toward the little house, and then the wind from the river blew in her face and she fancied some one called her by name.
No, she would not go back. His love lifted her above her home, above her doubting self, on, up to the clouds, the moon, to paradise. Love was an immense power that hewed its way through the routine of life. It was eternal, from the creation of the world.
The way was very dark to the grove, but overhead were the stars, and if for a moment she felt fear, she stopped peering through the trees to look to them for reassurance. There is no starlight so beautiful as that of the southern sky where the heavenly bodies are not cold, sparkling pinpricks, as in the North, but luminous globes that breathe a soft radiance to the warm earth. They are companions, and the slave who followed the North Star through the swamp and bed of the black stream must have felt warmed and comforted by its near and tremulous light, only later to see it grow distant and cold. So Hertha looked to the stars for light and courage and with pounding heart at length reached her trysting-place.
He had not come. It was the hour, she felt sure, for she had set her watch by the clock in the living-room of the great house. He had never been late in the morning. Perhaps Miss Patty had detained him, or his father; sometimes they sat up for a long time, though, she thought, never so late as this. But he must soon arrive when she would no longer be alone, but safe from fear with him.
Waiting, she cheered her heart recalling the many pretty things that he had said to her. Whether, knowing her station as a servant, he realized that she was happy to be wholly lifted from it, or whether he believed her really to be above any other woman, he never failed to call her by some new and lovely name. Yesterday she had been the good fairy who brought him her best gift in her outstretched hands. Though it was chill, she threw off her dark coat and in her white dress ran for a minute out beyond the cypress into the grove. She longed to dance, to sing, to call him to her in the stillness of the night. Moving a little among the trees and peering down the long vista of straight trunks and arching branches, within her heart she pleaded with him to hurry, not to let her stay here alone. But no figure came to meet her, only a firefly twinkled in the distance, and above her head a mockingbird gave a sleepy chirp. The earth was asleep, breathing deep, fragrant breaths, wrapped in the soft air of night. She only was alert, listening, a vivid spirit of wakefulness in the deserted grove.
Returning to the gloom of the cypress she put on her coat and waited, slow-ticking minute following slow-ticking minute, until the young moon set and the chill wind made her shiver and crouch in terror and loneliness and miserable shame.
The night that had been so still as she crept back was full of evil noises. The sand crackled under her feet, and the twigs upon which she stepped gave a quick, explosive sound. Sometimes she imagined she heard people coming toward her and left the path for the trees, to wait in trembling terror until the fancied tread had died away. In one of these man[oe]uvers she lost her bearing and stood for many minutes close to the path, not recognizing it, terrified to go or to remain. And when at length she found her way again and walked ahead, her little mouth and childish chin working in a paroxysm of fright, a screech owl called and made her almost scream with terror. Then she pulled herself together. She and Tom had often listened to the owls and he had mimicked them. The thought of him gave her courage and she went on, trembling and determined, until the end of the path was reached and she could look upon the open yard and home.
Then she did hear people coming. Off to the right were voices, a girl's loud, coarse laughter and a man's rough tones. She crouched down that her white dress might not show among the trees. The figures came into sight, Maranthy, with old Jim, an ill-natured, ugly fellow, known to neglect his wife and children. The two walked boldly over the white sand, and as Hertha watched them the man caught the girl and hugged her hard. She laughed and swore, pushing him away, and then, with an animal-like motion, sidled up to him. Together they moved across the yard, his arm tight about her waist, while she, lolling on his shoulder and calling on Christ and God to damn him, gave him a smacking kiss upon the mouth.
The room was reached at last. Hertha tore off her clothes, slipped into her nightdress, and lay, a little huddled mass of shame and woe, upon her bed. Her feet and hands were icy cold, her teeth were chattering, but her brain was on fire. Pride and shame took equal possession of her spirit. She had risked everything, she had been ready to give everything, only to find herself despised. Ellen was right, her place belonged with her own race. She was black, and she must never again trust the white race that felt for her only an amused tolerance or scorn. She was black, and hers was the black man's table, the black man's home, the black man's burial-place. Never again would she think to enter the white man's world.
And the beauty of her love was wholly gone. The courage with which her lover had armed her had disappeared, and her affection, that had seemed to her something pure and delicate, almost holy, became a common lust that this man had awakened and then, disgusted at his choice of anything so cheap, had cast aside. Nothing was left to her of the glory and gladness of the morning.
But while shame and hurt pride swept over her, there came in their wake an inexpressible relief. She was safe from harm. She was not like Marantha but just Hertha Williams who had slipped out of her room to see the stars and then slipped back again. She was safe here, in Tom's room, at home.
Kneeling beside her bed she prayed for strength, strength to be good though she was young and pretty and colored. She could not see ahead, probably it would be wise to go away somewhere, she wished it might be near Tom—it was hard to be alone; but she must never again trust the white man's world.
Back in her bed terror crept over her once more and she shook with fear; but at length, in sheer exhaustion, she lay quiet, and when the first morning light entered the room it found her asleep.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
