too late, 
 Until de war be ended." 
 
 The children sang this pious injunction with 
 a sanctimonious air as directed. As they were 
 getting tired and Wesley himself was already 
 hoarse from his vocal exertions, they skipped 
 to a wonderful, martial melody, with relief 
 that they had at last reached this happy climax 
 which they repeated several times as a chorus: 
 
 " Dey look like men, dey look like men, 
 
 Dey look like men o' war ! 
 All armed an' dressed in uniform, 
 Dey look like men o' war ! " 
 
 As they ended each stanza, Theresa and 
 Lemuel raised their hands in the air, and their 
 grandfather waved his bandanna handkerchief, 
 in greeting of an imaginary procession of black 
 troopers. 
 
Stephen the Black 29 
 
 "Tears like dey on'y looked like dey was 
 men," observed Lemuel in an injured tone 
 after they had admired the procession in silence 
 for some minutes. "What's de good o' dem 
 sodgers not sayin' dey was men ? What was 
 dey feared for, gran'dad ? " 
 
 Wesley straightening his bent figure, an 
 swered with dignity, 
 
 "Dey knowed dey was men, dey knowed 
 it well 'nough ; dose lion-hearted fellows was 
 feared o' nuffin', but dey was considerin' de 
 feelin's o' de white folks an' dey suspicioned 
 it mought kinder hurt dere feelin's ef dey sang 
 out too bold 'long side o' dem Yanks. Ain't I 
 tellin' yer allus, chillen, we-uns has to consider 
 de feelin's o' de white folks ? Ef dey be 
 Yanks or ef dey be Rebs, it mak' no 
 difT'ence." 
 
 Theresa shrugged her shoulders at this ex 
 planation but Lemuel accepted it with a good 
 grace, murmuring, "dat so," in a subdued 
 tone. He was sitting on the ground examin 
 ing his bare toes with great interest, but pres 
 ently he raised his head to say in a dismal 
 
30 Stephen the Black 
 
 snuffle, "Dere's a nigger down on de Benson 
 plantation, he say we-uns is all a-goin' to be 
 slaves ag'in, fo' long dat what he say." 
 
 "It ain't true, we-uns 'ill die first!" cried 
 Theresa, rising and flashing her eyes about 
 with the air of a tragedy queen. 
 
 "Dat so we-uns'll die first," repeated 
 Lemuel in the voice of his race, a voice 
 strangely acquiescent, mournful, yet touched 
 with faith, and so redeemed from fatalism. 
 His eyes did not flash, but opened very wide 
 in a prolonged stare at his toes, which he 
 continued to examine with the same air of 
 absorbed interest. 
 
 His grandfather, raising his trembling hands, 
 was about to begin an inspiring invocation to 
 the Lord Jesus, when all three looked up at the 
 sound of a horse's hoofs on the hard clay road 
 that wound through the cotton-field. 
 
 A young, handsome white man, neatly and 
 elegantly dressed and riding a well-groomed 
 black horse, drew rein almost at their feet. 
 He had galloped up unobserved until his 
 horse's forefeet almost touched Wesley's old 
 
Stephen the Black 31 
 
 boots. The little group drew back startled, at 
 which the young rider laughed gaily. 
 
 "Came to tell you, Wesley, that father says 
 you better come early next Saturday, and he'll 
 give you first choice of all the goods. He 
 wants you to help him, anyways." 
 
 "Dese is berry hard times, Mr. Ralph. Dat 
 mortgage las' year done eat up all de profit. 
 We's got to live down most to nuffin', dis 
 year. Folks say price o' meal's gone up 
 bacon too." 
 
 The old darkey stood with uncovered head ; 
 his forehead was seamed and scarred with 
 lines of care. The Bible had fallen to the 
 ground, and the long, horny hands of the 
 field-laborer were clasped together nervously. 
 The children had risen to their feet and backed 
 away to the cabin-door at the sudden ap 
 proach of the horseman. Theresa mount 
 ing the low steps stood leaning against the 
 unpainted door-post which was almost the 
 same color as her faded calico dress. Her 
 bonnet hung from her hands by its cotton 
 strings. Her head drooped; her eyes were 
 
32 Stephen the Black 
 
 downcast, but a rich color was rising to her 
 cheeks. She stood motionless, with her eyes 
 fixed on the steps. 
 
 Young Aikens disclaimed any knowledge 
 of his father's arrangements in tones that were 
 good-naturedly reassuring. His father would 
 make it all right, he said. He always did do 
 the best he could for his tenants, even at his 
 own loss. The land was poor enough, and 
 cotton was bringing only five cents a pound, 
 but it would be all right, he knew. No tenant 
 could find a better landlord than his father. 
 He always considered the tenant's interests as 
 well as his own. He knew they had to live too. 
 
 The young man's eyes wandered as he spoke 
 until they fell on the motionless figure of the 
 young girl in the low doorway. He glanced 
 toward her several times during his little 
 homily on his father's virtues as a landlord. 
 His eyes seemed to entreat her to come for 
 ward, but she remained as before, mute and 
 downcast. Lemuel moved close to the trunk 
 of the China-berry tree, and fixed his inquis 
 itive eyes on the white man's face. 
 
Stephen the Black 33 
 
 The visitor asked the boy's name and age, 
 and his relationship to Theresa. 
 
 "What an absurd contrast!" he exclaimed, 
 laughing and looking again at Theresa. Lem 
 uel shifted his position, rolled the whites of 
 his eyes toward the visitor, and dug a long 
 toe into the sandy soil. 
 
 " All de white blood in de fam'ly gone to 
 make up Tressy leff me all black," he ex 
 plained, with a melancholy sigh. 
 
 Young Aikens laughed heartily, and his 
 eyes again entreated Theresa to come nearer. 
 A dimple appeared in her cheek, but she re 
 fused to stir, shaking her head slightly. The 
 smile in Ralph Aikens' eyes died out quickly: 
 he turned his horse away reminding Wesley 
 again with a business-like air that he must be 
 sure to call on his father early if he wanted 
 first choice. He withdrew a few yards and 
 suddenly stopped, wheeling his horse around. 
 
 "Tell your girl to bring me a glass of 
 water," he called out in a tone of command. 
 
 Wesley turned to look for his grandchild, 
 but she had already disappeared into the cabin 
 
34 Stephen the Black 
 
 to get the water. Presently she came forth, 
 holding a broken goblet in her hand. She 
 carried it carefully toward the horseman, 
 walking with such an even step that not a 
 drop was spilled as she moved swiftly toward 
 him. He took it from her hand, drank a little 
 water, and threw the rest away. His bold 
 blue eyes looked down deliberately into her 
 frightened dark ones. Her left hand was on 
 the bridle of his horse, and she held out the 
 other for the empty glass. The fairness of 
 the upturned face filled the young man 
 with soft emotion. His eyes became less 
 bold as he stooped down and said in a low 
 voice: 
 
 "Little one, don't be afraid of me; I want 
 you to come to my house this evening. My 
 mother will let you wait on table. Tell your 
 grandfather she wants you and will pay you 
 well, and do you come through the woods 
 about three o'clock. It's the pleasantest way. 
 Will you come?" 
 
 "Yes," whispered the girl. 
 
 In another moment he was gone, and 
 
Stephen the Black 35 
 
 Theresa, pale to the lips, pulled her sunbonnet 
 well over her head to conceal her face. 
 
 "I reckon I'll go wait on Mis' Aikens' 
 company this evenin'," she said, with an effort 
 at carelessness, but not able quite to suppress 
 the thrill that gave her young Southern voice 
 a deeper note than usual. 
 
 "Ef yer don't keer for gwine to church, I 
 reckon yer might as well 'blige Mis' Aikens," 
 her grandfather assented, dreamily. He was 
 again absorbed in a study of the Israelites in 
 the wilderness. 
 
CHAPTER in 
 
 THE first year following the close of the 
 war, Wesley Anderson and his fellows had 
 worked for their former master on terms of 
 mutual concession. As there was no money 
 to pass from hand to hand, the basis of settle 
 ment was of course the cotton crop. The 
 master was to keep nine-tenths, and his former 
 slaves agreed to divide the remaining tenth 
 among themselves. As there were not less 
 than twenty-five negro families to participate 
 in this division of the tenth, it did not prove 
 very remunerative. They had all they could 
 do to keep alive that year: and the master re 
 marked grimly, " Fill up your stomach with 
 freedom, boys," when he saw their disap 
 pointed looks and heard the apprehensive 
 murmur that the supply of food received in 
 exchange for the cotton would not last them 
 until the next crop was grown and picked. In 
 
 36 
 
Stephen the Black 37 
 
 a panic of dismal foreboding, every family 
 moved off the plantation; and some made 
 better terms with neighbors. 
 
 A few years later, an agent from the North 
 induced Wesley to place all of his little sav 
 ings in one of the Freedmen's banks, which 
 he did joyfully, after being fully persuaded 
 that the bank originated with the "Yanks," 
 and was controlled by those beneficent beings. 
 It swallowed up his first earnings, and never a 
 penny came back to him or to any of the 
 dusky children of the Black Belt. A cry of 
 grief went from plantation to plantation when 
 it was learned definitely that the banks had 
 gone to pieces, and the first earnings of the 
 freedmen, amounting to thousands of dollars, 
 had disappeared from the face of the earth. 
 
 Months of bewildering discussion failed to 
 solve the mystery of that misplaced trust. 
 There were various theories advanced. Some 
 held that an inscrutable Providence permitted 
 "mean Yanks" as well as mean niggers to 
 walk this earth. The good Yanks were prob 
 ably reduced in number since the war, the 
 
38 Stephen the Black 
 
 bad ones having dodged bullets with the cun 
 ning agility that distinguishes the wicked. 
 But Wesley was of the opinion that the Yanks 
 reckoned they had a claim on those earnings, 
 and if they thought so, why of course they 
 had. The other view prevailed more gener 
 ally, however, and many a sigh went up for 
 the poor simple Yanks who lay under the grass- 
 grown battlefields. If they had lived, they 
 would have seen to it that the negro was not 
 robbed of the first pennies he had ever earned 
 by free labor. It was thus that these untutored 
 minds strove vainly to account for a lapse in 
 the national conscience which permitted this 
 wrong to go unrighted. 
 
 There was not enough money on hand after 
 this hard experience to buy food during the 
 year, and they only managed to live at all by 
 borrowing heavily from their landlords. The 
 terms : laborer employer servant master 
 workman, having an ominous, uncertain 
 sound, recalled the degradation of slavery, and 
 were therefore avoided by both sides in this 
 new, great, cooperative experiment between 
 
Stephen the Black 39 
 
 those who had never labored, and those who 
 had never earned. 
 
 The timid, apprehensive freedmen argued 
 that to accept food and clothing from the land 
 owner as in the days of slavery, might involve 
 a hideous forfeiture of liberty; so to make 
 themselves secure, each field-hand affixed his 
 mark to a document declaring the supplies to 
 be a loan for which he agreed to pay a pon 
 derous interest until the cotton was sold, the 
 same to be deducted from his share when the 
 day of settlement came in the fall. This little 
 formality eased the min'ds of the perplexed 
 laborers, and their former masters talked pleas 
 antly over it among themselves. The price of 
 labor rose. Each man cultivated as many 
 acres as he could till, with the aid of his wife 
 and family, and half of the crop that he gath 
 ered was soon his instead of a tenth, but it 
 was heavily mortgaged in advance to pay for 
 the year's supplies, and as the price of labor 
 rose the interest on those mortgages rose also. 
 
 Meanwhile, that mysterious account of food 
 supply, mortgage, and interest, which existed 
 
40 Stephen the Black 
 
 between Wesley and his landlord, developed 
 always a deficit on the side of the tenant 
 whenever Wesley took upon himself to move 
 without the consent of his landlord. Some 
 cherished possession had then to be left be 
 hind to balance the account, and though Wes 
 ley shrewdly guessed that the deficit grew out 
 of the landlord's disgust at losing an industri 
 ous and profitable field-hand, he could whisper 
 this doubt only to those who, like himself, 
 were powerless to suggest a remedy. 
 
 During those thirty years of unceasing toil, 
 many changes came into Wesley's domestic 
 life. His wife died; then his only son, and 
 his elder daughter. Evaline, the younger 
 daughter, left him to act as housekeeper for 
 a white man of good birth and considerable 
 means. After an absence of five years, she 
 returned, leading by the hand two little chil 
 dren, a dark-skinned, woolly-headed boy and 
 a fair girl, three years his senior. She had 
 learned how to read while in the city, and spent 
 much of her time teaching the children from a 
 primer. 
 
Stephen the Black 41 
 
 The one-roomed log-cabin was not spacious 
 enough to receive these outcasts without over 
 crowding, but nobody's sense of decorum 
 was disturbed by the fact that three genera 
 tions occupied the only room in the house. 
 No romance was invented to account for the 
 existence of the children. They went by their 
 mother's name, and if any one asked who was 
 their father, the answer " He was a white 
 man," was considered definite enough to sat 
 isfy the most curious. The situation was not 
 unusual. Evaline used to pick cotton occa 
 sionally by the side of another woman whose 
 children were referred in the same vague way 
 to the anonymous parentage of another race. 
 
 "Mammy," said one of these little children 
 one day, in very distinct tones, "wha' fo' de 
 Lord Jesus mak' so many colors o' us an' only 
 one fo' de pore white man ? " 
 
 Evaline, hanging her head, had dragged her 
 children quickly away from the small ques 
 tioner, but the other woman only laughed as 
 she jerked the light-skinned child off his feet 
 and set him playfully on a heaping basket of 
 
42 Stephen the Black 
 
 cotton. She kissed him in a passion of ad 
 miration because he was fairer than herself. 
 
 Evaline had been unable to adapt herself to 
 the life of an obscure field-hand after certain 
 strange, brightly colored experiences had 
 deepened her knowledge of a world which 
 had now forsaken her, but on which her mind 
 constantly dwelt. She pined and drooped 
 until the cotton fell from her nerveless fingers, 
 and the basket came back empty from the 
 field. The interior of the log-cabin became a 
 sick-room with no skilled preparations to alle 
 viate suffering, with no other ministering 
 angel than that weary, bent, field-hand, who 
 cooked the meals, scrubbed the floor, washed 
 and dressed his grandchildren, and tended his 
 dying daughter between working hours with 
 a breathless, prayerful devotion. 
 
 After the death of Evaline, the old man was 
 sufficiently experienced to take entire charge of 
 the children, and life went on in the log-cabin : 
 or rather in the series of log-cabins, for at that 
 time they were always moving, as monoto 
 nously as before. Every cabin they moved 
 
Stephen the Black 43 
 
 into was exactly like the cabin they had left, 
 sometimes a little more out of repair and 
 sometimes a little less. The vast sea of 
 ploughed land surrounding the cabins looked 
 just about the same when seen from one point 
 of view as from another. The only variety 
 was in the season of the year. In the spring, 
 the outlook was that of dull earth and blue 
 sky: later it was a green sameness, and then a 
 pink, yellow, and olive sameness: and finally 
 a snowfall of ripe bursting cotton, in which 
 the men and women stood waist high and the 
 little children were entirely lost to view as 
 they picked by the side of their elders, closed 
 the circle; the last cotton snowflake vanished 
 into the bag of the gleaners, and the bare, 
 brown earth was exposed again in all its 
 furrowed nakedness. 
 
 Wesley had signed a new lease the year my 
 story opens, and in February had mortgaged 
 the year's crop in advance with the under 
 standing that he was to draw what he needed 
 from time to time and pay interest on the 
 whole sum from the first of January. So far 
 
44 Stephen the Black 
 
 he had drawn but little on this account, and 
 the few rations he had already obtained were 
 of the poorest and cheapest kind some meal, 
 molasses, and pork for daily use, with a few 
 pounds of tea, coffee, and brown sugar. 
 After long pondering over the conditions of 
 his existence, he had at last concluded that it 
 was wiser to draw as little in advance as pos 
 sible. He owned two thin black pigs, and he 
 had obtained permission from Colonel Aikens 
 to plant several rows of corn, sweet potatoes, 
 beans and onions, besides the inevitable 
 greens, back of his cabin; these he was 
 watching tenderly, hoeing them carefully 
 every night on his return from the field. On 
 the whole, he felt that his chances of coming 
 out ahead in the fall were brighter, for could 
 they not live on the green vegetables with a 
 little pork during several weeks of summer, 
 and would not every mouthful raised from the 
 soil save something from the proceeds of the 
 cotton crop ? 
 
 The little pigs were the pride of his heart; 
 he often denied himself a second helping at 
 
Stephen the Black 45 
 
 table that there might be more for the, pigs. 
 He knew everything about cotton-growing, 
 but not much about pigs, potatoes and beans. 
 When he had first begun to plant his little 
 garden, he had consulted all the wiseacres on 
 the plantation, but no one could tell him just 
 when the seeds should be buried or exactly 
 how deep they ought to be laid in the soil. 
 He had also sought Colonel Aik^ns' advice, but 
 the landlord's conclusion was that it didn't 
 matter much; so Wesley had selected an 
 evening when there was a bright full moon 
 and made his great economic experiment 
 alone, with a prayer in his heart. If it had 
 proved successful for himself and his fellows, 
 cotton would no longer be king; but of course 
 this poor field-hand saw but a very little way 
 into the significance of his new agricultural 
 scheme, and Colonel Aikens, it must be ad 
 mitted, saw not much further. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 RALPH AIKENS about three o'clock that Sun 
 day afternoon led his horse up the steep bank 
 of a narrow stream (from which the horse had 
 been drinking), instead of crossing the wooden 
 bridge that spanned the brook just where the 
 road entered a wood of tall pines and water 
 oaks. He was paying very little attention to 
 the horse which followed close to his elbow; 
 his eyes were following the evenly shaded 
 road overhung with interlacing boughs until it 
 emerged into a narrow cleft of sunlight and 
 blue sky half a mile beyond. 
 
 After entering the wood, he turned into a 
 bridle-path covered with a soft carpet of pine 
 needles. The pines were bare of branches for 
 quite a distance upward, leaving an open 
 space below with a canopy of tree-tops over 
 head. This gave a solemn cathedral-like as 
 pect to the woods, and the effect was height- 
 
 46 
 
Stephen the Black 47 
 
 ened by long strips of colorless hanging moss 
 which swayed from the boughs of the oak 
 trees. Unrelieved by sunlight, the sombre 
 streamers looked a rusty black in the distance, 
 as if Nature, in sorrow over her vanished 
 races, had draped her trees in funereal crepe, 
 and had forgotten to take the sad emblems 
 down until the southern storms had torn them 
 into shreds. 
 
 Ralph stopped beside a fallen tree, and his 
 horse sniffed at a bunch of ferns. He jerked 
 it away from the ferns and glanced furtively 
 to the left. Some one was approaching; he 
 devoted himself to hitching the animal to a 
 young sapling. As a slender, erect figure 
 drew near, Ralph sat down and permitted 
 himself to turn toward it -with a smile. It 
 was Theresa, in a well-starched though faded 
 chintz gown; her face was shadowed by the 
 inevitable sunbonnet, but exhibited a rosy 
 glow as she drew near. She raised her head 
 as she stood opposite to the young man, and 
 looked at him with an expression of undis 
 guised adoration. Her hands were clasped 
 
48 Stephen the Black 
 
 loosely together. Her dark eyes seemed to be 
 full of light. 
 
 "Theresa, child!" he cried, holding out his 
 hand eagerly to draw her to him. "I do ad 
 mire the way you walk. Do you know, you 
 have the step of a princess ? " 
 
 "I was a-walkin' to you," the girl an 
 swered, in a low voice and without even the 
 ghost of a smile to lighten the foolishly tender 
 meaning of her words. Ralph was satisfied 
 with a speech that revealed the willingness of 
 the speaker to wear her heart upon her sleeve. 
 
 " Do you always say what you mean as 
 neatly as that ? " he asked, laughing. 
 
 She nodded, still without smiling, and drew 
 a little nearer, but remained beyond the reach 
 of his hand. 
 
 " I asked you to come here again because I 
 want to have a little talk with you." (It was 
 evident they had met here before.) " I have a 
 great interest in you, Theresa. I want you to 
 have everything that other girls have other 
 pretty girls, I mean, though I don't know any 
 as pretty as you. I want you to have sur- 
 
Stephen the Black 49 
 
 foundings suitable to your youth and beauty. 
 I should like to see you dressed in a beautiful 
 silk gown, Theresa, trimmed with lace and 
 velvet, with a big hat and a curling feather 
 drooping over your left ear; then wouldn't 
 you look like a duchess! " 
 
 He laughed awkwardly, for the young girl 
 was still looking at him with her air of inno 
 cent gravity. 
 
 " You shall have fine clothes and music les 
 sons, Theresa, think of that! And you can 
 go to the high school, too, if you want to. I 
 am going into business in Perryville, and there 
 I shall have a little home, where you can keep 
 house for me, and have everything you want. 
 Do you understand, Theresa ? " 
 
 Ralph leaned forward and succeeded in tak 
 ing hold of her hand. His intention was to 
 draw her into his arms, but the young crea 
 ture stood firmly on her feet and looked down 
 into his face. Ralph, looking up into hers, 
 was struck with the seriousness of her expres 
 sion. 
 
 As she still made no answer, he went on 
 
50 Stephen the Black 
 
 hurriedly in a low voice: "I trust you will 
 do what I wish. I shall never marry any one 
 else, and if I should but there is no use talk 
 ing about that. This union will be sacred in 
 my eyes, and in the sight of heaven who 
 knows ? What do you say, Theresa ? " 
 
 "Am I fit to be wife o' yourn ?" she asked, 
 slowly, her low voice enunciating every word 
 with great distinctness. She pressed her hands 
 against her breast and drew her breath quickly. 
 
 "The law forbids marriage between the 
 races," he answered, frowning angrily. "I 
 am not deceiving you, Theresa. I did not 
 make the law, but I expect to obey it, and so 
 must you." 
 
 "But I'm white too," cried the girl, baring 
 her wrist and holding it out to him for exam 
 ination. The tears sprang to her eyes. 
 
 "My child, you are white enough to pass 
 anywhere for a white woman, but the only 
 marriage possible for you is marriage with a 
 low black man. You can escape that by 
 putting yourself into my hands. Look here, 
 Theresa, when you look me through with 
 
Stephen the Black 51 
 
 those innocent eyes of yours, I hope you read 
 me plainly enough. I hope you know that I 
 respect, admire, and appreciate your inno 
 cence. I should like to shield and protect you 
 always: I swear to God, I should." His voice 
 trembled as he took hold of both her hands. 
 He was astonished at his own agitation. 
 
 He had not expected to address such words 
 as these to this humble daughter of a despised 
 race, this outcast from his own race; but there 
 was something in the girl's face that asserted 
 an unusual purity of nature, and his own un 
 consciously bowed down before it. He ac 
 cepted the fact that she adored him. He knew 
 if he merely looked at her it filled her soul 
 with a tumult of joy. How could it be other 
 wise ? Yet his impulses, lawless as they were, 
 yielded an obedience to a certain mysterious 
 charm which he could define only as inno 
 cence. It had the effect of a finely distinct 
 personality, and the mental image of the girl 
 ascended in his inner consciousness as if she 
 had suddenly mounted a marble pedestal. 
 Nevertheless, in his appeals, he had carefully 
 
52 Stephen the Black 
 
 guarded himself from mentioning the name of 
 love. According to his traditions, neither love 
 nor marriage was possible between one of his 
 race and one of hers. Love might very prop 
 erly exist on her side, but it should not be 
 named by him. 
 
 But Theresa had not observed the omission 
 of this potent word, and gathered herself to 
 gether to make her plea for an ideal justice. 
 Her young heart responded to the strong emo 
 tion of the young man, expressed in his warm 
 glance, his faltering voice, and the strong clasp 
 of his hands on hers, rather than to his argu 
 ments or to his promises of glittering benefits 
 in the near future. 
 
 "I know I'm a poor ig'rant girl, born and 
 raised 'mong black folks, but I'm not black 
 myself, Mr. Ralph. Livin' 'mongst 'em won't 
 make me black. It won't " she cried, free 
 ing her hands suddenly and clasping them to 
 gether "as long as all my feelin's is white. 
 I shouldn't dream o' lovin' you if I warn't 
 white myself white all through. Don't you 
 b'lieve me?" 
 
Stephen the Black 53 
 
 "I believe you are pure of heart I believe 
 that," answered Ralph, with tenderness. 
 
 "My mother was pure o' heart, gran'pap 
 says; an' that's why she sees God every day 
 like the angels. Ain't white ladies always 
 pure o' heart ? " Her face expressed a poetic 
 rapture. 
 
 "Some of 'em," Ralph answered, with a 
 wry smile. For a moment he looked at her 
 silently, with increasing dismay. He felt an 
 aversion toward his former scheme, but 
 Theresa in her innocence helped him toward 
 it. She began again shyly: 
 
 "Gran'pap will let me go to you when I 
 tell him a white man loves me because I'm 
 white and is gwine to liff me out o' the hands 
 o' the blacks an' put me where I b'long, and 
 that God will marry us, but not the law. 
 Ain't that what you said ? " 
 
 Ralph flushed. "It was something like 
 that, but, oughtn't you to be afraid o' me, 
 Theresa ? " he asked, with a faint, newly-born 
 sense of shame within him. 
 
 "I'm not," cried the young creature, with a 
 
54 Stephen the Black 
 
 look of joy. " It don't matter about the law, 
 if God approves what we do, does it ? Gran'- 
 pap says the law's often wrong." 
 
 "So it is," cried her hero, casting aside his 
 scruples. He extended his arms and drew 
 her toward him. He pushed back her sun- 
 bonnet and kissed her, looking at her delicate 
 face with intense admiration. 
 
 "Why do you wear that ugly thing?" he 
 whispered. Theresa caught the loosened 
 strings and pulled the bonnet firmly on her 
 head. She tore herself away quickly, and 
 leaned against an oak-tree, while she tied 
 the bonnet-strings with trembling fingers. 
 
 " I belong to black folks still. I'm not fit 
 to be yourn yet," she murmured, in a choked 
 voice and a confusion of blushes. " I'm a ig'- 
 rant, foolish girl now, but I'm a-goin' to skule 
 and git a eddication, an' mebbe some day 
 you'll 'low I'm white white as you. Good 
 bye!" 
 
 To his astonishment, she turned and walked 
 rapidly away, and although he sprang to his 
 feet and called her by name, her walk changed 
 
Stephen the Black 55 
 
 to a run and she fled from him. Very soon 
 she was out of the woods and out of his sight. 
 
 A red lizard crept from under the log and 
 looked furtively into the face of the vexed 
 young man, who failed to observe it. A 
 striped snake poked out its head and blinked 
 its small, malicious eyes at him. The lizard 
 saw the wicked eyes and disappeared trem 
 bling into the decayed recesses of the log. 
 Some long, dark streamers of moss swayed 
 mournfully from an overhanging bough, for a 
 light breeze had sprung up. 
 
 In a tumult of emotion, young Aikens 
 mounted his horse and rode slowly home. 
 He reflected that for this fair child, with her 
 unfortunate parentage and her dangerous 
 beauty, there was no better fate than the one 
 he offered her. Undoubtedly her happiness 
 would be safer in his hands than elsewhere. 
 The future he was planning for her was in 
 fact a benefit and a blessing, and that was the 
 only sensible way of looking at it. For she 
 was th6 most interesting young creature he 
 had ever seen. Her little heart was a well 
 
56 Stephen the Black 
 
 of purity and love for him. It was odd she 
 should have assumed that they were to be 
 married ; it was ridiculous, laughable, pathetic. 
 It showed what a child she was to have made 
 such a mistake, and Ralph plumed himself not 
 a little on his honesty in having undeceived 
 her. It was evident that she had lived apart 
 from the blacks on the plantation, or she 
 would have known better. She would have 
 learned a different morality from them, he 
 thought. What a hideous parody it was that 
 this fair girl should be a product of their race! 
 It was monstrous that she should have to live 
 among them. He would save her at least 
 he would save her from that fate, in the only 
 way possible, and it was rather convenient on 
 the whole that there was only one way of sav 
 ing her, and that the law forbade his thinking 
 of any other. His conscience being in the 
 keeping of the state, there was no need to 
 consult it further. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE building that served both as school- 
 house and church for the blacks of this neigh 
 borhood, stood a little off the road, and was 
 surrounded on two sides by cotton-fields, 
 while in the rear it was flanked by part of the 
 same stretch of pines and Oakland in which 
 Theresa had met Ralph Aikens. 
 
 The meeting on this particular Sunday after 
 noon was well attended; the day being fair, 
 the congregation was out in its best attire. 
 The men, as a rule, wore black suits which, 
 however soiled, ill-fitting or threadbare, ex 
 pressed their yearning for social decorum and 
 gentility. The women, having no conven 
 tional rule to guide them, were altogether at 
 sea so far as appropriateness in dress was 
 concerned. Their costumes were varied ac 
 cording to the fancy of the individual, but the 
 majority were clad in poor cotton stuff, some 
 times gaily colored, but more often faded from 
 57 
 
58 Stephen the Black 
 
 frequent washing. Some of these garments, 
 now almost white, were originally of a de 
 cided color, the skirt being occasionally of a 
 more pronounced hue than the waist. Their 
 hats were of straw, and more often un- 
 trimmed than overtrimmed. A few of the 
 girls were neatly clad in decent calico, and 
 some were decked off with cheap lace and 
 ribbons. The effect as a whole, was less 
 pleasing than one might imagine, chiefly from 
 the absence of vivid coloring. The sharp con 
 trast of black features against the background 
 of faded, whitish gowns lent an effectiveness 
 that failed somehow to be picturesque. It 
 was noticeable that good looks among the 
 women, were rare. Their figures as a rule, 
 were angular, and their chests hollow. The 
 older women were bent and shapeless; the 
 men in this respect had the advantage. 
 
 The building was of frame; the seats were 
 uncushioned pine boards; the windows were 
 four square holes closed by wooden shutters. 
 Through two of these open windows one 
 could see a stretch of light brown earth, and 
 
Stephen the Black 59 
 
 a piece of blue sky with white clouds sailing 
 over it; on the other side, the woods were 
 visible, and some trees dipped their branches 
 almost into the faces of the congregation. 
 There was no pulpit. A small reading-table 
 stood near the centre of the room, and an 
 unpainted desk with a switch lying across it 
 had been pushed against the wall in a pal 
 pable effort to hide the school in the bosom 
 of the church. 
 
 The minister, an elderly negro, clad also in 
 respectable but seedy black, arrived in a tot 
 tering buggy drawn by an emaciated mule. 
 The animal was tied to a tree outside, and 
 feasted on what leaves and shoots it could 
 reach. Several other mules whose owners 
 came astride them did the same as far as 
 circumstances would permit. 
 
 It was quite a long time after the people 
 assembled before the services began, but this 
 caused no annoyance, for the congregation 
 dispersed itself in groups out of doors and 
 discussed matters of local interest. Two 
 choirs began to practice their hymns; one 
 
60 Stephen the Black 
 
 in the church and one outside. There had 
 been a division of sentiment in the congrega 
 tion on the question of devotional music, 
 some insisting on a shouting, jerking, tune 
 less kind of chant with an accompaniment of 
 crazy gestures, and others preferring a style 
 more in keeping with the spiritual longings 
 of the race. In the fear of losing either set 
 of disputants from his flock, the preacher had 
 settled the difficulty by pressing both choirs 
 into service and dividing the exercises between 
 them, this tolerant, inconvenient method of 
 settling a question being dear to the long-suf 
 fering, absurdly patient negro heart. 
 
 In the course of time, the groups outside 
 broke up and settled themselves expectantly 
 on the hard benches within. The minister 
 began his prayer, but he was evidently suf 
 fering from a severe cold, for his voice was 
 hoarse and weak. Choir No. i sang with 
 plaintive fervor, 
 
 " We is walkin* in de light o' God ; " 
 
 the minister prayed again and read a selec- 
 
Stephen the Black 61 
 
 tion. Choir No. 2 then started on its bar 
 barous course with pounding of feet and 
 extravagant shouts. The more respectable 
 members of the congregation looked severe 
 disapproval; some of the young people snig 
 gered. The minister waited patiently, hoping 
 it would soon be over. He consulted his 
 watch several times, but the choir kept on. 
 There seemed to be no end to the verses; it 
 was impossible to tell what they were sing 
 ing about, except that a constantly recur 
 ring chorus announced, 
 
 " We'll soon leave de wilderness 
 Oh, brother, come along ! " 
 
 The worthy man looked reproachfully at a 
 certain Jerry Watkins, the leader of the choir. 
 He raised his hand and waved it authorita 
 tively, but Jerry was not looking at him, and the 
 choir continued at full blast. The voices rose 
 louder and louder; the faces of the young 
 women at Jerry's side showed increasing 
 excitement. Their eyes blazed, their heads 
 bobbed up and down rhythmically, they 
 
62 Stephen the Black 
 
 waved their handkerchiefs and stamped their 
 feet. Several members of the congregation 
 were developing signs of hysteria and cried 
 out irrelevantly, "We's all poor critters." 
 Many of the young people began to laugh 
 aloud. The meeting was on the verge of 
 breaking into a scene of wild disorder and 
 emotional frenzy. The minister coughed 
 weakly and cast an appealing glance to the 
 right and left, as if imploring some one to 
 come to his aid. He was an old man, and 
 his hoarse, quavering voice could not be heard 
 against the volume of sound that the choir 
 was now pouring forth. 
 
 A young man then arose, slowly at first, 
 from his seat by the window, and walked 
 quickly to the front. He was a stranger to 
 nearly all in the room. In his hand he held the 
 switch that had been lying on the desk against 
 the wall, and he rapped sharply with it on the 
 table before him. 
 
 "The choir will take their seats," he called 
 out in a clear, firm voice. In astonishment, 
 they sat down, open-mouthed. Jerry Watkins 
 
Stephen the Black 63 
 
 waved his singing-book frantically he held it 
 upside down, for his musical efforts were 
 wholly extemporaneous but no one followed 
 him, and he too sat down, mopping his brow 
 with an air of having done his duty like a 
 man. 
 
 "The brother on my left will lead us in 
 prayer," said the young man, and retired 
 quietly to his seat by the window. The brother 
 on his left was our friend, Wesley Anderson. 
 He had been sitting on the front bench with 
 folded arms; his composure and air of gen 
 tle dignity had caused the stranger to single 
 him out to lead the excited assembly back to 
 moderation and decorum. 
 
 Wesley had been longing for such an op 
 portunity. Speech was easy to him when the 
 Lord told him what to say, and on this occa 
 sion the Lord had not only prepared his mind 
 beforehand, but had put into the mouths of 
 the foolish, shouting choir the very words he 
 wanted for a text. 
 
 He rose hastily and began his prayer with 
 honeyed phrases designed to attract the wav- 
 
64 Stephen the Black 
 
 ering attention of the Lord Jesus and incline 
 Him to bend His ear toward His black children. 
 It was necessary to remind Him forcibly of 
 their existence by relating with energetic ges 
 ticulation their past experiences and sufferings. 
 Wesley's black, weather-beaten face was 
 turned upward, while his deep voice poured 
 forth its narrative in accents of piteous solici 
 tation. Uncultured and illiterate as he was, 
 the old negro never hesitated for a word ; texts 
 and Biblical phrases rolled from his tongue, 
 transformed by a vivid imagination and the 
 picturesque dialect of his race into new and 
 extraordinary meanings. Finally, it was evi 
 dent that his utterances were addressed more 
 to the understanding of his audience than to 
 the ear of the Deity. 
 
 "De Lord Jesus know what He's about!" 
 he cried, clasping his hands together with en 
 thusiasm. "He's a-mindin' Hisself agin o' 
 dem chillen o' Israel ! " He warmed to the 
 old familiar theme; it was evident that his 
 audience warmed with him. They listened as 
 if spellbound while Wesley established point 
 
Stephen the Black 65 
 
 after point in the wonderful likeness which he 
 beheld in the history of the two races. A 
 prophetic light shone from his eyes; it was the 
 light that had illumined the darkness of slavery 
 the guiding star of religious hope to which 
 this ignorant and degraded race had clung with 
 sublime faith through all its wanderings. The 
 time had now come to point out the rapturous 
 fulfilment of an heroic trust. A new interpre 
 tation was visible: the day of rejoicing was 
 close at hand ; the Lord God was already visi 
 ble in the burning bush. 
 
 "Thirty-three year done gone by, but not 
 forty, my sisters and brudders " he continued, 
 while every face was turned toward him, even 
 the children listening eagerly "sence de 
 wah. De Lord Jesus gwine to pass by in 
 seven mo' year; den de colored peoples gwine 
 to be lift' up out o' dere tribulations and hum 
 bleness. Dey'll be set up on high places, dey'll 
 have gran' houses to live in an' mules and oxen 
 to draw 'em to church like dey was big folks. 
 Blessed be de name o' de Lord when de day o' 
 our rejoicin' sets in, an' we's called upon to 
 
66 Stephen the Black 
 
 weep no mo', an' go thirsty an' hunger no 
 mo', an' what we plants an' hoes for, we reaps 
 and sells and puts in our pockets fo' de chillen at 
 home, an' not fo' de white man to feed his chillen 
 upon. Lord Jesus, we ain't no bad feelin's 
 ag'in de white man, but teach us, Lord, to pos 
 sess our souls in patience fo' de day o' His 
 judgment until He leave His marcy-seat! Sing, 
 rejoice, O Israel, and play upon a harp o' many 
 strings, fo' in seben year mo' He deliver His 
 darlin' fom de lions, He lead us out o' dis 
 yere wilderness when de forty year is up. 
 Den He wipe ebery tear away, He giv' de staff 
 o' life into our han's an' tell us to lean upon it 
 when we's weary and heart-broken and sad! 
 Seven mo' year and we's free o' dis yere wil 
 derness, de Lord be praised! Amen!" 
 
 Wesley sank into his seat, exhausted by 
 the passion of his eloquence which was now 
 having a powerful effect on his hearers. Their 
 heads were bowed and their eyes streaming 
 with tears. The feeble old minister came for 
 ward and informed his flock in a voice of deep 
 emotion that he reckoned the Lord had spoken 
 
Stephen the Black 67 
 
 through the tongue of Brother Anderson, and 
 he fully endorsed his doctrine as comforting 
 and scriptural. He hoped they would accept 
 it as a prophecy and be reconciled to bear all 
 the trials of their lot without complaining 
 during the coming seven years. Then they 
 would be clear of the wilderness. 
 
 He sat down in a fit of coughing, and the 
 young man who had silenced the choir arose. 
 His manner was abrupt; his voice somewhat 
 harsh; he spoke hesitatingly with his dark 
 hands pressed together as if unaccustomed to 
 public utterance. Some of the glib brethren 
 were fearful that he would break down during 
 the first few sentences, a never-to-be-forgot 
 ten disgrace in the eyes of this oratory-loving 
 people. 
 
 "We black folks" he began, slowly " I 
 reckon, don't need to wait forty years for the 
 Lord to pass by. I reckon we spend time 
 waiting when we might be doing. I have 
 come here, friends, to teach school in this 
 building. I hope to have as good a school as 
 there is in the state of Alabama. But nobody 
 
68 Stephen the Black 
 
 ever walked out of such a wilderness as we're 
 in now without going through one door, and 
 that's the door of the schoolroom. I want 
 you to send your children to school to-morrow 
 and keep them here every day, and I promise 
 you that every day those children come, if it's 
 from now until next December they'll find me 
 here to teach them." 
 
 A peal of thunder and a flash of lightning 
 caused the speaker to pause. He glanced at 
 the open windows, through which the rain 
 was beginning to splash in. To close the 
 shutters would leave the building in darkness, 
 but it was the only way to keep the rain out. 
 The women began to murmur and to edge 
 away from the walls, out of reach of the rain, 
 which was fast settling into a heavy pour. 
 
 "Look!" he cried, reproachfully, waving 
 one hand toward the nearest window, " not 
 a pane of glass in this building ! If you'll 
 help pay for the material, I'll undertake to put 
 glass windows in this church so we can wor 
 ship God here without fear o' getting soaked, 
 and the little children can see their books in 
 
Stephen the Black 69 
 
 school without shivering. We need a tight 
 roof, too," he added, glancing up at the drops 
 of water which were now trickling from the 
 rafters. 
 
 " Dis yere ain't de time nor de 'casion for 
 to talk o' fixin' winders an' mendin' roofs," 
 said Jerry Watkins, rising from his seat to ad 
 dress the presumptuous teacher in tones of 
 mingled grief, scorn, and stern reproof. 
 "We's come here for sperritual comfort an' 
 not to be told tales o' our poverty-stricken- 
 ness. ' Blessed be de pore in sperrit,' an, we's 
 pore enough I reckon to grab all dat blessin'. 
 Ef dere be a hole in yonder roof, what dat 
 signify ? What it signify ef de rain do come 
 troo, ef we kin look up an' behold de count- 
 'nance o' de Lord Jesus peerin' down from His 
 marcy-seat to spy on de doin's o' His black 
 chillen in dis yere old shanty? Warn't de 
 Lord on hand an' mighty nigh when de poor 
 nigger folks prayed for freedom in dem ole 
 bush arbors, jes' for all de world like dem bush 
 arbors war gran' temples o' marble an' pre 
 cious stones ? I 'spec' de Lord Jesus '11 mend 
 
yo Stephen the Black 
 
 dat roof bime-by when He git ready like 
 enough when de seben mo' year done pass 
 by dat Brudder Anderson speak about." 
 
 These remarks produced a peculiar effect on 
 the darked-skinned stranger. His eyes flashed 
 and his face quivered as he came forward again 
 with an imperious gesture. In the excitement 
 of the moment, his embarrassment vanished; 
 his speech became singularly clear and persua 
 sive; soon it took on a deep-toned eloquence. 
 
 "Oh, my people, my poor people!" he 
 cried, extending his arms toward them, "I 
 too want you to be lifted up out of your 
 misery! I have come dov/n here to give you 
 what help lies in my power, not to rail at you. 
 God forbid that I should be puffed up with 
 vanity and think myself better than you, but I 
 have been blessed with some education and 
 other golden opportunities, and I am here to 
 use them for your benefit. It cuts me to the 
 heart to see how you live; nay, it fills me with 
 shame, with shame! You for whom so much 
 has been done, so much endured! Do you 
 mind the time when the heavens were rolled 
 
Stephen the Black 71 
 
 back like a scroll, and God's lightning flashed, 
 and His thunderbolts fell to save you? Have 
 you forgotten the days when the sun stood 
 still and the earth was darkened and a mighty 
 nation tore its heart out and writhed in agony, 
 that you that you might live and walk about 
 in God's sunlight like men ? Oh, my people, 
 I call upon you to rise up out of your degrada 
 tion! Your prayers and your prophecies are 
 a mockery while your lives are full of sin. 
 Lift yourselves up and seek God in righteous 
 living. No, do not heed my words if they 
 sound harsh ; lay it to my crude utterance if I 
 have said aught to give offence my heart is 
 full of love and sympathy I want only to 
 work with you, to be one of you." 
 
 The meeting broke up suddenly. The con 
 gregation gathered around the young teacher 
 to examine him curiously. Wesley Anderson, 
 though much discomforted by the slight laid 
 upon his prophetic utterance, hastened to 
 clasp the stranger's hand and welcome him to 
 the neighborhood. He was a slender young 
 fellow, with eyes that turned from grey to 
 
72 Stephen the Black 
 
 black. There was white blood evidently in 
 his ancestry, but heavily obscured, for his 
 skin and hair were those of a typical black, 
 the former being dark brown, and the latter 
 close and woolly. 
 
 His hearers had no thought of accepting him 
 as a leader. They eyed him good-naturedly, 
 but critically, and commented on his speech 
 among themselves, some expressing approval 
 and others shaking their heads dubiously, but 
 their chief concern was the possibility of hav 
 ing real glass windows in their church build 
 ing. They agreed to bear the expense of the 
 materials, and the newcomer promised that 
 the windows should be there within a month. 
 
 They sat around and talked the matter over 
 in all its bearings. The teacher's name was 
 Stephen Wells, from Virginia, he said, and 
 as he gave it, he wrote down in a little book 
 the name of his questioner and the plantation 
 on which he lived. 
 
 They felt somewhat drawn toward the 
 young man, but mystified by his attitude, 
 which was more paternal than the occasion 
 
Stephen the Black 73 
 
 seemed to warrant. They decided to watch 
 him closely in the future. 
 
 Wesley turned homeward with his head 
 bent, absorbed in a study of the new teacher's 
 discourse, which he compared restlessly with 
 his own prophecy. Lemuel walked beside 
 him, also lost in a study of the new teacher's 
 words. His grandfather promised that he 
 should begin school again and that Theresa 
 should accompany him. 
 
 They found her waiting at the cabin door. 
 She was sitting on the upper step, and she 
 told them that supper was on the table. 
 
 " Mis' Aiken didn't want me to wait on her 
 company, so I come home," she explained 
 quietly. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN Stephen Wells opened his school the 
 next morning he found the Anderson boy and 
 girl among his first pupils. Lemuel's bright 
 eyes were fixed sharply on the new instructor, 
 his eager black face was full of expecta 
 tion and watchfulness. But Theresa, toward 
 whom the teacher's eyes were directed several 
 times, with a look of surprised inquiry, sat 
 with her chin resting on a slight little hand. 
 Her eyes obediently followed the ferule to the 
 blackboard when directed, but her gaze was 
 pensive and her expression dreamy. 
 
 Stephen examined every pupil in the rudi 
 ments, and dismissed the school early, so that 
 he could arrange his classes for the following 
 day. 
 
 He began wprk soon afterward on the win 
 dows of the building, for the glass arrived the 
 same week. Lemuel sometimes stayed after 
 school hours to help him, and on one occa- 
 74 
 
Stephen the Black 75 
 
 sion Theresa remained to assist in dabbing 
 putty on the edge of the glass. The fame of 
 his performances spread over many planta 
 tions, and his circle of gaping observers in 
 creased daily. 
 
 Meanwhile on the appointed Saturday after 
 noon, Wesley Anderson made his way to the 
 home of his landlord, arriving at the back 
 door shortly after the midday meal. It was 
 a wide, low, rambling building of one story, 
 surrounded by a luxuriant but neglected 
 garden, overgrown with high grasses, weeds, 
 rosebushes, and vines. The colonel and his 
 family occupied the old homestead only a few 
 months every spring, so it was not thought 
 worth while to keep the place in repair. In 
 the background a few tumble-down log cabins 
 nestled, some intended to serve as outside 
 kitchen, tool-house, and wash-house, while 
 others gave shelter to half a dozen servants. 
 
 Wesley was admitted to the hall by a side 
 door, and found his landlord in a back room 
 adjoining the dining-room. This room was 
 furnished with a desk, a couple of tables, and 
 
76 Stephen the Black 
 
 one chair, on which the proprietor sat, facing 
 a number of field-hands who had come to ob 
 tain their supplies for the month. These 
 black fellows were in their working clothes ; 
 some stood straight against the wall, others 
 lounged against each other, while a few, who 
 had brought their wives, placed them beside 
 a pile of barrels and boxes on one side of the 
 room. It resembled, in fact, the storeroom 
 of a retail grocery establishment, but there 
 were dry goods in stock as well as groceries, 
 and the women were examining with envious 
 eyes the rolls of gaudy cheap calico which 
 lay on the shelf in wrappings of brown paper. 
 Odors of sugar, ham, rum, and tobacco 
 weighted the atmosphere heavily with sug 
 gestions of past commercial transactions, as 
 well as good times to come, for never was 
 such an assortment of articles and odors 
 brought together except for purposes of bar 
 ter. 
 
 Colonel Aikens, stout, florid and benevolent- 
 looking, with slightly curling grey locks and 
 a long grey beard, called off in a business- 
 
Stephen the Black 77 
 
 like way the names of his tenants and the 
 amount of groceries and dry goods desired by 
 each. Every now and then he aided their 
 choice by pointing out the superior virtues of 
 a certain ham, or the extraordinary cheapness 
 of his sugar, cornmeal, or coffee. He was 
 solicitous that the women should make their 
 selections from the calico and muslin on the 
 shelf, and joked slyly with their husbands 
 over the extravagance of their fashionable at 
 tire, and the becomingness of the gaudy colors 
 they selected. 
 
 In response to his jokes, the men showed 
 rows of even white teeth, and sometimes re 
 plied in half whispers with little jokes of their 
 own, or shook their heads deprecatingly and 
 often sadly over their increasing expenses, and 
 the weakness of spouses whose hearts were 
 so easily won by purple chintz and wholesale 
 flattery. 
 
 Wesley ordered a smaller supply than any 
 of the others, and declined all bargains in 
 dress goods. His girl, he explained, had a 
 taste of her own, and he wouldn't undertake 
 
78 Stephen the Black 
 
 to suit her. She could come herself some 
 day if she wanted to, and the colonel agreed 
 that this was the best plan and offered to 
 order an extra dress pattern of whatever ma 
 terial she might desire "because," he said, 
 " she's the prettiest girl on the plantation, and 
 you ought to dress her so's to let people know 
 it." 
 
 "I ain't hankerin' to have 'em know it, 
 sah," Wesley replied, looking down uneasily 
 at the floor. "I don't want to lose my gurl. 
 She's all I got, her an' her brudder." 
 
 "Boys, ain't any of you got sperrit enough 
 to take that pretty girl 'long with you to 
 church and buy ribbons for her ? You're a 
 fine set o' fellows, you are," the colonel 
 called out waggishly. 
 
 One of the unmarried men, laughing bash 
 fully, responded that the fault was not his. 
 
 "I been invitin' Miss Tressy time an' time 
 again to go to church wid me, but she 'cline 
 de invitation ever' time," he observed with 
 plaintive candor. They all laughed in the 
 same gentle fashion, turning the whites of 
 
Stephen the Black 79 
 
 their large ox-like eyes upon Wesley, who 
 laughed also and looked relieved. 
 
 Wesley assisted the colonel to weigh the 
 groceries and other articles on a pair of large 
 scales which stood on the table, and to cut off 
 the dress lengths to suit the women. Every 
 purchase was deposited in a large paper bag, 
 which the tenant swung over his shoulder or 
 hugged under his arm as he departed. Some 
 had brought flasks which they had filled with 
 poor whiskey or rum, and nearly all received 
 molasses in stone jugs, which they had also 
 brought for refilling. 
 
 "Now, Wesley," whispered the colonel, 
 affably, when all the others had withdrawn, 
 " I've got something I've been saving for you. 
 I'm goin' to let you have it at a sacrifice." 
 
 He led the way to a rickety stable, the door 
 of which he flung open wide. 
 
 "Just take a look at him." Wesley entered 
 and saw a young ox standing in the nearest 
 stall. He was meek-eyed and sound of limb, 
 and the colonel explained that he had already 
 been broken to the plough. 
 
8o Stephen the Black 
 
 "I'll let you have that animal cheaper than 
 you could buy one yourself if you went to 
 every sale in the state. I picked him up at 
 auction, and got him thrown in with a car 
 riage I bought for myself. You can have him 
 for seventy-five dollars." 
 
 "What interest?" asked Wesley, soberly. 
 
 "Same as you pay for the rest twenty-five 
 per cent." 
 
 "I been lookin' fo'ward to buyin' a ox this 
 thirty year an' mo'," remarked the negro, 
 sadly. "Tears like I couldn't never 'ford to 
 buy him, nohow." 
 
 "You'll save money on that ox, hirin' him 
 out when you ain't usin' him yourself. He'll 
 thrive on what you throw away. Feed him 
 on cotton stalks and it won't cost you a cent 
 to keep him, I bet." 
 
 The result of the interview was that Wesley 
 led off the young ox and chained him within 
 an unused cabin near by. He rejoiced over 
 his acquisition from sheer love of ownership. 
 His farmer's heart had never yet been grati 
 fied; but when he remembered how little 
 
Stephen the Black 81 
 
 there was left after the sale of the last season's 
 crop, he almost regretted that the wonderful 
 bargain had been offered to him. The colonel 
 assured him, however, that the coming crop 
 was likely to be unprecedented in size and 
 value, and that cotton was going to reach a 
 higher price in the fall than it had touched 
 since the war. So Wesley braced himself up 
 with the colonel's happy optimism ; he fed the 
 ox lovingly and bountifully and extended his 
 mortgage a little further into the coming crop. 
 He called the animal, " Abraham." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THERESA attended school regularly for some 
 weeks and devoted herself with more ambi 
 tion than she usually possessed to her books. 
 As her teacher bent over her one day to point 
 out an error in an example she had attempted 
 on her slate, the girl noticed with surprise the 
 unusual color of his eyes, and she reflected 
 with satisfaction on this evidence of his mixed 
 blood. Stephen was secretly pleased at the 
 many proofs Theresa gave him of her confi 
 dence, and in no wise conjectured that his 
 grey eyes were at the bottom of the shy, 
 deferential glances which she bestowed upon 
 him. 
 
 He noticed also that while she held herself 
 aloof from the other pupils, there was noth 
 ing disdainful in her attitude. She moved in 
 and out of their presence without exciting 
 envy or ill-feeling, and when she sat alone at 
 recess, her absence from their sports passed 
 82 
 
Stephen the Black 83 
 
 without reproach. It seemed to be an ac 
 cepted fact that Theresa did not care for their 
 pastimes, and probably they vaguely recog 
 nized that the chords of her young life were 
 in tune for higher melodies than might be 
 played upon their own. 
 
 Two weeks passed by. Theresa had not 
 seen the colonel's son since that Sunday in 
 the woods, but she had heard of his return to 
 the city, and her thoughts centred on the 
 possibilities of his reappearance and on that 
 mysterious union which she longed for with 
 out comprehending the degradation it im 
 plied. The girl's version of his interest in her 
 was based on the consciousness of her white 
 blood. Her quick imagination encouraged the 
 fancy that there was something incongruous 
 in her secluded life among the blacks, and the 
 unqualified admiration which the white man 
 had deigned to bestow upon her seemed to 
 prove that he too felt the incongruity, and 
 was determined to rescue her from such un 
 worthy surroundings. 
 
 Theresa knew little of her mother's history. 
 
84 Stephen the Black 
 
 The real tragedy of that life had been care 
 fully kept from her knowledge by her grand 
 father. She knew that her father had been 
 a white man. In her ignorant young mind 
 this bald fact stood forth in brilliant isolation. 
 Of social customs she knew nothing, and of 
 race prejudice she understood enough to ap 
 preciate the existence of a color line that was 
 outwardly visible. But the Lord had made 
 her skin, hair and eyes like those of a more 
 favored race, and she thankfully accepted 
 these proofs of her kinship with superior be 
 ings, without loss of self-esteem because the 
 rest of her household represented an inferior 
 race. 
 
 She was not distressed because her grand 
 father and brothers were black, nor did she 
 conceive it to be any reason why she should 
 love them less. In her dream of a future union 
 with Ralph Aikens, she had not contemplated 
 with any distinctness a separation from the 
 two black comrades of her home and child 
 hood. Bound to them by the closest of hu 
 man ties, yet believing herself to be of differ- 
 
Stephen the Black 85 
 
 ent blood and intended for a higher destiny, 
 herein no discrepancy had as yet presented 
 itself to the understanding of this simple child. 
 
 Her approval of the new teacher deepened 
 when she learned that he was a graduate of 
 a northern college. The young man had re 
 ceived a fairly good education in a sectarian 
 school which had been founded by the phil 
 anthropic energy of the North, immediately 
 after the war. From this obscure, struggling 
 institution he had obtained a teacher's diploma 
 some three years before, and had subsequently 
 worked his way through the large industrial 
 Normal Institute established by the great 
 leader of the negro race in Alabama. Here 
 he learned a trade and some practical knowl 
 edge of farming. 
 
 In regard to the ancestry of Stephen Wells, 
 I am compelled to make a somewhat elaborate 
 explanation. Both of his parents were of 
 mixed blood, and both could rightfully claim 
 to be the descendants of white men. In the 
 generation previous there was also mixed blood 
 on the maternal side of either parent; in the 
 
86 Stephen the Black 
 
 generation back of that there was again a 
 heavy mixture; while still further back, the 
 dark blood was pure on one side and only 
 slightly adulterated on the other, until we 
 reach finally the full blooded African type 
 from which all these variations had developed. 
 On the other hand, the white blood was a 
 pure, clear Anglo-Saxon current bearing the 
 virtues and vices of a Revolutionary hero, a 
 Maryland judge and a North Carolina planter, 
 besides those of innumerable lesser lights of 
 unquestioned worth and respectability. One 
 can see at a glance that it would be exceed 
 ingly difficult to measure the exact proportion 
 of white and black blood which the descend 
 ants of so many points of contact represented. 
 One can also see that the transmission of 
 mental, moral and physical qualities is a proc 
 ess capable of an infinite number of combi 
 nations; it proceeds along the line of arith- 
 metrical progression into everlasting differen 
 tiations. 
 
 From this ocean of all possible combina 
 tions, an inscrutable Providence had arranged 
 
Stephen the Black . 87 
 
 an exceedingly simple variety for my hero. 
 The conditions of Stephen's existence were 
 simply these: In the transmission of charac 
 teristics belonging to two separate and dis 
 tinct races, which had intermingled several 
 times in the course of four generations, it hap 
 pened that the Anglo-Saxon inheritance con 
 tributed all the mental and moral attributes 
 that constitute the personality of a human 
 being. The elements of African inheritance 
 which were fewer in number, had on the 
 other hand so arranged themselves as to form 
 a physical exterior to this personality. In 
 other words, Stephen, in mind, temperament 
 and sensibility was the sum total of his white 
 ancestors; they had also left their mark to a 
 certain degree on his features, but the outside 
 covering to all these Anglo-Saxon elements 
 was the cuticle of the black. He was a white 
 man shut up in a black skin, though believing 
 himself to possess only a small trace of white 
 blood in his veins. 
 
 Desiring to be perfectly frank with my reader, 
 I hasten to explain that in the case of Theresa 
 
88 Stephen the Black 
 
 these conditions were reversed. Outwardly, 
 she was a white woman, but inwardly the 
 fabric of her nature was woven of African 
 characteristics; her clinging tenderness, her 
 devoted faith, her poetic dreaminess, were 
 qualities bequeathed by her black ancestors. 
 
 When these strange psychological facts are 
 understood, may I not hope that Stephen's 
 claim to the sympathetic interest of the great 
 white American public will be firmly estab 
 lished ? Need I hesitate to present him to my 
 readers as the hero of this humble romance ? 
 Those who have been moved to tears by the 
 dark mystery of the Man with the Iron Mask 
 will surely comprehend the tragedy involved 
 in wearing an iron mask not only over one's 
 features, but over every circumstance and con 
 dition of one's life. 
 
 But in the case of my heroine, have I been, 
 alas ! too frank ? Have I indeed chilled the 
 reader's interest by this witless revelation of her 
 dark personality ? If so, I can only hope that 
 her fair exterior may cause my explanation to 
 be forgotten, or at least ignored. To be beau- 
 
Stephen the Black 89 
 
 tiful is all that is demanded of a heroine; let 
 all else be forgotten concerning her! Nothing 
 but death shall dim the lustre of her eyes and 
 the enchanting fairness of her skin. I have 
 blundered, but I assure the indulgent reader 
 that I shall not allude to my blunder again. 
 
 Stephen was surprised one day, when three 
 negroes, austerely clad in their shabby black Sun 
 day suits, knocked for admission at the school- 
 house door, and seated themselves on the front 
 bench facing the teacher's desk, which was 
 the only desk of which the school could boast. 
 From their air of grave deliberation it was ap 
 parent that they had come with a set purpose. 
 Stephen recognized Wesley Anderson as one 
 of them ; another was the old minister, whose 
 husky voice had recovered its usual tones; the 
 third was a stranger. Mr. Simpson, the 
 preacher, was the only one of the three who 
 knew how to read. They listened solemnly 
 to every word that Stephen addressed to his 
 pupils, and to every recitation. Occasionally 
 they glanced shyly at each other with a 
 
go Stephen the Black 
 
 thoughtful nod indicative of qualified ap 
 proval, but their prevailing expression was one 
 of deep anxiety. They seemed to be weighed 
 down with a sense of crushing responsibility, 
 and a depressing realization of the awful pro 
 portions of their self-imposed task. 
 
 When recess came, the three old darkies 
 sighed and looked at each other questioningly, 
 still unrelieved of their harassing doubts. 
 Stephen approached them with cordiality, but 
 it was plain that they considered their unful 
 filled mission to be an obstacle to the estab 
 lishment of more cordial relations. They shook 
 hands with coy dignity, and the minister asked 
 for a book on arithmetic. Stephen handed 
 him the one in use by the school. Brother 
 Simpson turned over the pages with gravity, 
 and read aloud softly to his comrades the 
 words, "Long Division." Adjusting their 
 steel spectacles, the three fumbled over the 
 page together, and shamefacedly the preacher 
 read off the terms of an example given as 
 an illustration of long division. Somehow 
 Stephen was made aware that his visitors 
 
Stephen the Black 91 
 
 wanted him to work out that particular sum 
 on the blackboard; mechanically he wrote 
 down the figures and explained every step in 
 the process. As he named the result, which 
 proved to be twenty-five dollars, the three 
 heads bent simultaneously over the book, the 
 three black wrinkled faces wearing an expres 
 sion of painful embarrassment and suppressed 
 excitement. The reverend Mr. Simpson raised 
 the book to the light and read off in a whisper 
 the result of the illustrating problem. Then 
 all three stared long and earnestly at the black 
 board, and again at the book. Intense satis 
 faction became immediately visible on their 
 faces as Mr. Simpson explained again in a 
 whisper that the answer on the blackboard 
 corresponded to the one given in the book. 
 
 Stephen concluded that these old men had 
 come to test his fitness for the position of 
 school-teacher, and he could not but smile at 
 the comical long-headedness which had enabled 
 the poor old field-hands to perform their well- 
 nigh impossible task. He could not fail either, y + 
 to appreciate fcs^ conscientious zeal which had / /#& 
 
92 Stephen the Black 
 
 caused them to disguise the nature of their er 
 rand in a well-meant effort to spare him a 
 wound that might prove to be unnecessary. 
 
 Stephen had always looked with the con 
 tempt of a northern born and college-bred man 
 (for such he considered himself) upon the 
 millions of his race occupying so large a por 
 tion of the Southland. He shuddered over 
 their illiteracy, the statistics of which were ap 
 palling; he was still groaning in spirit over 
 their barbarous and degraded modes of living. 
 This naive investigation into his merits, there 
 fore, brought quite as much relief to him as it 
 did to his anxious visitors, who were now lit 
 erally hugging each other with joy over the 
 discovery that their " Perfessor" could do long 
 division. These illiterate sons of toil had 
 made a desperate effort to test the claims of 
 him who was sent to be to them as a fountain- 
 head of learning. It was the first proof he 
 had received that their blind groping for bet 
 ter things had any practical purpose back 
 of it. It was pathetic; but it was also hope 
 ful. 
 
Stephen the Black 93 
 
 In their enthusiasm they shook his hand again 
 and again as they bade him farewell. 
 
 "We's got a perfessor now who's gwine 
 to eddicate our chillen like de white man's 
 chillen ; we'se gwine to be lift' up out o' our 
 ig'rance; yes, sah, we is!" was the tenor of 
 their congratulations as they left the school- 
 house door. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE next morning Stephen found that both 
 the Anderson children were absent from his 
 school. He looked again for them at the 
 afternoon session, but neither the dark, keen 
 visage of Lemuel nor the fair, delicate face of 
 his sister was visible in the crowded interior 
 of the schoolroom. 
 
 Every week was bringing fresh recruits to 
 the school, until Stephen reluctantly decided 
 that he could receive no more, certainly not 
 until he was prepared to engage an assistant 
 teacher and build an extra wing to the little 
 frame building. As yet it was impossible to 
 make any such additions, for his salary of 
 twelve dollars a month was barely sufficient 
 to pay a minimum of board and leave a much 
 needed margin for other expenses. 
 
 He found himself obliged in many cases to 
 advance money for the purchase of slates, 
 copybooks, blackboards, pencils, and text- 
 
 94 
 
Stephen the Black 95 
 
 books, on a promise of the field-hands to re 
 pay him in the fall. The text-books naturally 
 dwindled to the few used by himself, and 
 from them he copied on the blackboard the 
 lessons of the day. He invested eight dollars 
 of his savings in what seemed to him a very 
 complete set of reading and writing charts 
 which he hung on the wall. They were the 
 admiration of the neighborhood, and he was 
 continually explaining their merits to his 
 numerous callers until he became weary of 
 the task, especially as he found himself com 
 pelled to depend more and more on highly 
 original methods of his own in handling 
 classes of boys and girls whose ages varied 
 from six to twenty-five years, and whose 
 only common characteristic was a dense 
 ignorance. 
 
 Many of his pupils traveled miles across the 
 country to attend the school, yet this much- 
 needed and highly appreciated institution had 
 hitherto been open only three months of the 
 year one month in summer, and two in 
 winter. It was now completing the second 
 
96 . Stephen the Black 
 
 month of its much belated winter term, and 
 its days were numbered to an exceeding few. 
 After six weeks' intermission it would reopen 
 in July for four weeks more, and then another 
 long gap would occur, during which the chil 
 dren would fall back into the common pit 
 of knownothingness, from which they were 
 dragged during the brief interval when learn 
 ing was supposed to be flourishing among 
 them. 
 
 Stephen had now succeeded in getting them 
 into a habit of attention, and it might soon 
 be possible to teach them things they would 
 remember. So far, the administration of 
 knowledge had seemed a slippery something 
 that rolled over their woolly heads and down 
 their crouching backs and away out the door. 
 It would lodge nowhere at first, detained not 
 even by their bright magnetic eyes, which 
 seemed to absorb so much and to plead so 
 wistfully all the while for more more more 
 knowledge. Alas! The next day's review 
 had too often proved that they remembered 
 nothing. 
 
Stephen the Black 97 
 
 But why should these dusky little people 
 have burdened themselves with the white 
 man's painful feats of memory, when the 
 fresh springs of their glowing imaginations 
 supplied them every day with new wonder- 
 tales of Bre'r Rabbit, Bre'r Fox and other 
 celebrities of the forest the delicious satire 
 and fun of which only the truly simple folk 
 who live close to God's earth can either in 
 vent or appreciate? 
 
 Stephen believed that he could learn much 
 from this philosophy of the illiterate which 
 these wee philosophers expounded to each 
 other so gleefully during recess. But in his 
 over-conscientiousness, he often stopped the 
 narrative to rebuke the excess of worldly 
 cunning which the fabled four-footed heroes 
 so unblushingly displayed. Then, the ab 
 sorbed narrator, looking up with eyes of in 
 nocent surprise, would gravely carry the tale 
 to an astonishing climax, in which it would 
 appear that worldly cunning served only to 
 overreach itself, and the wicked were never 
 permitted to flourish like a green bay-tree. 
 
98 Stephen the Black 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's Moral Tales could not have 
 done better, but were these little people 
 laughing at him when they hugged their 
 knees and threw back their woolly heads to 
 reveal eyes bubbling over with mirth and 
 mischief, and did they really know far back 
 in their complex little brains, that out in the 
 great wide world of the white man's civiliza 
 tion, worldly cunning generally does bag its 
 game, and the wicked one generally is per 
 mitted to flourish like a green bay-tree ? He 
 could not tell. There are none so wise as the 
 truly simple, and Stephen feared that he was 
 neither wise nor simple enough to read these 
 children aright. There was indeed no affinity 
 between his white mentality and their mys 
 terious processes of thought. 
 
 He spoke to them in an unknown tongue of 
 fairly good colloquial English, but it was not 
 their English. With dogged patience, he ad 
 justed his quaint system of instruction to suit 
 their needs, and adopted as much of their 
 dialect as he could remember in his explana 
 tions. I cannot say that he was one of those 
 
Stephen the Black 99 
 
 teachers who are born, not made. He was 
 held to his vocation by what I must describe 
 as a sort of aggressive determination to push 
 his race forward into a hand-to-hand struggle 
 with existing conditions. The Anglo-Saxon 
 instinct of resistance to circumstance was 
 strong within him a direct inheritance from 
 the masterful force which had founded colo 
 nies, developed continents and overthrown 
 tyrants from one generation to another. He 
 was gloomily conscious at times that his mood 
 was not that of the gentle missionary whose 
 efforts to uplift are based on a complete sur 
 render of all personal ambition to the will of 
 God. His hatred of injustice was far greater 
 than his desire to bless, and his choice of the 
 vocation of missionary teacher was in obe 
 dience to a passionate impulse to overcome 
 whatever barriers shut out his people from 
 material and moral progress. 
 
 Probably he would not have made such a 
 choice if his instructors at the sectarian college 
 had not labored assiduously to set his feet in 
 this direction. The woes of his race had been 
 
ioo Stephen the Black 
 
 held before his eyes from the moment he en 
 tered the college until he departed from its 
 doors; it was persistently pointed out to him 
 that improvement must come from within; 
 his people must depend on themselves and 
 work out their own salvation. 
 
 Accordingly, Stephen gave himself up 
 wholly to his herculean task. For patience, 
 he substituted perseverance, and an invincible 
 resolution took the place of the happy opti 
 mism of the philanthropist. The children were 
 to be made to learn. His people were to be 
 forced into self-improvement, whether they 
 would or not. When failure threatened, he 
 took refuge in a despairing stubbornness, and 
 plodded on. 
 
 Such an iron will soon majce itself felt in 
 the neighborhood. A power greater than 
 themselves was exactly what the blacks 
 needed, and they hailed it with delight. 
 Without special gifts as a teacher, Stephen 
 stood forth nevertheless as a leader of men. 
 This fact, however, was more clearly felt than 
 expressed, for in every cabin he was described 
 
Stephen the Black 101 
 
 with enthusiasm as the ''gran' perfessor"; the 
 faith of the ignorant in his learning was un 
 bounded and brought sweet comfort to many 
 faint and weary hearts. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, Stephen started to 
 visit the Anderson cabin, to see what had be 
 come of his two pupils. He feared that ill 
 ness might have befallen the old negro, whom 
 he sincerely esteemed. It was nearly dark and 
 he expected to find the little family at their 
 evening meal. 
 
 Lemuel was sitting on the cabin steps whit 
 tling a stick as Stephen approached. His 
 head was bent, and he refused to look up as 
 Stephen addressed him and inquired why he 
 and his sister had both been absent from 
 school that day. 
 
 "Tressy's gone," was the reply, as he whit 
 tled on: "she gone 'way." 
 
 "Gone where?" 
 
 "Gone to keep house fo' white man." 
 Lemuel pulled out a much soiled and once 
 highly colored bandanna handkerchief, which 
 he applied to his eyes. "Gran'pap gwine to 
 
102 Stephen the Black 
 
 die soon, I 'spec'. Tressy broke his heart dis 
 time she bad, heartless gurl." 
 
 With a cold numbness in his heart, Stephen 
 pushed open the door, and entered. 
 
 It was a small, poorly-lighted room ; one of 
 the inevitable square holes which served as 
 windows being closed and the other letting in 
 enough light to show that the bare, carpetless 
 floor was scrupulously clean, and the two 
 beds, which stood at different angles, were 
 spotlessly white, the pillows being decorated 
 with starched and frilled pillow-shams, and 
 the beds partly covered with folded patch 
 work quilts. A chest of drawers, two old 
 tables, and a few decrepit chairs completed 
 the furniture of this humble home, which 
 Stephen recognized as about the average in 
 comfort and cleanliness. The striking fea 
 ture in this, as in all negro cabins of the 
 South, was the rude, yawning fireplace. 
 Down its vast slanting chimney the daylight 
 fell on a heap of cold ashes on the hearth be 
 low; above there was a wide ledge of plas 
 ter which served as a kind of shelf, and on it 
 
Stephen the Black 103 
 
 there were various little objects arranged with 
 a view to adornment. Poor little ornaments 
 enough they were: a broken remnant of a 
 cheap vase, a painted cup without a saucer, a 
 little square of dingy mirror, a bird's nest, a 
 curiously shaped stone, a tin box, an almanac 
 of obsolete date, and a calendar two years old. 
 Several cuttings from newspapers were pinned 
 on the roughly plastered walls; there was a 
 picture of Jefferson Davis, and another of a 
 southern statesman; their display was for 
 artistic effect, and not because the originals 
 were dear to memory. Some yellow ears of 
 corn hung from the rafters: a long brush made 
 of heavy dried grasses stood in a corner con 
 venient to the fireplace. Stephen's glance did 
 not take in all these paltry details, but was 
 centred immediately on the figure of Wesley 
 Anderson, who was sitting before the fire 
 place, with his head sunk on his breast. 
 Stephen laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Where is Theresa?" 
 
 For reply, the old negro shook his head and 
 buried his face in his hands. After several ef~ 
 
104 Stephen the Black 
 
 forts at speech he held out a crumpled, twisted 
 piece of paper with a whispered request for 
 Stephen to read it. 
 
 The young man took it to the open win 
 dow. When he had mastered its contents, 
 which were ill-spelt, though neatly written in 
 characters which he had himself helped to im 
 prove, he groaned aloud, and threw the paper 
 on the table with a passionate gesture. 
 
 "Lemme hear it ag'in," said the stricken 
 one, turning his sad eyes upon Stephen, who 
 seized the note again and read aloud Theresa's 
 parting message to her grandfather. 
 
 "I am going to Perryville to Mr. Ralph 
 Aikens, who is going to educate me for a 
 white lady, because I am white. Some day I 
 am coming back to you and Lemuel and take 
 you back with me. Do not forget your little 
 white bird because her white blood calls her 
 away. She will come back again and be al 
 ways your loving Theresa." 
 
 "Yes, she come back, she come back like 
 her mudder done, to die of a broken heart," 
 muttered Wesley, in quivering accents. 
 
Stephen the Black 105 
 
 " How long has she been gone ? Tell me." 
 Stephen put both hands on the old negro's 
 shoulders and shook him. 
 
 Wesley told him what little there was to 
 tell. In the early morning Theresa had pre 
 pared his breakfast as usual, but he remem 
 bered that she had embraced him with pecul 
 iar tenderness as he set out for his day's work 
 in the field, while her eyes looked "like two 
 stars in a well," he said. The two children 
 had started quite late to school, Theresa carry 
 ing a little bundle and wearing a straw hat 
 instead of her sunbonnet. After going a short 
 distance, she had produced the note already 
 carefully written beforehand and told Lemuel 
 to go on to the school by himself. 
 
 She showed him a railroad ticket which had 
 been given her, and after kissing him good 
 bye, she made her way alone and turned into 
 a road which they all knew led to the nearest 
 railroad station, leaving Lemuel rooted to the 
 spot with wonder. He had walked mechan 
 ically on to the schoolhouse, but turned back 
 from its door, and, after a prolonged medita- 
 
io6 Stephen the Black 
 
 tion had started finally on a full run to his 
 grandfather, whom he found in the field. The 
 latter part of the narrative was contributed by 
 Lemuel, who entered the cabin as soon as he 
 heard their voices. 
 
 "Why didn't you act a man's part and 
 go with your sister if you couldn't persuade 
 her to return home?" demanded the young 
 teacher, hoarsely. 
 
 "Tressy, she say she white and know 
 eberyting what's right to do," murmured the 
 abashed youth, rolling his tear-laden eyes, 
 while he clutched his wool in desperation. 
 Stephen threw the crumpled, tear-stained note 
 again on the table, and stood silent for a mo 
 ment in anguish of thought. A faint hope 
 suddenly sprang within him. He asked what 
 time it was when Theresa left the house. 
 Lemuel thought it was about twelve o'clock. 
 
 "The afternoon train leaves at 1:30 for 
 Perryville. It is just possible she may have 
 missed that. Why didn't you follow her ? " 
 Stephen turned his angry, reproachful eyes on 
 Wesley. 
 
Stephen the Black 107 
 
 The old darkey fell on his knees beside 
 Theresa's little bed. 
 
 " She's ain't de fu'st dat's took f'om me by 
 de white man. My Evaline, Tressy's mudder, 
 she gone dat way. Follerin' ain't no use 
 when de white man git his hold on yer gurl. 
 She foller him till he leave her, an' den she 
 come back to die, to die! All de strength 
 gone out o' dese pore ole knees when I hear 
 dat tumble piece o' news. Blessed Jesus, 
 what for yer send dis tribulation to pore ole 
 nigger what's tryin' to keep faith an' believe 
 in yer? Was yer displease 'cause I tell de 
 folks yer was comin' dis way once mo' to 
 lif up de race? Was yer displease at dis 
 cornsequential, wranglin' ole nigger, an' want 
 to lay 'im low ? Oh, blessed Jesus, I'se gwine 
 for to prophesy no mo' ! I'se willin' to b'leeve 
 de black folks was made to lie under de heel 
 o' de white man, foreber and eber, if dat corn- 
 fession give yer sa'sfaction. Lord Jesus, strike 
 dis ole crazy, shake-joint dead, tear him limb 
 f'om limb but fetch back dat lily white bird 
 dat little Tressy!" 
 
io8 Stephen the Black 
 
 With a cry of rage the rage of the Anglo- 
 Saxon when his chivalrous instinct for the 
 protection of the weak is aroused Stephen 
 seized his hat and rushed past Lemuel, whom 
 he nearly knocked down in his desperate haste 
 to get out of the cabin. He did not stop to 
 explain his despairing hope that Theresa might 
 yet be found, but dashed toward the railroad 
 by a short cut across the fields, and followed 
 the track toward the station. He ran rapidly, 
 springing from tire to tire in his mad haste, 
 and made such speed that, on reaching the 
 station, there were fifteen minutes to spare 
 before the arrival of the evening train for 
 Perryville. In fact the south-bound train had 
 not yet appeared, and it would pass before the 
 Perryville express. 
 
 Stephen looked hurriedly into every corner 
 of the waiting-rooms, into the baggage-room, 
 and even into the telegraph office. There was 
 no sign of Theresa Anderson. 
 
 With beating heart he asked the ticket-agent 
 if a young girl a white lady in a straw hat had 
 taken the train for Perryville that afternoon ? 
 
Stephen the Black 109 
 
 "Not for Perry ville: she boarded the train 
 going south," was the reply. 
 
 Stephen's heart gave a bound. The train 
 going south away from Perry ville! Was 
 Theresa skilled enough in deception to plan 
 deliberately to mislead her pursuers ? After 
 a moment's reflection he decided that in her 
 ignorance she might have taken the south 
 bound train by mistake. He determined to 
 follow on the train now nearly due. On 
 looking at the schedule displayed on the wall, 
 he saw that there was no town of any size for 
 many miles southward. 
 
 It seemed unlikely that young Aikens should 
 have directed Theresa to meet him in any lo 
 cality far removed from the town of Perry- 
 ville in which he spent most of his time. He 
 asked the ticket-agent what happened when 
 persons boarded the wrong train, and received 
 the reply that they were put off at the next 
 station. 
 
 Theresa might have taken the next train 
 back, and landed in Perryville a few hours 
 later. Doubtless she had done so. He would 
 
no Stephen the Black 
 
 take the south-bound train first, however, and 
 if he did not find her he would wait at the 
 next station for the Perryville train. He 
 bought his ticket just as the south-bound train 
 steamed up to the platform. 
 
 Stephen sat only a few minutes in the col 
 ored coach before the conductor came through 
 and took up the ticket which entitled him to 
 a ride as far as the next station. 
 
 "It's a flag station," the official explained, 
 "but I'll let you off." 
 
 Doubtless Theresa's mistake supposing she 
 had made a mistake would have been dis 
 covered before reaching this flag station. She 
 would have been put off, to take the next 
 train back, and was probably now in Perry 
 ville " where I shall be also in a few hours," 
 Stephen concluded. He made up his mind to 
 spend the night searching for her. 
 
 The train slowed up to permit Stephen to 
 alight. As he swung himself off, he per 
 ceived a female figure seated on a bench by 
 the station door and half hidden in the shadow 
 of the building. 
 
Stephen the Black 1 1 1 
 
 It was now dark. The young man mounted 
 the steps breathlessly, with his eyes fixed on 
 that slight, shrinking figure, by the side of 
 which lay a small bundle. It was Theresa. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 TREMBLING with excitement, Stephen stepped 
 forward without speaking, and sat down 
 hastily by the side of the runaway. He was 
 breathing heavily, and for the moment, speech 
 was impossible. His hand clutched the girl's 
 skirt as it lay on the edge of the bench, and 
 he realized with fierce exultation, that she was 
 his prisoner. His action caused her to turn 
 suddenly and fix her gaze upon his face. 
 Looking into hers, Stephen was conscious, 
 even through the dusk, of its fairness; he 
 gasped for breath and his hand loosened its 
 hold on her skirt. Alas! how fair, how white, 
 how beautiful she was ! No doubt she had cal 
 culated the cost of her flight; she believed 
 happiness to be awaiting her and counted the 
 bonds of racial union stronger than those 
 made by the laws of man. How could he 
 who represented only the associations she 
 was fleeing from, hope to persuade her that 
 112 
 
Stephen the Black 113 
 
 worse horrors were veiled behind that gilded 
 future ? Overcome by a sudden shameful self- 
 consciousness, he could do no more than 
 whisper her name hoarsely: 
 
 "Theresa!" 
 
 She could barely see his face, but Stephen 
 read the quick disappointment in hers. She 
 had at first mistaken him for her white lover. 
 He found his voice at last. 
 
 " It's only I, your teacher. I've come to 
 take you back. You must come with me you 
 do not know what you are doing, Theresa." 
 
 "I give my promise to go to Perry ville. I 
 took the wrong train, and the one back didn't 
 stop. Oh, why can't I go on to-night ? What 
 for you tryin' to hinder me?" she cried, 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 "I am going to hinder you from a life of 
 shame. Excuse me, I haven't the skill to put 
 it in soft language. I don't know any fine 
 words for such things. I'm a common ne 
 gro, you can despise me all you want to, 
 I have no white skin to set me up in your 
 estimation, but I know right from wrong. I 
 
1 14 Stephen the Black 
 
 am not going to let you do this thing. You 
 are too young too innocent too pure to 
 understand what it means." 
 
 "That is what he says," cried the girl, 
 clasping her hands and turning her white pro 
 file upward, "that I'm innocent and pure of 
 heart like a white lady, and that is why he 
 loves me! " 
 
 "Ah! and he would take advantage of 
 your innocence, would he? We'll see about 
 that, you will go back with me" Stephen 
 caught her wrist and held it with fingers of 
 iron, "and you will not speak to that man 
 again ; you will turn away from every white 
 man who offers you his admiration or his love; 
 his love! Without marriage, without honor, 
 without a legal tie to bind him ; how dare he 
 prate to you of love ! " 
 
 "It's the law that's wrong he says he has 
 to obey the law," cried the frightened child, 
 piteously trying to recall the white man's 
 arguments. 
 
 "They have made the law to suit them 
 selves, Theresa; don't talk to me about the 
 
Stephen the Black 115 
 
 law ! It exists only for the degradation of our 
 poor women! " 
 
 There was silence for a moment while The 
 resa pondered these bitter words. Finally she 
 said, faintly, 
 
 " My mother was married to a white man." 
 
 "Not married," he contradicted, sternly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, she was his colored wife." 
 This phrase was no invention of hers; it is a 
 familiar one in the Black Belt. 
 
 "Colored wife! God in heaven! Is that 
 what they call it ? There is no such thing as 
 a colored wife to a white man down here." 
 
 Theresa looked at him and began to tremble. 
 "What was she?" 
 
 "Let the angels in heaven tell what she 
 was, I cannot, I do not know. Betrayed 
 broken-hearted wronged but the blame was 
 not hers no, with all the laws of the State 
 against her, how could she be held responsi 
 ble? Oh, my poor girl, I am going to save 
 you from that fate, if I have to kill a white 
 devil to accomplish it. You are going back 
 with me on the next train." 
 
ii6 Stephen the Black 
 
 Theresa gave a little moan and hung her 
 head in an attitude of shame. She made no 
 further resistance. 
 
 The young teacher sat watching her closely, 
 with his hand still upon her wrist This 
 abominable evil was not to be committed; 
 he exulted in the thought that he had arrived 
 in the nick of time to circumvent the white 
 man's fiendish plans. 
 
 A brilliant light gleamed suddenly in the 
 distance. It was the headlight of an ap 
 proaching train. With a shriek and a roar it 
 rushed past, while the little frame station 
 shivered with the shock of the reverberation, 
 and the cold night air blew in the faces of the 
 would-be passengers, stirring Theresa's thin 
 gown. 
 
 Stephen rose to his feet with an exclama 
 tion of intense dismay. He remembered that 
 it was a flag station and he should have asked 
 to have the train stopped. He sat down again 
 in bewilderment The station-master came 
 out, bearing a lantern, which he flashed in 
 their faces. 
 
Stephen the Black 117 
 
 "What's going on out here?** he de 
 manded, roughly. "What are you two 
 sitting together for ? The lady's been here all 
 afternoon/* His suspicions were aroused by 
 the disparity of color In the two faces before 
 him; he was instantly ready to protect the 
 white womanhood of the South from the 
 horrors of race amalgamation. 
 
 "We're both colored," said Stephen, qui 
 etly. The explanation was plausible enough 
 in that land of mixed races, but to satisfy him 
 self further, the man flashed his lantern again 
 in Theresa's face. 
 
 "Most people would hardly think it, but 1 
 reckon I can tell it every time. You'd better 
 not fool away any more time round here. Go 
 in where you b*long, to the colored waiting- 
 room. You've no business out here.** 
 
 The belated travelers rose hastily to leave 
 the station. Stephen knew there was no other 
 train until midnight, and they would have to 
 walk home. He was too absorbed in thought 
 to resent the insolence which was cloaked in 
 the authority of a railroad official, but walked 
 
ii8 Stephen the Black 
 
 away with gloomy eyes and set lips, Theresa 
 following him meekly. The agent called 
 after them : 
 
 " If you're lookin' for to get spliced, there's 
 a nigger preacher over yonder. He's got a 
 broomstick you can jump over and jumpin' 
 backward will make you free again, when you 
 git tired o' one another." He laughed coarsely 
 as he sauntered into the station. 
 
 Stumblingly poor Theresa made her way 
 over the uneven ground, sometimes falling 
 against her escort in the darkness. Stephen 
 held out his hand to steady her, and, as he did 
 so, with the station-master's insulting words 
 ringing in his ears, an idea flashed across his 
 brain. He stopped suddenly, hesitated, and 
 went on again. 
 
 "Come along," he said, encouragingly. 
 
 "Where are we going?" The sound of 
 tears was in her voice. Stephen told her they 
 would have to walk home, a distance of six 
 miles. It was unfortunate that there was no 
 moonlight. Even the stars refused to shine. 
 Perhaps they could hire a buggy somewhere. 
 
Stephen the Black 119 
 
 He peered around, but there seemed to be no 
 settlement near. The country looked wild and 
 desolate. Not very far distant, however, he 
 noticed a faint, gleaming light that might in 
 dicate a humble dwelling. Perhaps it was the 
 home of the negro preacher. 
 
 He looked down again at the panting young 
 creature by his side. How evident that she 
 stood in need of a man's protection, and again 
 the novel idea took possession of him. There 
 were reasons for and against it. There was a 
 lack of dignity in such haste, but above all 
 stood out the great compensating fact that this 
 frail child needed to be fenced in by some one's 
 protecting care; and was it not the only way 
 out of the present situation, the only way to 
 save her good name? 
 
 Stephen did not want a wife, but the desire 
 to thwart the evil schemes of her would-be be 
 trayer was strong within him. He was mas 
 terful and strong of spirit and did not doubt 
 his ability to defend his future wife against 
 villains of the deepest dye black or white. 
 Retributive justice demanded that he should 
 
120 Stephen the Black 
 
 take upon himself the role of the avenger as 
 well as that of the rescuer of forlorn innocence. 
 He would punish the white man by marrying 
 his intended victim. Besides there was no 
 other way by which he might become the legal 
 protector of this frail creature. Having reached 
 this heroic conclusion, he stopped again, with 
 an air of resolution. Theresa was weeping 
 silently and holding on to his hand. 
 
 "Theresa, there's only one thing for us to 
 do. I want to protect you if I can, but there's 
 only one way to manage it." 
 
 She looked up inquiringly, but could not see 
 his face. 
 
 "Let us get married, Theresa. Over yon- 
 der's the clergyman. It will be the best thing 
 for you." 
 
 Sobbing violently, she still clung to his 
 hand. 
 
 "You think I been wicked an' my mother 
 too!" 
 
 "No, no; God forbid that I should sit in 
 judgment of her, poor soul she lived ac 
 cording to the light that was given her. God 
 
Stephen the Black 121 
 
 will judge him, not her. Think of her as spot 
 less, sinned against but sinless! I believe the 
 angels in heaven have a place set apart for 
 her, for all such as her, Theresa, they weep, 
 they weep over her fate, but they do not con 
 demn. Neither must you. But 1 should be 
 condemned if I permitted another sacrifice of 
 this kind. I am here to save you to marry 
 you, so I can protect you. Will you have me, 
 Theresa?" 
 
 " I don't keer what I do now," she answered, 
 forlornly. 
 
 He understood that she consented, for she 
 followed him willingly, still clinging to his 
 hand. They made their way along the road 
 toward the dim light which seemed to be the 
 only cheerful spark in the universe at that mo 
 ment. 
 
 Stephen knocked and the door was soon 
 opened. 
 
 "We want you to marry us, please," he 
 said, briefly. 
 
 The preacher, who was in his shirt-sleeves, 
 stared at them. 
 
122 Stephen the Black 
 
 " Hey ?" he said, doubtfully. 
 
 "We're both colored," said Stephen. The 
 negro's face showed relief. 
 
 "Come right along in an' set down." His 
 face beamed. 
 
 " I got a new prayer-book and you's can 
 have the first cere-money out o' it. 'Scuse my 
 misunderstandin' what job yer wanted. We 
 has to be keerful nowadays on account o' so 
 many lynchin's. I ain't gwine to mix up in 
 any 'malagamation business ef I kin help it, 
 no sah!" Laughing, he shook his head, 
 knowingly. 
 
 They entered the small, close room of his 
 cabin, and the preacher summoned his wife 
 and mother-in-law as witnesses. It was 
 quite a tedious ceremony, for he bungled 
 through several prayers of extraordinary 
 length, and read them an exhortation which 
 greatly tried Stephen's patience. The busi 
 ness of filling out the marriage certificate was 
 also an interminable process. When Stephen 
 paid the worthy man it did seem as if he had 
 more than earned his modest fee by the even- 
 
Stephen the Black 123 
 
 ing's performance. He followed them to the 
 door with extravagantly expressed wishes for 
 their future happiness, and pronounced a sec 
 ond benediction before they could descend the 
 tumble-down steps of his little shanty. 
 
 Stephen grasped his wife's hand firmly as 
 he led her into the darkness. 
 
 "Now we're all right," he said, with brief 
 satisfaction, and they walked on in silence. 
 
 There was nothing else to do but return to 
 the station and wait there for the midnight 
 train. Quite weary they reached its inhospi 
 table shelter and made their way immediately 
 into the waiting-room designated for colored 
 people. An oil lamp cast a weak, ineffectual 
 glare into their faces. Stephen noticed the 
 pallor of Theresa's face and her air of exhaus 
 tion and depression. She sat down on the 
 bench. As he observed her pale beauty he 
 thought of his own dark skin, his homely fea 
 tures, which bore all the marks of his degraded 
 race. He looked at Theresa's silky hair, and 
 instinctively, as he removed his hat, he passed 
 his hand over his head and felt the close tightly 
 
124 Stephen the Black 
 
 curling locks which, more than any other 
 characteristic, told the tale of African descent. 
 " She was never meant to be wife of mine," 
 was his mournful reflection. He had no 
 knowledge of his Anglo-Saxon inheritance 
 to draw upon for comfort. It would have 
 yielded a very dubious kind of comfort for 
 that matter. He sat down near her, but not 
 by her side, and was soon lost in painful 
 thoughts. Theresa laid her head on her bun 
 dle of clothing and appeared to fall asleep. In 
 this manner they spent the long hours until 
 the arrival of the midnight train, Stephen tak 
 ing care this time to have it flagged in ad 
 vance. The station-master lived near and 
 came over a few minutes before its arrival. 
 He was too sleepy and cross to take any fur 
 ther notice of the young couple. They 
 climbed awkwardly into the colored coach, 
 there being no assistance extended by the 
 conductor. Theresa stood helpless before 
 the high steps until Stephen, coming to his 
 senses, seized her in awkward haste, and 
 lifted her from the ground to the platform 
 
Stephen the Black 125 
 
 scrambling up himself as the train gave a 
 jerk which threw them both into the door 
 way, and precipitated them into the first un 
 occupied seat. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE newly made bridegroom's thoughts 
 were busy with financial calculations on the 
 way home. With his limited means the sup 
 port of a wife was a prodigious undertaking, 
 and the more he thought of it the more desir 
 able seemed the project of educating Theresa 
 at a boarding-school, where she would be 
 safe until her education was completed and 
 her mind more matured. Stephen decided he 
 could accomplish this by working hard during 
 the long vacations, and by utilizing what was 
 left of his savings in a Northern bank. 
 
 As Stephen and Theresa drew near to their 
 destination, the late rising moon broke through 
 the clouds and painted the humble cabin of 
 the Andersons in the desolate beauty of a 
 black and white crayon sketch on grey paper. 
 
 It was an easy task to arouse Wesley from 
 his first hour of uneasy slumber, but there 
 was some delay before he appeared at the 
 126 
 
Stephen the Black 127 
 
 door, holding a stump of a candle above his 
 head in an effort to discover the identity of his 
 midnight callers. 
 
 He recognized Stephen first and afterward 
 his granddaughter, but it was not until they 
 were both indoors and the candle set down 
 somewhere with a trembling hand that he 
 pronounced Theresa's name in a broken voice, 
 and she with a stifled cry fell into his arms 
 and broke into passionate weeping. 
 
 No word of reproach escaped the old darky 
 as he patted his grandchild's head. Only 
 broken ejaculations of gratitude, tearful, ex 
 travagant and tender, fell from his lips during 
 those moments of unexpected and happy re 
 union. Stephen, leaning against the edge of 
 a table, regarded this climax of the day's 
 events with eyes that were sad as well as 
 tired, and with an emotion not visible in his 
 dark face. It was worth much to witness 
 such a scene and to feel that he had been the 
 chief agent in bringing it about. 
 
 Soon afterward, he stole unobserved from 
 the room and seated himself on the cabin steps 
 
128 Stephen the Black 
 
 in the moonlight, intending to leave the house 
 hold for a short time to itself before broaching 
 the subject of his marriage and his plans for 
 Theresa's future. Somehow he hoped and 
 rather expected that she would confide the 
 fact of her marriage to her grandfather, but 
 when Wesley, noticing his absence, followed 
 him to the steps in a panic of self-reproachful 
 hospitality, it was evident that the information 
 had not yet been given. 
 
 It was an awkward enough piece of news 
 to break hastily. Apologetically and with a 
 somewhat rueful countenance, Stephen ex 
 plained why he had urged the marriage and 
 what protection he hoped it would afford 
 Theresa. To his surprise, the old negro re 
 ceived the news with joy, and eagerly held 
 counsel with him over Theresa's future. But 
 it was evident that Wesley dreaded the anger 
 of young Aikens on finding that his scheme 
 had been frustrated, as well as his continued 
 influence over Theresa. 
 
 Stephen described in glowing colors the 
 great colored school of the South where he 
 
Stephen the Black 129 
 
 believed Theresa would be kindly received and 
 thoroughly protected. The summer vacation 
 was at hand, but the school never closed all 
 its departments even during the months of va 
 cation, and Theresa would have in the night 
 classes an opportunity to prepare herself for 
 the regular session in the fall. The remnant 
 of his savings in the Northern bank would 
 just about pay her summer expenses, and 
 after that, he hoped to earn more. 
 
 Never before had such munificent provision 
 as this aided poor old Wesley in his anxious, 
 groping efforts to care for his little family. 
 Stephen insisted that no time should be lost in 
 getting Theresa to the school. She was now 
 willing to go, or at least offered no objection 
 to the plan, but in twenty-four hours, her mind 
 might set itself firmly the other way. 
 
 Wesley agreed to this and together they 
 planned that Lemuel should start with her in 
 the early morning. Abraham, the ox, might 
 now prove himself to be a timely acquisition, 
 inasmuch as he could be harnessed by means 
 of ropes to an affair on wheels (consisting of 
 
130 Stephen the Black 
 
 two boards laid across two axles) which 
 Wesley called his "wagon" and which had 
 been presented to him by his landlord shortly 
 after the purchase of the ox. Whatever this 
 vehicle might leave to the imagination, .the 
 wheels were good enough to travel at least as 
 far as the great school, and Wesley was sure 
 that the boards could be made secure by the 
 help of nails and pegs. 
 
 Although Stephen would have preferred to 
 hire a mule for the occasion, he yielded in 
 favor of the ox, on the strength of Wesley's 
 enthusiastic assurances that Abraham could 
 travel as far and as fast as any mule on the 
 plantation, and excelled every known animal 
 in a happy blending of amiability and strength. 
 As he was now engaged in eating his head off 
 in a rear shanty, it was no wonder that his 
 owner wanted to utilize these costly virtues. 
 Stephen saw moreover a real advantage in the 
 use of whatever, clumsy steed Wesley pos 
 sessed, as it would enable Theresa to start on 
 her journey without making it known before 
 hand to any one on the plantation. Secrecy 
 
Stephen the Black 131 
 
 was to be observed as well as haste, if Theresa 
 was to reach her destination in safety. It was 
 important that young Aikens should have no 
 knowledge of her trip beforehand. Fortu 
 nately, the route to the school would not take 
 her near Perry ville. Wesley insisted also that it 
 was necessary to conceal Stephen's share of 
 responsibility in the whole affair, and begged 
 him to open his school the next morning as 
 if nothing had happened. 
 
 When the plan for her sudden departure 
 was explained to Theresa, she consented in 
 differently but stipulated that Stephen should 
 carry a message to Ralph Aikens and return to 
 him the railroad ticket which he had given 
 her. This embarrassing task he agreed will 
 ingly enough to do, but when he suggested 
 that it would also be wise to inform Ralph of 
 her marriage, Theresa cried out in agitation 
 against it, and to his surprise her grandfather 
 did the same with even greater vehemence. 
 
 The rest of the night was spent in hurried 
 preparations for Theresa's flight, if a journey 
 behind the deliberate Abraham might be so 
 
132 Stephen the Black 
 
 termed. While Stephen and Wesley worked 
 away by the light of the moon and a lantern, 
 pounding and screwing the skeleton of a 
 wagon into shape, and disentangling a mass 
 of knotted ropes which Wesley called his 
 "harness," Theresa and Lemuel, in a tumble 
 down cabin adjoining, which served as a 
 kitchen in warm weather baked some corn- 
 bread, fried a piece of bacon, and ground the 
 coffee for a meal that might have been con 
 sidered either supper or breakfast. The two 
 conspirators outside were then summoned to 
 the table, on which a lamp was now stand 
 ing, while a couple of candles which Lemuel 
 had placed on the mantelpiece spluttered their 
 best to lend an air of festive brightness to the 
 marriage feast. 
 
 Lemuel was in a befogged state of mind 
 over his sister's attitude. He regarded her 
 with curious, watchful eyes, and decided that 
 her expression lacked the mirth and jollity 
 which he always associated with weddings. 
 The occasion seemed to him one of sincere 
 rejoicing, however, and he determined to do 
 
Stephen the Black 133 
 
 his part to increase the gayety of the affair: 
 he succeeded, therefore, in looking as cheer 
 ful as it is possible for any human being to 
 look who is left out of the family consulta 
 tions and finds himself without a key to the 
 situation. 
 
 The moon had disappeared behind a mass 
 of clouds, the ground was wet with dew, and 
 a heavy fog hung over the cotton-field as 
 Abraham, just before daybreak, stood in all the 
 glory of his rope trappings before the cabin- 
 door. Stephen, Wesley and Lemuel stood 
 grouped by the side of the rude cart after 
 handing Theresa to the seat of honor. She 
 was comfortably enthroned on a kitchen chair 
 which had been placed on the low boards and 
 securely held there by some method as myste 
 rious as it was ingenious. Lemuel mounted a 
 box proudly in front, his legs dangling down 
 behind Abraham's tail. The ox carried a yoke, 
 but Lemuel intended to guide him by reins of 
 rope which were tied to his horns. Behind 
 Theresa was a great pile of tough grass and 
 dried corn stalks for the future comfort of 
 
134 Stephen the Black 
 
 Abraham, and at her feet a bag of cornmeal 
 lay for the use of the whole party. She wore 
 her sunbonnet which her grandfather charged 
 her not to remove until she reached her jour 
 ney's end; a knitted shawl was around her 
 shoulders, and in her lap she held a package 
 of lunch and a bundle done up in an old news 
 paper. 
 
 It was a melancholy leave-taking notwith 
 standing that everybody tried to smile brightly 
 and talk hopefully of her return as an accom 
 plished scholar and teacher, but it was evident 
 that they smiled through their tears. A wed 
 ding journey, with the bridegroom left be 
 hind, is seldom an hilarious affair. Stephen 
 gave her a letter to the principal of the school 
 and promised faithfully to deliver her message 
 in Perryville. Wesley could not speak, but 
 persisted in smiling painfully, busying himself 
 all the while about the cart until Lemuel 
 cracked his whip, when he seized the girl's 
 hand in a last embrace and hugged it to his 
 heart with a prayer for her protection. Stephen 
 charged Lemuel to drive carefully and to re- 
 
Stephen the Black 135 
 
 member the little Quaker school which he 
 would pass on the way and if it should prove 
 to be near dark when they reached that point, 
 to remain there over night. 
 
 The ox stepped off solemnly, drawing his 
 singular-looking chariot slowly into the white 
 mist beyond which nothing could be seen, 
 Lemuel felt in his pocket once more and was 
 comforted by the cold touch of a huge rusty 
 derringer with which he had secretly armed 
 himself in defence of his sister. He had 
 neither cartridge nor powder, but the presence 
 of the empty weapon gave him courage, and 
 contributed a vague suggestion of adventures 
 to come. 
 
 Theresa bowed her head as the shadows of 
 the night and the mists of the morning en 
 veloped her. She shivered as she wiped away 
 her tears. She pulled her bonnet far over her 
 forehead as her grandfather charged her to do, 
 and promised to look neither to the right nor 
 to the left on this strange, lonely journey. 
 
 The grandfather and the newly-made hus 
 band stood watching the ghostly, creaking 
 
136 Stephen the Black 
 
 vehicle as long as it remained in sight. They 
 hoped it would pass through the plantation 
 unobserved by other eyes than their own. 
 Gladly would either of them have accom 
 panied Theresa, but humble, obscure folk 
 such as these are accustomed to plan accord 
 ing to their means and to leave the rest to 
 Providence. We are not to suppose that their 
 sensibilities were less keen or the dangers less 
 apparent to their understanding because they 
 submitted thus patiently to a ruling that was 
 adverse to the cry of their hearts. To guard 
 one's best beloved from every known and 
 conceivable danger is the happy privilege of 
 the rich, but they err who conclude that the 
 poor love less and therefore suffer less when 
 they trust theirs to God, or that their bread 
 is any sweeter because it is watered so often 
 with the tears of loneliness and apprehension. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IT was an odd experience for these two 
 ignorant children to be traveling alone in what 
 seemed to be the dead of the night, the still 
 ness being broken only by the sound of Abra 
 ham's hoofs, the creaking of the wheels and 
 the occasional thumping of the boards when 
 they crossed the uneven pieces of ground 
 which Lemuel called "thank-you-marms." 
 He had no fear of not reaching his destination, 
 for he knew the way to the old pike road and 
 after that it was plain sailing, for Stephen had 
 told him they had only to follow the old pike 
 until they should come to the village from 
 which the school takes its name and near 
 which it stands. But to Theresa it seemed a 
 long, mysterious route before they reached 
 the pike, because nothing was visible about 
 them except the mist in which they were 
 shrouded and through which they could 
 hardly discern the outlines of Abraham's 
 137 
 
138 Stephen the Black 
 
 heavy dimensions. The vapors began to lift, 
 however, as they turned into the pike, and 
 they could now see a little piece of road 
 ahead, and the hedges on either side. Day 
 was surely breaking, and when Lemuel 
 pointed out the sun rising on their right, 
 Theresa's heart grew a little less heavy, 
 but she closed her eyes apprehensively. 
 
 When she ventured to open them again, 
 how beautiful the world had grown in that 
 short time! The mist had taken itself at least 
 half a mile away, and close at hand was the 
 lovely, familiar foliage of the South, looking 
 just as it had always looked around the spot 
 she called home, the Black Jack Oak leaves 
 were as large and shiny as she had ever known 
 them ; the small persimmon and the red haw 
 trees were mingling their branches in the 
 same intimate fashion; "Joe Week" was ut 
 tering his shrill cry from hedge to hedge and 
 the mocking bird was singing the song he 
 had sung all spring. Her world of cotton- 
 fields was stretching far away to the horizon; 
 and Theresa was comforted by the thought 
 
Stephen the Black 139 
 
 that though she might travel onward for 
 many miles, the face of the scenery would 
 still be as she had always known it. 
 
 They passed hedges thick with roses, afflicted 
 woods veiled in sombre moss, and many a 
 "slough " in which the wagon stood deep in 
 water and sometimes slid into a hole; and on 
 such occasions, Abraham would stand still 
 patiently, after drinking all the water he could 
 conveniently hold, as if convinced he was now 
 at his journey's end. With shouts, kicks, and 
 jerks of the ropes, Lemuel would at last get 
 him started, and the vehicle with many creaks 
 and groans would land safely on the rising 
 ground beyond. But sometimes these sloughs 
 were ill-looking and evil-smelling, and as they 
 felt the breath of the swamp in their faces, 
 they were thankful when Abraham disdained 
 the black water and pulled them hurriedly out 
 of its slimy depths. 
 
 They met with no adventures by the way. 
 No one accosted them except innocent, dark- 
 skinned, country folk like themselves. They 
 saw very few white persons. The black peas- 
 
140 Stephen the Black 
 
 ants were at work early in the field with their 
 wives and older boys and girls beside them. 
 Many were the cabins they passed in which 
 very young children were apparently the only 
 inmates. They clustered about the door, 
 barelegged, inquisitive and speechlessly shy, 
 holding sometimes in their arms babies 
 nearly as big as themselves. 
 
 The sun was very bright; the atmosphere 
 seemed brilliantly clear; every object was 
 sharply defined and every tree cast a very 
 black shadow. In one of these refreshing 
 shadows they stopped to eat their lunch, and 
 Lemuel fed the ox generously on meal and 
 corn stalks. It was not a nutritious diet, but 
 neither the ox nor Lemuel knew differently, 
 and it was the customary fare for cattle in the 
 Black Belt. 
 
 Lemuel inquired of many the distance to 
 the school, but the report was always that it 
 lay very far ahead. The field-hands looked 
 doubtfully at the slow-treading ox, and feared 
 it would be impossible for the travelers to 
 reach the great school before night 
 
Stephen the Black 141 
 
 Lemuel then bethought himself of the 
 Quaker school and inquired how far it lay 
 ahead. The answers were more encouraging. 
 It seemed to be within reach, and to offer 
 them a hope of shelter for the night. 
 
 It was past sundown when they arrived in 
 sight of the two large, white, frame buildings 
 which proved to be the Quaker school. 
 Lemuel descended from his box and knocked 
 at the door of the smaller building; the front 
 porch was a bower of roses and honeysuckles, 
 while neat muslin curtains peeped from the 
 windows through half-closed green shut 
 ters. 
 
 It was some time before the elderly Quaker 
 ess who opened the door could grasp the situ 
 ation and decide what to do with her odd- 
 looking visitors. The contrast between the 
 sister and brother as well as the striking 
 beauty of the former at once enlisted her in 
 terest. Several assistant teachers gathered 
 near to have a look at the weary ox and the 
 primitive vehicle which had brought these 
 young wanderers so far. 
 
142 Stephen the Black 
 
 Lemuel presented his explanatory statement 
 without his usual plaintive drawl: 
 
 " All de white blood in de fam'ly gone to 
 make up Tressy leff me all black! " He pro 
 duced it this time as a piece of scientific infor 
 mation, and was surprised at the distress it 
 brought into the faces of the gentle Quakers. 
 
 Theirs was only a day-school, and they had 
 no accommodations for boarders, but they 
 agreed to keep the children over night and to 
 feed and shelter the faithful Abraham. 
 
 That evening these lowly descendants of an 
 enslaved race sat down before, a white supper- 
 table by the side of white women, and basked 
 in the light of their gracious presence. They 
 drank in their delicate refinement, their little 
 social graces; they were permitted to handle 
 their old china, and to examine the simple 
 ornaments and pictures of their charming 
 home. Joy filled Theresa's soul for the mo 
 ment, but mingled with it was a tremulous 
 consciousness that she was again partaking of 
 forbidden fruit. 
 
 When the time for their departure came the 
 
Stephen the Black 143 
 
 next morning, they climbed sorrowfully back 
 into their uncouth chariot. The tender char 
 ity which was in the heart of the elder Quak 
 eress for their race, beamed from her aged 
 eyes and seemed to pronounce a benediction 
 over their young heads. They would gladly 
 have stayed with her, but she assured them 
 that at the school which lay beyond they 
 would find all the good and great things that 
 the people of their race were yearning for, so 
 they said farewell with what grace they could 
 and turned their faces hopefully onward. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, they met many odd 
 looking vehicles bearing all manner of queerly 
 clad colored folk, loaded down with provisions, 
 hay and dry goods. But the vehicles were 
 not any more strange looking than their own, 
 and the people in them were not different in 
 appearance from those they had been accus 
 tomed to see about them always. It was Sat 
 urday, and those tenants who lived within a 
 few miles of the town were returning with 
 their month's supplies which they had ob 
 tained either from the merchants or their 
 
144 Stephen the Black 
 
 landlords. The town was very near. They 
 reached it before sundown. 
 
 After crossing the village and climbing a 
 gentle hill, Lemuel's delighted eyes beheld in 
 the distance the smoke-stack, the tall chim 
 neys and the many buildings of the great 
 Normal and Industrial School of the colored 
 people. A large American flag which floated 
 above the roof of the tallest building gave a 
 finishing touch to the air of victorious achieve 
 ment which seemed to distinguish this spot 
 from all others in the southern landscape. His 
 boyish soul was thrilled at the sight, but as 
 Theresa looked, she remembered only that it 
 was a "nigger school," and that she was to 
 enter it as a colored pupil. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 STEPHEN was not long in finding Ralph 
 Aikens' office on the day devoted to the exe 
 cution of Theresa's errand. He mounted the 
 stairs slowly and knocked at the door bear 
 ing the lawyer's name in black letters. A 
 voice within bade him enter, and on pushing 
 open the door Stephen found himself facing 
 two men who were apparently enjoying an 
 informal chat; they were both smoking; a 
 decanter of whiskey, two glasses and a pitcher 
 of ice-water were on a table before them. 
 
 In a suppressed voice, Stephen stated that 
 he wished to speak to Mr. Aikens. 
 
 "Speak on," said the owner of that name, 
 indifferently. 
 
 Stephen was disinclined to state his errand 
 in the presence of a third person, but as it 
 was evident that he was not to be granted a 
 private interview, he opened his pocketbook 
 
 145 
 
146 Stephen the Black 
 
 and took out the railroad ticket which he laid 
 on the table in front of young Aikens. 
 
 "I was asked to deliver this into your 
 hands," he said, disconcerted to find that his 
 voice was hoarse, and his tongue unnaturally 
 stiff and dry. Perhaps his eyes looked un 
 usually bright, and it may be that his hand 
 trembled as he laid the ticket on the table. 
 
 "What's the matter with the fellow?" 
 asked Ralph's companion, laying his cigar on 
 the table, and studying the face of the black 
 with curiosity. 
 
 " Damned impertinence," muttered Ralph, a 
 dark flush mounting to his forehead. "Take 
 yourself off we don't care to be interrupted 
 this afternoon." 
 
 But Stephen was determined to deliver 
 Theresa's message with unmistakable clear 
 ness. He had concluded on the way thither, 
 after deep thought on the subject, that it 
 would be more delicate not to mention her 
 name. 
 
 "A young girl living on Colonel Aikens' 
 plantation asks me to say that she returns this 
 
Stephen the Black 147 
 
 ticket because she did not understand your 
 meaning, sir, when she agreed to carry out 
 your instructions. She was too innocent to 
 understand!" Stephen made no effort to sup 
 press the thrill of indignation in his voice, or 
 the flash of righteous anger in his eyes, and 
 these evidences of feeling were most un 
 happily out of place, if his intention had been 
 to conduct the interview peaceably. 
 
 The result of his speech was an exclamation 
 of fury from young Aikens as he rose quickly 
 to his feet, while an amused laugh broke from 
 his friend, who rose negligently, showing 
 himself to be a powerfully built man, at least 
 six feet in height. He towered over the 
 stripling of a negro and, looking down on 
 him, said contemptuously, 
 
 "Get right out of here!" 
 
 "I've said nothing to be ashamed of," re 
 plied Stephen, with a kind of passionate dig 
 nity not moving an inch. He did not mean 
 to defy them, but he would assert the recti 
 tude of his intentions. 
 
 In an instant both men flung themselves 
 
148 Stephen the Black 
 
 upon him and pushed him through the door 
 way in an attempt to throw him not only out of 
 the room, but down the stairs. Stephen vig 
 orously resisted, in the fear of being pitched 
 headlong down the steep, narrow stairs. He 
 struggled fiercely, attempted to hold on to the 
 knob of the door, and failing that, clutched 
 one of his opponents he hardly knew which 
 one, but it proved to be Aikens. 
 
 " I'll fix him! " cried the other, and whipped 
 out a pistol from his trousers pocket. Stephen 
 heard the click of the weapon close to his ear, 
 and obeyed an instinct of self-preservation 
 forcibly though unintentionally assisted by 
 Ralph Aikens, who pushed him violently 
 he leaped to avoid the pistol. He landed 
 some distance down the staircase, after which 
 he lost his balance and slid several steps until 
 he reached the bottom. As he did so, the 
 pistol was fired twice in succession, but the 
 shots missed him. He scrambled to his feet 
 and ran through the hall-way to the street, 
 hearing as he ran the tramp of the two men 
 descending the stairs, their loud laughter and 
 
Stephen the Black 149 
 
 shouts of derision. It was not in human na 
 ture to stand still and be shot at, and Stephen 
 being unarmed and no match in any respect 
 for his pursuers, did not wait to see if they 
 were following further, but fled across the 
 street; wild-eyed and hatless, he rushed into 
 a barber shop, at the open door of which 
 lounged several colored men. 
 
 These men followed him quickly into the 
 shop; one of them proved to be the proprietor, 
 another his assistant, while the third, a tall, 
 loose-jointed creature with a yellow counte 
 nance, was a combination of patron, hanger- 
 on and general adviser. As all three demanded 
 an explanation of the pistol shots, Stephen 
 stated hurriedly that he had gone to the office 
 of Mr. Aikens to transact some business, but 
 supposed that his manner had given offence, 
 and on being ordered out of the room, he had 
 not left quickly as was desired. He did not 
 go into further particulars and was surprised 
 to find that his explanation, vague as it was, 
 apparently satisfied the three men. 
 
 " He's quicks-Mr, Aikens," said the one who 
 
150 Stephen the Black 
 
 seemed to be the proprietor, "but I dunno as 
 he bear malice long leastwise, he ain't de 
 kind to draw a pistol on a unarm' man I 
 allus reckoned he warn't," he added, thought 
 fully. 
 
 "Must a been t'other one who fired," sug 
 gested the assistant, a young octoroon with 
 curly black hair and a handsome profile. 
 
 "It was nothing," said Stephen, desiring to 
 make light of the affair "I don't know why 
 they put themselves to such trouble to get 
 me out of that room. I'd have gone soon 
 enough anyways if they'd just given me time, 
 but of course I didn't choose to be thrown out 
 and have my neck broken." 
 
 The men laughed, and Stephen continued to 
 express his regret for the whole occurrence. 
 
 "I reckin yer ain't out o' de woods yet," ob 
 served the yellow-faced one quietly, as shouts 
 resounded in the street. 
 
 There was a shuffling noise outside as of 
 many feet; hoarse voices called out "Lynch 
 the nigger! Fetch him out an' hang him!" 
 and the doorway was suddenly crowded with 
 
Stephen the Black 151 
 
 at least a dozen angry-faced, desperate-looking 
 white men. 
 
 Quick as a flash the proprietor flung the 
 door shut and the three men drew their pis 
 tols. The tallest one assuming the position of 
 a leader, said in a tone of mild remonstrance: 
 
 "Now what you kickin' up all dis row for 
 nuffin' for? Dere ain't no 'casion fo' mob- 
 law to-day. Is yer gwine to hev' it jes' fo' 
 sport?" 
 
 "We want the nigger that's been insultin' a 
 white man we want to teach him to respect 
 his betters, we ain't goin' to let him off with 
 out a thrashin', anyways." 
 
 "I've got my wife's clothes-line ready for 
 him!" said another, who had wound around 
 him several yards of rope. He had already 
 succeeded in getting the door partly open; he 
 stood bracing himself against the door-joist, 
 with half his body thrust through the open 
 ing. 
 
 Stephen asked if there were no way of sum 
 moning the police. 
 
 "Perhaps," he added, in a hasty whisper, 
 
152 Stephen the Black 
 
 "they think I fired those shots, and if I just 
 explain how it happened " 
 
 "Explain nuthin'," answered his defender, 
 roughly, giving Stephen at the same time a 
 shove backward, " dey ain't such fools; dey 
 ain't lookin' fo' 'scuses dey's lookin' fo' you 
 to hang yer!" 
 
 It was the disagreeable truth, as he soon 
 realized: the uproar was increasing and the 
 threats of lynching growing louder and 
 louder. Sticks and stones were being 
 thrown, but the crowd came no nearer, ow 
 ing to the pistols that guarded the door-way. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " cried the young teacher 
 in an agony of mortification. " I've brought 
 this trouble on you people myself, and I'm 
 not armed. Hadn't I better give myself up ? " 
 
 "Open dat closet door," said the proprietor, 
 turning his head a little but still keeping his 
 eye on the street and speaking in a quick, soft 
 whisper; "take my shavin' coat and straw 
 hat, an' cup an' tray wid de brushes on it. Git 
 out de back way quick afo' de surroun' de 
 house." 
 
Stephen the Black 153 
 
 " What'll happen to you if I get off ? " asked 
 Stephen, losing no time in obeying these 
 directions. 
 
 "Nuthin" mo's gwine to happen I reckon. 
 You kin notify de police ef yer want ter." 
 
 This seemed the most sensible course to 
 pursue, and Stephen making all the haste he 
 could slipped into the back room and out into 
 a small yard from which a back-gate led into 
 a narrow street. He closed the gate quickly 
 and walked as calmly as possible down this 
 alley to a larger street which he turned into 
 with an air of leisurely unconcern, holding the 
 tray ostentatiously before him. He saw from 
 a distance the crowd of men around the barber 
 shop and directed his steps another way. No 
 one molested him ; his straw hat and profes 
 sional white coat seemed ample disguise. 
 After he had passed out of sight and sound of 
 the mob, he inquired of a respectable-looking 
 colored man for the police station, and made 
 his way there as promptly as possible, feeling 
 that every moment was a matter of life and 
 death to his defenders. 
 
154 Stephen the Black 
 
 The captain of police manifested no particu 
 lar concern on being told that "a dangerous 
 mob was attacking the barber-shop," but 
 promised curtly to send half a dozen police 
 men to the spot. Stephen had the satisfaction 
 of seeing them depart, and discreetly remained 
 at the station house until dark. 
 
 In the evening he found his way to the back 
 gate of the barber-shop, where after knocking 
 several times he was admitted to the sitting- 
 room back of the shop by the tall mulatto, 
 who was now made known to him as Lou 
 Lemons. 
 
 Stephen explained that he had come to 
 thank his defenders and to return the linen 
 coat and the straw hat. Lou received his 
 gratitude coolly. 
 
 "Dat war jes' a leetle fracas, it warn't no 
 'count," he said, indifferently. 
 
 "They meant to kill me," exclaimed Stephen, 
 with intense bitterness, his eyes fixed on the 
 floor, " me, a stranger who had done them 
 no harm in my life! " 
 
 " Ya-as dat so." 
 
Stephen the Black 155 
 
 "I should think that Mr. Aikens and the 
 fellow with him would a-been satisfied with 
 throwin' me downstairs and firin' pistols at 
 me without settin' the whole town on to 
 murder me! " 
 
 "Mars' Aikens, he done set nobody on to 
 ye," replied the mulatto with scorn. "He 
 ain't dat kind he done trubble his head no 
 mo' 'bout yer when he trowed yer out. Dat 
 leetle lynchin' bee warn't his affair." 
 
 " Who set them on then?" asked Stephen. 
 
 " Dey don't want no settin' on dose fel 
 lows; sey'se allus ready to jine han's an' lynch 
 a nigger; all dey wants is de 'scuse o' hearin' 
 dere's been a row 'tween nigger and white 
 man." 
 
 Stephen's head sank low on his breast. 
 
 " Dey don't know no better, I reckon," com 
 mented the proprietor, good-naturedly, as if 
 with a desire to encourage the forlorn stranger, 
 "dey ain't got nuffm' agin yer person'ly 
 man; yer no cause to feel so down-hearted 
 'tain't yer pusson, it's only yer black skin! " 
 
 Stephen, failing to see the humor of this 
 
156 Stephen the Black 
 
 delicate distinction, raised his head to ask if 
 all classes felt the same way in that part of the 
 country. 
 
 "How de big bugs feel de gran' upper 
 ten it ain't in de pow'r o' language to state 
 'zactly; dey don't personify no great love fo' 
 yo' race, dat a fact but day'se good to some 
 dat sarves 'em ya'as, dey is. Yer mought 
 say dey look down an' 'spise de race, and dey 
 'predate de indiwid-iwid " 
 
 "Individuals ? Ah, I see," said Stephen, in 
 heavy dejection. 
 
 "But dey keep dere moufs shut an' dey 
 ain't aroun' when dere's a row kickin' up, 
 dat's all I know 'bout dere feelin's. An' my 
 feelin' is to keep dis yere six-shooter in my 
 pocket and I 'vise you to do de same." 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 STEPHEN'S reflections on the way home were 
 dismal enough. He could excuse the attack 
 made on him by young Aikens as the act of a 
 man in a violent passion. The nature of his 
 errand and the implication of his speech might 
 easily have aroused the temper of one who 
 had never learned self-restraint, and who read 
 moreover in his remarks, the sting of reproof, 
 and reproof from one of an inferior race 
 was a thing to be resented and stamped out 
 as an insult. 
 
 But after he had resolved to avoid entrance 
 to a quarrel in a land where every incautious 
 word seemed fraught with such dire conse 
 quences, there remained the heavy depression 
 of spirits which this insight into the hearts of 
 his countrymen now caused him. He could 
 not forget that every one of those screaming 
 fellows with murder in his heart was a fellow- 
 citizen with whom he had once dreamed of 
 
 157 
 
158 Stephen the Black 
 
 working for the safety of the commonwealth 
 and the upbuilding of a new South. For 
 had he not studied the "Science of Civiliza 
 tion," the "Theory of Government," and the 
 "Politics of a Christian," while at the Sectar 
 ian College ? 
 
 And yet without asking who he was or 
 what he had done, these "fellow-citizens" 
 were ready to hunt him down like a wild 
 beast, and hang him to the nearest lamp-post! 
 The cruel injustice of it almost brought tears to 
 his eyes, while yet he trembled from head to 
 foot in passionate anger at the thought of the 
 indignity that had been offered to him. 
 
 When he thought of Theresa whom he had 
 married to protect, his depression became still 
 greater, A great protector was he ! A crea 
 ture whom every man's hand was against, 
 every white man's, and who was not to be 
 permitted to open his lips even in defence 
 of his wife! The fighting instincts of the 
 Anglo-Saxon raged suddenly within him. He 
 breathed heavily, he clinched his hands and 
 longed for vengeance. What should he do ? 
 
Stephen the Black 159 
 
 Become a bravado armed to the teeth like 
 Lou Lemons, and lose his life in a vain effort 
 to assert his manhood ? This, after all, was 
 the best use he could make of it at least he 
 could thus prove his manhood! 
 
 Then the utter hopelessness of his position 
 overcame him. He knew that he was power 
 less to offer any kind of resistance that would 
 amount to more than the knocking of his 
 head against a stone wall until his brains were 
 dashed out. He closed his eyes in the ago 
 nizing humility of this thought. As he pressed 
 his forehead against the glass of the car-win 
 dow the hot tears forced their way through 
 his closed lids. They were the tears of a 
 white man; so do not despise them, reader. 
 At that moment, he would gladly have died 
 rather than accept the alternative of submis 
 sion to his lot. 
 
 "God of my fathers!" his spirit cried out, 
 " why am I why is my race thus pilloried 
 in the midst of the white man's civilization ? 
 What have my people done to deserve a fate 
 like this?" 
 
160 Stephen the Black 
 
 The iron mask of the black race was press 
 ing inward; surely it would crush the soul of 
 the Anglo-Saxon! Would it remain a white 
 man's soul? Could it endure that pressure 
 caused by centuries of oppression, scorn and 
 hate ? How long, O reader, does it take for 
 environment to conquer heredity ? 
 
 But fortunately, Stephen knew nothing 
 about the white soul within him, and he had 
 not, therefore, the paralyzing fear of a possible 
 metamorphosis within to add to his anguish. 
 The passion and the pain of the moment began 
 to pass slowly from him. His training and 
 the traditions of the race to which he be 
 lieved he belonged, gradually asserted their 
 power over him. 
 
 There came into his mind a picture of the 
 black field-hands among whom he had chosen 
 to cast his lot. He saw them bowed down 
 with heavy toil and blinded by ignorance ap 
 pealing to him for aid with outstretched, grop 
 ing hands and weary eyes. He turned to the 
 thought of them with a cry of love and ten 
 derness in his heart. They were his brothers 
 
Stephen the Black 161 
 
 because they needed him, and not because 
 their skins were black like his. Among them 
 he could work for humanity, for country, for 
 race, for God! No man could take from him 
 that privilege! 
 
 And so the bruised, imprisoned white soul, 
 looking up through its dark environment of 
 degradation, fixed its gaze upon the eternal 
 and for the moment, found peace. Stephen 
 had touched the bottom pit of despair, but now 
 he rose on shining, lovely wings the wings 
 that have been given to the crushed and 
 broken-hearted of all races and for a brief 
 interval, he soared above his misery. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 'WHEN Wesley Anderson heard of Stephen's 
 miserable adventure in the town of Perryville, 
 he advised him to confide his experiences only 
 to a select few, as it was not desirable that the 
 story should be known in the district. 
 
 Lemuel's return the next morning relieved 
 the minds of the two men as to Theresa's 
 safety, and his account of their reception at 
 the wonderful school was graphic and satis 
 factory. In the same week Stephen closed 
 his school term and during the vacation he 
 helped Wesley by supplying Theresa's place 
 in the field, for the busy days were now draw 
 ing near, and every adult member of every 
 colored household was needed to hoe, harrow, 
 and thin out the too luxuriant growth of the 
 cotton plant as it approached its prime. 
 
 He found time, however, to devote a few 
 days of steady work to the windows of the 
 building, and it was a proud moment for the 
 
 162 
 
Stephen the Black 163 
 
 congregation when they assembled within a 
 rain-proof edifice, and beheld the clear, warm 
 sunshine streaming through the panes of glass 
 which now marked the little church from all 
 others of its kind. In their enjoyment of the 
 luxury, they sat with every window tightly 
 closed until the atmosphere became so stilling 
 that Stephen insisted on pushing up every 
 sash, which revealing a new virtue in the me 
 chanism, distracted the minds of the audience 
 from any further contemplation of the won 
 ders of the Golden City, toward which Brother 
 Simpson had been patiently directing their at 
 tention for the last three-quarters of an hour. 
 
 When the school opened again in July, 
 Stephen found to his disappointment that only 
 the very young children were able to attend; 
 the older ones were now in the field from 
 early dawn until seven o'clock at night. Be 
 tween twelve and three the heat was too in 
 tense for any creature to bear without shelter, 
 and it was customary for the laborers to stop 
 work during those hours. Some spent this 
 interval in sleep under the shade of a tree, but 
 
164 Stephen the Black 
 
 many returned to the cabins and rested there 
 after the midday meal. 
 
 Stephen made an effort to persuade the 
 older boys and girls to spend this interval of 
 rest in his schoolroom. A few came and 
 seemed glad of the privilege, but several of 
 them soon notified him that the innovation was 
 not approved by the overseer who had charge 
 of the fields, and that they could come no 
 more. As the month wore away, even the 
 younger children dropped off, and Stephen 
 saw them afterward picking cotton by the 
 side of their parents. He was glad when the 
 time came to close his school. 
 
 But now came a new trouble. For several 
 weeks, rumors had reached his ears of dis 
 satisfaction among the colored people who 
 lived in the eastern part of the district. These 
 people formed a little settlement of their own 
 and had been holding services in a log-cabin 
 near Thomas' Mills on the creek. They 
 looked with disfavor on Brother Simpson's 
 style of preaching and had selected a Baptist 
 clergyman to minister to their spiritual needs. 
 
Stephen the Black 165 
 
 They claimed to receive more edification from 
 one of his sermons than from two of Brother 
 Simpson's. 
 
 But after the fame of Brother Simpson's 
 glass windows had spread over the neighbor 
 hood, the primitiveness of their own house of 
 worship cut deep into their souls and they 
 stirred themselves to secure some compensat 
 ing advantage. 
 
 They decided that four miles was too far for 
 their children to walk to school, and petitioned 
 the county superintendent to appoint a sepa 
 rate teacher for the eastern half of the district. 
 
 Stephen heard of this movement without 
 alarm, and did not blame them for wanting 
 a school near at hand. He did not believe, 
 however, that the county authorities would 
 grant the request, and troubled himself very 
 little about it. 
 
 His consternation was great one day, when 
 he received from the superintendent a letter 
 enclosing just half of the month's salary with 
 a statement that the balance of the appropria 
 tion would be withheld to pay for a Septem- 
 
166 Stephen the Black 
 
 her term of the new school to be opened at 
 Thomas' Mills. 
 
 Stephen wrote back protesting against such 
 a step. It would be impossible, he said, to 
 maintain a proper school on such a salary. 
 He had already spent a large share of his 
 wages on furnishing his own school and what 
 kind of a teacher could they engage on half of 
 his meagre salary ? 
 
 The county superintendent replied that the 
 Thomas' Mills people were determined to 
 have their separate school, and had, he was 
 informed, withheld their children from Ste 
 phen's school during the month of July because 
 of the distance. A full month's salary was 
 hardly due a teacher who had not taught 
 more than half of his scholars during that 
 time, and in his opinion, the money would 
 be better expended in the way proposed. 
 
 Stephen held many consultations with the 
 more intelligent men on the Aikens' planta 
 tion, and went with them to reason with the 
 Thomas' Mills people. But arguments and 
 persuasions were of no avail. They shook 
 
Stephen the Black 167 
 
 their heads and maintained stoutly that the 
 school was needed; as the Methodists had ob 
 tained school privileges for themselves, they 
 should not try to prevent the Baptists from 
 following their example. 
 
 The custom of holding school in church 
 buildings had its distinct disadvantages, as 
 Stephen now discovered. With the conniv 
 ance of the county superintendent, the educa 
 tion of the poor people was being sacrificed to 
 the jealousies of rival sects; and the ignorant 
 field-hands, in their effort to obtain equal rec 
 ognition for their special forms of worship 
 were rapidly undermining the scanty facilities 
 for education that already existed. 
 
 While Stephen worked in the cotton-field 
 he pondered and puzzled over this subject and 
 held many discussions with Wesley and others 
 as they rested in the shade during the intoler 
 able heat of midday. 
 
 The fields were now white with ripe cotton 
 and the scene every morning and afternoon 
 was one of busy activity, but no language can 
 do justice to the effect of the intense heat on 
 
168 Stephen the Black 
 
 the atmosphere. As Stephen looked across 
 the level acres from his retreat under the trees, 
 the heat itself seemed to become a visible sub 
 stance that danced on waves of vibrating ether 
 across the great prairie of white cotton. 
 
 It seemed hardly worth while to blister one's 
 back and arms and lose one's whole skin once 
 a month for the wretched pittance of forty 
 cents a day, out of which the cotton picker is 
 expected to furnish his own meals and lodg 
 ing, but this was the usual rate of wages in 
 that neighborhood and it was now too late for 
 Stephen to secure employment in the North. 
 He toiled on doggedly and found a grim sat 
 isfaction in sharing the lot of his comrades 
 in every particular. Sometimes they sang 
 plantation songs, many of which were new to 
 the Virginian. They seemed to him to pos 
 sess a far greater plaintiveness than any he 
 had heard at home. 
 
 A great sadness took possession of him, 
 born of the pity which he felt in his heart for 
 his own people. How far away they seemed 
 from the civilization which lay all around them! 
 
Stephen the Black 169 
 
 How appealing was their attitude toward the 
 great nation in the midst of which they dwelt 
 in such obscure, poverty-stricken isolation! 
 Was there anything like it in all history ? And 
 he who had come down among them so full 
 of high missionary zeal, had now fallen into 
 their ranks as a day-laborer, and was unable 
 to raise his head above the low level of the 
 underpaid labor markets of the South. 
 
 Again he thought of Theresa and of his am 
 bition for her future. In the depths of his 
 heart there lay undisturbed by the fierce 
 struggle with ignorance and poverty, the vision 
 of a home that was some day to be created for 
 that daughter of two races. Within its sanc 
 tity she would never miss the chivalry that the 
 outside world denied her. Like a princess in 
 a lonely tower she would remain safe from 
 the lawless admiration of the white man's 
 eyes and the brutality of his laws. Never 
 should she toil in the field as the daughter of 
 an inferior race! The spindle and the distaff 
 only should she hold in her hand. Like the 
 virtuous woman "whose price is far above 
 
ijo Stephen the Black 
 
 rubies" she might seek wool and flax yes, 
 but never cotton, and it was a proof of the 
 discriminating judgment of Solomon that he 
 disdained all mention of the great fabric which 
 had transferred the toil of millions of women 
 in America from the home to the field. 
 
 As Stephen worked on day by day by the 
 side of these black women, he realized how 
 heavily the burdens of race lay upon them. 
 For generations they had toiled thus until their 
 chests were hollow, their backs bent, their 
 eyes sunken with pain and weariness. These 
 housewives had no canned or dried vegetables, 
 fruits, pickles, or preserves to exhibit proudly 
 to the chance visitor. They were profoundly 
 ignorant of all the arts and mysteries of the 
 household. They had neither time nor oppor 
 tunity to learn them. Surely the monotonous 
 grinding factory wheel of the North was not 
 as remorseless a taskmaster as this gay, flow 
 ering cotton plant of the South. How neces 
 sary it was, therefore, how holy and beautiful 
 it would be to paint before their eyes the re 
 ality of those heavenly ideals of domestic life 
 
Stephen the Black 171 
 
 which he beheld whenever he looked into his 
 heart and thought of Theresa. 
 
 By October the work began to lighten, the 
 days grew shorter, and the sun's rays became 
 less oppressive. The men were looking for 
 ward to a division of the profits after the cot 
 ton should be sold in November. They had 
 worked hard and it was a good crop. 
 
 A great idea came into Stephen's head, and 
 he communicated it to Wesley and to several 
 others. They resolved to call a meeting that 
 should include the people of the whole school 
 district and lay the idea before them. Notices 
 were sent out by word of mouth to the large 
 majority who could not read, and a pressing 
 invitation was extended to the Thomas' Mills 
 people. Only a few came from that settle 
 ment, but the whole number that assembled 
 in the schoolhouse was large, and they waited 
 in expectant silence for Stephen's address. 
 
 "The county superintendent has bitten off 
 half our school fund," explained Stephen, 
 "and only an ignoramus can be hired by 
 either half, But I have come here to teach in 
 
172 Stephen the Black 
 
 this community, and if you want me I am 
 going to stay right here and keep this school 
 going. But we must separate the school from 
 the church. I reckon God can put up with 
 our foolish controversies over Himself. He 
 can forgive our fancies about the grand things 
 that only angels know the truth of. We can 
 afford to differ about religion, but when it 
 comes to the schools, we've got to pull to 
 gether or go under. Now what we want is a 
 school that is separate and distinct from the 
 church, so the Baptists won't pull one way 
 and the Methodists another. We want to 
 build it ourselves and run it ourselves. Here's 
 the school the academy we're going to have 
 with or without the state's help," and Stephen 
 drew on the blackboard a rough diagram of a 
 square building, and marked the doors and 
 windows on it. 
 
 A murmur of enthusiasm ran through the 
 audience. The hopeful, emotional tempera 
 ment of the colored people was easily stirred, 
 and when Stephen told them the first thing 
 they wanted was land on which to build the 
 
Stephen the Black 173 
 
 new school, a middle-aged negro who lived 
 in the vicinity of Thomas' Mills and was 
 known to be an exceedingly thrifty fellow, 
 announced that he owned an acre of ground 
 near a small woods and the school could have 
 this little piece of ground to build on. This 
 offer was hailed with delight, and Stephen 
 with beaming eyes called for volunteers to do 
 the work of carpenters and builders under his 
 direction. 
 
 One after another of the blacks arose and 
 pledged himself to give so many days and 
 hours of labor. Stephen, figuring rapidly, 
 reckoned that two months of solid labor had 
 been pledged, and with this he thought they 
 could proceed. The meeting broke up amid 
 smiles of profound self-satisfaction and joy. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 HEAVY wagon-loads of baled cotton were 
 now to be seen on the road every day, on their 
 way to the station, and the fields were bare 
 except for dry stalks and withered leaves. 
 
 The day of settlement was over on the 
 Aikens' plantation, and Wesley Anderson sat 
 in his little cabin discussing with Stephen the 
 mystery of his empty pockets. The cotton he 
 had raised had been sold by his landlord, who 
 after deducting the expenses of living, the 
 price of the ox, and the interest of his mort 
 gage, returned to him a statement in which it 
 appeared that Wesley was still in arrears for 
 the interest that had been accumulating on the 
 ox. He handed the statement to Stephen, 
 who ran his eye over it. 
 
 "Here's a mistake you're charged interest 
 on Abraham from January ist, and you didn't 
 get him until April and look here, these 
 
 174 
 
Stephen the Black 175 
 
 groceries and salt pork were not all bought in 
 January, why man, you got them month by 
 month, as you needed them." 
 
 "Dat's correc', perfessor," replied Wesley, 
 calmly, " de colonel can't nebber break de 
 year wid his accounts. De interest run allus 
 f'om year to year; dat's de business-like way. 
 Dere ain't no mistake dere. I 'spec' we's 
 done eat up all de profit, dat's de truff; dat 
 boy Lemuel, he's pow'rful big eater, he is, 
 kin mos' eat whole acre o' 'taters hisself ! " 
 
 "I reckon he ain't eat up that ox, usury's 
 done that! " cried Stephen, a hot wave of in 
 dignation sweeping him into forms of speech 
 that were perilously below the standard of his 
 graduating days, a standard maintained so 
 far at the cost of an incessant struggle with 
 an old Adam of early associations. He rose 
 quickly and paced up and down the floor of 
 the cabin muttering to himself. 
 
 Wesley caught the last muttered word and 
 looked up in his face appealingly. 
 
 "My brudder, it ain't robbery, as I looks at 
 it," he said, in his low, gentle voice. "We's 
 
176 Stephen the Black 
 
 got to pay off somehow de cost o' our free 
 dom, we's got to pay somehow de cost o' 
 dem battles. Dey was fought fo' us an' we's 
 got de benefit, but some day, perfessor, we 
 'uns '11 git de cost o' dat wah paid off cent fo' 
 cent an' dollar fo' dollar, an' den we'll rise 
 up an' take our place fo' de nation, but I 
 reckon it'll jine on close to forty years afore 
 dat gran' settlement be made, cent fo' cent, 
 an' dollar fo' dollar!" He gazed musingly 
 into the fireplace, his old eyes luminous with 
 prophetic insight. 
 
 "You know then, " cried Stephen, stop 
 ping and laying his hand on the elder negro's 
 shoulder, " you know that you're being swin 
 dled out of your just earnings?" His com 
 panion nodded. 
 
 "We knows it, perfessor, an' we knows 
 it's 'cause o' our ig'rance. An' we knows de 
 han' o' de Lord's a-leadin' us out o' dis ig' 
 rance, an' He's a keepin' us fo' some gran' 
 purpose o' His'n. Dat's my b'lief, perfessor, 
 yer done wrong ter try to shake dat b'lief o' 
 mine I ain't laid it ag'in yer hard, fo' I likes 
 
Stephen the Black 177 
 
 yer mightily; I loves de soun' o' yer voice, an' 
 de gleam o' 'casional lightnin' in yer eye. 
 Yo's soun' at heart, boy, but yer ain't got de 
 eye o' faith, fo' yer own people. It's de eye 
 o' faith dat lights up times like dese, when 
 yer heart's mos' broke wid disapp'intment an' 
 mis'ry. Dere's nuffm' like de eye o' faith, 
 perfessor, when yo's cornsiderin' de prospects 
 o' de colored folks!" 
 
 Stephen went on pacing the floor; with 
 violent gestures and furious exclamations, he 
 denounced the rapacity of southern land own 
 ers and the futility of his own efforts to raise 
 the standards of life under such oppressive 
 conditions. The rebellious spirit of his revo 
 lutionary ancestors surged through him; their 
 hatred of injustice swelled his heart until he 
 felt as if it would burst. But suddenly, he 
 stopped short with his hand on his black, 
 woolly head he saw himself as a naked, 
 painted savage, dashing with uplifted spear 
 through African jungles. Ah! he must not 
 forget that dreadful picture of his origin ! He 
 must not forget the savage within him, civi- 
 
i;8 Stephen the Black 
 
 lization had not yet tamed the beast, appar 
 ently! 
 
 In passionate contrition, Stephen dropped 
 into a chair and bowed his head upon his 
 hands. He prayed for patience, gentleness, 
 wisdom and the taming of the African an 
 cestor who now leered upon him from the 
 chancel of his thoughts like some hideous 
 idol. The thought of the naked fellow always 
 brought humiliation. It caused him at once 
 to abandon anger for sharp, rational think 
 ing. 
 
 He remembered that ignorance was at the 
 bottom of the whole trouble, and it was ig 
 norance he had come to wrestle with and not 
 the injustice of the southerner to his former 
 slave. If he permitted his mind to dwell on 
 that gloomy picture his usefulness he knew 
 was gone forever. With determination he put 
 the subject out of his thoughts and devoted 
 himself with more energy than ever to the 
 possibilities of building up a new school. 
 
 The following week, Stephen inspected the 
 piece of ground that had been offered, and 
 
Stephen the Black 179 
 
 held another meeting to bring the question 
 again before the people. 
 
 The time had come, he thought, to begin 
 work, and he broached the subject to several 
 who had been most enthusiastic in their 
 promises of help. To his sorrow, he found 
 that their enthusiasm had waned. The poor 
 fellows had not yet rallied from the grief 
 caused by their broken hopes over the pro 
 ceeds of the cotton crop. When Stephen 
 urged them to think of the future of their 
 children they paused and pressed the palms 
 of their hands together in an attitude that was 
 meant to suggest concentration of thought, 
 but it seemed to indicate rather their own 
 peculiar helplessness, 
 
 " Dat's de truff, perfessor, we'd had ought 
 to be considerin' all dem Vantages you's been 
 p'intin' out but, sah, our han's is tied, our 
 han's is tied!" 
 
 Christmas came and there was plenty of 
 leisure; it seemed impossible, however, to 
 get any one just then to take life seriously, 
 but Stephen regarded it so seriously himself 
 
i8o Stephen the Black 
 
 that he started out one day alone, armed with 
 a pick-axe, and began to dig the foundation 
 of his new schoolhouse. 
 
 He struck his axe into the ground and 
 turned up the fresh sod along the line he 
 had marked for the foundations of his school. 
 He worked with a will, singing old plantation 
 songs as he swung the pick again and again 
 into the earth. After resting a few moments, 
 he went at it again with breathless energy, 
 and being unable to hold his voice at singing 
 pitch all the while, he accomplished his pur 
 pose by a succession of shouts and yells, 
 which speedily brought an astonished pedes 
 trian to the spot. 
 
 The first thought of the newcomer was 
 that the " Perfessor " had gone mad. Stephen 
 stopping to wipe his forehead explained pant- 
 ingly that he had begun to dig the foundations 
 of the new schoolhouse. The neighbor eyed 
 him in open-mouthed stupefaction. 
 
 " Ain't yer got a pick at home?" asked 
 Stephen, in piercing accents, content to sacri 
 fice syntax for incisiveness, in his happy con- 
 
Stephen the Black 181 
 
 sciousness of the better English that was 
 stored away with his Sunday clothes. He 
 was confident that when it was wanted, it 
 would come forth all the better perhaps for 
 being less worn. To his mind, the genius of 
 the English language sanctioned these violent 
 contrasts between academic and colloquial 
 speech, whenever an idea was to be driven 
 quickly and forcibly into a dull understand 
 ing. 
 
 The newcomer hastened in search of the 
 implements, returning speedily with both axe 
 and shovel. He helped Stephen all the after 
 noon, and the next morning, he brought a 
 friend with him who also worked with a will. 
 After that there was no scarcity of workers. 
 Every man on the Aikens' plantation donated 
 his quota of labor. Many others who lived on 
 adjoining farms, did the same and Stephen 
 opened his little district school the following 
 Monday in the happy consciousness that a new 
 building was actually under way, and that the 
 whole neighborhood was again in a ferment 
 of enthusiasm over the project. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IT was now nearly two years since Theresa 
 had entered the great colored school. 
 
 She had become a hard student and was 
 looking forward to becoming a teacher. Her 
 speech had originally been modeled after the 
 dialect of the ignorant whites in preference to 
 that of the field negroes, but now her quick, 
 imitative faculty, an individual as well as a 
 racial gift fashioned it after a higher stand 
 ard. Her dread of the " nigger school" had 
 vanished on meeting many teachers and pupils 
 in the establishment as fair as herself, nay, 
 some of them were fairer. She had become a 
 favorite with a teacher known as "Miss Isa 
 bel," a handsome young Virginian, in whose 
 features and coloring there was not the slight 
 est appearance of negro blood. Isabel's hair 
 was a bright chestnut, her eyes were dark 
 blue, her complexion was that of an English 
 woman. Nevertheless, she was a daughter of 
 182 
 
Stephen the Black 183 
 
 the inferior race and all her associations were 
 with the dusky children of America. Theresa 
 asked her once if she would not prefer to live 
 among the whites, and her reply was given 
 with eyes flashing: 
 
 " Why should I care for the people that dis 
 own me? They have cast me out, and my 
 loyalty belongs to those who have taken me 
 under their protection. Theresa, white peo 
 ple have heaped dishonor on us their chil 
 dren! Live among them ? Never while there 
 is a black man's roof to shelter me! I work 
 for the advancement of this race not out of 
 gratitude only though I owe them much 
 but that I may some day avenge my own 
 wrongs and all our wrongs ! " 
 
 "Will you marry a black man, some day, 
 Miss Isabel?" asked Theresa, in a whisper, 
 laying her hand on the sleeve of the elder 
 woman. 
 
 "No," replied the teacher, shortly, drawing 
 a quick breath, "I shall never marry any one, 
 child, I came into this world to teach, not 
 to marry." 
 
184 Stephen the Black 
 
 Theresa thought of her own marriage which 
 was known only to the principal of the 
 school. 
 
 "Did you ever hear it said," she whispered, 
 " that I have a husband ? " 
 
 Isabel shook her head, laying her hand play 
 fully on the girl's scarlet cheek. 
 
 "I have. He's black, Miss Isabel." The 
 piteous expression in Theresa's eyes caused 
 Isabel to clasp the girl's hand in hers. 
 
 "Black really?" 
 
 "Brown, I think no, he's black in sum 
 mer," whispered Theresa between her fin 
 gers, for she had suddenly buried her face in 
 both hands. Isabel longed to know more, so, 
 after a little hesitation, Theresa related the 
 whole story of her secret interviews with 
 her white hero, his base proposition, her inter 
 cepted flight to join him, and her unexpected 
 marriage with the negro teacher on the plan 
 tation. 
 
 Isabel listened breathlessly. 
 
 "Couldn't I have been saved without marry 
 ing some one else?" cried Theresa, looking 
 
Stephen the Black 185 
 
 up with wide-open eyes and another deep 
 blush, "why did I have to marry Stephen 
 Wells ? " 
 
 Isabel looked at her in astonishment. " Are 
 you Stephen Wells' wife? I don't pity you 
 one bit. He's good, Theresa, and he's not so 
 very black either. Come, let me congratulate 
 you!" she cried, laughing, and looking into 
 Theresa's downcast face. 
 
 "I don't care what he's like," muttered 
 Theresa, looking scornful and distressed. 
 " He pays my board, but I am going to earn 
 my way through school now I can work at 
 dressmaking, and he shall pay no more for 
 me! I don't understand," she went on, 
 impetuously, "why he insisted on my marry 
 ing him. I don't think he did right to per 
 suade me to marry him in such a hurry, do 
 you ?" 
 
 Isabel took thought for a moment. 
 
 " From what I know of Stephen," she said, 
 gravely, "I feel sure that he acted from the 
 best of motives. I hear that he's working 
 himself to death over there and has wrought 
 
i86 Stephen the Black 
 
 a great change in your neighborhood. He's 
 full of self-sacrifice." 
 
 "Ah! Self-sacrifice!" repeated Theresa, in 
 a strange tone. "Why do you think " 
 She flung herself forward into Isabel's lap 
 with a sob. The teacher patted her head 
 tenderly and kissed her. 
 
 She continued to caress and soothe her and 
 to call her a silly child until the clock striking 
 nine, announced that it was time to prepare 
 for bed. With a parting kiss she hurried the 
 little wedded maid away to her own apart 
 ments, and sat down with a sigh to look over 
 a pile of school exercises. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 NOT many weeks afterward the name of a 
 visitor was brought to Theresa from the office. 
 It was that of Ralph Aikens. She told Isabel 
 whose eyes glowed with anger. 
 
 "Well," she asked, coldly, "are you going 
 to see him ? " 
 
 "I must," was Theresa's half stifled re 
 sponse. 
 
 Isabel looked at the burning cheeks and 
 bright eyes of the girl. 
 
 " Let me go with you," she cried, impul 
 sively, but Theresa shook her head proudly, 
 and walked out of the schoolroom alone into 
 the small reception parlor, where Ralph sat 
 gazing eagerly at the half open doorway. 
 
 She entered slowly with her eyes fixed on 
 the floor. Ralph drew a chair opposite to his 
 own and begged her in a subdued voice to be 
 seated. 
 
 Her dread of his brilliant, questioning eyes 
 
 187 
 
i88 Stephen the Black 
 
 drove the color quickly from her cheek, but 
 she seated herself as requested. 
 
 He cast toward her a look of eloquent ap 
 pealand he did well to hang his head 
 afterward without a word of greeting. He 
 knew that every sword's point in the girl's 
 nature was turned against him at that mo 
 ment, but from long experience with the sex, 
 he knew also when to fight and when to 
 throw down his weapons. Theresa eyed him 
 with her usual seriousness, waiting for him to 
 speak. He said at last, 
 
 "You did well to fly from me, Theresa, 
 when you understood what I was capable 
 of." 
 
 The girl's heart beat wildly as Ralph uttered 
 this brief sentence. Quickly leaving her out 
 posts of defence, all her scorn was suddenly 
 lost in a self-reproachful whisper, 
 
 " No. I should have known better, it was 
 my foolish vanity, thinking myself white! " 
 
 "It was your wonderful innocence, don't 
 blame yourself for that" cried Ralph, greatly 
 pleased with her self-accusing tones. "To 
 
Stephen the Black 189 
 
 me it was a beautiful dream with a rude 
 awakening, do you think me utterly without 
 conscience or heart?" 
 
 Theresa had schooled herself exactly to this 
 conclusion, and she now looked toward the 
 open doorway as if seeking an escape from 
 the question. 
 
 "I think you were brought up without a 
 conscience toward such as me," she said 
 finally in a low voice. 
 
 "Toward such as you!" he repeated, with 
 joyous irrelevance. " There is not another like 
 you in the world! You are unique, Theresa! " 
 
 The girl sighed as she summed up quaintly 
 from her own experience, the steps of an orig 
 inal and sorrowful deduction : 
 
 "That is what turns a woman's head and 
 leads her into folly it is flattery." 
 
 "So that's what they teach you in this in 
 stitution, is it?" 
 
 "No, but they've taught me to know that 
 I'm colored." 
 
 "Oh, they are giving you a high standard 
 to begin with ! They're jealous of your white- 
 
190 Stephen the Black 
 
 ness, your sweet looks; they want to bring 
 you down to their own low level, but that they 
 can never do. Listen to me. You sweet 
 child, this school is no place for you; I have 
 come here to propose a better plan. I hope 
 you will accept it from me as a sort of atone 
 ment will you ? " 
 
 I_ What?" 
 
 "Don't look so frightened! Am I always 
 to be the villain in the play, do you look 
 upon me still as a villain ?" 
 
 " You did do wrong you tried to make me 
 do wrong!" She turned restlessly on her 
 chair, longing to escape this strange form of 
 persecution. Her color came and went. But 
 Ralph was enjoying the situation, and had no 
 idea of letting her escape from it. 
 
 "I did do wrong, and I tried to make you 
 do wrong, as you say, and failed thank 
 heaven, but now that I confess my sin, is 
 there no forgiveness for me ? " 
 
 " Forgiveness ?" repeated the girl, in a soft 
 ened tone, "I never thought yes we must 
 forgive our enemies." 
 
Stephen the Black 191 
 
 "I am my own worst enemy, I know 
 that " he added, with a singular smile 
 and a peculiar shadow in his eyes, "but I 
 don't exist for your injury any more. I am 
 seeking your good at the present moment. 
 Listen; this is my plan: I want to send you to 
 a young ladies' boarding-school in the North, 
 where you will be highly educated with white 
 girls. You can stay there until you are fully 
 equipped to teach anything you want, music, 
 singing, painting, dancing whatever you care 
 most to learn. And I shall not trouble you 
 with my presence. You can accept it without 
 any fear of me, Theresa. It will give me 
 great happiness to do this for you. Say that 
 you will go!" 
 
 "I can't say it," cried Theresa, the tears 
 rushing suddenly to her eyes. ' * I belong here 
 I must stay with my race. What good would 
 it do to educate me like a. white woman when 
 I can never live among white people ? You 
 have made all the atonement necessary. I 
 know you are sorry for me. I can see in your 
 face that you have changed. I believe you 
 
192 Stephen the Black 
 
 have a noble, tender heart. I do not need to 
 say ' I forgive ' It was not all your fault. I 
 know the degradation of my people, and the 
 way you were taught to look down on them. 
 It was part of your education to believe to 
 think that you could not make me any 
 worse than I was " The look of adoration 
 that he so well remembered crept into her 
 eyes. She checked herself suddenly and stood 
 looking at him with parted lips and crimson 
 cheeks. He stepped toward her with a pas 
 sionate gesture. 
 
 " It sets me crazy to see you standing there 
 making excuses for me! Forgive me, do you ? 
 I'll never forgive the laws of this cursed coun 
 try! If there's any nobility here, it's come since 
 I've known you. .I've been a reckless, lawless 
 fellow all my life, caring nothing for the laws 
 of God or man I've sought my own pleasure 
 always at any cost. Do you want to know 
 the whole truth about it ? I never said I loved 
 you, did I ? Perhaps you didn't notice that I 
 never came right straight out with it, I let you 
 assume it. That was part of the shamefulness 
 
Stephen the Black 193 
 
 of the whole thing, but now here's the truth, 
 I do love you dearly, whatever you are, 
 just as you stand there. And what's more, I 
 always did " In another second Ralph would 
 have seized her hands if -she had not drawn 
 quickly away. She reached the door so that es 
 cape was easy, but instead of flying from the 
 room, she turned toward him a face pale, yet 
 radiant with tender resolution. He stopped in 
 obedience to its powerful protest. 
 
 "Hush I've no right to listen I will not 
 listen ! Do you hear that bell ? It means even 
 ing service. Come with me oh, come and see 
 my people; then you will understand. It's 
 a short service, and perhaps you will like the 
 music. Yes, you had better come." 
 
 As she led the way immediately, Ralph 
 could do nothing but follow her through the 
 long corridor into the open air outside. They 
 walked together silently until Theresa stopped 
 before the door of a large hall, the dimensions 
 of which extended vaguely into the night. As 
 they entered, Ralph's first impression was that 
 of the primitive circus tent of his boyhood. 
 
194 Stephen the Black 
 
 The place was dimly lighted by small kero 
 sene lamps fastened to the walls and posts. 
 The building was an immense shed; the 
 ground was covered with sawdust and 
 boarded only in the narrow aisles leading to 
 a raised platform. Students were filing in 
 unceremoniously and seating themselves on 
 boards laid across low wooden supports. 
 
 AH was confusion for a few minutes as 
 Theresa led the way toward the platform on 
 which stood a reading desk. She waited to 
 see Ralph seat himself on a bench intended 
 for visitors, and then quickly withdrew. 
 
 Ralph looked with curiosity not unmingled 
 with contempt at the rude simplicity of this 
 "Hall of Worship." It had every appearance 
 of having been put up for temporary conven 
 ience. The size of it was astonishing, but not 
 more so than the number of students that now 
 filled the benches as far back as he could see. 
 Their black faces seemed to absorb what little 
 light there was, and the whites of their eyes 
 gleamed solemnly in the smoky twilight of an 
 insufficient number of oil lamps. 
 
Stephen the Black 195 
 
 He raised his eyes to the roof and observed 
 that the interior was draped profusely with 
 red, white and blue bunting. The upright 
 posts which supported the roof were fes 
 tooned with the same colors, and back of 
 him two American flags were crossed against 
 the wall. 
 
 His Southern blood resented these evidences 
 of excessive patriotism which seemed to sug 
 gest that the dusky children seated below had 
 a special claim to the protection of the flag. 
 While he sat frowning at the thought, some 
 one advanced to the reading desk and began a 
 simple prayer. At its conclusion, from an 
 unknown quarter came what sounded like the 
 low notes of a Gregorian chant; beginning 
 almost in a whisper, it was quickly taken up 
 by other female voices until it rose into an 
 organ-like hymn of thanksgiving: 
 
 " My Lord, what a morning when de stars begin to fall ! 
 You hear de trumpets sound 
 To wake de nations under de ground. 
 Look in my Lord's right hand 
 When de stars begin to fall ! " 
 
196 Stephen the Black 
 
 It was an old plantation melody and died 
 away as softly as it had begun. 
 
 Ralph tried in vain to discover the singers, 
 fancying that he had recognized Theresa's 
 voice among the sopranos. 
 
 The service was short and closed with an 
 other plantation hymn called " Climbin' Jacob's 
 Ladder." The words were comparatively 
 meaningless, but the music was indeed a 
 ladder of harmonies. It began in a wail of 
 despair and rose in successive climaxes higher 
 and higher until the voices seemed to touch the 
 roof in a cry of religious exaltation. 
 
 Through the influence of this remarkable 
 music Ralph's spirit was thrilled into silence. 
 He closed his eyes and the magic art of the 
 singers brought a strange picture before his 
 mind. There stood before him a massive, 
 high cross doubtless, the cross of Calvary 
 and against it leaned a great ladder. At the 
 foot of the cross lay numerous sufferers with 
 their arms raised appealingly. Their wailing 
 cry was in his ears; it was taken up by others 
 who stood on the ladder and were slowly, 
 
Stephen the Black 197 
 
 painfully, climbing upward. Undoubtedly, 
 they had all been sufferers together, but some 
 had escaped and were now high above the 
 ground. When the cry of those below be 
 came most distressing, the climbers hesitated 
 and looked back. Then slowly they retraced 
 their steps and stooping down, lifted the 
 prostrate ones and tenderly assisted them to 
 climb too. As they mounted the ladder thus 
 together with surprising ease and swiftness, 
 their voices blended, the sobbing wail be 
 came a cry of triumphant faith; they passed 
 up and onward, and vanished from his 
 sight! 
 
 Ralph opened his eyes and the real scene 
 before him gained suddenly an impressive sig 
 nificance. The dusky young faces, all wear 
 ing as it were impenetrable masks, seemed 
 to be gazing backward into their extraordi 
 nary history; their eyes were saying with 
 pathetic patience, 
 
 "We know all that we have suffered we 
 do not forget. But everything will be made 
 clear and every wrong righted, when our God 
 
198 Stephen the Black 
 
 leads us by the hand into the place where He 
 intends us to be." 
 
 Ralph became dimly aware that their mu 
 sical art was an expression of spiritual power. 
 He stared furtively about him during the 
 closing prayer and tried to understand some 
 thing of what must be the feeling of these 
 dark-skinned children of America for the stars 
 and stripes. The flag had so far fulfilled their 
 most daring prophecies; it was at once the 
 symbol of their faith and the interpreter of 
 their largest hope. 
 
 As the students filed out two by two, cross 
 ing the platform directly in front of him to 
 march down the right aisle and out the door, 
 the sight of the familiar woolly heads and 
 homely black features recalled his habitual 
 derisive attitude toward the race. The influ 
 ence of the music died away; he looked at 
 them coldly as before until startled by the 
 sight of many fair faces among them. 
 
 The sting of shame then entered his heart as 
 he counted one face after another that had 
 strong claim to the recognition of the whites 
 
Stephen the Black 199 
 
 through ties of blood. There was abundant 
 evidence that the black and the white races 
 had mingled, and that one race was bearing 
 the unlawful burdens of both. Ralph groaned 
 inwardly as Theresa passed him accompanied 
 by a young girl fairer than herself though less 
 beautiful. With what proud humility did 
 those white children move among their dark 
 sisters! " I am with you but not one of you," 
 each seemed to say. 
 
 The meeting was over. Theresa had disap 
 peared, and Ralph made his way disconso 
 lately back to the town with his heart full of 
 pain and discontent. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 IT was now possible to hold school in the 
 new, shining, frame building which had be 
 come the glory of the neighborhood. The 
 Thomas' Mills people had been unable to re 
 sist its charms and petitioned to send their 
 children to the "'Cad'my," accepting with 
 gratitude the privilege of contributing toward 
 its support. They gave up their separate 
 school and had the divided fund restored to 
 its original amount. 
 
 Pupils flocked to it from many miles around. 
 Already the school-roll numbered over one 
 hundred. An assistant teacher was an abso 
 lute necessity, yet the field-hands were bear 
 ing as heavy a burden as they could carry in 
 paying off gradually the cost of material and 
 the purchase of the land on which the school 
 stood. 
 
 The early summer found Stephen on his 
 way to the North, fired with an ambition to 
 200 
 
Stephen the Black 201 
 
 raise the needed funds either by his own la 
 bor, or by appealing to the fabulous generos 
 ity of Northern philanthropists in whose good 
 ness he believed as implicitly as he did in the 
 articles of the Christian religion. 
 
 He stepped out of the colored coach at 
 Washington, he might have left it earlier if 
 he had been so minded, but his thoughts were 
 not on distinctions of race and on entering 
 the train of the Pennsylvania Railroad he was 
 somewhat abashed to find himself the only 
 colored man in the car. He selected a seat near 
 the door conspicuous for its discomfort, and as 
 the car filled up, one traveler after another ap 
 proached him, hesitated, looked at him and 
 passed on into the next car. But Stephen's feel 
 ings were not hurt by the fact that he was per 
 mitted on account of his color to occupy a seat 
 intended for two. He looked steadily out of the 
 window, having shrunk into the smallest space 
 that it was possible for him to fit into after 
 laying his bag on the floor. Strange to say, 
 he was light-hearted over the situation, and 
 pondered with a keen relish the disinterested- 
 
202 Stephen the Black 
 
 ness of Northern justice which now permitted 
 him to remain where he was not wanted, after 
 fighting bloody battles to bestow on him this 
 unique privilege. 
 
 "After all," he reflected, "there is more 
 safety in justice than in sentiment. It is all 
 we have a right to ask, it's all we need pray 
 for." The simple fellow ! As if he could 
 have asked for a more extravagant thing than 
 justice ! 
 
 At Philadelphia, he got off and spent several 
 days looking up wealthy philanthropists. 
 Most of them lived out of town or had recently 
 moved out. They were generally inaccessi 
 ble, but patient enough when once run down 
 and cornered. A few of them had agents to 
 whom the solicitous were referred. He felt 
 sure that the sole duty of these odious persons 
 consisted in refusing everybody with Spartan- 
 like firmness, for he could read a refusal in 
 their eyes before he began his plea. These 
 creatures were unskilled in a knowledge of 
 human nature; they attempted no investiga 
 tion into his merits; they heard him out with 
 
Stephen the Black 203 
 
 unchanging countenances and shut the door 
 on his hopes without a sign of relief or 
 regret. He learned soon to avoid them. The 
 philanthropists themselves were easily enough 
 bored, but they were vulnerable in spots, 
 many seeming to find it easier to give than 
 to refuse, because it offered a prompt and cer 
 tain way of ending the interview. They ap 
 peared to live through such interviews in a 
 state of suspended animation, like fish that 
 had been drawn out of water, and Stephen 
 used to feel that it was only the blessed hope 
 of getting rid of him that kept the poor, gasp 
 ing gentlemen alive through the brief interval 
 of his coming and going. He felt sorry for 
 them and wondered they did not all employ 
 agents to refuse for them, and then he felt 
 sorry for himself, because, having spent so 
 much time and money running in and out of 
 the city in pursuit of these lifeless objects, he 
 had secured only a few dollars to show for 
 his indefatigable efforts. 
 
 He thought it strange that so many of these 
 gentlemen were already patrons of other col- 
 
204 Stephen the Black 
 
 ored schools even of his own Sectarian Col 
 lege and yet were so indifferent to his mis 
 sion. He was slow to learn that benefactors 
 as a class suffer acute distress in the presence 
 of their beneficiaries; that the first object of 
 all endowments for the care of unfortunates is 
 to keep them out of sight; the fact of their 
 miserable existence adds lustre only to the 
 pages of an annual report. 
 
 Moreover, he but dimly discerned what may 
 be described as the national attitude of the 
 average white American toward the black. 
 For thirty years it has been his habit of mind 
 to look over, by or beyond the black man, but 
 never at him. Though northern cities may 
 teem with representatives of the liberated 
 race, the white American of the North knows 
 the black only by the dreadful things he reads 
 about him in southern despatches. 
 
 It will thus be seen that the sudden appear 
 ance of this very dark young man in the offices 
 of our worthy philanthropists caused a double 
 embarrassment and a complication of painful 
 sensations. These poor gentlemen suffered 
 
Stephen the Black 205 
 
 from the unpleasantness of meeting one of 
 their beneficiaries face to face, and they were 
 torn with the peculiar anguish that only a 
 white American feels on being forced to con 
 template the living, breathing proof of a na 
 tional problem that he is determined to ignore. 
 
 After the second week's experience Stephen 
 put away his letters of introduction and 
 sauntered about the city thinking what he 
 should do next. 
 
 The voices of children singing in a public 
 school attracted his attention and he entered 
 the building to hear their recitations. The 
 teacher made him welcome and gave him a 
 chair. The school was overcrowded, and he 
 marveled at the precision and orderliness of 
 the pupils. They recited several lessons aided 
 by maps, globes, charts and clay models. 
 When the bell rang, they marched like veteran 
 soldiers on parade, and Stephen was deeply 
 impressed by all the methods employed. He 
 told the schoolmistress in his best English 
 that he had never seen before such a system 
 of object lessons. 
 
206 Stephen the Black 
 
 The young woman stated pleasantly that 
 the system had been taught for years in all 
 the public schools, it was not new, in fact, 
 it was rather old-fashioned; in Boston there 
 was a method now in vogue, which she 
 hoped would soon be introduced into Phila 
 delphia. She mentioned it by what seemed to 
 him an unpronounceable name, and asked if 
 he did not think it superior to another, the 
 name of which was equally unfamiliar to him. 
 He confessed his ignorance humbly. To cover 
 his embarrassment, she went on talking in her 
 alert, crisp fashion, comparing the various 
 methods in use for years past and comment 
 ing on the choice of text-books in her school. 
 As she named them, Stephen was forced to 
 admit that many of the titles were new to 
 him. But as the schoolmistress talked on good- 
 naturedly, pouring volumes of information 
 into his eager ears, Stephen took out a little 
 notebook and jotted down what seemed to 
 him the chief points. He thought her very 
 kind; she seemed to overlook his color, and to 
 address herself to the teacher in him, but his 
 
Stephen the Black 207 
 
 heart sank lower and lower during her dis 
 course, for it seemed that he had never before 
 realized his unfitness for the task he had un 
 dertaken. What miracles might not such a 
 one as this schoolmistress have worked among 
 his poor people in the Black Belt! Finally his 
 spirit groaned aloud in these words: 
 
 "You must excuse my ignorance, lady it's 
 the fault of my race to be superficial. We are 
 easily satisfied with a smattering of knowl 
 edge and think we know it all. That's why 
 we make so little progress." 
 
 The bitter humility of the dark skinned 
 stranger evidently touched her, for she an 
 swered with a look of kindness into the grey 
 eyes that seemed to be peering at her through a 
 black mask Stephen now being blacker than 
 usual after his experience in the cotton-fields : 
 
 "I wouldn't blame my race, if I were you, 
 for faults that are common to human nature. 
 It's all a matter of training. I've been drilled 
 in these methods all my life; I didn't originate 
 them. Where did you study ? " Stephen 
 named the Sectarian College, and was sur- 
 
208 Stephen the Black 
 
 prised that she had never heard of it. He had 
 always thought it the greatest institution of 
 learning in the world! 
 
 He took heart again and confided to her 
 some of his experiences as a teacher in the 
 South, but all the conditions of life had to be 
 explained from the beginning. When he told 
 her about his beloved "Academy," and how 
 it had been started and built, she cried out 
 with enthusiasm that it was magnificent 
 wonderful! Stephen left her greatly soothed 
 and encouraged. He promised to write to her 
 of the progress of his school, and she volun 
 teered to interest her friends and pupils in its 
 welfare. How much better was she, he 
 thought, than the philanthropists! How 
 munificent was her sympathy, in comparison 
 with their niggardly supply! But 1 am willing 
 to admit that he did the real lovers of humanity 
 an injustice; it was simply his misfortune to 
 have come across spurious specimens. The 
 real ones still exist, winding their way in 
 and out of the crowded ranks of humanity 
 like angels with folded wings, which even 
 
Stephen the Black 209 
 
 great riches cannot soil or clog. And some 
 of them dare even to look the national problem 
 squarely in the face! 
 
 Stephen's interview with the schoolmistress 
 remained fixed in his memory, and yielded 
 ever afterward a secret pleasing excitement 
 whenever he recalled it. It was seldom that 
 one of his race met one of hers on such a 
 plane of common interest and the Anglo- 
 Saxon in him yearned often for communion 
 with the superb mental endowments of the 
 superior race. Secretly in his boyhood days, 
 he had built air-castles in which high-minded 
 white individuals would converse with him 
 freely mistaking him in the darkness of a 
 railway car or similar place for a white man 
 even to the extent of offering him social 
 privileges which he would of course modestly, 
 honorably, firmly decline. The biting injustice 
 of the white American's customary attitude 
 would then be finely exposed, when the 
 superior being would discover his mistake 
 after receiving an object lesson which would 
 of course induce him to cast out forever the 
 
210 Stephen the Black 
 
 thick film of race prejudice with which his 
 eyes were blinded. 
 
 But such episodes existed so far only in 
 Stephen's imagination, and he was therefore 
 the more grateful to the schoolmistress for her 
 absence of condescension in the broad light of 
 day. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ALTHOUGH Stephen was a good penman, an 
 accurate accountant and a clever carpenter, he 
 was too well acquainted with the peculiar 
 form of race prejudice in the North to waste 
 time seeking employment in any of these 
 lines. Through the efforts of a friend, he 
 secured a position as waiter in a large sum 
 mer hotel situated at a fashionable seaside re 
 sort, and as it was now open and guests were 
 pouring in plentifully, his services began 
 without delay. 
 
 Stephen had never "waited" before in a 
 professional sense, but this humble waiting on 
 individuals instead of on time and opportunity 
 seemed to him only a more acute stage of his 
 chronic condition. 
 
 Some of his comrades were wild young 
 
 blacks who shifted from city to city in winter 
 
 and from mountain to seashore in summer. 
 
 The habits of these individuals were extrava- 
 
 211 
 
212 Stephen the Black 
 
 gant; but others were sedate young fellows 
 intent on making hay while their brief sum 
 mer sun shone. All of them, however, were 
 good-natured, and they gave Stephen invalu 
 able points in the science of remembering or 
 ders, serving dishes, carrying heavy trays, and 
 bowing with exquisite grace. Some of the 
 men were graduates of training schools estab 
 lished for the industrial development of the 
 race. They had become skilled craftsmen and 
 were striking examples of the satirical benev 
 olence of the North which bestows the hand 
 some accomplishment of a trade on a black, 
 and then commands him to starve or steal 
 rather than live by it. That these individuals 
 had succeeded in prolonging their existence 
 without either starving or stealing was cer 
 tainly a proof of their ingenuity. We need 
 not lose self-esteem by giving them credit for 
 ingenuity. 
 
 The head-waiter was a graduate of Harvard 
 and had been selected with great care, not be 
 cause of his Greek and Hebrew accomplish 
 ments (of which the proprietor indeed knew 
 
Stephen the Black 213 
 
 nothing) but because his honesty was unques 
 tioned, his habits beyond reproach, and his com 
 mand of men, napkins and china equal to that of 
 a great general over an army. His name was 
 Henry Howards; he was a coal-black negro 
 of good height and heavy build; his expres 
 sion was thoughtful and his smile pleasing. 
 Stephen looked up to him as a man of pro 
 found learning and was delighted when 
 Howards condescended to notice him, and in 
 vited him more than once to spend an evening 
 in his room. 
 
 Stephen served at a table monopolized by a 
 wealthy Boston family by the name of 
 Ormsby; he understood vaguely that they 
 were great people in the social world, and he 
 heard them described also as philanthropists. 
 The term made him quake in his low shoes, 
 for he still believed that the future of his race 
 lay in the hands of this class. 
 
 Accordingly he ran his legs off cheerfully to 
 obtain for the Ormsbys the hottest rolls and 
 the choicest lamb chops, and in every way 
 presented himself to their languid perceptions 
 
214 Stephen the Black 
 
 as a being whose head had grown to one side 
 in an anxious stoop to receive their indistinct 
 commands. Such a beneficent adaptation of 
 means to an end may possibly have required 
 a special act of creation of which the Orms- 
 bys doubtless believed they were deemed not 
 unworthy. 
 
 In the evening the waiters sat together in 
 the kitchen and displayed their social graces 
 in various ways. They were quite as merry 
 notwithstanding their hard work, as the 
 guests in the hotel parlor; in fact, I do not 
 know that they were not merrier for they had 
 such good stories to tell of the number of 
 dishes ordered by the great ones of the earth, 
 the amount they devoured, the absurdity of 
 their complaints, and the gossip that was re 
 peated at their tables. 
 
 As the men were excellent singers, Howards 
 one day suggested that they should give a 
 concert for the benefit of Stephen's school. 
 
 The day on which the performance was to 
 be given, every waiter laid an assortment of 
 
Stephen the Black 215 
 
 tickets and programs on the table before the 
 guests had assembled. During the dinner 
 Stephen's hopes ran high for he heard enough 
 to know that the programs were read aloud 
 amid laughter and comment. He brought on 
 the dessert with a beating heart and hastened 
 after the coffee. On his return he found words 
 to make a short plea in behalf of his school. 
 
 Mrs. Ormsby drank her coffee and address 
 ing the coffee-pot, observed that she had once 
 been a great friend of the negro but had now 
 come to the conclusion that a great deal of 
 money had been thrown away on educating 
 him above his position. The race had become 
 shiftless and good-for-nothing. The colored 
 people needed to be made to work. Freedom 
 had done them no good. 
 
 Stephen fixed his grey eyes haughtily upon 
 her. He answered in utter defiance of every 
 precedent in his experience as a menial: 
 
 "My people have never eaten bread that 
 they've not earned, they've paid double the 
 price for every mouthful that the white man 
 has paid ! " 
 
216 Stephen the Black 
 
 The great lady stared, rose majestically from 
 her seat and swept out of the room. He 
 learned later from one of his comrades who 
 had been summoned to the parlor on an errand, 
 that she expressed her indignation at great 
 length to sympathetic circles in the parlor, and 
 declared it to be her choice henceforth to be 
 surrounded and served by members of her 
 own race. Howards reproved him severely 
 for his folly. 
 
 "You might as well invite an iceberg to 
 roll over you, and expect to melt it with your 
 fiery heart. Keep out of the way of icebergs! 
 All humanity flees from them and are you 
 going to block their progress ? " 
 
 The upshot of it was that nearly all the 
 guests with the exception of the nurses and 
 children stayed away from the concert. The 
 receipts amounted to next to nothing, and 
 Stephen went to bed that night with his hopes 
 crushed. To add to his depression, the even 
 ing papers told a terrible tale of massacre in 
 one of the southern states the victims being 
 as usual, accused, untried, defenceless blacks. 
 
Stephen the Black 217 
 
 He hugged his pillow with angry eyes, and 
 tossed in sorrow and despair many hours. 
 What was to become of his school if money 
 could not be raised for it in the North, ay, 
 what was to become of his race if the whole 
 nation turned against it with the cold scorn of 
 Mrs. Ormsby and her friends ? 
 
 At last he fell asleep and dreamed that he 
 was clinging to the steep, rocky side of a 
 mountain ; his hands clutched rootless shrubs 
 and saplings, his feet were planted in loose 
 gravel. Vainly he sought a path upward. A 
 rushing noise was in his ears. He looked 
 above him and saw a handsomely painted car, 
 decorated with flags and banners, descending 
 toward him on an inclined plane which made 
 a sharp curve just below his feet. 
 
 Fascinated by its swift, even motion, he 
 gazed eagerly, and beheld a group of noble- 
 looking men and women on the front plat 
 form ; the central figure an ideal of majestic 
 womanhood was robed in white and wore 
 a shining coronet of braided yellow hair. 
 
 As the car drew nearer, Stephen believed its 
 
218 Stephen the Black 
 
 occupants were coming to rescue him from 
 his perilous position. It was advancing with 
 terrific speed it was rushing almost upon 
 him it entered the curve at his feet and 
 then his astonished eyes saw distinctly that 
 the faces of the group on the platform were 
 blanched with terror. The rushing wind was 
 sweeping their hair backward, and wrapping 
 their garments tightly about their trembling 
 limbs; the eyes of every member of the group 
 were fixed and staring full of an awful 
 dread! 
 
 As the car swung around the curve, Stephen 
 knew that all was lost, the motorman had 
 lost his grip, the car could never round that 
 curve in safety it was tearing headlong to 
 destruction. He closed his eyes that he might 
 not witness the fearful catastrophe but was 
 forced to open them quickly. With a fright 
 ful crash, followed by shrieks and groans of 
 anguish, the car plunged off the track, and 
 now lay overturned a shapeless pile of 
 broken, smoking timber on the mountain-side. 
 
 What had become of the unfortunate occu- 
 
Stephen the Black 219 
 
 pants and especially of that noble group on 
 the front platform ? He leaned forward, his 
 eyes streaming with pity, longing to help, but 
 unable to stir from the spot. 
 
 Far down the mountain-side, there emerged 
 from the wreck some signs of life. Whitish, 
 shapeless creatures were creeping slowly from 
 under the broken timbers and making their 
 way back to the inclined plane; they were fol 
 lowed by others still creeping on their hands 
 and knees. It was a pitiful sight, nay, it 
 was sickening! More and more of them came 
 creeping creeping back to the track until 
 they resembled a herd of what ? No longer 
 could he deceive himself: the sight froze his 
 blood those creeping things were not human 
 beings, they were a herd of swine rushing 
 violently down a steep place into the sea! He 
 saw them leap by sixes and dozens madly into 
 the black waters at the foot of the mountain! 
 
 In his dream, this discovery was followed 
 by a fit of cold horror, from which he passed 
 into convulsive sobbing and weeping, and 
 in this state he awoke. 
 
220 Stephen the Black 
 
 The night was still dark; a storm was rag 
 ing; his small attic room was illuminated by 
 flashes of lightning; thunderbolts seemed fall 
 ing all about him. He saw again the advanc 
 ing car, its waving banners, its group of brave 
 men and women, and in the darkness, there 
 was suddenly blazed upon his mental vision 
 an inscription which he had failed to notice on 
 the platform in his dream, but which he now 
 beheld there distinctly: 
 
 ' 'Anglo-Saxon Civilisation." 
 
 The meaning of it all was perfectly clear 
 to him: the white man's civilization was to 
 be destroyed even the advance guard was 
 doomed and moving rapidly toward its fate. 
 
 The anti- climax of the sv/ine arranged 
 with devilish glee by the arch-fiend himself to 
 belittle the sufferings which the dream por 
 trayed gave the finishing touch to the whole 
 hideous catastrophe, it was this that almost 
 broke his heart. He cried out suddenly, 
 
 "Spare them, O God, spare Thy favored 
 race, and let them not be laid in the dust that 
 
Stephen the Black 221 
 
 the devils may enter their souls and rush them 
 into the sea as swine as swine! " 
 
 He sat up in bed and stretched out his arms, 
 moved by some violent emotion some deep 
 spring of racial affinity. The thought of the 
 possible downfall of the great superior race 
 filled him with an overwhelming sorrow it 
 was more than he could bear. Gladly, he 
 would have died to save them ! 
 
 When the storm of his emotion had died 
 away, he tried vainly to account for its in 
 tensity on the ground of a universal humanity. 
 It left him calm and passionless; he beheld 
 without pain the floating wreck of his broken 
 hopes for his own race. For the time being, 
 his hopes possessed no significance to him. 
 Nothing mattered, after all, he reflected, in 
 dull despondency, and soon afterward, he 
 fell asleep. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 A LETTER from Theresa, returning the amount 
 he had forwarded for her board, threw Stephen 
 into still greater despondency. He had com 
 mitted, he believed, a colossal blunder in 
 his hasty marriage. He had deeply wronged 
 the innocent young girl by hurrying her into a 
 union which was now uncongenial to her. In 
 rejecting the small sum he had hitherto con 
 tributed toward her support, she meant to in 
 dicate her desire for independence. The tie 
 was irksome already. Well, it was only nomi 
 nal and perhaps some legal technicality might 
 be found to sever it. He thought of her often, 
 but always as a fair jewel that he had stolen 
 and that was too fine and delicate to adorn his 
 life of drudgery. He could be of little service 
 to her. As yet he was a dismal failure, bring 
 ing ruin to his friends on the cotton-field, and 
 unhappiness to Theresa. 
 
 "I am an unfortunate fellow," he said, 
 222 
 
Stephen the Black 223 
 
 gloomily, to Howards, "born of a vanishing 
 race, what can I hope to accomplish ? There 
 is no future for us either in the North or the 
 South." 
 
 " We're not vanishing very fast," replied the 
 head- waiter, with a grim smile, "we've more 
 than doubled our numbers since the war. Our 
 increasing ratio is our strongest point. It's 
 true that savage races cannot survive contact 
 with civilization, but we have proved that we 
 were made for civilization, Stephen, my boy." 
 
 "I used to feel sure," said Stephen, "that 
 we were made for some great purpose, that 
 God led us into slavery to set us free in the 
 heart of this great nation because He had a no 
 ble destiny planned for us, but of late, I've 
 begun to doubt if we were meant for anything 
 but to be wiped out of existence. We're be 
 hind every other race. They say down South 
 in their newspapers that we've been behind 
 for thousands of years, and that we always 
 were incapable of rising to the dignity of a 
 nation." 
 
 "That's saying too much," observed How- 
 
224 Stephen the Black 
 
 ards, dispassionately. "Back of a few hun 
 dred years they know nothing of our his 
 tory. It's true we figure on the Egyptian 
 monuments as prisoners of war, with chains 
 around our necks, but that only proves that 
 we were enough of a nation for the great 
 Egyptians to go to war with. The Bible 
 speaks of the Ethiopians as a powerful people 
 who were always at war with the Egyptians. 
 Of course, we were that people." 
 
 "Then we've degenerated since," said 
 Stephen, lowering his grey eyes. 
 
 " I don't know about that. It was a bar 
 barous, imperfect kind of civilization that all 
 nations shared in those days. You know it 
 takes centuries to develop the feeblest approach 
 to civilization in primitive man. Living under 
 rude conditions and exposed to constant dan 
 gers, the little he builds up one day is torn 
 down the next by surrounding tribes whose 
 status is lower than his own. The heart of 
 Africa is strewn with the wrecks of our an 
 cestors' attempts at civilization. The tribes of 
 to-day are constantly approaching the same 
 
Stephen the Black 
 
 goal and constantly being driven away. Man's 
 attempt to climb upward is like the spider's 
 effort to build a web. Many failures to one 
 success. Finally when he does succeed, it is 
 due to some fortunate combination of circum 
 stances which preserves his puny efforts in 
 stead of obliterating them." 
 
 "But see how rapidly European civilization 
 has advanced within a few hundred years," 
 said Stephen, after a moment's silence. 
 "Why hasn't our race accomplished as 
 much in the same time ? " 
 
 "When Egypt, Persia, Greece, and Rome 
 were in their prime, why did European civili 
 zation wait a thousand years and more for its de 
 velopment ? Because the favorable conditions 
 of climate, security from savage invasion and 
 contact with more advanced nations had not 
 yet been realized. I believe that if we can 
 preserve our racial type distinct, the develop 
 ment of the black man will come in time 
 but there's the rub; it will not come, I fear, 
 through a mixture of blood. However, op 
 pression is forcing us into individuality and 
 
226 Stephen the Black 
 
 self-reliance. There's nothing like persecu 
 tion to develop a race. Don't be discouraged; 
 our star is rising, not setting." 
 
 " But we are mixed already," said Stephen,, 
 ruefully; "some say that not a full-blooded 
 African remains in this country." 
 
 " I confess that the white man has overruled^ 
 my objection and established that point in my 
 favor," replied Howards, laughing. 
 
 "By his own decree, the white strain counts 
 for nothing even in the proportion of six to 
 one, by which I suppose he means that in the 
 making of a race, environment counts six 
 times more than heredity. Heaven knows our 
 environment is distinct enough, even though 
 our blood borrows heavily from all the Cau 
 casian races, including the Anglo-Saxon." 
 
 "Ah, the Anglo-Saxon!" cried Stephen, 
 brightening, "if we had only enough of him 
 in us, we would long ago have overcome all 
 the obstacles that fate has placed in our path! " 
 Then he thought of his dream and winced 
 visibly. 
 
 " Yes, the Anglo-Saxon," repeated Howards, 
 
Stephen the Black 227 
 
 thoughtfully, ''he has filled in well the gap 
 between the ancient and the modern world. 
 He has made a good bridge all iron, steel, 
 granite, muscle and mechanical skill all good 
 things in a bridge! And humanity's feet are 
 plodding heavily over it toward the better 
 things beyond." 
 
 "What better things lie beyond the Anglo- 
 Saxon and his 'bridge,' as you call it? I 
 should be well satisfied if you and I could set 
 our feet on that 'bridge/ and stay there for 
 ever with our whole race!" Stephen rose 
 impetuously from his chair, flung himself 
 about, and sat down again. 
 
 " I was looking far ahead," explained How 
 ards gently " very far across the centuries 
 and I confess that I was thinking of standards 
 higher than are known to-day, of an ideal 
 justice, for instance, not known to any race, 
 no not to the Anglo-Saxon ! It is a notion of 
 mine that in the distant future, races that have 
 suffered like ours, and that have never had a 
 chance to maltreat a so-called inferior race, 
 will be likely to evolve a higher sense of jus- 
 
228 Stephen the Black 
 
 tice than the Anglo-Saxon mind is capable of. 
 May it not be our destiny to perfect at last this 
 noble sense of justice, through the develop 
 ment in us of a far-seeing patience ? How 
 can an impatient people execute justice ? And 
 are we not patient? And is not the Anglo- 
 Saxon and especially the American type 
 peculiarly impatient ? We know that God 
 Himself is patient! Why may we not claim 
 this trait as a racial gift the first strand in the 
 new bridge that is to be thrown across for the 
 dark races ! " 
 
 Stephen looked at him in wonder. How 
 ards' words, his serene philosophical manner, 
 his deep-seated pervasive faith, produced on 
 the younger man's imagination a vision of 
 something unique and extraordinarily inspir 
 ing. For a second, he gazed before him in 
 breathless admiration almost in awe. Were 
 his eyes beholding an ideal of black culture, 
 which could hold its worth in direct contrast 
 to the white man's ideal, even as an ebony 
 crucifix holds its beauty by the side of an 
 ivory one? 
 
Stephen the Black 229 
 
 "They will force us into it!" was his sud 
 den, bewildering conviction, "we who were 
 meant to be only the complement of the white 
 races, to follow where they lead, to reach our 
 development through service to them we are 
 to be forced into racial competition, into this 
 unequal struggle God help us!" 
 
 His soul was in torment his thoughts too 
 strange and deep for expression. Again he 
 looked at Howards who sat apparently un 
 moved by the Frankenstein vision that his 
 own words had created. What a curious 
 spectacle he presented this specimen of black 
 solidarity, this humblest type of human 
 creature, wrapped from his skin out in 
 social degradation, yet daring to peer through 
 the darkness into futurity, and believing that 
 he saw therein a glorified image of himself 
 thrown on the distant centuries! 
 
 " It's ready my conscience, but you fellows 
 have an easy time of it! " said the cook, poking 
 his head through a side doorway and glaring 
 at them with smoky, fiery eyes. 
 
 "We are the most visionary people on 
 
230 Stephen the Black 
 
 earth!" sighed Stephen, tying a long white 
 apron round his waist, " isn't that so ?" 
 
 "It's good to see visions, sometimes," said 
 Howards, the unabashed. 
 
 This conversation was held in the dining- 
 room after the tables were set for dinner and 
 while Howards was awaiting a signal from 
 the cook that the meal was ready to be served. 
 As he spoke, he threw open the dining-room 
 doors and bade Stephen sound the gong to no 
 tify the guests. There was no opportunity 
 for further remarks. 
 
 As the guests poured into the large room, 
 Mrs. Ormsby and her family appeared in read 
 iness to depart after dinner. The lady, mag 
 nificently clad and looking very tall and 
 stately, rustled up to Stephen who was stand 
 ing in the doorway, looking very spare, dark 
 and insignificant. She placed in his hand a 
 cheque, saying impressively, 
 
 "This is for your school. You are a good 
 waiter; I did not understand at first that there 
 were industrial features. It is a worthy ob 
 ject" 
 
Stephen the Black 231 
 
 Stephen bowed and the lady swept by him 
 toward the dinner-table. Having satisfied her 
 New England conscience, she could depart 
 with a tranquil mind. But there was still a 
 mission to be performed on behalf of the pro 
 prietor. She sought him out after the meal. 
 
 "Our best hotels on the New England coast 
 do not employ colored waiters, nor do private 
 families select colored coachmen, did you 
 know that?" 
 
 "Well, perhaps by next year, madam " 
 
 "I may not be here next year but you can 
 let me know. Good-bye." Her cultured 
 voice rang in his ears, penetrating his brain 
 down to his pockets. 
 
 The summer crowd came and went in a 
 succession of strange faces. Finally the seats 
 around the table were filled by a cheerful fam 
 ily of Longacres from Philadelphia. They ad 
 dressed each other in the Friends' dialect, but 
 they were not strict Quakers, for they wore 
 the garb of the world modified by an in 
 herited love of quiet colors. Stephen took a 
 mighty fancy to them. The tones of their 
 
232 Stephen the Black 
 
 voices were human and natural even when 
 ordering hot buttered toast. They looked at 
 him as if they really saw him, and not as if he 
 were a mere abstraction of social inferiority. 
 In the service of these bright lovable people 
 Stephen forgot his heartaches. He adored 
 their little jokes and the exchange of playful 
 repartee between the sisters, and when they 
 smiled at him a "good-morning," the world 
 grew fresh and young again and the poor lad 
 laid aside his burden of racial responsibilities as 
 long as they remained in the dining-room. 
 
 They came to stay only two weeks, but in 
 that short time he learned all their individual 
 preferences. When the elder daughter asked 
 him what he intended to do on leaving the 
 hotel (possibly with a situation in view for 
 him in her own household) Stephen told her 
 about his school and what had brought him to 
 the North. He was delighted to show her a 
 photograph of the new building. Finally he 
 opened his heart and related his experience 
 with the Ormsby family. His story moved 
 Miss Longacre to deep interest, and when she 
 
Stephen the Black 233 
 
 left the room she carried with her the photo 
 graph and circulars. 
 
 That evening the young black was invited to 
 address an informal gathering in the hotel 
 parlor on the subject of his "Academy." 
 There was printed on his mind a picture of 
 those degraded, ignorant field-hands leaving 
 their field tasks at sunset to toil patiently over 
 the building of the school by twilight or 
 moonlight in the hope of educating their chil 
 dren and advancing their race and somehow 
 his stumbling tongue found words to paint 
 this picture on the minds of his listeners. 
 
 A few days later, when the Longacre family 
 made ready to depart, the old Quaker laid in 
 his hand a check for two hundred dollars. 
 He offered further to advise Stephen from 
 time to time on financial matters. 
 
 "We're not without friends after all!" said 
 Stephen in a low voice to Howards as he 
 passed him with a heavy tray in his hands, 
 "our race is going to march on. All we need 
 is patience! " 
 
 "I'm in luck too," said the head-waiter, af- 
 
234 Stephen the Black 
 
 terward, when they were alone. " Here is my 
 appointment as professor of History and Social 
 Science. 1 applied several months ago and 
 was beginning to lose hope." He showed 
 Stephen a letter from the president of a well- 
 known colored " University," wherein one 
 might receive a high-school education com 
 bined with a divinity student's training. It 
 was a day of great rejoicing, 
 
 Howards left a week later and Stephen took 
 his place until fall. When he left for the 
 .South, he had earned more than enough to 
 pay his traveling expenses, and he carried with 
 him a modest bank account on behalf of his 
 school, sufficient to pay its running expenses 
 for several months. 
 
 He found there had been great changes 
 during his absence. Colonel Aikens' wife 
 had died; the colonel had gone abroad and 
 Ralph was in charge of the estate. He was 
 living in the old manor-house. Theresa had 
 returned from the Normal School and was at 
 home with her grandfather. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 LEMUEL and his grandfather celebrated The 
 resa's return by building another room to 
 their little cabin. It was a new Theresa who 
 now appeared in the humble doorway. She 
 reminded Ralph Aikens of an exquisite flower 
 waiting to be plucked from its mean sur 
 roundings, and placed in a gorgeous vase for 
 the admiration of men. The squalid homeli 
 ness of the negro's cabin made him shudder 
 when he passed by, and saw Theresa tying up 
 vines over the doorway, weeding flower-beds,, 
 and otherwise occupying herself in adorning her 
 home. He passed by very often and found 
 many an excuse for stopping to exchange a 
 few words with her, but they were brief in 
 terviews, for Theresa found something usually 
 that demanded her attention indoors. 
 
 Equally fleeting were the glimpses which 
 Stephen caught of his young wife. He salute4 
 335 
 
236 Stephen the Black 
 
 her with great reverence when he called, but 
 his business was always with Wesley, with 
 whom he discussed at length the affairs of the 
 school. 
 
 Later in the season Isabel arrived from the 
 Normal School and assisted Stephen in teach 
 ing. She stayed at the Anderson cabin and 
 shared Theresa's room. At her suggestion 
 Theresa was engaged to teach the younger 
 scholars, and this honor filled the girl with de 
 light. At the school she saw more of Stephen, 
 but their intercourse was formal, and a 
 painful shyness seemed to prevent his refer 
 ring to their unfortunate marriage. He felt 
 weighted to the earth with the burdens of his 
 race, and committed to a life of economy and 
 self-sacrifice. Although he had often dreamed 
 of the sweetness of having Theresa share 
 that life with him, he now pushed the thought 
 away as presumptuous. He told himself that 
 his marriage was a mistake; that missionaries 
 should be celibates. Dependent as they were 
 on philanthropy for means to continue their 
 costly experiments, what right had they to 
 
Stephen the Black 237 
 
 add the support of a family to the heavy bur 
 den of their indebtedness ? By such argu 
 ments Stephen sought to deaden his affec 
 tions, and prepare himself to live his life with 
 out Theresa. But there were times when his 
 heart passionately rebelled and cried out for 
 the love of her whom he had saved, and who 
 shared, as he believed, the blood of his race, 
 and the dark problems of its history. 
 
 At the suggestion of Mr. Longacre, Stephen 
 and Wesley Anderson organized an Agricul 
 tural Society to study improved methods of 
 farming. The association held frequent meet 
 ings in the schoolhouse and great projects 
 were under discussion from time to time. 
 The most important of these was a plan to 
 purchase land which was to be sold to the 
 members in small lots, and paid for gradually, 
 so that in time they might own their own 
 homes. There was great enthusiasm over the 
 project. Mr. Longacre became their largest 
 stockholder and sent them valuable advice on 
 the subject. 
 
 But when the officers of the association 
 
138 Stephen the BUck 
 
 made known their desire to purchase land, not 
 an acre was found for sale in any direction. 
 So the tenants were forced to remain tenants 
 still, and to continue to work under the ob 
 jectionable mortgage system. This kept them 
 ;poor and at the mercy of their landlords. The 
 .school was flourishing as far as numbers were 
 'Concerned, but like everything else in the 
 South, it ran on the credit system and it 
 seemed impossible to keep it out of debt. 
 
 The hope of buying land did not die out 
 however in Stephen's mind. The money that 
 was subscribed for the purpose was held in 
 tact, and he hoped that sooner or later some 
 planter would relent or would yield to ne 
 cessity and part with a small portion of land 
 at the high price the association was willing 
 to pay for it. It was known that several were 
 anxious to sell to buyers of the right com 
 plexion. 
 
 Finally the association authorized a white 
 lawyer from Perryville to buy for them on a 
 handsome commission. There seemed to be 
 a fair prospect that this would succeed. One 
 
Stephen the Black 
 
 of the planters consented at last to part with 
 seventy-five acres. The lawyer drew up the 
 deeds of purchase and all that was wanting 
 was the signature of the present owner. 
 
 Stephen, Wesley Anderson and the Rever 
 end Mr. Simpson went to the lawyer's office 
 bearing a tightly rolled document proudly in 
 their hands. But the lawyer was away from 
 home. His agent met them on the threshold 
 and explained civilly that young Mr. Aikens 
 had been over the day before and had bought 
 the property at a higher figure than the as 
 sociation offered. Sorrowfully the trio re 
 turned to their cabins, and later they paid the 
 treacherous lawyer a neat little sum for his 
 services, though confident that he had sold 
 out their interests to Colonel Aikens. Alto 
 gether it was a profitable little transaction for 
 the Perryville lawyer, and a rather costly one 
 for young Aikens. 
 
 Not long after this, Stephen passed by the 
 Anderson cabin and saw Theresa standing by 
 her flower-bed. Close beside her stood Ralph 
 holding his black horse by the bridle. They 
 
240 Stephen the Black 
 
 remained in conversation for some time, as 
 Stephen returning later from his errand found 
 him still standing there. His heart sank with 
 gloomy forebodings of evil. Ralph had be 
 come to him a bird of evil omen, a creature 
 fraught with iniquitous purposes, and he 
 knew that his opportunities for inflicting in 
 jury on the helpless were many and varied. 
 The Andersons were wholly within his power 
 as far as their worldly interests were concerned. 
 They could be dispossessed of all they had at 
 his word. 
 
 But the fierce pain in Stephen's heart was not 
 due wholly to his dread of Ralph's presumably 
 iniquitous purposes. He was conscious again 
 and again of a passionate longing to claim 
 Theresa as his wife and this was followed 
 always by a sickening sense of incapacity and 
 defeat. Theresa sitting on the low steps of 
 her grandfather's cabin, seemed farther from 
 him than if she were at the Normal School. 
 All the grace and culture that had come to her 
 through his arduous efforts only placed her 
 further beyond his reach. The nearer she 
 
Stephen the Black 241 
 
 approached the lovely standards of accom 
 plished white womanhood, the more did 
 Stephen shrink under the degradation of his 
 dark skin and deem himself unworthy even 
 to touch her hand. He tried to deaden the 
 soreness of his heart in work, and rushed to 
 his task with a determination to drive senti 
 ment out of his life. 
 
 Ralph had called, however, on what was 
 meant to be a kindly errand. He had come to 
 give Theresa a word of warning concerning 
 the school. She knew of course the attitude 
 of the poor whites of that neighborhood. 
 The new teacher had excited their displeasure 
 by his efforts to buy land for the colored 
 people. Ralph said any planter who would 
 sell land to the association would run the risk 
 of having his house burned or his horses 
 maimed; the feeling on the subject was 
 strong. He thought the association made a 
 mistake in holding so many meetings in the 
 building. It made the whites suspicious. 
 They feared the negroes were plotting against 
 them. 
 
242 Stephen the Black 
 
 "I dare say everything they do is most 
 commendable," said Ralph, "but you know 
 you can't reason with these ' crackers ' on that 
 subject. I wish you were not teaching in the 
 school, Theresa. They may attack this ambi 
 tious pedagogue some day, I wish you would 
 let me find you a position in one of the city 
 schools. I don't like the idea of your expos 
 ing yourself to danger." 
 
 "I don't believe there is any danger for 
 me," answered she, "and besides I can't 
 leave, I must keep the little pickaninnies 
 out of mischief while Stephen and Miss Isa 
 bel are teaching the older children. I'm not 
 afraid, but I'll tell Stephen what you say. I 
 hope oh, I hope there isn't going to be any 
 trouble!" She looked at him anxiously. 
 "Can't you use your influence to persuade 
 them that poor Stephen means no harm?" 
 
 "I don't know," answered Ralph, looking 
 away. He was annoyed at the way Theresa 
 identified herself with the colored population, 
 and he was distinctly aware that he had riot 
 used his influence so far in any such direction. 
 
Stephen the Black 243 
 
 "You could do a great deal for my people 
 if you would give them just a little encour 
 agement," added Theresa, in a low voice. 
 Ralph, looking at her, noticed that her eyes 
 were suffused, and her cheek was flushed as 
 she looked sorrowfully across the fields. 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't concern yourself so 
 much about their affairs," he said, in a vexed 
 tone. " It never comes to any good. It only 
 makes trouble between the races. I reckon 
 we shall have a race war down here some 
 day, and a lot of them will be killed! " 
 
 Theresa stared at him with horror-stricken 
 eyes. 
 
 "Wouldn't you use your influence to pre 
 vent that?" 
 
 " Certainly I should," he answered, emphat 
 ically but crossly. "I should do all in my 
 power to prevent it. I've reorganized the 
 Perryville Volunteers, and if I see any sign 
 of trouble I'll telephone for them right away. 
 I promise you to look after that." 
 
 "And they would protect my people, too, 
 would they ?" she asked, anxiously. 
 
244 Stephen the Black 
 
 41 Why always ' your people ' ? Of course 
 I shall have no rioting and bloodshed in this 
 neighborhood, I promise you. But it distresses 
 me to see you grieving and worrying yourself 
 to death over these creatures, in every way 
 your inferiors. What has become of the white 
 blood you used to be so proud of?" 
 
 " I have no white blood that counts it 
 is dishonest blood," said Theresa, looking 
 down, while the blood she disclaimed dyed 
 her cheeks scarlet. Ralph raised his hand im 
 petuously. 
 
 " Some day you will think differently, and 
 you will think better of me, I hope. I have 
 changed my ideas on many subjects, every 
 thing in life looks different to me now. I 
 have a right to my own happiness and so 
 have you. I can't say any more now But 
 in the North, Theresa " 
 
 "North or South, does it make any dif 
 ference ? I have chosen my lot, Mr. Aikens, 
 and I must abide by it. God chose yours for 
 you when He made you white. The races 
 
Stephen the Black 245 
 
 were meant to be separate I believe that I 
 must believe it. Ah let me go! " 
 
 She tore herself away and rushed into the 
 cabin. Shutting the door hastily she sank 
 into a chair and buried her face in her hands. 
 In a few minutes she arose with a sigh, 
 and dried her eyes. Then seeing that it was 
 growing late, she set to work to build a wood 
 fire in the outer cabin, for it was nearly time 
 for supper, and her grandfather and Lemuel 
 would soon be in from the fields. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THERESA discovered the next day that the 
 blacks were already aware of the agitation 
 among the poor whites. 
 
 The mulatto called Lou Lemons, having 
 heard that a disturbance was brewing in the 
 neighborhood, had left Perryville and was now 
 preparing to lead the blacks to victory. Of all 
 excitements he loved a race war best. The 
 mere fact of his arrival lent a bitter animosity 
 to the brooding discontent of the white farm 
 ers. Stephen went to the belligerent Lem 
 ons and begged him to leave the neighbor 
 hood. He was sure that his presence was 
 doing more harm than good; but Lou replied 
 that he had as good a right to stay there as 
 Stephen, and he defied him to point to any act 
 or word of his which had increased the agita 
 tion. 
 
 One fact, however, soon became apparent, 
 246 
 
Stephen the Black 247 
 
 and caused Stephen grave alarm; the school 
 was guarded every night by a band of armed 
 negroes, and there was further evidence that 
 these men were secretly drilling in the use of 
 fire-arms, and were familiar with watch 
 words, signals and muster calls, all of which 
 were passed from one to the other in secrecy. 
 
 Stephen called a number of the field-hands 
 together and told them firmly that he would 
 give up the school if they continued to patrol 
 it; that it was the height of folly to tempt the 
 whites in this manner to an attack; that he 
 would rather take steps to preserve the peace 
 than to save his life if it were in danger, which 
 he did not believe. The whites of the South 
 had ceased long since to burn schoolhouses. 
 They were reconciled to the sight of the " edi- 
 cated nigger," and the better class were even 
 proud of the colored schools, and would cer 
 tainly protect him if he called upon them for 
 aid. 
 
 After an exciting debate, they agreed to cease 
 the patrol on condition that a dozen of them 
 should be permitted to sleep in the building 
 
248 Stephen the Black 
 
 at night, to which Stephen reluctantly con 
 sented. They came late, slept on the floor 
 with a blanket apiece to cover them, and de 
 parted in the early morning to work in the fields. 
 He hoped fervently that the presence of the 
 night guard was not known to his white 
 neighbors. At any rate no attack was made 
 on the building, and as several weeks passed 
 without any disturbance, he had reason to be 
 lieve that the excitement was dying out. 
 
 Ralph Aikens called again one day at the 
 Anderson cabin to see Theresa. He had a 
 piece of news for her, but he found only Isabel 
 at home. Theresa, she told him, was visiting 
 some of the cabins. She had a class of grown 
 women with whom she talked in the afternoon 
 about domestic matters. 
 
 Ralph looked his dissatisfaction. 
 
 "Some of our old women say Theresa has a 
 black heart under her white skin," observed 
 Isabel, with a wicked smile. 
 
 "Why do you repeat such nonsense ?" cried 
 Ralph, in great vexation. "Tell me, why is 
 she always away when I want to see her ? " 
 
Stephen the Black 249 
 
 " We have our work to do for our people, 
 we are very busy always," said Isabel, coldly. 
 Ralph paused and looked at her critically. 
 
 " Whom do you mean by ' our people ' ? It 
 must be that you love black folks better than 
 white." 
 
 "I do," said Isabel, calmly. 
 
 "No law but your own choice keeps you 
 from association with the whites. Our laws 
 recognize a limit to the transmission of negro 
 blood through a remote inheritance, and you 
 have certainly passed that limit. You and 
 Theresa don't need to hug to yourselves their 
 disqualifications." 
 
 "1 have a mother and two sisters darker. 
 Would you enter paradise if you had to leave 
 all whom you love behind ?" 
 
 "Paradise!" he exclaimed in a low voice, 
 while he looked at her with brilliant eyes, 
 " Paradise is any spot in the world where a 
 man can live in wedlock, honorable wedlock 
 mind you with the woman he loves, whether 
 it's North, South, East or West." He looked 
 away after making this irrelevant statement, 
 
250 Stephen the Black 
 
 and gazed toward the North with a rapt ex 
 pression as if his heart were full of a secret 
 
 joy- 
 There was silence for a moment. Isabel 
 looked at him fixedly while her expression 
 softened. 
 
 " My poor little friend! " she exclaimed. He 
 knew that she referred to Theresa. 
 
 " I hope you will repeat my exact words to 
 her," continued the pale young man in a whis 
 per. " She flies from me as if she had reason 
 to dread me. I want her to know my unal 
 terable determination, to give up home, so 
 cial ties, everything, for her sake. I couldn't 
 have done it in my mother's lifetime, but 
 now I am my own master. I want her to 
 know the exalted respect I have for her. 
 Mind you, I said ' honorable wedlock' you 
 won't forget that ? " 
 
 "I shall not," said Isabel, looking also pale 
 and solemn, and very ill at ease. The secret 
 of Theresa's marriage was not hers to impart 
 and it weighed heavily on her conscience at 
 that moment. 
 
Stephen the Black 251 
 
 Ralph soon afterward took his departure, 
 but not before he had communicated the 
 news which had been his excuse for calling. 
 Dreadful to relate he said, mockingly a 
 charge of theft had been brought against the 
 demagogue schoolmaster by a white woman 
 known as Sallie Willoughby who lived near 
 Thomas' Mills. It was said that she had 
 sworn out a warrant for his arrest. 
 
 Isabel repeated to Theresa her conversation 
 with Ralph as she had promised. The girl said 
 nothing in reply. She turned away quickly 
 to hide her emotion, and Isabel did not refer 
 to the subject again in her presence. She re 
 peated it also to Stephen, and told him of 
 Sallie Willoughby's charge of theft. 
 
 "That settles it," was his only comment 
 he was not referring to Sallie Willoughby. 
 He left the schoolroom hastily and Isabel 
 heard him pacing up and down the hall-way 
 upstairs. He tried to make himself believe 
 that he rejoiced over the happy fate that was 
 now to be Theresa's. The burden of a de 
 graded race was to be lifted from her young 
 
252 Stephen the Black 
 
 shoulders for the matter of a divorce could 
 be easily arranged by the lawyers. It could 
 be easily proved that the marriage had been 
 brought about by compulsion, in which he 
 had exercised unfairly the authority of a 
 teacher. He would rejoice, he would rejoice 
 but it was with haggard cheek and hollow 
 eye. 
 
 He now wanted to break the formal tie which 
 bound Theresa to him as quickly as possible, and 
 he resolved to consult a Perryville lawyer the 
 following day. Before he had time to take this 
 step, he was informed that the warrant had al 
 ready been issued for his arrest, and he would 
 not be permitted to leave the neighborhood. 
 
 Sallie Willoughby was a woman of doubtful 
 character, whose husband had left her after a 
 career of illicit whisky distilling. She had 
 sent for Stephen a few days before to dis 
 cuss with him some repairs to her house. He 
 had called unwillingly and found two rough- 
 looking characters sitting on her front steps. 
 They told him to go to the kitchen door, 
 which he did, and was admitted. Mrs. Wil- 
 
Stephen the Black 253 
 
 loughby showed him her leaking roof and 
 broken windows, and as he started to leave 
 she uttered a shriek and ran screaming into 
 the yard. The two men appeared from the 
 front of the house and demanded the cause of 
 her alarm. Pointing to the negro-teacher the 
 woman cried out that he had tried to rob her 
 of her savings. The men rushed at Stephen 
 who would have fared badly, but at that mo 
 ment half-a-dozen field-hands dashed forward 
 from some unknown quarter and drove the 
 men away with their rakes and spades. Un 
 known to Stephen they had silently dropped 
 their work in the field and followed him to the 
 house, suspecting that danger lurked therein 
 for their beloved "perfessor." 
 
 Theresa and Isabel, at the suggestion of 
 Wesley Anderson, went together to beseech 
 Ralph Aikens to offer bail for Stephen's ap 
 pearance at court. He consented amiably, 
 and the two women left his house delighted 
 with the success of their mission. 
 
 A few days later, Stephen and Ralph, Mrs. 
 Willoughby and her two witnesses met at 
 
254 Stephen the Black 
 
 the office of the magistrate. After the hear 
 ing, Ralph was about to sign his name to the 
 bond when the magistrate tapped him on the 
 arm and drew him aside. 
 
 "Didn't I hear you say that this was a 
 trumped-up charge?" he whispered. Ralph 
 nodded. 
 
 " I reckon you want this fixed for your 'com- 
 modation, eh ? I'll name a big fine for his fail 
 ing to keep the peace, and 'stead o' his bail- 
 bond you offer to pay the fine, provided he'll 
 work out the amount on your plantation. 
 He's a steady lookin' fellow and you'll git a 
 good hand for nothing. See ? " 
 
 Ralph swore an oath of rage and disgust. 
 
 " Finish up this business the proper way 
 and keep your tricks to yourself. When I 
 want a man's labor I pay for it." 
 
 " It's done often enough, and it lets 'em 
 off easy. You needn't parade your virtue in 
 this office. I know what's right as well as 
 you, and what's within the law, though I 
 ain't no d d lawyer." 
 
 Sullenly he led the way back to the front 
 
Stephen the Black 255" 
 
 office and Ralph signed his name without 
 deigning to glance again at the mortified 
 official. 
 
 Stephen sat on the bench absorbed in pain 
 ful thoughts. The situation was full of hu 
 miliation. He thanked Ralph Aikens briefly 
 and with a kind of sternness in his manner as 
 they left the office. Hatred such as only the 
 Anglo-Saxon can feel for the "barbarian" 
 who has v/ronged him, filled his heart. He 
 remembered that the planter's son had circum 
 vented all his plans for the improvement of 
 his poor people. The fact that Ralph was the 
 leader in opposition had given all the encour 
 agement needed to the ignorant whites. In 
 Stephen's eyes Ralph was the barbarian the 
 savage. 
 
 Young Aikens, however, recognized Stephen 
 indifferently as the negro he had thrown down 
 the stairway in Perryville. He recalled the in 
 cident without the slightest ill-will. 
 
 Wearily Stephen returned to the school- 
 house and threw himself on a little single 
 bed in a loft above one of the schoolrooms. 
 
256 Stephen the Black 
 
 He slept heavily for some hours. When he 
 awoke it was dark, and a winter moon was 
 shining through the small window. 
 
 He heard some one knocking outside. Steps 
 followed as if one of the blacks who were on 
 guard below had gone to open the door. A 
 woman's voice, low, hurried and agitated 
 reached his ear. Theresa was calling him by 
 name. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ISABEL and Theresa had been visiting some 
 of the poorer colored folk in their cabins. It 
 was late as they returned through the moss- 
 hung woods near the Aikens plantation; the 
 sun had set, and gloomy shadows were gath 
 ering below the trees. 
 
 They heard voices near by, and stopped to 
 listen. To the right, beyond a thick clump of 
 bushes, there was a hut occupied by a shiftless 
 white family. It was from this direction that 
 the voices came; they were, the tones of men 
 in passionate excitement. Isabel pushed her 
 way a short distance into the underbrush, and 
 stood still to listen. Between twigs, ever 
 greens and trunks of trees she caught a 
 glimpse of the hut now encircled by a crowd 
 of men. The sight made her heart stand still, 
 for every one of them carried a musket. 
 Their hoarse, angry voices, their threats and 
 
258 Stephen the Black 
 
 oaths burst forth into howls of rage, reminding 
 her of a pack of starving wolves assembled on 
 a winter's night to bay at the moon in the 
 absence of the prey for which their stomachs 
 hungered. 
 
 The wind brought to her ear several words 
 which revealed the purpose of the meeting. 
 They were laying plans to surprise the school 
 building and capture the negro teacher. His 
 temporary release from custody until the day 
 of his trial they chose to regard as a miscar 
 riage of justice. 
 
 Grievous reports were maddening them. 
 Although the few blacks who knew of 
 Theresa's marriage had faithfully kept the 
 secret, yet some gossip concerning Stephen's 
 interest in her was already afloat. Again, 
 there had come to the ears of these white men 
 a whisper that young Aikens had noticed and 
 admired the fair girl, and then came the 
 story of Stephen's "insult" to young Aikens 
 and of the attempted lynching at Perryville. 
 Ah! he had escaped his just deserts that time, 
 the black rascal and as a result, he was now 
 
Stephen the Black 259 
 
 engaged in decoying the attractive maid be 
 yond the reach of Ralph's influence. He was 
 filling the minds of ignorant field-hands with 
 ridiculous notions that might enable them 
 some day to compete with white men. He 
 was scheming for negro domination paying 
 no attention when commanded to leave the 
 neighborhood. He was a vile fellow unfit 
 for the position of schoolmaster; respectable 
 " nigger" teachers were all right in their way, 
 but not this sort. He was dishonest like all 
 "niggers," of course; was he not already ac 
 cused of theft ? 
 
 And was it only theft that he was guilty of ? 
 Had he not been seen to fix his eyes on Mrs; 
 Willoughby herself with heaven knows 
 what villainy in his thoughts ? And yet the 
 law had refused to hold fast this bold schemer 
 this black plotter against the honor of white 
 womanhood! Ah! they would protect the 
 white womanhood of the South, with their 
 lives if need be, yes, with their lives their 
 lives! 
 
 They would take the law into their own 
 
260 Stephen the Black 
 
 hands; it was evident that Ralph Aikens knew 
 not the danger of turning loose this pretence 
 of a pedagogue why, in another day, he 
 might commit some other awful crime and 
 disappear and the law would never be able 
 to lay its hands on him ! 
 
 This was the line if not the exact language 
 of their arguments. It was unanswerable if 
 all the premises are admitted, and there was 
 none to dispute them. The "honor of white 
 womanhood" finished the business; it would 
 justify them in the eyes of the whole country. 
 
 Isabel listened in horror, and then drew 
 back as quietly as possible, hoping that the 
 cracking of dry branches and the rustling of 
 her skirts would not reveal her presence to the 
 infuriated band. As she regained the road, 
 she clutched Theresa's arm. 
 
 "They're getting ready for a lynching 
 What shall we do ? " 
 
 " Let's run to Mr. Aikens' house. He prom 
 ised to stop them, he said he wouldn't allow 
 bloodshed. Oh, run, run Miss Isabel, we 
 must be quick! " 
 
Stephen the Black 261 
 
 Clasping hands the two women fled through 
 the woods like frightened deer. They did not 
 take time to speak; hardly in fact did they 
 breathe. Their feet sped over the ground 
 with extraordinary swiftness, but rapidly as 
 they ran, the minutes seemed like hours before 
 they came in sight of Colonel Aikens' house. 
 Isabel stopped suddenly with her hand pressed 
 to her side. 
 
 "I can go no further" she panted. "It 
 kills me to run like this." 
 
 "Do you go and warn Lemuel and 
 grandpa," said Theresa, breathlessly, "and I 
 will see Mr. Aikens. I can run as if I had 
 wings," and on she flew alone. 
 
 Ralph was on the porch as she approached 
 and he hastened to meet her. Theresa told 
 him in a few words what they had seen and 
 heard in the woods. 
 
 "You promised you promised!" she 
 panted, imploringly. 
 
 "I know all about their plans," he an 
 swered, "and I've telephoned for the Volun 
 teers. Six of the men have consented to help 
 
264 Stephen the Black 
 
 ment understanding between you and this 
 Stephen?" 
 
 "No no! " she cried, with her hand on her 
 breast. Ah, if she but dared tell him the 
 truth! But would he then save Stephen ? 
 
 "He is nothing to you? Swear it!" 
 
 "Nothing he is nothing to me." Her 
 voice shook, it rang in her ears like a false 
 note. Had she lied? No, she would not lie! 
 She would clear herself and she would save 
 Stephen. She drew back and straightened up 
 proudly on the horse's back. 
 
 " I know nothing of love, nothing except 
 love for my race. You can't understand that 
 you never will but it is a passion with me 
 as deep as the sea as holy as the Church of 
 God, far deeper and holier than a man's love! 
 Stephen can raise my people; so I respect 
 and esteem him and his life is valuable to me 
 on that account but beyond that, he is like a 
 complete stranger. What do I care for the 
 stranger within your gates whom I have not 
 seen ? That is how much I care for Stephen 
 how much I care for any man's love! " Her 
 
Stephen the Black 265 
 
 head was high but the hand she had lifted fell 
 softly on the horse's neck. Ralph looked at 
 her narrowly. 
 
 "Or mine either!" he added, and his head 
 drooped. He rubbed his cheek against the 
 arched neck of the horse. Presently he raised 
 his head, his dark blue eyes full of a tender 
 wistfulness, and again he laid hold of her 
 hand. 
 
 "I am going into danger for your sake to 
 please you. I am risking my reputation my 
 popularity, I mean, and I have a lot of friends 
 to gratify a whim of yours to chase away 
 your foolish fears for this pedagogue. I claim 
 a reward kiss me, Theresa, I know you 
 don't love me, so I won't think anything of it 
 kiss me, sweetheart." 
 
 But Theresa turned her face to the sky and 
 addressed the unseen stars. 
 
 "You don't believe what I say, you don't 
 believe that my heart has only one passion ? I 
 am not made for love, I have a 'mission,' and 
 when I think of it I could die for it! Yes, I 
 think I am nothing but a spirit a ghost and 
 
266 Stephen the Black 
 
 no woman ! " Her voice fell coldly sweet on 
 the evening air, as if it came down from a 
 great height. 
 
 "No you are no woman you are a kind 
 of Joan of Arc to-night. Be a little human 
 be kind! " he entreated, "I will not let you 
 go until you do!" 
 
 She looked down upon him, gravely, and 
 he was struck with the pale exaltation that 
 was in her look. 
 
 "God you are beautiful!" broke from 
 him impulsively. 
 
 She hardly seemed to hear his words being 
 absorbed apparently in a struggle with an 
 other self. She stretched out her hand until 
 it touched his forehead and he stepped 
 nearer. 
 
 "Never think of me as unkind," she whis 
 peredher eyelids drooping while she leaned 
 slowly toward him stooping until her lips 
 touched his forehead. 
 
 "I will never think of you anyway but 
 one," he answered, brokenly disappointed 
 because she had withdrawn herself so quickly 
 
Stephen the Black 267 
 
 to gather up the reins. Already she had 
 shaken herself free of him, and was urging 
 her horse forward. 
 
 But in a moment she stopped and turned in 
 her saddle with a beseeching radiant look and 
 outstretched arms. Ralph sprang quickly to 
 her side. Again the swaying figure bent over 
 him ; if he had not supported her, she would 
 have fallen from the horse. He felt her trem 
 bling within his arms: from head to foot she 
 was in a quiver of feeling and his own heart 
 was full of a wild joy. 
 
 "Theresa you love me!" he cried in ex 
 ultation. 
 
 "If I had been your slave -your slave " 
 she whispered in his ear, "I would have 
 obeyed your commands with joy but now it 
 is different different!" 
 
 "You mean in the good old days ?" he an 
 swered, looking at her in wonder. " But why 
 should it be so different now ? If you love 
 me, Theresa, you will not ask me to sacrifice 
 my career my home everything will you, 
 dearest ? Love will bind us securely, and need 
 
268 Stephen the Black 
 
 we care for what goes on outside of our little 
 world ? " 
 
 " I am going to Stephen ; I had almost for 
 gotten to warn him " 
 
 She spoke abruptly wildly as if awaken 
 ing suddenly from a dream. She dragged 
 herself from him in passionate haste, absorbed 
 apparently in a new thought. Again the 
 horse moved forward, leaving Ralph standing 
 alone the wind drying his cheek that had 
 been wet with her tears. 
 
 He sprang hastily on the other horse which 
 was standing near, and overtook her. As they 
 reached the crossroads, Ralph observed briefly 
 that it was time to meet the train. He then 
 left her with repeated injunctions to return 
 promptly as soon as her errand was accom 
 plished. He realized that she was again far 
 removed from him. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Theresa made her way rather slowly after 
 parting from Ralph, her "Joan of Arc" air 
 falling from her like a cloak as soon as he was 
 out of sight. She clung to the pommel a 
 woeful, sobbing creature, an image of sor 
 row on horseback. Through her grief shone 
 only the light of her unperformed mission. 
 The thought of it gradually calmed her. She 
 was timid and she did not venture to urge the 
 high stepping animal to increase his speed. 
 Once he came to a full stop to eye a broken- 
 down wagon by the roadside, his ears pointed 
 forward with every evidence of fear and dis 
 trust. Theresa in anticipation of a sudden 
 movement that might dislodge her from his 
 back, guided him with a trembling hand down 
 a left-hand road which led also to Thomas' 
 Mills. She urged him to walk a little faster 
 and clung to his mane with one hand and to 
 the pommel with the other. If Ralph had 
 
270 Stephen the Black 
 
 only permitted her to walk, instead of seating 
 her upon this majestic brute, with his unac 
 countable suspicions of every known and 
 familiar object on the road! 
 
 It was late when she reached the school- 
 house and quite dark save for the moonlight. 
 She slid off the horse and knocked hastily. 
 Her approach had been observed from the 
 window and the door was opened without 
 delay. 
 
 Theresa told the men who gathered quickly 
 around her all she knew of the mob's inten 
 tions, and of Ralph's precautions and promised 
 aid. Stephen came downstairs and listened 
 quietly. He seemed gratified at what Ralph 
 had done and felt sure there would be little 
 trouble after the arrival of the Volunteers. 
 Then he urged Theresa to return immediately 
 to the cabin, where he knew she would be safe 
 under the protection of the guard Ralph had 
 promised her. He preferred she should ride 
 back as she came, and assured her the horse 
 must be safe and gentle if Ralph had placed 
 her upon his back. 
 
Stephen the Black 271 
 
 Reluctantly she consented to be lifted back 
 into the saddle. 
 
 "It's colder riding than walking," she com 
 plained. " Lend me something to wrap 'round 
 my shoulders." 
 
 Stephen brought out a light overcoat which 
 he buttoned across her breast, and she pulled 
 down her knitted woolen cap close over her 
 ears. Stephen ran beside the horse a little 
 way and advised Theresa to keep him go 
 ing at a brisk pace. She assured him that 
 she had now lost her fear of the animal 
 and could make her way alone. He left her at 
 the turn of the road in obedience to her ear 
 nest entreaties, and she forsook the main road 
 for a short cut back to the Aikens' plantation. 
 Bravely she jerked the reins and discovered to 
 her satisfaction that the swifter motion was 
 not at all disturbing to her equilibrium. The 
 rocking pace of the horse increased into a 
 swinging gallop which pleased her. She 
 leaned forward to pat the outstretched neck, 
 and as she did so the long folds of the light 
 overcoat swung backward in the wind. The 
 
272 Stephen the Black 
 
 iron-clad hoofs clattered over a short wooden 
 bridge and after horse and rider had passed, a 
 dozen dark forms rose to their feet from the 
 gully below. 
 
 "That's him " cried several voices, and 
 three men started in pursuit. Suddenly one of 
 them stopped and leveled his rifle. There was 
 a sharp report, and then a volley of shots fol 
 lowed from the men in the rear. Some of 
 them were good marksmen. There was a 
 scream and the figure on the galloping horse 
 swayed from side to side. It fell heavily to 
 the ground as the frightened horse bounded 
 forward. 
 
 Meanwhile from the opposite direction came 
 a band of horsemen who struck spurs to their 
 horses and dashed forward to the rescue. 
 They were the six Perryville Volunteers with 
 Ralph Aikens in the lead. Three of them 
 dropped from their horses beside the prostrate 
 form of Theresa. Ralph raised her in his arms 
 and with the assistance of a comrade bore her 
 in the direction of the schoolhouse. 
 
 Ralph gave brief directions to one of his 
 
Stephen the Black 273 
 
 friends to go for a doctor. The others started 
 in pursuit of the murderers, who were now 
 running for their lives. The two men carrying 
 between them the motionless form of the 
 young girl, at last reached the schoolhouse. 
 As the door opened, they staggered forward 
 and laid her on a low bench in one of the class 
 rooms. A wail of grief rose from the negroes ; 
 many of them began to sob aloud. 
 
 Ralph called for a light and quickly all the 
 lamps belonging to the school were brought 
 into the room. Ralph and Stephen bent over 
 her to discover the extent of the bullet wounds. 
 There was little blood flowing to guide them. 
 
 Ralph sitting on the bench held her in his 
 arms. Her black hair was spread over his 
 knees; her dress was torn open from the 
 throat. He gazed fixedly into the white face 
 and smoothed her hair back from the temples. 
 
 Stephen on his knees vainly attempted to 
 apply a bandage to her shoulder. Her eyes 
 were closed and she was breathing heavily. 
 Ralph tried to bring her back to conscious 
 ness by calling her name. 
 
274 Stephen the Black 
 
 The eyes of the young girl finally opened 
 wide in a prolonged stare into his face. He 
 thought she failed to recognize him, and in a 
 broken voice he assured her that it was he, 
 Ralph Aikens, who held her and no other. Her 
 lips parted and she turned her head to one side. 
 Her eyes were seeking Stephen's face, and he 
 bent his head close to hers as she seemed 
 about to speak. Her lips moved with a great 
 effort. Then two words reached his ear dis 
 tinctly: 
 
 "Take me." Stephen hesitated, and she 
 spoke again more clearly than before, 
 
 "Hold me, Stephen in your arms." He 
 looked inquiringly at Ralph who was still 
 mechanically smoothing her forehead with his 
 hand. The young black said to him huskily, 
 
 "She wants me to hold her." 
 
 "Take her," said Ralph, unsteadily. Gently 
 the burden was shifted from one pair of arms 
 to the other; the young white man, looking 
 dazed as well as broken-hearted, sat down on 
 the bench and folded his empty arms. The 
 other seemed to be conscious of his misery and 
 
Stephen the Black 275 
 
 troubled by it. Raising his head he said in a 
 hoarsely voice: 
 
 "She is my wife." Ralph stared vacantly, 
 but gave no sign of surprise. He continued 
 to sit with folded arms and bent head. 
 
 A convulsive tremor passed over Stephen's 
 dark face. He composed his countenance by 
 a violent effort of will because Theresa's eyes 
 were looking into his. 
 
 " Poor Stephen! " she whispered, distinctly. 
 Then her eyes closed. He spoke her name in 
 a whisper, adding two tender words to it, 
 the first words of love he had ever spoken to 
 her. Her eyelids quivered faintly as if she un 
 derstood him. 
 
 Ralph Aikens sprang suddenly to his feet 
 and knelt beside her. 
 
 "You have turned back to your own race, 
 but I forgive you, Won't you speak to me, 
 Theresa? One word? Won't you look at 
 me ? You belong to my race too, can you 
 forget that?" 
 
 He kissed her hands now wet with his tears. 
 There was no answer. 
 
276 Stephen the Black 
 
 Stephen heard without heeding this passion 
 ate appeal. The words reached his ears, but 
 not his intelligence. His whole soul was con 
 centrated on the still face of the young girl; he 
 was watching, waiting, and hoping against 
 hope for a return of consciousness. The thrill 
 of exquisite joy that shot through him a mo 
 ment ago at the proof of her loyalty to him, 
 was now strangled in the agonizing thought 
 that she had passed from him forever. 
 
 A pistol shot sounded in his ear and he felt 
 a stinging blow on his shoulder. Some one 
 had shot him through the window. 
 
 "They must know I want to die too," he 
 thought. "But I must live to avenge her 
 death. Dear God let me live long enough to 
 kill one one only it is all I ask " 
 
 Soon afterward he fainted, and then he 
 must have slept. 
 
 Stephen awoke to find the body of Theresa 
 removed from his arms and Ralph bending 
 over him. He was fastening on a bandage 
 securely. 
 
Stephen the Black 277 
 
 "He has his work to do but what have 
 I?" Ralph said, half aloud. 
 
 Stephen sat up and passed his hand across 
 his forehead trying to recall what had hap 
 pened. He was conscious of a great change 
 within him. Resentment had died out; re 
 venge was no longer what he thirsted for. 
 Some strange metamorphosis had taken place. 
 Had the white soul been recalled by its Maker 
 and another sent to take its place ? Or had it 
 merely succumbed to its environment and 
 changed its nature ? Could such a surrender 
 be made by the proud Anglo-Saxon? I do 
 not know ; but neither do I know how to ac 
 count for the perfect reconcilement with exist 
 ing conditions of which Stephen was now su 
 premely conscious. He knew earth could 
 never torture him again. For he could see into 
 the distant future; he could behold the 
 gradual evolution of his race! He saw him 
 self as a mere speck in humanity's line of 
 vision now made joyous in the track of a 
 sunbeam and again drifting into colorless 
 tragedy on passing out of that golden path- 
 
2j8 Stephen the Black 
 
 way. He was filled with a far-seeing pa 
 tience. He answered Ralph's thought with 
 unexpected gentleness. 
 
 " Yes, I have my work; is it your wish that 
 I should go on with it here in this neighbor 
 hood?" 
 
 "You shall never leave me," said Ralph, 
 laying his hand on the other's well shoulder, 
 and looking at him with deep affection, "but 
 you must get well first then, we shall do it 
 together." 
 
 "Together?" repeated Stephen, smiling 
 faintly, not at Ralph but at a star that was 
 visible through the open window. It was 
 shining straight into his heart with a message 
 from Theresa, he thought. Slowly it faded 
 into the dawn. 
 
 On the day of the funeral, the people from 
 far and near traveled in a constantly moving 
 procession to the Anderson cabin, passing in 
 one door and out the other to take their last 
 look at the dead girl. Among those who 
 Stopped for a brief moment to gaze awe- 
 
Stephen the Black 279 
 
 struck upon the unearthly beauty of the 
 young, upturned face, were several shabbily- 
 dressed white men. Their rough, bearded 
 faces showed a shamefaced distress, if not ac 
 tual grief; they removed their slouched hats, 
 bowed their heads and stepped softly, casting 
 sidelong, uneasy glances around the cabin and 
 at the group of mourners the old grandfather, 
 the young brother and the silent, grief-stricken 
 husband. When they emerged into the open 
 air and sunlight, they brushed their hands 
 across their eyes, and, without exchanging a 
 word, they parted, each going his way 
 alone. 
 
 One of these men passed into the woods, and 
 followed with bent head, the narrow path that 
 led to his home. It was a hovel no better than 
 many that the blacks lived in ; the interior was 
 not as homelike or as neat as that of the 
 Anderson cabin; no flowering vines climbed 
 above the doorway; there were no curtains at 
 the windows, and no garden plot in front of 
 the door. A desolate squalor more horrible 
 because of its desolation than the squalor of 
 
280 Stephen the Black 
 
 the city slums reigned supreme over the 
 spot. 
 
 The man stopped when he came in sight of it, 
 and surveyed it grimly. Turning his head, he 
 fixed his bloodshot eyes with a shudder, upon a 
 moss-shrouded tree, from which dangled a long 
 rope. He had thrown it himself over the bough 
 only a few days before, with a heart full of mur 
 derous intent. But now the lust to kill had 
 gone out of him ; a passion of remorse a new 
 terrible anguish, as unfamiliar and as cruel as 
 death, was piercing him like a two-edged 
 sword. He uttered a cry like that of a 
 wounded animal, and lifted his clinched hands 
 high in the air. 
 
 "God i curse you! I curse you!" he 
 shrieked, "for making me a murderer! I 
 curse you because you have forgotten me 
 me, a white man, who ought to be a gran' no 
 bleman! I curse the South for leaving me 
 to grow up in my ig'rance like a savage, 
 I curse them that sends missionaries to the 
 blacks, but sends none to the likes o' me. 
 (Sh, God, have mercy have mercy on me!" 
 
Stephen the Black 281 
 
 He threw himself on the ground and lay there 
 sobbing. 
 
 From the negroes' burial ground, half a mile 
 away, came the sound of children's voices 
 singing, at the conclusion of the burial ser 
 vice: 
 
 " He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 
 
 retreat ; 
 He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment 
 
 seat: 
 
 Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! be jubilant, my 
 feet! 
 
 Our God is marching on." 
 
 The forlorn creature in the woods sat up to 
 listen. A look of superstitious fear crept into 
 his eyes. 
 
 "They're allus a-singin' o' what their God 
 can do. Seems like He must be bigger an' 
 stronger 'n our God betimes. I hear tell the 
 battles allus went ag'in us from the day the 
 Yanks put fo'ward them black regiments." 
 He staggered angrily to his feet at this reflec 
 tion. 
 
 " Ef we ain't got a God big enough to fight 
 
282 Stephen the Black 
 
 that there God o' theirs, there ain't no use be- 
 lievin' in Him anyhow." 
 
 Muttering to himself shaking first his head, 
 and then his fist, the poor wretch slowly 
 made his way to the miserable cabin. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE 
 RECALL 
 
 
 LIBRARY, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, 
 
 Book Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)4i 
 
N9 574001 
 
 PS3531 
 
 Pemberton, C.H. E515 
 Stephen the black. S8 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS