XI.
_SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY._
If what Silas Ropes had said of his patron, Augustus Bythewood, wastrue, great must have been the chagrin of that chivalrous younggentleman when an interview was brought about between him and Lysander,and he learned that Penn, instead of being driven from the state, hadfound refuge in the family of Mr. Villars--that he was there even at themoment when he made his delightful little evening call, and wasentertained so charmingly by Virginia.
Bythewood gave Sprowl money, and Sprowl gave Bythewood information andadvice. It was in accordance with the programme decided upon by thesetwo worthies, that Mr. Ropes at the head of his gang presented himselfthe next night at Mr. Villars's door.
Virginia, by her father's direction, admitted them. They crowded intothe sitting-room, where the old man rose to receive them, with his usualurbanity.
"Virginia, have chairs brought for all our friends. I cannot see torecognize them individually, but I salute them all."
"No matter about the cheers," said Silas. "We can do our businessstanding. Sorry to trouble you with it, sir, but it's jest this. Weunderstand you're harboring a Yankee abolitionist, and we've called toremind you that sech things can't be allowed in a well-regulatedcommunity."
The old man, holding himself still erect with punctiliouspoliteness,--for his guests were not seated,--and smiling with grand andvenerable aspect, made reply in tones full of dignity and sweetness: "Myfriends, I am an old man; I am a native of Virginia, and a citizen ofTennessee; and all my life long I have been accustomed to regard thelaws of hospitality as sacred."
"My sentiments exactly. I won't hear a word said agin' southernhorsepitality, or southern perliteness." Mr. Ropes illustrated hisremark by spitting copious tobacco-juice on the floor. "Horsepitality Ilook upon as one of the stable institootions of our country."
"No doubt it is so," said Mr. Villars, smiling at the unintentional pun.
"That's one thing," added Silas; "but harboring a abolitionist isanother. That's the question we've jest took the liberty to call andhave a little quiet talk about, to-night."
"Sit down, dear father, do!" entreated Virginia, remaining at his sidein spite of her dread and abhorrence of these men. Holding his hand, andregarding him with pale and anxious looks, she endeavored with gentleforce to get him into his chair. "My father is very feeble," she said,appealing to Silas, "and I beg you will have some consideration forhim."
"Sartin, sartin," said Silas. "Keep yer settin', keep yer settin', Mr.Villars."
But the old man still remained upon his feet,--his tall, spare form,bent with age, his long, thin locks of white hair, and his wan,sightless, calm, and beautiful countenance presenting a wonderfulcontrast to the blooming figure at his side. It was a picture whichmight well command the respectful attention of Silas and his compeers.
"My friends," he said, with a grave smile, "we men of the south arerather boastful of our hospitality. But true hospitality consists insomething besides eating and drinking with those whose companionship isa sufficient recompense for all that we do for them. It clothes thenaked, feeds the hungry, shelters the distressed. With the Arabs, evenan enemy is sacred who happens to be a guest. Shall an old Virginianthink less of the honor of his house than an Arab?"
Silas looked abashed, silenced for a moment by these noble words, andthe venerable and majestic mien of the blind old clergyman. It would notdo, however, to give up his mission so; and after coughing, turning hisquid, and spitting again, he replied,--
"That'll do very well to talk, Mr. Villars. But come to the pint. You'vegot a Yankee abolitionist in your house--that you won't deny."
"I have in my house," said the old man, "a person whose life is indanger from injuries received at your hands last night. He came to us ina condition which, I should have thought, would excite the pity of thehardest heart. Whether or not he is a Yankee abolitionist, I neverinquired. It was enough for me that he was a fellow-creature indistress. He is well known in this community, where he has never beenguilty of wrong towards any one; and, even if he were a dangerousperson, he is not now in a condition to do mischief. Gentlemen, my guestis very ill with a fever."
"Can't help that; you must git red of him," said Silas. "I'm a talkingnow for your own good as much as any body's, Mr. Villars. You're a manwe all respect; but already you've made yourself a object of suspicion,by standing up fur the old rotten Union."
"When I can no longer befriend my guests, or stand up for my country,then I shall have lived long enough!" said the old man, with impressiveearnestness.
"The old Union," said Gad, coming to the aid of Silas, "is played out.We couldn't have our rights, and so we secede."
"What rights couldn't you have under the government left to us byWashington?"
"That had become corrupted," said Mr. Ropes.
"How corrupted, my friend?"
"By the infernal anti-slavery element!"
"You forget," said Mr. Villars, "that Washington, Jefferson, and indeedall the wisest and best men who assisted to frame the government underwhich we have been so prospered, were anti-slavery men."
"Wal, I know, some on 'em hadn't got enlightened on the subject," Mr.Ropes admitted.
"And do you know that if a stranger, endowed with all the virtues ofthose patriots, should come among you and preach the political doctrinesof Washington and Jefferson, you would serve him as you served PennHapgood last night?"
"Shouldn't wonder the least mite if we should!" Silas grinned. "Butthat's nothing to the purpose. We claim the right to carry our slavesinto the territories, and Lincoln's party is pledged to keep 'em out,and that's cause enough for secession."
"How many slaves do you own, Mr. Ropes?" Mr. Villars, still leaning onhis daughter's arm, smiled as he put this mild question.
"I--wal--truth is, I don't own nary slave myself--wish I did!" saidSilas.
"How many friends have you with you?"
"'Lev'n," said Gad, rapidly counting his companions.
"Well, of the eleven, how many own slaves?"
"I do!" "I do!" spoke up two eager voices.
"How many slaves do you own?"
"I've got as right smart a little nigger boy as there is anywheres inTennessee!" said the first, proudly.
"How old is he?"
"He'll be nine year' old next grass, I reckon."
"Well, how many negroes has your friend?"
"I've got one old woman, sir."
"How old is she?"
"Wal, plaguy nigh a hunderd,--old Bess, you know her."
"Yes, I know old Bess; and an excellent creature she is. So it seemsthat you eleven men own two slaves. And these you wish to take into someof the territories, I suppose."
The men looked foolish, and were obliged to own that they had neverdreamed of conveying either the nine-year-old lad or the femalecentenarian out of the state of Tennessee.
"Then what is the grievance you complain of?" asked the old man. Theycould not name any. "O, now, my friends, look you here! I believe in theright of revolution when a government oppresses a people beyondendurance. But in this case it appears, by your own showing, that notone of you has suffered any wrong, and that this is not a revolution inbehalf of the poor and oppressed. If anybody is to be benefited by it,it is a few rich owners of slaves, who are prosperous enough already,and have really no cause of complaint. It is a revolution precipitatedby political leaders, who wish to be rulers; and what grieves me at theheart is, that the poor and ignorant are thus permitting themselves tobe made the tools of this tyranny, which will soon prove more despoticthan it was possible for the dear old government ever to become. Godbless my country! God bless my poor distracted country!"
As he finished speaking, the old man sank down overcome with emotionupon his chair, clasping his daughter's hand, while tears ran down hischeeks.
His argument was so unanswerable that nothing was left for Silas but toget angry.
"I see you're not only a Unionist, but more'n half a Yankee abolitionist
yourself! We didn't come here to listen to any sech incendiary talk.Kick out the schoolmaster, if you wouldn't git into trouble,--I warnyou! That's the business we've come to see to, and you must tend to't."
"Pity him--spare him!" cried Virginia, shielding her aged father asRopes approached him. "He cannot turn a sick man out of his house, youknow he cannot!"
"You're partic'larly interested in the young man, hey?" said Ropes,grinning insolently.
"I am interested that no harm comes either to my father or to hisguests," said the girl. "Go, I implore you! As soon as Mr. Hapgood isable to leave us, he will do so,--he will have no wish to stay,--this Ipromise you."
"I'll give him three days to quit the country," said Silas. "Only threedays. He'd better be dead than found here at the end of that time.Gentlemen, we've performed this yer painful dooty; now le's adjourn toBarber Jim's and take a drink."
With these words Mr. Ropes retired. While, however, he was treating hismen to whiskey and cigars with Augustus Bythewood's money, advanced forthe purpose, one of the eleven, separating himself from the rest,hurried back to the minister's house. He had taken part in the patrioticproceedings of his friends with great reluctance, as appeared from themanner in which he shrank from view in corners and behind the backs ofhis comrades, and drew down his woe-begone mouth, and rolled up hisdismal eyes, during the entire interview. And he had returned now, atthe risk of his life, to do Penn a service.
He crept to the kitchen door, and knocked softly. Carl opened it. Therestood the wretched figure, terrified, panting for breath.
"Vat is it?" said Carl.
"I've come fur to tell ye!" said the man, glancing timidly around intothe darkness to see if he was followed. "They mean to kill him! Theytold you they'd give him three days, but they won't. I heard them sayingso among themselves. They may be back this very night, for they'll allgit drunk, and nothing will stop 'em then."
Carl stared, as these hoarsely whispered words were poured forth rapidlyby the frightened man at the door.
"Come in, and shpeak to Mishter Willars."
"No, no! I'll be killed if I'm found here!"
But Carl, sturdy and resolute, had no idea of permitting him to deliverso hasty and alarming a message without subjecting him to across-examination. He had already got him by the collar, and now hedragged him into the house, the man not daring to resist for fear ofoutcry and exposure.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Villars.
"A wisitor!" said Carl. And he repeated Dan's statement, while Dan wasrecovering his breath.
"Is this true, Mr. Pepperill?" asked the old man, deeply concerned.
"Yes, I be durned if it ain't!" said Dan.
Virginia clung to her father's chair, white with apprehension. Toby wasalso present, having left his patient an instant to run down stairs, andlearn what was the cause of this fresh disturbance.
"He's a lyin' to ye, Mass' Villars; he's a lyin' to ye! White trashcan't tell de troof if dey tries! Don't ye breeve a word he says,massa."
Yet it was evident from the consternation the old negro's face betrayedthat he believed Dan's story,--or at least feared it would prove true ifhe did not make haste and deny it stoutly; for Toby, like many personswith whiter skins, always felt on such occasions a vague faith that ifhe could get the bad news sufficiently denounced and discredited inseason, all would be well. As if simply setting our minds against thetruth would defeat it!
"But they spoke of fittin' yer neck to a noose too!"
"Mine? Ah, if nobody but myself was in danger, I should be well content!What do you think we ought to do, Mr. Pepperill?"
"The master has done me a good turn, and I'll do him one, if I swingfur't!" said Dan, straightening himself with sudden courage. "Get himout 'fore they suspect what you're at, and I'll take him to my house andhide him, I be durned if I won't!"
"It is a kind offer, and I thank you," said the old man. "But how can Iresolve to send a guest from my house in this way? Not to save my ownlife would I do it!"
"But to save his, father!"
"It is only of him I am thinking, my child. Would it be safe to movehim, Toby?"
"Safe to move Massa Penn!" ejaculated the old negro, choking with wrathand grief. "Neber tink o' sech a ting, massa! He'd die, shore, widout Ishould go 'long wid him, and tote him in my ol' arms on a fedder-bedjes' like I would a leetle baby, and den stay and nuss him arter I gothim dar. For dem 'ar white trash, what ye s'pose day knows 'bout takin'keer ob a sick gemman like him? It's a bery 'tic'lar case. He's got dedelirimum a comin' on him now, and I can't be away from him a minute. Imus' go back to him dis bery minute!"
And Toby departed, having suddenly conceived an idea of his own forhiding Penn in the barn until the danger was over.
He had been absent from the room but a moment, however, when thoseremaining in it heard a wild outcry, and presently the old negroreappeared, inspired with superstitious terror, his eyes starting fromtheir sockets, his tongue paralyzed.
"What's the matter, Toby?" cried Virginia, perceiving that somethingreally alarming had happened.
The negro tried to speak, but his throat only gurgled incoherently,while the whites of his eyes kept rolling up like saucers.
"Penn--has anything happened to Penn?" said Mr. Villars.
"O, debil, debil, Lord bress us!" gibbered Toby.
"Dead?" cried Virginia.
"Gone! gone, missis!"
Struck with consternation, but refusing to believe the words of thebewildered black, Virginia flew to the sick man's chamber.
Then she understood the full meaning of Toby's words. Penn was not inhis bed, nor in the room, nor anywhere in the house. He had disappearedsuddenly, strangely, totally.