"I've been searching for you," he said after a silence. "You should not
wander here alone--it is dangerous."
"Why, dangerous?" she asked.
"Wandering Negroes, and even wild beasts, in the forest depths--and
malaria--see, you tremble now."
"But not from malaria," she slowly returned.
He caught an unfamiliar note in his voice, and a wild desire to justify
himself before this woman clamored in his heart. With it, too, came a
cooler calculating intuition that frankness alone would win her now. At
all hazards he must win, and he cast the die.
"Miss Taylor," he said, "I want to talk to you--I have wanted to for--a
year." He glanced at her: she was white and silent, but she did not
tremble. He went on:
"I have hesitated because I do not know that I have a right to speak or
explain to--to--a good woman."
He felt her arm tighten on his and he continued:
"You have been to Elspeth's cabin; it is an evil place, and has meant
evil for this community, and for me. Elspeth was my mother's favorite
servant and my own mammy. My mother died when I was ten and left me to
her tender mercies. She let me have my way and encouraged the bad in me.
It's a wonder I escaped total ruin. Her cabin became a rendezvous for
drinking and carousing. I told my father, but he, in lazy indifference,
declared the place no worse than all Negro cabins, and did nothing.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220