The Haunted Homestead Part 17

"And now, mother, I must get up and go to him."

Phaedra brought his clothes from the closet in which she had put them, and then left the room, while Valentine arose and dressed himself, and went to his master's apartments. It was in painful doubt and humiliating embarra.s.sment that he sought Oswald Waring's presence. He got to the door, knocked, and at the words, "Come in," he entered.

Mr. Waring was in bed, and looking very pale and ghastly; and as Valentine saw him, a pang shot through his heart at the thought that, but for the merciful intervention of Providence in averting the consequences of his own rash anger, Oswald Waring might have been lying there--not a sick man, but a dead one! And a secret vow to forsake intemperance, in all its forms, material and moral, was made in Valentine's mind, and registered in heaven.

"Is that you, Valley, old fellow? I had begun to fear that you had suffered more than myself, when I asked after you this morning and they told me you were sick. Were you thrown out, also?"

"Good Heaven," thought Valentine, as a new light burst upon him; "he does not recollect what happened. He must have been much further gone than myself."

"Well, old fellow, why don't you answer me? I asked you if you were thrown out. Don't be afraid to tell me, for you see I'm a great deal better; besides, seeing you there alive and well, I shall not be much shocked to hear of what might have happened, you know. Come! where were you pitched, and how much were you hurt, and who picked you up? Tell me, for I can't get the least satisfaction out of anybody here."

"I was not thrown out--I sprang out."

"When the horses were rearing? A bad plan that, Val.; that is, if you really did it as you think you did. For my part, I doubt if you know anything more about it than I do myself; and if my soul were to have to answer for my memory, I could not tell whether I jumped out or was thrown out. Bad course we've been pursuing, old boy; like to have cost us both our lives, really has cost me that beautiful buggy--that is ruined, they tell me. Bad course; bad course, Val. Not safe for master and man both to be glorious at the same time. Another evening, old fellow, do you try to keep sober, when you think it likely that I shall be--otherwise."

"I never mean to touch another drop of intoxicating drink as long as I live, sir, so help me Heaven!" said Valentine, fervently.

"Oh, pooh, pooh! old fellow. Resolutions made with a bad headache, the day after a frolic, are as worthless as the oaths sworn in wine the night previous, both being the effects of an abnormal state of the soul and--stomach. Now, wine is a good thing in moderation--it is only a bad thing in excess. Don't look so dreadfully downcast, old fellow, nor make such dismally lugubrious resolutions. 'The servant is not greater than his master,' says the good Book; and, if I was overtaken, how could you expect to escape? Give me your honest fist, old fellow; those who have had such a d--d lucky escape together might shake hands upon it, I should think," said Oswald Waring, offering his hand.

Valentine took it and squeezed it, and then, in the warmth of his affectionate nature, pressed it to his heart, while tears welled to his eyes--tears, that came at the thought how nearly he had occasioned the death of this man--this man, who, with all his faults, had, from their boyhood, been ever kind, generous, forbearing--more like a brother than a master. All that was unjust and galling in their mutual relations was forgotten by Valentine at that moment; he only remembered that they had been playmates in childhood, companions in youth, and friends always, up to the present, and that he had narrowly escaped causing Oswald's death; and, in the ardor and vehemence of emotion, he pressed the hand that had been yielded up to him, to his heart, exclaiming in a broken voice:

"It was my fault, Master Oswald, all my fault; but I will never--never touch any sort of intoxicating liquor again--never, as the Lord hears me."

"Oh, tut, tut! you best fellow that ever was in the world! Who asks you for any such promises? Only promise that when there is a wine supper or card party in the wind, or any other signs of the times in the sky to warn you, you will take care to keep sober, knowing that I shall be likely to be something else. Wine is a good servant, but a bad master."

"Not good for me, ever, Master Oswald; certainly not good for me; probably not so for you, either."

"Come, come; you exceed your license, Valentine. You're a pretty fellow to preach to me, after nearly breaking my neck. However, that's ungenerous, after once forgiving you; so we'll say no more about it forever. But don't preach to me, whatever you do. Phaedra nearly wears my patience out."

"Can I do anything to make you more comfortable, or help the time along?"

"N-o-o, I think not. Dr. Carter says I must keep quiet, and my head begins to ache now; so you had better darken the room, and leave me to rest."

Valentine closed all the shutters, and let down all the curtains, and then asked:

"Shan't I sit here, Master Oswald, to be at hand in case you should want anything?"

"No! Lord, no! it must be a d--l of a bore to sit in a dark room, with no better amus.e.m.e.nt than to watch somebody going off to sleep. No; go and take care of yourself, old fellow. I can ring if I should want anything," said Oswald, cheerfully.

"Always so very considerate when he is in his right mind," thought Valentine, as he took the ta.s.seled end of the bellrope and put it in reach of his master's hand, before leaving the room.

That was the last time that Valentine saw his master in his right mind for many weeks. The effects of his fall, acting upon a system weakened and vitiated by dissipation, was much more serious than any one had foreseen. Before night a brain fever, with delirium, had set in, and, for days after, the life of Oswald Waring hung upon the feeblest chance.

For many weeks of his illness, Phaedra and Valentine nursed him with the most devoted affection. Poor Phaedra prayed constantly for his recovery, and also for his reform, and solicited every Sabbath the prayers of the congregation of her church in his behalf. And Valentine, in deep despair, daily accused himself of his master's death, as if he had purposely stricken a fatal blow, and Oswald were already dead. The long days and nights of watching by the side of the sickbed, that might at any hour become a deathbed, were very fruitful in good to Valentine.

There he learned to hate and dread the demon anger, that had caused him so much misery; there he came to listen with patience and reverence to his poor mother's tearful pleadings and counsels; there he began to pray. It was six weeks before Mr. Waring left his room, and one more before he was fully restored to health. And this brought midsummer--a season that camp-meetings were frequent in the neighborhood.

This summer there was much greater excitement than ever before among the religious revivalists. The Rev. Mr. M---- and several others, equally eloquent and successful field preachers, were making a circuit of the country. Their fame always preceded them as an _avant courier_, and crowds congregated to hear them.

There was a camp-meeting held, by permission of the owner, in a magnolia grove where there was a fine spring, upon the grounds of Mr. Hewitt, Mr.

Waring's nearest neighbor. And it was given out that on Sunday morning the eloquent field preacher, M----, would address the a.s.sembled mult.i.tudes. There was a great deal of excitement and antic.i.p.ation among all cla.s.ses in that quiet rural district; and when the Sabbath came, congregations forsook their own churches, and a.s.sembled to hear M----.

Crowds after crowds gathered; some went with the avowed purpose of getting converted; some to get revived; many to get excited; and most from motives of idle curiosity. Poor Phaedra went for the candidly expressed purpose of being warmed and comforted. Valentine went to drive his master, who went only to kill a dull day.

Now, not only was Phaedra praying with all her soul's strength for her son's conversion, but naturally that desired consummation was one of the most likely things in the world to eventuate; for Valentine's nature was just the one to be most deeply affected and impressed by the magnetic power of a man like M----, and he was also in the most favorable mood for receiving such impressions. And while hundreds around him were swayed, as by a mighty wizard's wand, under the wonderful eloquence of the most potent preacher since the days of Wesley and Whitefield, Valentine was deeply and almost fearfully excited.

And from that Sabbath, during the whole time of Mr. M----'s sojourn in the neighborhood, the boy was a regular attendant upon his ministry, and in the end was numbered among his converts. This is not the place to call in question the Rev. Mr. M----'s sincerity or consistency as a Christian; those who knew him best, believed him to be perfectly sincere in his religious enthusiasm, however inconsistent was sometimes his conduct. And, though it may be true that some of his converts were his only, and not G.o.d's, as they afterward demonstrated by their backsliding, yet it is equally true that many shining lights in the Christian Church at this day ascribe their first awakening to Christian life, under Divine Providence, to the electric power of M----'s eloquence. At the time that I write of, the people of that neighborhood adored him as an angel sent from G.o.d; though some years after the same people hunted him as a wild beast, from village to village, until old, poor, ill and exhausted, he died alone--a fugitive from their insane wrath. But to return.

M---- had succeeded in reviving the religious spirit of that district; and when he departed, he left behind him many new but zealous laborers in that vineyard of the Lord.

Among the most enthusiastic in the field of the colored mission of Magnolia Grove was Valentine. His sincere, ardent, earnest soul; his natural gift of eloquence; his sympathy with those in his own condition, if not strictly of his own race; his better education, and even his beauty of person, grace of manner, and sweetness of voice, all combined to make him the most popular and effective, and best beloved of all the cla.s.s-leaders in the colored mission of Magnolia Grove. "Brother Valentine's" cla.s.s was the largest and most important in the church. If ever Brother Valentine was announced to address the meeting upon any given day, there was sure to be a crowded house. And if ever Phaedra held a prayer meeting in her quarter, there was sure to be a crowd to hear Brother Valentine speak.

Among the most zealous of the church members, and among those who never failed to be present at Phaedra's weekly prayer meetings, was a young and pretty quadroon, named Fannie. She was a free girl and an orphan, and was employed as shop girl in a hair dresser's and fancy store kept by a respectable old French couple in the city of M. But though her home and her business was in town, and there were also two or three "colored missions" in that place, yet Fannie preferred to walk out every Sunday morning to the little log meeting-house in Magnolia Grove. And those who were envious of Fannie's beauty did not scruple to say that she came out so far for the sake of hearing Brother Valentine pray or exhort, or to let him hear her sing; for Fannie had a voice that might have made her fortune, had she been white, and had it been cultivated. However that might be, Phaedra loved Fannie as if she had been her own daughter, and she always took her home from meeting, to dine and spend the afternoon at Red Hill. And after an early tea, Valentine always walked home with Fannie to the city.

It is also true that Valentine became a frequent customer at Leroux's, the hair-dresser's and fancy store where Fannie was employed; and as Valentine not only made his own but also his master's purchases, and as he had a _carte blanche_ for the same, his custom was of no trifling importance to the establishment. But, valuable as was this patronage, as soon as the proprietors began to suspect the nature of the attraction to their store, they felt it to be their duty to warn the young girl, which they would do in something like these terms:

"Take my advice, Fannie, and send that young fellow about his business; he may be a very good young man, I dare say; but he is a slave, and never will be able to do anything for you," Monsieur Leroux would say.

"You are free, Fannie, and you are very pretty, and all that; and you might look a great deal higher than that," would say Madam Leroux.

"Think, _ma fille_, if you take him, you will always have yourself and your family to support, for you never can have any help from a slave husband"--thus Monsieur Leroux.

"Consider, _mon enfant_, if you marry him, he may be sold away next year, or next month, even! How would you like that?" thus Madam Leroux.

And Fannie would blush, or smile, or pout, or drop a tear, or say to herself:

"Poor Valley! Maybe something may happen to set him free! Maybe I might work hard, and save money enough to"--she could not bring herself to say buy--"ransom him! And, anyhow, it is not his fault if he is not free.

And it must be hard enough, the dear knows, to be as he is, without my letting him think that it makes any difference to me."

Obstacles and objections which, to cooler-hearted and clearer-headed people would seem very formidable, if not entirely conclusive, were but slight impediments in the way of these humble lovers.

Long courtships and protracted engagements are not common among quadroons, and in this case were not favored by Valentine. He had won little Fannie's heart and consent to speak to her employers, who, having advised her against the match, and holding no authority to go further in their opposition, gave a reluctant consent, with their good wishes and blessing.

Valentine had, all through the courtship, the hearty approbation of Phaedra; and, lastly, he had none but his master to consult.

Mr. Waring rallied Valentine unmercifully upon his intended marriage; swore that, seriously, it was a pity such a fine young fellow as himself, who was such a favorite among the girls, should leave his gay bachelor's life, to tie himself down to a wife and family; asked him what he should do for kid gloves and perfumery, if he had to give all his pocket money to Fannie and the children; and finally made him a wedding present of a hundred dollars, and advised him to go out and hang himself.

In the following Christmas holidays, the slaves' annual Saturnalia in the South, the marriage of Valentine and Fannie took place. A mad marriage it was, where the bride had no dower and the bridegroom not even the ownership of his own limbs to work for their support. An impossible marriage it would seem, had it not really taken place, and did we not know, for a certainty, that such marriages between the free and the enslaved frequently took place.

Phaedra gave a serious little Methodist wedding, and invited all her favorite brethren and sisters of the church to be present. And the young master loaned his dining-room for the occasion, and invited himself to do the lovers the honor of his personal attendance at the marriage ceremony. And he gave the little bride two testimonials of his friendly consideration--one in the form of a pretty wedding dress, that was gratefully received; the other in the guise of a hearty embrace and kiss, that was not quite so thankfully accepted.

"But now, mommer," whispered little Fannie, in the course of the evening, to Phaedra, "Valley's young master has been so very kind and generous to us all, s'pose now he was to make Valley a present of his free papers, for a wedding gift to-night--to surprise us, you know; to see how delighted we'd all be, and to hear what we'd say. I think he might; 'deed, I shouldn't wonder if he did, only for the pleasure of the thing, you know. Should you, mommer?"

Phaedra sighed; but, then, not to damp the girl's spirits, she replied: "He may do that some day, honey."

"Something seems to whisper to me that he is thinking of it to-night, mommer! Ah! the Lord send he may! Wouldn't we be happy? Valley would have a place in the same store with me; it would suit him, too; he has so much good taste! And then we could have such a pretty little home of our own! 'Deed, I believe he is thinking about it now. Look at him. I shouldn't be the least surprised to see him call Valley aside, and clap him on the shoulder, and call him 'old fellow,' and tell him he is a free man!"

The girl had read aright the thoughts of the master. Angels, who saw the future, with all the phantoms of its bright or dark possibilities--angels, who loved the goodness latent in his own abused nature--angels were whispering to him: "Make this young couple supremely happy--give him only the common right to himself, into which every creature is justly born--and then rejoice in their exceeding great joy!"

And never had the face of Oswald Waring looked so bright, benignant and happy, as when he, for a moment, entertained this thought.