The Man in Gray: A Romance of North and South Part 35

She fought hard to control her tears. The little girls began to sob. She rushed to the trundle bed and soothed them.

"Keep still, babies. They won't hurt you. Keep still!"

The children choked into silence and she leaped toward Brown and tried to seize his hand. He repulsed her and she went on frantically.

"Please, for G.o.d's sake, man, have mercy on a wife and mother, if you ain't got no pity in your heart for my men! Surely you have women home. Their hearts can break like mine. My man's only been talkin' as politicians talk. It was nothing. Surely it's no crime."

Brown drew a notebook from his pocket and held it up.

"I have the record in this book of your husband's words against the men of our party, Madame. He stands convicted of murder in his heart. His sons are not of age. Their opinions are his."

For a moment the mother forgot her pleading and shrieked her defiance into the stern face before her.

"And who made you a judge o' life and death for my man and my sons? I bore these boys of the pains of my body. G.o.d gave them to me. They are mine, not yours!"

Brown brushed her aside.

"That's enough from you. Those men are my prisoners. Bring them on!"

He moved toward the door and the guards with drawn swords closed in on the group.

The mother leaped forward and barred the way to the door. She faced Brown with blanched face. Her breath came in short gasps. She fought desperately for control of her voice, failed to make a sound, staggered to the old man, grasped blindly his body and sank to her knees at his feet.

At last she managed to gasp:

"Just one of my boys--then--my baby boy! He's a big boy--but look at his smooth face--he ain't but fourteen years old. Hit don't seem but yistiday that he wuz just a laughin' baby in my arms! And I've always been that proud of him. He's smart. He's always been smart--and G.o.d forgive me--I've loved him better'n all the others--hit--wuzn't--right-- fer--a--mother--to--love one of her--children--more--than--the--others-- but I couldn't help it! If ye'll just spare him--hit's all I'll ask ye now"--her voice sank into a sob as her face touched the floor.

The dark figure above her did not move and she lifted her head with desperate courage.

"I'll be all alone here--a broken-hearted woman with two little gals and n.o.body to help me--or work fer me--ef you'll just spare my baby boy--"

She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around the youngest boy's neck.

"Oh, my baby, my baby, I can't let ye go--I can't--I can't!"

She lifted her tear-streaming eyes to the dark face again.

"Please, please, for the love of G.o.d--you--say--you--believe--in--G.o.d--leave me this one!"

Brown moved his head in a moment's uncertainty. He turned to Owen.

"Leave him and come on with the others."

With a desperate cry, the mother closed her eyes and clung to the boy.

She dared not lift them in prayer for the others as they pa.s.sed out into the night.

The armed men had seized her husband and her two older sons, William and Drury, and hustled them through the door. The mother drew the boy back on the trundle bed and held him in her arms. The little girls crouched close and began to sob.

"Hush--don't make a noise. They won't hurt you. I want to hear what they do--maybe--"

The mother stopped short, fascinated by the horror of the tragedy she knew would take place outside her door. The darkness gave no token of its progress. A cricket was chirping in the chimney just awakened by the noise.

She held her breath and listened. Not a sound. The silence was unbearable. She sprang to her feet in a moment's fierce rebellion against the crime of such an infamous attack. A roused lioness, she leaped to the mantel to seize the shotgun.

John followed and caught her.

"The gun's gone, Ma," he cried.

"Yes, yes, I forgot," she gasped. "They took it, the d.a.m.ned fiends!"

"Ma, Ma, be still!" the boy pleaded. He was horror-stricken at the oath from her lips. In all his life he had never heard her use a vulgar word.

"Yes, of course," she faltered. "I mustn't try to do anything. They might come back and kill you--my baby boy!"

She pressed him again to her heart and held him. She strained her ears for the first signal of the deed the darkness shrouded.

The huntsmen dragged the father and two sons but a hundred and fifty yards from the door and halted beside the road. Brown faced the father in the dim starlight.

"You are a Southern white man?"

"I am, sir."

"You are pro-Slavery?"

"I hate the sight and sound of a slave."

"But you believe in the inst.i.tution?"

"I hate it, I tell you."

Brown paused as if his brain had received a shock. The answer had been utterly unexpected. The man was in earnest. He meant what he said. And he was conscious of the solemnity of the trial on which his life hung.

Brown came back to his cross examination, determined to convict him on the grounds he had fixed beforehand.

"What do you mean when you say that you hate the inst.i.tution of Slavery?"

"Exactly what I say."

"You do not believe in owning slaves?"

"I do not."

"Did you ever own one?"

"No!"

"And you never expect to own one?"