The Marrow of Tradition Page 26

  XXVI

  THE DISCOMFORT OF ELLIS

  Mr. Ellis was vaguely uncomfortable. In the first excitement followingthe discovery of the crime, he had given his bit of evidence, and hadshared the universal indignation against the murderer. When publicfeeling took definite shape in the intention to lynch the prisoner,Ellis felt a sudden sense of responsibility growing upon himself. Whenhe learned, an hour later, that it was proposed to burn the negro, hispart in the affair assumed a still graver aspect; for his had been thefinal word to fix the prisoner's guilt.

  Ellis did not believe in lynch law. He had argued against it, more thanonce, in private conversation, and had written several editorialsagainst the practice, while in charge of the Morning Chronicle duringMajor Carteret's absence. A young man, however, and merely representinganother, he had not set up as a reformer, taking rather the view thatthis summary method of punishing crime, with all its possibilities oferror, to say nothing of the resulting disrespect of the law andcontempt for the time-honored methods of establishing guilt, was a meretemporary symptom of the unrest caused by the unsettled relations of thetwo races at the South. There had never before been any special need forany vigorous opposition to lynch law, so far as the community wasconcerned, for there had not been a lynching in Wellington since Ellishad come there, eight years before, from a smaller town, to seek a placefor himself in the world of action. Twenty years before, indeed, therehad been wild doings, during the brief Ku-Klux outbreak, but that wasbefore Ellis's time,--or at least when he was but a child. He had comeof a Quaker family,--the modified Quakers of the South,--and whilesharing in a general way the Southern prejudice against the negro, hisprejudices had been tempered by the peaceful tenets of his father'ssect. His father had been a Whig, and a non-slaveholder; and while hehad gone with the South in the civil war so far as a man of peace couldgo, he had not done so for love of slavery.

  As the day wore on, Ellis's personal responsibility for the intended_auto-da-fe_ bore more heavily upon him. Suppose he had been wrong? Hehad seen the accused negro; he had recognized him by his clothes, hiswhiskers, his spectacles, and his walk; but he had also seen anotherman, who resembled Sandy so closely that but for the difference in theirclothes, he was forced to acknowledge, he could not have told themapart. Had he not seen the first man, he would have sworn with evengreater confidence that the second was Sandy. There had been, herecalled, about one of the men--he had not been then nor was he now ableto tell which--something vaguely familiar, and yet seemingly discordantto whichever of the two it was, or, as it seemed to him now, to any manof that race. His mind reverted to the place where he had last seenSandy, and then a sudden wave of illumination swept over him, and filledhim with a thrill of horror. The cakewalk,--the dancing,--thespeech,--they were not Sandy's at all, nor any negro's! It was a whiteman who had stood in the light of the street lamp, so that the casualpasser-by might see and recognize in him old Mr. Delamere's servant. Thescheme was a dastardly one, and worthy of a heart that was somethingworse than weak and vicious.

  Ellis resolved that the negro should not, if he could prevent it, diefor another's crime; but what proof had he himself to offer in supportof his theory? Then again, if he denounced Tom Delamere as the murderer,it would involve, in all probability, the destruction of his own hopeswith regard to Clara. Of course she could not marry Delamere after thedisclosure,--the disgraceful episode at the club would have been enoughto make that reasonably certain; it had put a nail in Delamere's coffin,but this crime had driven it in to the head and clinched it. On theother hand, would Miss Pemberton ever speak again to the man who hadbeen the instrument of bringing disgrace upon the family? Spies,detectives, police officers, may be useful citizens, but they are rarelypleasant company for other people. We fee the executioner, but we do nottouch his bloody hand. We might feel a certain tragic admiration forBrutus condemning his sons to death, but we would scarcely invite Brutusto dinner after the event. It would harrow our feelings too much.

  Perhaps, thought Ellis, there might be a way out of the dilemma. Itmight be possible to save this innocent negro without, for the timebeing, involving Delamere. He believed that murder will out, but it neednot be through his initiative. He determined to go to the jail andinterview the prisoner, who might give such an account of himself aswould establish his innocence beyond a doubt. If so, Ellis would exerthimself to stem the tide of popular fury. If, as a last resort, hecould save Sandy only by denouncing Delamere, he would do his duty, letit cost him what it might.

  The gravity of his errand was not lessened by what he saw and heard onthe way to the jail. The anger of the people was at a white heat. Awhite woman had been assaulted and murdered by a brutal negro. Neitheradvanced age, nor high social standing, had been able to protect herfrom the ferocity of a black savage. Her sex, which should have been hershield and buckler, had made her an easy mark for the villainy of ablack brute. To take the time to try him would be a criminal waste ofpublic money. To hang him would be too slight a punishment for sodastardly a crime. An example must be made.

  Already the preparations were under way for the impending execution. AT-rail from the railroad yard had been procured, and men were burying itin the square before the jail. Others were bringing chains, and a loadof pine wood was piled in convenient proximity. Some enterprisingindividual had begun the erection of seats from which, for a pecuniaryconsideration, the spectacle might be the more easily and comfortablyviewed.

  Ellis was stopped once or twice by persons of his acquaintance. From onehe learned that the railroads would run excursions from the neighboringtowns in order to bring spectators to the scene; from another that theburning was to take place early in the evening, so that the childrenmight not be kept up beyond their usual bedtime. In one group that hepassed he heard several young men discussing the question of whichportions of the negro's body they would prefer for souvenirs. Ellisshuddered and hastened forward. Whatever was to be done must be donequickly, or it would be too late. He saw that already it would require astrong case in favor of the accused to overcome the popular verdict.

  Going up the steps of the jail, he met Mr. Delamere, who was just comingout, after a fruitless interview with Sandy.

  "Mr. Ellis," said the old gentleman, who seemed greatly agitated, "thisis monstrous!"

  "It is indeed, sir!" returned the younger man. "I mean to stop it if Ican. The negro did not kill Mrs. Ochiltree."

  Mr. Delamere looked at Ellis keenly, and, as Ellis recalled afterwards,there was death in his eyes. Unable to draw a syllable from Sandy, hehad found his servant's silence more eloquent than words. Ellis felt apresentiment that this affair, however it might terminate, would befatal to this fine old man, whom the city could ill spare, in spite ofhis age and infirmities.

  "Mr. Ellis," asked Mr. Delamere, in a voice which trembled withill-suppressed emotion, "do you know who killed her?"

  Ellis felt a surging pity for his old friend; but every step that he hadtaken toward the jail had confirmed and strengthened his own resolutionthat this contemplated crime, which he dimly felt to be far moreatrocious than that of which Sandy was accused, in that it involved awhole community rather than one vicious man, should be stopped at anycost. Deplorable enough had the negro been guilty, it became, in view ofhis certain innocence, an unspeakable horror, which for all time wouldcover the city with infamy. "Mr. Delamere," he replied, looking theelder man squarely in the eyes, "I think I do,--and I am very sorry."

  "And who was it, Mr. Ellis?"

  He put the question hopelessly, as though the answer were a foregoneconclusion.

  "I do not wish to say at present," replied Ellis, with a remorsefulpang, "unless it becomes absolutely necessary, to save the negro's life.Accusations are dangerous,--as this case proves,--unless the proof, becertain."

  For a moment it seemed as though Mr. Delamere would collapse upon thespot. Rallying almost instantly, however, he took the arm which Ellisinvoluntarily offered, and said with an effort:--

  "Mr. Ellis, you
are a gentleman whom it is an honor to know. If you havetime, I wish you would go with me to my house,--I can hardly trustmyself alone,--and thence to the Chronicle office. This thing shall bestopped, and you will help me stop it."

  It required but a few minutes to cover the half mile that lay betweenthe prison and Mr. Delamere's residence.