36.1-CHAPTER XXXVI Emmeline and Cassy part1-mt

CHAPTER XXXVI

Emmeline and Cassy part1

Cassy entered theroom, and found Emmeline sitting, pale with fear, in the furthest corner of it.As she came in, the girl started up nervously; but, on seeing who it was,rushed forward, and catching her arm, said, "O Cassy, is it you? I'm soglad you've come! I was afraid it was—. O, you don't know what a horrid noise there has been,down stairs, all this evening!"

"I ought toknow," said Cassy, dryly. "I've heard it often enough."

"O Cassy! dotell me,—couldn'twe get away from this place? I don't care where,—intothe swamp among the snakes,—anywhere! Couldn't weget somewhere away from here?"

"Nowhere, butinto our graves," said Cassy.

"Did you evertry?"

"I've seenenough of trying and what comes of it," said Cassy.

"I'd bewilling to live in the swamps, and gnaw the bark from trees. I an't afraid ofsnakes! I'd rather have one near me than him," said Emmeline, eagerly.

"There havebeen a good many here of your opinion," said Cassy; "but you couldn'tstay in the swamps,—you'dbe tracked by the dogs, and brought back, and then—then—"

"What would hedo?" said the girl, looking, with breathless interest, into her face.

"What wouldn't hedo, you'd better ask," said Cassy. "He's learned his trade well,among the pirates in the West Indies. You wouldn't sleep much, if I should tellyou things I've seen,—thingsthat he tells of, sometimes, for good jokes. I've heard screams here that Ihaven't been able to get out of my head for weeks and weeks. There's a placeway out down by the quarters, where you can see a black, blasted tree, and theground all covered with black ashes. Ask anyone what was done there, and see ifthey will dare to tell you."

"O! what doyou mean?"

"I won't tellyou. I hate to think of it. And I tell you, the Lord only knows what we may seetomorrow, if that poor fellow holds out as he's begun."

"Horrid!"said Emmeline, every drop of blood receding from her cheeks. "O, Cassy, dotell me what I shall do!"

"What I'vedone. Do the best you can,—do what you must,—and make it up in hatingand cursing."

"He wanted tomake me drink some of his hateful brandy," said Emmeline; "and I hateit so—"

"You'd betterdrink," said Cassy. "I hated it, too; and now I can't live withoutit. One must have something;—things don't look so dreadful, when you take that."

"Mother usedto tell me never to touch any such thing," said Emmeline.

"Mother toldyou!" said Cassy, with a thrilling and bitter emphasis on the word mother."What use is it for mothers to say anything? You are all to be bought andpaid for, and your souls belong to whoever gets you. That's the way it goes. Isay, drink brandy; drink all you can, and it'll make thingscome easier."

"O, Cassy! dopity me!"

"Pity you!—don't I? Haven't I adaughter,—Lord knows where she is, and whose she is,now,—going the way her mother went, before her, Isuppose, and that her children must go, after her! There's no end to the curse—forever!"

"I wish I'dnever been born!" said Emmeline, wringing her hands.

"That's an oldwish with me," said Cassy. "I've got used to wishing that. I'd die,if I dared to," she said, looking out into the darkness, with that still,fixed despair which was the habitual expression of her face when at rest.

"It would bewicked to kill one's self," said Emmeline.

"I don't knowwhy,—nowickeder than things we live and do, day after day. But the sisters told methings, when I was in the convent, that make me afraid to die. If it would onlybe the end of us, why, then—"

Emmeline turnedaway, and hid her face in her hands.

While thisconversation was passing in the chamber, Legree, overcome with his carouse, hadsunk to sleep in the room below. Legree was not an habitual drunkard. Hiscoarse, strong nature craved, and could endure, a continual stimulation, thatwould have utterly wrecked and crazed a finer one. But a deep, underlyingspirit of cautiousness prevented his often yielding to appetite in such measureas to lose control of himself.

This night,however, in his feverish efforts to banish from his mind those fearful elementsof woe and remorse which woke within him, he had indulged more than common; sothat, when he had discharged his sable attendants, he fell heavily on a settlein the room, and was sound asleep.

O! how dares thebad soul to enter the shadowy world of sleep?—that land whose dim outlines lie sofearfully near to the mystic scene of retribution! Legree dreamed. In his heavyand feverish sleep, a veiled form stood beside him, and laid a cold, soft handupon him. He thought he knew who it was; and shuddered, with creeping horror,though the face was veiled. Then he thought he felt that hair twininground his fingers; and then, that it slid smoothly round his neck, andtightened and tightened, and he could not draw his breath; and then he thoughtvoices whispered to him,—whispers thatchilled him with horror. Then it seemed to him he was on the edge of afrightful abyss, holding on and struggling in mortal fear, while dark handsstretched up, and were pulling him over; and Cassy came behind him laughing,and pushed him. And then rose up that solemn veiled figure, and drew aside theveil. It was his mother; and she turned away from him, and he fell down, down,down, amid a confused noise of shrieks, and groans, and shouts of demonlaughter,—and Legree awoke.

Calmly the rosy hueof dawn was stealing into the room. The morning star stood, with its solemn,holy eye of light, looking down on the man of sin, from out the brighteningsky. O, with what freshness, what solemnity and beauty, is each new day born;as if to say to insensate man, "Behold! thou hast one more chance! Strive forimmortal glory!" There is no speech nor language where this voice is notheard; but the bold, bad man heard it not. He woke with an oath and a curse.What to him was the gold and purple, the daily miracle of morning! What to himthe sanctity of the star which the Son of God has hallowed as his own emblem?Brute-like, he saw without perceiving; and, stumbling forward, poured out atumbler of brandy, and drank half of it.

"I've had a h—l of a night!" hesaid to Cassy, who just then entered from an opposite door.

"You'll getplenty of the same sort, by and by," said she, dryly.

"What do youmean, you minx?"

"You'll findout, one of these days," returned Cassy, in the same tone. "NowSimon, I've one piece of advice to give you."

"The devil,you have!"

"My adviceis," said Cassy, steadily, as she began adjusting some things about theroom, "that you let Tom alone."

"What businessis 't of yours?"

"What? To besure, I don't know what it should be. If you want to pay twelve hundred for afellow, and use him right up in the press of the season, just to serve your ownspite, it's no business of mine, I've done what I could for him."

"You have?What business have you meddling in my matters?"

"None, to besure. I've saved you some thousands of dollars, at different times, by takingcare of your hands,—that'sall the thanks I get. If your crop comes shorter into market than any of theirs,you won't lose your bet, I suppose? Tompkins won't lord it over you, I suppose,—and you'll pay down your money like a lady, won't you? I think I seeyou doing it!"

Legree, like manyother planters, had but one form of ambition,—to have in the heaviest crop of theseason,—and he had several bets on this very presentseason pending in the next town. Cassy, therefore, with woman's tact, touchedthe only string that could be made to vibrate.

"Well, I'lllet him off at what he's got," said Legree; "but he shall beg mypardon, and promise better fashions."

"That he won'tdo," said Cassy.

"Won't,—eh?"

"No, hewon't," said Cassy.

"I'd like toknow why , Mistress," said Legree, in the extreme ofscorn.

"Because he'sdone right, and he knows it, and won't say he's done wrong."

"Who a cusscares what he knows? The nigger shall say what I please, or—"

"Or, you'lllose your bet on the cotton crop, by keeping him out of the field, just at thisvery press."

"But he will giveup,—course,he will; don't I know what niggers is? He'll beg like a dog, thismorning."

"He won't,Simon; you don't know this kind. You may kill him by inches,—you won't get thefirst word of confession out of him."

"We'll see,—where is he?"said Legree, going out.

"In thewaste-room of the gin-house," said Cassy.

Legree, though hetalked so stoutly to Cassy, still sallied forth from the house with a degree ofmisgiving which was not common with him. His dreams of the past night, mingledwith Cassy's prudential suggestions, considerably affected his mind. Heresolved that nobody should be witness of his encounter with Tom; anddetermined, if he could not subdue him by bullying, to defer his vengeance, tobe wreaked in a more convenient season.