The Marrow of Tradition Read online

  XXIII

  BELLEVIEW

  Miller did not reach his destination without interruption. At one pointa considerable stretch of the road was under repair, which made itnecessary for him to travel slowly. His horse cast a shoe, andthreatened to go lame; but in the course of time he arrived at theentrance gate of Belleview, entering which he struck into a privateroad, bordered by massive oaks, whose multitudinous branches, hung withlong streamers of trailing moss, formed for much of the way a thickcanopy above his head. It took him only a few minutes to traverse thequarter of a mile that lay between the entrance gate and the houseitself.

  This old colonial plantation, rich in legendary lore and replete withhistoric distinction, had been in the Delamere family for nearly twohundred years. Along the bank of the river which skirted its domain thefamous pirate Blackbeard had held high carnival, and was reputed to haveburied much treasure, vague traditions of which still lingered among thenegroes and poor-whites of the country roundabout. The beautifulresidence, rising white and stately in a grove of ancient oaks, datedfrom 1750, and was built of brick which had been brought from England.Enlarged and improved from generation to generation, it stood, like abaronial castle, upon a slight eminence from which could be surveyedthe large demesne still belonging to the estate, which had shrunkgreatly from its colonial dimensions. While still embracing severalthousand acres, part forest and part cleared land, it had not of lateyears been profitable; in spite of which Mr. Delamere, with theconservatism of his age and caste, had never been able to make up hismind to part with any considerable portion of it. His grandson, heimagined, could make the estate pay and yet preserve it in itsintegrity. Here, in pleasant weather, surrounded by the scenes which heloved, old Mr. Delamere spent much of the time during his decliningyears.

  Dr. Miller had once passed a day at Belleview, upon Mr. Delamere'sinvitation. For this old-fashioned gentleman, whose ideals not evenslavery had been able to spoil, regarded himself as a trustee for thegreat public, which ought, in his opinion, to take as much pride as hein the contemplation of this historic landmark. In earlier years Mr.Delamere had been a practicing lawyer, and had numbered Miller's fatheramong his clients. He had always been regarded as friendly to thecolored people, and, until age and ill health had driven him from activelife, had taken a lively interest in their advancement since theabolition of slavery. Upon the public opening of Miller's new hospital,he had made an effort to be present, and had made a little speech ofapproval and encouragement which had manifested his kindliness and givenMiller much pleasure.

  It was with the consciousness, therefore, that he was approaching afriend, as well as Sandy's master, that Miller's mind was chieflyoccupied as his tired horse, scenting the end of his efforts, bore himwith a final burst of speed along the last few rods of the journey; forthe urgency of Miller's errand, involving as it did the issues of lifeand death, did not permit him to enjoy the charm of mossy oak or forestreaches, or even to appreciate the noble front of Belleview House whenit at last loomed up before him.

  "Well, William," said Mr. Delamere, as he gave his hand to Miller fromthe armchair in which he was seated under the broad and stately portico,"I didn't expect to see you out here. You'll excuse my notrising,--I'm none too firm on my legs. Did you see anything of my manSandy back there on the road? He ought to have been here by nineo'clock, and it's now one. Sandy is punctuality itself, and I don't knowhow to account for his delay."

  Clearly there need be no time wasted in preliminaries. Mr. Delamere hadgone directly to the subject in hand.

  "He will not be here to-day, sir," replied Miller. "I have come to youon his account."

  In a few words Miller stated the situation.

  "Preposterous!" exclaimed the old gentleman, with more vigor than Millerhad supposed him to possess. "Sandy is absolutely incapable of such acrime as robbery, to say nothing of murder; and as for the rest, that isabsurd upon the face of it! And so the poor old woman is dead! Well,well, well! she could not have lived much longer anyway; but Sandy didnot kill her,--it's simply impossible! Why, _I_ raised that boy! He wasborn on my place. I'd as soon believe such a thing of my own grandsonas of Sandy! No negro raised by a Delamere would ever commit such acrime. I really believe, William, that Sandy has the family honor of theDelameres quite as much at heart as I have. Just tell them I say Sandyis innocent, and it will be all right."

  "I'm afraid, sir," rejoined Miller, who kept his voice up so that theold gentleman could understand without having it suggested that Millerknew he was hard of hearing, "that you don't quite appreciate thesituation. _I_ believe Sandy innocent; _you_ believe him innocent; butthere are suspicious circumstances which do not explain themselves, andthe white people of the city believe him guilty, and are going to lynchhim before he has a chance to clear himself."

  "Why doesn't he explain the suspicious circumstances?" asked Mr.Delamere. "Sandy is truthful and can be believed. I would take Sandy'sword as quickly as another man's oath."

  "He has no chance to explain," said Miller. "The case is prejudged. Acrime has been committed. Sandy is charged with it. He is black, andtherefore he is guilty. No colored lawyer would be allowed in the jail,if one should dare to go there. No white lawyer will intervene. He'llbe lynched to-night, without judge, jury, or preacher, unless we canstave the thing off for a day or two."

  "Have you seen my grandson?" asked the old gentleman. "Is he not lookingafter Sandy?"

  "No, sir. It seems he went down the river this morning to fish, beforethe murder was discovered; no one knows just where he has gone, or atwhat hour he will return."

  "Well, then," said Mr. Delamere, rising from his chair with surprisingvigor, "I shall have to go myself. No faithful servant of mine shall behanged for a crime he didn't commit, so long as I have a voice tospeak or a dollar to spend. There'll be no trouble after I get there,William. The people are naturally wrought up at such a crime. A fine oldwoman,--she had some detestable traits, and I was always afraid shewanted to marry me, but she was of an excellent family and had many goodpoints,--an old woman of one of the best families, struck down by thehand of a murderer! You must remember, William, that blood is thickerthan water, and that the provocation is extreme, and that a few hotheadsmight easily lose sight of the great principles involved and seekimmediate vengeance, without too much discrimination. But they are goodpeople, William, and when I have spoken, and they have an opportunityfor the sober second thought, they will do nothing rashly, but will waitfor the operation of the law, which will, of course, clear Sandy."

  "I'm sure I hope so," returned Miller. "Shall I try to drive you back,sir, or will you order your own carriage?"

  "My horses are fresher, William, and I'll have them brought around. Youcan take the reins, if you will,--I'm rather old to drive,--and my manwill come behind with your buggy."

  In a few minutes they set out along the sandy road. Having two freshhorses, they made better headway than Miller had made coming out, andreached Wellington easily by three o'clock.

  "I think, William," said Mr. Delamere, as they drove into the town,"that I had first better talk with Sandy. He may be able to explain awaythe things that seem to connect him with this atrocious affair; and thatwill put me in a better position to talk to other people about it."

  Miller drove directly to the county jail. Thirty or forty white men, whoseemed to be casually gathered near the door, closed up when thecarriage approached. The sheriff, who had seen them from the inside,came to the outer door and spoke to the visitor through a grated wicket.

  "Mr. Wemyss," said Mr. Delamere, when he had made his way to theentrance with the aid of his cane, "I wish to see my servant, SandyCampbell, who is said to be in your custody."

  The sheriff hesitated. Meantime there was some parleying in low tonesamong the crowd outside. No one interfered, however, and in a moment thedoor opened sufficiently to give entrance to the old gentleman, afterwhich it closed quickly and clangorously behind him.

  Feeling no desire to linger in the locali
ty, Miller, having seen hiscompanion enter the jail, drove the carriage round to Mr. Delamere'shouse, and leaving it in charge of a servant with instructions to returnfor his master in a quarter of an hour, hastened to his own home to meetWatson and Josh and report the result of his efforts.