{$$} \J LJ f\ vl JlL ,G* w) AMERICAN m ISTORICAL L40YELS ' 4 *. ' * *3«/" k I \ta» ^k«4 jL»J If A'J^flJUrt* iJC'i.X« IP wmmwjM m*HUIBERT* V AM An extraordinary lim from the rise of t Southern Reconsti i. HOT PLOWS ''That period of out preceding the civil war, ing and struggling ben< grew hotter and thinn Hot Plowshares as a subtle, vigorous analys: 2.1 FIGS anth, $1.50. ign courts or s. They are t and prairie n. : including i Slave. ~\ rom the per- Itivator ana \e Invisible •I, with its e close of the construction, nd interest— /er of pictur- , curiously blended with an intensely realistic view | esque and pathetic aesenpxion.-=zv. Y. Tribune. 5. BRICKS without STRAW. 522 pp. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. [The Bondage of the Freedman.~\ "The characters are real creations ofronrance, "Scarcely anything in fiction so powerful has who will live alongside of Mrs. Stowe's or Walter been written, from a nlerely literary stand-point, Scott's till the times that gave them birth have as these books L'A Fool's Errand ' and * Bricks been forgotten." — Advance, Chicago. without Straw']." — Springfield Republican. N. B.— The above in Uniform Illustrated Edition ; per vol., $1.50 ; the set in a box, $7.50. 6. JOHN EAX. 300pp. Cloth, $1.00. [The New South.'] "Displays, more than any of his previous works, I " Of absorbing interest to those satiated with his power of humor and of graphic description of the artificial atmosphere of the modern society men, scenes and events." — Christian Herald. | novel."— Boston Traveller. AN APPEAL TO CjESAI?. 422 pp. With Vignettes and Diagrams. $1.25. [Illiteracy, and National Aid to Education in the South]. "A singular title and a most extraordinary book. ... It is irresistibly readable." — Magazine 0/ American History. " The author of a ' Fool's Errand' speaks with authority upon the subject which, as he prqved in that deservedly popular work, few men have studied more carefully, and on the whole so can- didly, which no other writer, we believe, has treated from the same standpoint, or with equal advantage. — Saturday Review (London, Eng.V " This question grows in importance every day and will continue to grow in importance until Prov- idence, coming to the aid of the politicians, shall point out the solution. " —Atlanta Constitution. FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT, Publishers, 27 Park Place, New York. The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022200632 THE TARTING. A Royal G OYAL VJENTLEMAN [Originally Entitled "Toinette."] A NOVEL, Albion W. Tourgee. Author of "A Fool's Errand," Etc. NEW TOBK : FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT. 1884. .£\76>KS2f COPYRIGHT, 1874, by J. B. Ford & Co., 881, by Albion W. Tourgee, 411 Rights Reserved. YVIHJKh Vl.MH Yj'iAJi ; 1 1 < £ / 'J //* \ A. V PREFACE. THIS tale was written in 1868-9, amid the scenes and shortly after some of the veritable incidents which it describes. It was originally published in 1874, under the title of "Toinette," the name of the principal female character, although not the pivotal person on whom the whole action of the drama turns. The book was written because its incidents, in effect, had passed before my eyes with such vividness that I could not but write. At that time (1868-9) I had no idea of publishing. The simple delight of portraying what I observed was my only motive. In the summer of 1865, before the battle-smoke had well cleared away, I settled near Greensborough, N. C, in the hope that a milder climate might aid me to prolong a life somewhat shattered by the shocks of war. My idea of Southern life was mainly derived from the literature of the era before the war. It is true that service in the army had somewhat modified it, but in the main I venture to say that it was a fair reflex of the idea and sentiment of the intelligent Northern man of my age at that period. After I went South, the con- trast between these pre-notions and what I saw of the life around me, and the fresh relics of the life which had just passed away, impressed me keenly, and soon became a subject of engrossing interest. I saw, or thought I saw, that the conscious evils of slavery — the cruel lash, the impossible task, and what- iy A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. ever of opportunity for malice the system gave rise to — .bad been, if not magnified, at least disproportionately ■dwelt upon by the anti-slavery writers of the North. At the same time, as I conceived, the unconscious evils of the system — those which warped the brain and heart of the master as well as dwarfed the soul of the slave — had been allowed to drop out of sight in the heat of par- tisan advocacy. I noticed, too, that these unconscious evils were the very ones which had left their marks upon character, and that every one who had been sub- mitted to their influences was more or less scarred by them — especially the master race ; and that these in- fluences were a part of slavery which could not be "abolished." It was beyond the power of Military Proclamation, Constitutional Amendment, or legal enact- ment — immortal as the essence on which its impress was inscribed. I found, too, that the non-slaveholding whites of the South had been unfairly massed, and represented to the Northern mind by the terms " poor white," "mean white," and "white trash;" while in fact they ranged from this type up through the better class of "crop- pers" — the metayers of the South — to the small farmers and even considerable land-owners, who depended on their own labor and that of free-born " hirelings" for the cultivation of their crops. Impressed by these and other differences, I wrote, setting down naught in anger, nor contriving aught of malice against any man or sys- tem — and not, indeed, for the public eye, but for my own pleasure merely. The manuscript knocked about my library— a fragment of it now and then being read for the entertainment of some friend — until 1874, when one whose name is itself an authority urged its publication. The story is the delineation of a romantic sentiment, having its root in slavery, but its flower and fruitage in Preface. t freedom, and concerns itself with Slavery only in order to mark the growth of character under that influence, and show the natural and necessary sequence by which later developments arose. It carefully traces only those un- conscious influences which shape and mold mental and moral qualities, and through which Slavery still lives and dominates. Since the first publication of this book the impulse to go further, and to include more broadly — both in num- ber and in representative character — the impressions made upon my mind by the various elements of life in our Southern States, has, very naturally, but without intention, resulted in a series of these pictures. The past quarter of a century has been a remarkable era — the meeting point of divergent systems, the arena where antagonistic civilizations struggled for mastery. Knowledge and ignorance, slavery and freedom, North- man and Southron, Caucasian and African were the opposing forces and contrasted elements. Scarcely any age or nation presents so rich a field of romantic incident as the conflict of these forces, viewed at first by the glare of battle and afterward by the fitful gleam of the embers of revolution. The relations between a subject and a dominant race are always fruitful of romance. Inequality of rank (which may be said to culminate in the relation of mas- ter and slave) is the burden of nearly all romantic fic- tion. In our Southern States, since the legal status of the two races has become identical, it is a task of extreme delicacy to trace the line of previous habit and note its continued strength. What the observer may clearly recognize it may be difficult to convey to the reader's mind, because the life of the present is engrafted on the root of the past— because Yesterday binds with fetters vJ A kdYAl GENTLEMAN. of brass To-day. Yet this very difficulty adds a kind of zest to the task, and the student of history may well pause to consider carefully these strange and strongly contrasted elements while yet they are incongruous in their new relations, and before the Old shall have grad- ually given way to the irresistible New. "A Fool's Errand" written in the summer of 1879, deals chiefly with the turbulent era of what has been called "Reconstruction," and, naturally, depicts the typical elements that were prominent in that seething caldron of politics heated by the fiery passions of caste. " 'Zouri's Christmas," which is included in the present volume, gives another view — a brighter and pleasanter one, showing the kindly feelings between the freedman's family and the former master and mistress, a case in which continuing relations of dependence, though no longer of bondage, preserve in the dominant race all the generous cordiality which they feel for the negro " in his own place." Its importance as a social study is not indicated by its brevity. In "Bricks Without Straw" some aspects of the present condition of the colored race (1880) and their relations to the whites in the great matters of Labor and Education afford still another point of view, and present still new types of character and romantic interest. No one of these pictures professes to be a complete or perfect representation of the whole era, but only of por- tions of it, and of the types selected, each picture being taken from a standpoint peculiar to itself. A new edition of the present work has been called for, and, in order that it may take its proper and permanent place in this unpremeditated "series," as setting forth the prime and simplest ele- ments of the whole system of the Southern civilization PREFACE. yii — the Master and the Slave, separated by the whole diameter of the social sphere, and yet united in a com- mon destiny by that universal human passion, love — I have revised it, eliminated some extraneous matter, restored the original plan of the work, which followed the facts in leaving the central problem unsolved, and have given it the title which its main character naturally demands — "A Royal Gentleman." For the types portrayed I claim only the utmost exact- ness in tracing the verisimilitude of nature. That they do not conform to certain conventional pre-notions may be freely admitted. If the Poor White, the Slave, the Freedman, and the Royal Gentleman are not as degraded, as astute, as apish, as brutal or as noble as we have been wont to have them pictured for us, assuredly the fault is not in the present delineator. If the unconscious influences of a former re'gime are here accounted more potent in producing the effects which we behold to-day than the more apparent and tangible horrors of slavery, it is only "because long and patient study has taught the fact. If the reader shall be surprised to find the idea intimated that the dominant race suffered greater loss from the relation of slavery than the servile one, without any of that compensating development which the latter received, the writer cannot admit himself in error, how- ever startling the proposition. If the typical Royal Gen- tleman shall apparently lack some of those regal attri- butes with which our fancy has been wont to clothe his class, the writer can only regret that the term has not been more sharply defined or the attributes of the class more clearly and justly analyzed hitherto. In examining the many press notices, letters, etc., which the original issue of the story called forth, it has been amusing to note that points of the book which at viii A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. the North are accounted defects, at the South are con- sidered excellences, and vice versa. Perhaps few things have been more sharply criticised at the North than the putting of the popular dialect into the mouth of Manuel Hunter, who is represented as an able and accomplished lawyer, and a politician of national eminence. At the South, on the other hand, the truth of this representation has been universally recognized. So life-like, indeed, is this picture, that hundreds of readers without hesitation pitched upon one who was among the most eminent and accomplished lawyers of his day and State as its original ; not from the circumstances of his life, for these did not accord, but from the close imitation of his language and manner. One of his contemporaries, writing to me, says : " I can see in every line of Manuel Hunter. He was a grand man, and you have drawn him to the life. I believe no one has ever noticed before how our old-time country lawyers affected the vernacular, or dia- lect rather. I suppose they did it to enhance their power of presenting facts to the jury." To the Northern mind this rugged, quaint, but very English dialect is the ear- mark of the " poor white," by whom it is supposed to be employed simply from ignorance; like the traditional dialect of Brother Jonathan — having a possible parallel among the most ignorant country folk, but not to be thought of in the temples of justice or the penetralia of "first families." After an experience of many years at the bar and on the bench of the South, I can honestly say that many of the finest and most eloquent appeals I have ever heard addressed to court or jury have been very largely clothed in this rough and peculiar but wonderfully strong and pungent dialect. The trouble is that the Northern man has made up a South for himself, and, without the least hesitation, critic PREFACE. i x cises any departure from the original of his own imagina- tion as untrue to life The same stricture has been made as to Betty Certain. She sometimes uses the vernacular dialect and sometimes does not. This would be unnatural at the North, where such a dialect would be considered evidence of igno- rance, of which every one is anxious to avoid the impu- tation. At the South, however, it will not do to judge any man's position, wealth, or culture by his language, the clothes he wears, or the house he lives in. A similar state of facts is true as regards Chapter XXXVII., "In His Mark." It has been severely de- nounced at the North as a piece of unnatural and im- possible cruelty of spirit. At the South it has received, perhaps, more universal commendation than any other part of the book. I quote from the letter of one of the most accomplished lawyers, descended from one of the most cultivated and influential families of North Caro- lina. He says of it : " It is one of the truest and subtlest studies of character I have ever read. I would like to know the incident on which it is founded, as it is quite beyond mere invention. I can see how it would seem despicably mean from a Yankee stand-point — and it was mean, considering all its relations ; but just think what a provocation — what an abomination — the conduct of the heroine seemed, to one raised as he had been!" Finally, I must add that this story is in "advocacy" of nothing whatever ; it is a picture of facts. Farther it does not go nor lead. Its pages were written because " I looked, and saw, and a voice said ' Write !"' They were published after many days, asking but the favor of " one moment Of the busy world's attention;" 10 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. one administration. If, however, he had received such offers, they had never been accepted by him. Though he had served one or two terms in Congress, he had come back to his old mistress, the law, with renewed diligence after each absence, like a penitent truant to his task. There seemed to be something in the intri- cate subtlety and ever-varying analogies and differences, agreements and conflicts, of the common law, which gave it an unfailing charm to his mind. Whether it was the force of long established habit, or because the rugged energy of his nature delighted in its obstacles, it would be difficult to determine. True it was, and also true that he looked to his achievements at the bar as the solid ground of whatever remembrance he might receive among the people. His political triumphs were mere incidents of his career. They were sports, though they might be the sports of a giant. "Well, Geoffy, son," he said, taking off the high- crowned hat which comported oddly enough with the jeans he wore, and removing from his mouth a masti- cated segment of the plug in his pocket, " fill the glasses. You 're young and peart. Yes, sugar. Only a drop of the whiskey, though," he added, as the liquor ap- proached the brim. "There, there — not too much. You want to make your old daddy drunk. Stop, stop, you knave ! " He took the glass, and half its contents disappeared at a draught. He was one of those who are so often termed the " old style " of men, who were not afraid of a glass of grog ; who took their whiskey " straight," and knew it; CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. — Manuel Hunter . II. — " Christmas Gift !" III. — Mabel .... IV.— From Sire to Son V. — Mortua Manus . VI. — Not in the Bond VII. — Mystery VIII. — Faithful Unto Death IX.— A " Poor Poll " X. — Apollo's Oracle XL — Nicotiniana XII. — A Dead Client XIII.— Warned XIV.—" Oh, Limed Soul ! XV.—" Things Hid From the Wise " XVI. — Out of Her Sphere. XVIL— Love's Logic XVIII. — Exceptio Probat Regulam . XIX. — Transition . XX. — Before the Wedding . XXI. — In the Clerk's Office XXIL— The Holograph Proved PAGE 7 18 3° 42 55 66 77 9 1 100 114 125 134 152 158 162 169 181 190 199 207 219 236 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXIII. — Bond Given and Costs Paid XXIV.— A Review . XXV. — Reveille . XXVI.— The Stack Rocks . XXVIL— The Executrix XXVIII.— Hagar . XXIX. — Not Vouched For . XXX. — Chrysalid XXXI. — Stricken . XXXII. — Darkness . XXXIII. — Beginning of the End XXXIV— Types XXXV.— The Hospital . XXXVI. — Unsubdued XXXVII.— In His Mark . XXXVIIL— Dispatch Boat, No. 9 XXXIX.— Light XL. — Knight Errant XLI.— The Rescue XLII. — In Her Own Right . XLIIL— As of Old . XLIV. — " Get Thee Behind Me, Satan " XLV. — Good-by, Sweetheart XLVI. — A Faithful Stewardship XLVII. — The Seal of the Sepulcher 244 249 2 55 260 277 288 310 316 321 333 342 346 359 37i 376 384 39i 402 411 418 424 435 445 45i 460 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. The Parting. (See page 444.) . . Frontispiece Old Mabel, .... To face page 31 The Two Pets, 80 Faithful Unto Death, 98 Mr. Geoffrey and Betty Certain, . . 169 Aristocrat and Poor Poll, .... 189 The Old County Clerk, 219 Susan Edwards and the Lawyer, . . 227 Washington Square, Richmond, . . . 255 The Old Rivals, 307 The Wounded Hero, 330 The Man — Abraham Lincoln, . . . 355 The Brand, 378 The Rescue, 414 A Rapturous Vision, 469 Quillar's Ford, on the Dan, . . . 481 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. CHAPTER I. MANUEL HUNTER. IT was Christmas Eve in the year of grace 1858. Manuel Hunter sat in his private room, half office and half library, connected with his spacious mansion by a covered way, latticed at the sides and overgrown with vines. The building was a substantial brick one, its front door opening on the main street of Perham, a pleasant county-town of Carolina, which lay in the midst of broad plantations and noble outlying country mansions, a rifle-shot from the banks of the Cold Spring, a sparkling tributary of the impetuous river which sweeps through the Piedmont valley. It was a rambling town of the olden time, with a history that went back into the ante-revolutionary days, when it was one of the boroughs which were honored with a delegate in the Colonial Assembly. Its wide streets were lined with ancient oaks and graceful elms, and paved with a rude flagging which was said to have been laid by the hands of British soldiers. The interior of the room had that strange blending of business and leisure, of office and library, so fre- quently met with in the den of the Southern legal prac- titioner ; for Manuel Hunter was a well - to - do lawyer, 8 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. and still the leader on the circuit where he practiced, though now well past threescore. An immense fire- place upon one side, piled full of hissing logs, spread a genial radiance over the room, which was also lighted by a tallow dip stuck into a candlestick whose shape and substance were effectually concealed by greasy laminae, resulting from the expiring agonies of an un- numbered succession of tallow dips consumed therein. A collection of red and brown clay pipes of various patterns and sizes, with their long reed stems, so famil- iar to the smoker of that section, adorned one corner of the fireplace, and several shorter editions of the same were stuck in an open cigar-box upon the mantle, in which was a goodly supply of tobacco — a thin plug of which also peeped from the capacious pocket of the owner's coat. The table was covered with a miscella- neous array of books and papers, the usual legal para- phernalia, mixed with pipes, matches, and almost anything else for which it afforded easy lodgment — a part of which ddbris had been pushed aside to make room for the large server brought by a sprightly slave- girl, and which she was then in the act of taking from her head and depositing thereon. It had covers for two, and a plentiful supply of goodly viands. The girl removed the napkins, arranged the dishes, poured out the coffee and set the urn upon coals dragged from the fire to keep it warm, and then stood by as if awaiting orders. The master fumbled in his pocket awhile, and finally, dragging forth a bunch of keys, selected one, and hand- MANUEL HUNTER. 9 ing it to her, motioned towards a sort of side-board on which stood a water-bucket and a drinking gourd. The girl opened the cupboard, took out a decanter and glasses, and placed them upon the table. " That '11 do, gal. I '11 call ye to take 'em away," said the master, and the girl retired and closed the door. Manuel Hunter, by the light of the tallow candle upon the table and the flashing fire, was a man of goodly presence, sixty or more, half gray, somewhat inclined to corpulency, fidgety in his movements, and rather roughly and negligently clothed. As he sat there in his splint-bottomed easy chair, he was a fine sample of a Southern country attorney at home. He had been a figure at the bar in his day, and was a man of no mean acquirements in the law. He had had his share of honors too. In the Legis- lature of his native State, and in the national Congress, he had represented his county and district. His faculty of keen observation, thorough good sense, and naturally strong logical power, with a sort of quaint humor and half-affected roughness of expression and manner, made him a power upon the stump, and a wheel-horse of his party in the section where he resided. There were current rumors that more than once, and that, too, in important crises of his party and the nation, this un- couth country lawyer had been offered positions of the first importance in the government. Certain it was, that in one of those massive cases in the office, there were piles of letters bearing the frank of more than one of our great party leaders, and of the heads of more than X A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. which has been kindly accorded in the demand for numerous editions. Issued under the title of "A Royal Gentleman" the story simply takes its place in the series alluded to, com- prising works already published and others in course of preparation. In putting forth this edition, the author desires to acknowledge his indebtedness to the public for exceptional favors, and to express the hope that the interest thus shown may result in a just and righteous comprehension of the questions which now press upon the nation for solution, and to which he has tried to contribute some light. Albion W. Tourgee. New York, May i, 1881. MANUEL HUNTER. 11 was pure, because distilled by themselves or their neigh- bors. Since the days of temperance societies, temper- ance revivals, and prohibitory legislation, the old man had been frequently cited as a strong argument against all such anti-convivial ideas and measures. Whether it was the sturdy constitution unimpaired by the ex- cesses of previous generations, the quality of the liquor which he drank, or the fact that he was " one of the old fellows," which preserved him from the effects of life-long potations may well be left to the decision of those oracles who preside at the veiled mysteries of modern temperance — that shyest of all virtues, which hides itself, not in the enticing grove or the darkened cloister, but under the seductive veil of secresy in the oath-bound Lodge — which unites with exquisite mimicry the solemnities of the sanctuary and the gayeties of the festival. " No ! no more," said he, as his son held the bottle towards him again. " Well, yes, you may — just a little. This is more 'n half water, anyhow," with a gesture toward his glass. " That 's good whiskey, though — some of the real old style, made by an old Dutchman at a little spring-still up the country. I got it for a fee — half a barrel on 't — six or eight years ago. By the by, I missed a mighty plain pint of law in the case and got non-suited. My client, old Quarles, you know, son, was powerful mad, as who could blame him, and, reaching over the bar, he caught my collar, drew me down, and said, ' How 's this, Mister Lawyer, they say I am non-suited ? ' ' Sho, sho ! ' says I, ' didn't you hear what the judge said?' 'No,' said he, somewhat 12 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. dubiously. 'Why, sir,' says I, pompously, 'he said it was coram non judice, sir, coram non judice ! ' ' Did he say that?' said old Quarles, 'then, of course, it's all right.' He went off satisfied, and I kept the whiskey. I hed clean forgot it till just t'other day." The old man chuckled at the remembrance of his joke. His son refilled the glass, and while it is being emptied let us look at him. A face over which twenty summers might have passed, a light brown beard and moustache, clear gray eyes, a broad brow, and hair darker than the beard. Above the middle height, with a rather full figure, dressed in fashionably cut garments of rich material, but with something of his father's negligence of wear. As he sat carelessly leaning on his elbow, sipping his whiskey, and gazing dreamily at the fire, one would have said of him that life had been easy to him thus far, and, in the main, pleasant; that his future was — as chance should make it. He was a man of good possibil- ities, of dormant powers. For the present, cultivated, indolent, dreamy, and yet of keen perceptions and quick sensibilities ; somewhat haughty of manner but frank and free among his friends, and of generous impulse ; not unselfish or self-sacrificing, but ready to give of his abundance, and to scatter profusely what his thrifty father had carefully gathered. The whole county knew him for " a right royal pentle man/V " Well, sonny, let's eat," said the old man. " I told them to bring our supper here, Geoffy, son, 'cause I wanted to have a good talk with you, and somehow no place comes quite so nateral for me to MANUEL HUNTER. 13 talk in, as the old office. I've done a heap o' wuk here, son, in my time. Forty years — 'twas logs then, Geoffrey — arly an' late, summer 'n winter. Thar a'n't no nigger 'n the State 's ever tiled harder 'n ole Man- uel Hunter, not one. An' it's all been for you, too, son — you an' the gals, now Jeems is gone. Poor boy! poor boy! Don't do as he did, Geoffy, don't. Don't kill yourself with drink. Yer ole father's been easy — too easy, I 'spect, with both on ye. He must hev a little himself; always did. But don't take too much, son, don't. There, take it away, Geoffy. Put it in the cupboard there, and lock it up. It makes me sad. Poor boy! I wanted him to take my place at the bar, Geoffy. You never will. More like yer ma, poor dear. Yes, I know; you'll study — to please me, and I'm glad of it — though, as you say, thar a'n't no need on 't, as thar was for me. No, I sha'n't leave you in debt, son. The old man ha'n't talked and writ all his life to do that; and he knows how hard 'tis for a youngster, too, to start with a load on his back. But I did want the Hunter name to be kep' up on the circuit. The rogues '11 all turn honest arter I'm dead, 'cause thar '11 be nobody to clar 'em. But there, there ; let 's not talk any more about business till supper is over." As the meal progressed the old man grew cheerier and their conversation lightened till, at its close, he called boisterously for the serving-maid to remove the remnants. "Toinette, Toinette!" he shouted. "Rot the lazy jade! Call her, Geoffrey; you are younger than I. Step to the door and call her, please," 14 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. His son did as he was bidden, and the girl soon appeared and removed the server. The young man filled one of the long- stemmed clay pipes, and, after lighting, handed it to his father; then drawing forth a large meerschaum, he filled and lighted it for himself, and for a few moments the two men resigned them- selves to a quiet enjoyment of the vaporous luxury. Their pipes were not unfit representatives of them- selves: the old man's crude and strong, but capacious and not without a certain look of luxury ; the young man's smooth, compact, and polisheflA-aA^^ury in itself. At length the old man spol " It's Christmas, Geoffrey, son, to^lfiorrow, and you know next week whatever plans are to be laid for the next year's business must be settled on; and now that you 've come home — I hope to stay — I wanted jes' to talk things over with you quietly and set our stakes for the year's work. I sha'n't leave you in debt, son, as I told you awhile back, if I die to-morrow. But fust hand me that bundle of papers in the right hand cor- ner of the desk there. So. Now let 's see what ole Manuel's worth, and what there is to take keer of. Where 's my specs, child ? Oh, here ! " — as he drew them down from the top of his head. "Well, what's this?" said he, taking the first paper from the file. " The deed of the home place. The plantation has been in the family ever since it was settled. Yer grandfather left it mortgaged, though — more 'n 'twas worth. I paid it off. ' There's the Gard- ner plantation, the Culver place, the old Lovett place, and other little parcels of two or three hundred acres MANUEL HUNTER. 15 apiece, mostly lyin' on the river, and jes' as good corn and terbaccer lands as ever had a hoe in them — plenty of woodland and seventy odd niggers, besides the house servants, to tend 'em. " You 've been livin' on the Lovett place sence you came home from college. It was lucky, too, comin' jest as Craigie took sick and I could get no overseer to look after it. And you've made a fine crap, too. How do you like plantation life, son ?" " So well," answered Geoffrey, " that I was about to ask you to let me have the Lovett place and the hands on it for Christmas Gift, and allow me to settle down into a quiet country bachelor." " Sho, sho ! my boy. Some of our high-strung gals about here would have you in their train afore a twelvemonth," said the father, laughingly. " I am not anxious for a mistress," replied the son with a shrug, "and I like the seclusion of the Lovett place. You know, father, I am not fond of carous- ing." " True, true," said the old man, hastily, " and I thank God for it. But why not come home and live with us and study here in the office ?" " Why do you so often dine and sup in the office, father ?" The father smoked a moment in silence, and then said, in a saddened tone : " The house is lonely, Geoffy, since yer mother died, though your sisters have a good deal of company, and your aunt is a good housekeeper. It is lonely." " You know," said Geoffrey — and his voice choked, 16 A HO YAL GENTLEMAN. for his mother's memory was pure and fresh to him — ■ "it is not far to the Lovett place. I could ride to the office every day, if need be." "So you could, son," was the reply. "It a'n't just as I'd planned it, but what's the difference? There a'n't but three on ye, no how, an' it 's all your'n at last. You shall have the Lovett place to your share, and I '11 make you a deed on 't at once — and the hands and stock. Have ye enough there now to do the work on 't ?" " One or two more could be worked to advantage," said Geoffrey, "and there are no house servants ex- cept Bob and old Maggie." " You ought to hev another house servant ; a woman. What un '11 ye take?" said his father. " I would like it if you could let me have Toinettc . She is young and lively, and old Maggie does remind one a little too much of a burying, sometimes," an- swered the son. "Oh, we couldn't spare Toinette!" said the old lawyer, with a sharp glance at his son, as if he were a witness under examination. " Very well," said the young man, without looking up. " Any one you can spare better would suit me as well." "So, so; I knew it," said his father. "No, you shall hev her. She was a favorite with Ruthy, and, as you say, is young and lively. She '11 be a likely gal sometime, too. I '11 make out all the papers and give ye a plantation ready stocked to begin with for your Christmas." MANUEL HUNTER. 17 The young man was about to express his thanks when the father stopped him with — "No, no, Geoffy; you've got to study hard enough to pay for this. If I set you up in the world before you are twenty-one, you've got to promise to keep up the Hunter name at the bar of the circuit." " I will try my best, father," said the young man, but his tone did not presage success. " I have a new edition of Blackstone that I pur- chased for you lately," said the father, " a right fine one, too, with a new style of type, and the most keer- fully edited book I ever looked into. It 's a Philadel- phia edition, and just out. You may begin at once. Come over every Saturday and I'll put you through a set of questions, and have you ready for the County Court in a year at most." Awhile longer the two men sat together — father and son : the one old and rough, scarred with many a battle with the world, yet warm and tender-hearted to his boy, as a mother to her babe. He was still a child to those fond old eyes. And the son, young, unskilled, unscathed by conflict with the world, and careless what it had in store for him. Along the covered way to the house, and into the bright lighted parlor, they went together. >>l And so the plantation known as Lovett Lodge, five miles from Perham by the river road, and the girl " Toinette," with sundry other " chattels-real," passed into the hands of the young master, Geoffrey Hunter, Esq., from his father, Manuel Hunter — a Christmas I Gift, princely and unconditioned, ' CHAPTER II. "CHRISTMAS GIFT!" THE next day was Christmas ; Christmas at the Great House, in which Manuel Hunter lived — "The Hunter Home," as he had jocosely named the plantation years before. As the gray dawn crept over the hill tops, a motley crew of almost every age and shade of color came thronging up from from the row of low, whitewashed huts, which constituted the servants' quarters, to the Great House. It was the modern slave's saturnalia — the heathen festival rebaptized and christened — the week whose license was a ludicrous mimicry of freedom, with an undertone of sadness, like the refrain of a plantation melody. Clad in their Sunday's best, they thronged the piazza and hall of the House, and besieged with uproarious freedom the room where " Ole Master " slept ; and then, by turns, that of every other member of the household. "Christmas Gif, Mas'r Manuel"! "Christmas Gif"! " Christmas Gif" ! was shouted, again and again, in every variety of tone, from the shrill treble of child- hood to the trembling huskiness of age. Male and female vied with each other in increasing the clamor. Meantime the old man had risen and was calling for his body-servant. " Dick ! O Dick ! " he shouted, well knowing that "CHRISTMAS GIFT 1" 19 Dick had gone, with Manuel Hunter's pass in his pocket, to a plantation several miles distant, to spend the Christ- mas. " O Dick ! " he exclaimed again, angrily ; and then opening the door, half-clad as he was, he called for him again. " Where has that black rascal gone ? I say, Dick ! " ' His appearance was the signal for renewed vocifera- tions. " Christmas Gif ! Christmas Gif, mas'r ! De Lor' bress him ! H'm jus as spry 's if he was n't gwine on seventy. H'm '11 live to keep many a rogue from kissin' the widder yit! Ki! no danger ennybody dancin' on nuffin while Mas'r Manwel lives! Nebber see a hangin' agin ! De sheriff's dun got so he dunno how tu tie de knot ! It 's gone out of fashion on de surcutes eber sense Mas'r Manwel clar de man fur killin' tree 't wonst ! Lor', Lor,' 't use to be just as common puttin' hemp roun' a gemman's neck as roun' a cotting bale, 'fore Mas'r Manwel's time, I 'members ! / do ! " said an old man, with a bald crown surrounded by pads of snowy wool, who leaned upon a staff, and seemed to be regarded as a sort of chief among them. They knew the weak point of the old man, his repute as a criminal lawyer, and with the slave's deft flattery struck it at once, and bows and cheers, waving hats, handkerchiefs and aprons, greeted the master of threescore slaves. " Is that you, Martin ? How d'ye, old man," said the master. " Why, you 're as peart as if you were n't more 'n twenty-five this mornin'. You'll help me, won't you, Marty, boy, if that fellow Dick has run away ? He 20 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. ought tu hev twenty licks for it. How d'ye, boys? How d'ye, gals? My shoes, Martin, and stockings. Where can that black rascal hev put 'em ? " Old Martin was down upon his knees at once, and the crowd poured into the room, each one prying into nooks and corners after the master's lost clothing, while he kept on, half petulantly, half humorously, scolding Dick and saying something pleasant to every one whose eye he caught, alternately. A t^ length old, Martin found one of the_ sfrnps nnHpr +V h H) and rnrpfuHy shaking it t nut mlled a silve r dollar, which he instantly appropriated, with a whoop of delight and a mocking " Sarvant, sah," as he bowed and scraped to his master, who angrily exclaimed: " Here, you old rascal, are you going to rob me ? " " Hi ! yah ! yah ! " laughed the old negro, still clutching the silver, "Mas'r ought ter hev a better pus nor dat ter keep the shiners in, else niggas steal 'em, shore ! " It seemed as if the old man's money was every- where except in its proper place, his purse. Each stocking held a quarter ; and when his vest was handed to him he put both his hands through the arm-holes, in the old-fashioned way of putting on that garment, and, by some unaccountable carelessness in swinging it over his head, scattered dimes and half-dimes about the room in a style that produced the utmost confu- sion among the dusky rabble. " Git out, you rascals ! " shouted the old man, stamping his feet in pretended rage. " Here, Martin, give me your cane while I beat the "CHRISTMAS GIFT I" 21 knaves. There ! there ! " he added, as all but old Martin left the room, and he stood, hat in hand, before him. " go wake up young Mas'r Geoffrey. Here, Marty, boy, is his Christmas Gift for him. You may take it to him. I 've given him the Lovett place, and put you in to take care of him. You won't let him disgrace the old name, will you, Martin ? " " 'Deed I won't, sah," replied the old slave, as he took the bundle of papers, and with a very conse- quential air marched at the head of the chattering troop toward young master's room. Arriving at Geoffrey's door the clamor was renewed, but was soon hushed by the barking of a large New- foundland dog, which the young master had brought home on his return from college, and who had a de- cided aversion to the dusky inhabitants of the plantation, though himself as highly " cullud " as any of them. \Leon)had been growling his dissent to the riotous proceedings of the morning for some time. He regarded himself as the special guardian of [Ge offrey and always shared his room. Now, as the clattering feet came up the stairs and the servants clustered about the door- way, shouting their boisterous greeting, he burst out into a full-grown, threatening, imperative bark. " Down, Leon ! nobody will hurt either of us," said his master, " be quiet, I say ! " " Christmas Gif ! Christmas Gif ! " shouted the ser- vants. " Thank you, boys, thank you ; but don't disturb me now. I'll give you some tricks by-and-by," said Geoffrey, lazily. 22 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. When the clamor subsided, old Martin, rapping deferentially upon the door, said : " Please, sah, Mas'r Manwel guv me suthin', sah, as I was to giv you, sah, for your Christmas Gif." " Well, come in," said Geoffrey. " Down, Leon ! " as the old man opened the door and walked in, care- fully leaving it ajar . for the accommodation of his fellow-servants, who stood without, or perhaps to facil- itate retreat in case of need. " Sarvant, sah," said the old man, bending his snowy head, with a princely grace, to the young mas- ter, who sat_up_in bed an d^eld_QJiLjhis_Jian ^>^ darin ducking to one of higher grade, carefully closed the door and with his friends went to salute the other members of the family, and then dispersed to the amusements of the Christmas time — the one week out of fifty-two in which they caught a far-off glimpse of freedom, the one thing that kept alive their faith in the good time coming, the oft-predicted "Jubilee." Geoffrey Hunter laid his head back upon his pil- low and wandered off into a quiet reverie, of which himself and his possessions formed the subject matter. He was now a man. The careless college life, with its aimless rambling vacations, was over. He appreciated the force of "meum" and "tuum," as applied to realty. On the threshold of life he was independent, yes, rich — one of the solid men of the country; one of the aris- tocracy of the great South, securely entrenched behind land and slaves, the two great bulwarks of respecta- bility. These, if managed with prudence, would yield him a constantly increasing income, and as he grew older make his position still more secure. He would take care of it. He was not extravagant nor, as he assured himself, foolish. With his books, his music, and his pipe, he pictured to himself a quiet country life — independent, easy, honorable. What would he do ? What was his ambition ? He had none. Why should he toil, as his father had done, until inaction was unbearable? Circumstances would 24 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN: do for him all that he desired. He had only to stand and wait. Inaction was his best card, sure to win, and no risk. Enjoyment was his aim. He would, there- fore, be temperate, frugal, careful of his tastes and habits, lest he should impair his power of enjoying the good things fortune offered him. He would be a man, not a beast ; a philosopher, not a fool ; and, accordingly, would seek only cultivated and refining pleasures, not bestial ones. And who would enjoy these pleasures with him? The full lip, sensuous and frank, curled into an un- wonted sneer, and a half flush spread over his cheek as the thought crossed his mind. It might have been. It could not be again. He had told his father the night before that he had no desire to be the slave of any woman. He meant it. When his mother died, his faith in womanhood died too. So he said. A boyish disappointment rankled in his memory. When scarce a man he had thought he loved, and had avowed his attachment to, a woman much older than himself. Instead of treating with respect the passionate avowal of the young heart, and saving the self esteem of the impetuous lad, she had laughed at his youth and driven him into the cynicism which he had maintained so long that it had become half real. He had determined to abjure women and prided him- self on being a woman-hater. In the expressive phrase of his vernacular he said he had "no use for them." He half disliked his sisters and his aunt. There were but three women among his slaves till he added that fly-about creature last night. What did he do that "CHRISTMAS GIFT!" 25 for ? He did not know. He half wished they were all men. But one thing was sure, no woman should be mistress in his house. His servants should owe no divided allegiance if he lived to be four-score; that was settled. The mouth shut quietly and firmly, the brow drooped, the eyes half closed. There was an iron will about the young nabob. Cool, cautious, selfish, ambitious only for enjoy- ment, and having in the very refinement of this desire a safeguard against degrading pleasures, what will be his life ? As he went down to breakfast Geoffrey Hunter met his new chattel, Toinette. She was carrying a server to the dining-room, for her mother was the cook at the Hunter Home, renowned for skill through- out the country side. " Christmas Gif, Mass Geoff," said the handmaiden, dropping a courtesy under the server balanced on her head. "What do you want for your Christmas, Toinette ? " "A new dress and a white apron, if you please, sir," answered the girl, pertly. Geoffrey smiled. "I will give you that," he said, "and the greatest Christmas you ever had, beside." The look of childish pleasure on her face faded into wonder as she gazed up at his and followed him into the dining-room without further question. No one else of the family had as yet answered the bell. He leaned against the mantel and watched the girl, as with an absent manner she removed the differ- ill* Q&pt-i & ROYAL GENTLEMAN. ent dishes from the tray and placed them on the table. He remembered his father's words, " ghe '11 be a likely gal some day." There could be no doubt of that, and quite unconsciousl y he began to estimate the market value of thiffjiece of humanity a few years later, whe n Time should have ripened h e r charm s, and developed her fine point s. He was not sordid or unfeeling. He was simply speculating on the probable future value of his newly acquired possession, as the jockey calculates the " come out " of a colt, or the milkmaid counts the ggs which exist only in expectancy. He did not concern himself with the hu manity q r_womanhood of Toinette. Much less did. he consider her moral relations with himself, humanity or God. The law made her his slave, and he was troubled with nothing beyond. It was the chattel, not the human being, of which he thought. "Homo non persona," is the defini- tion which the law gives to the status of the slave, and the hater of slavery cannot wonder that th e master sriou l d contemplate only the legal relation. It was but natural. True, Toinette was not so dark as many of the race who are counted the descendants of the unfortunate Ham but her mother was — well, a shade darker than she; and the rule of the law is inflexible partus sequitur ventrem. And so Toinette was a slave, legally and properly, though scarcely of darker integument than her new master, and perhaps of no meaner ancestry, paternally. He took the bill of sale from his pocket, and read: "CHRISTMAS GIFT!" 27 "Yellow girl, Toinette, daughter of Mabel, four- teen years old, regular featured, bright complexioned." That was the description, and Geoffrey Hunter concluded that ''the fly-about Toinette," as he had termed her, "would be a fine article, worth a pretty penny in a few years," as his father had said. Just then came to his ears the voice of the chattel, as she advanced through the long hall, bringing something from the kitchen beyond. She had forgotten her per- plexity, and was singing, in very lorgetfulness, that noble Christmas carol, " Brightest and best of the sons of the morning." There was nothing ignoble in the voice. Rich and full it pulsed along the notes of this grand old anthem, wild and free. " A fine voice " he thought, as uncon- sciously he hummed the air himself. As she entered the doorway her singing ceased, and she advanced to the table. "Where did you learn that song, Toinette," asked Geoffrey. "Of Miss Ruthy, sir," answered Toinette, without interrupting her work. " Have you guessed what is the other Christmas Gift I am to let you have?" he asked. "La, no, sir, dun forgot all 'bout it. I reckon you 'se jis foolin me," she said, laughingly. "No," said he, "you are going to have a new master." The plate fell from the young girl's hand, the coloi fled from her cheeks, and she gasped, " Is dat so ? " 28 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. & fa "Yes, indeed it is. Father sold you yesterday,' he answered. And mammy ? " asked Toinette. "No, he could not spare her," Geoffrey replied. The girl's agony was painful to witness. He did not enjoy the scene, and he hated anything he did not enjoy. So he made haste to end it, by saying, ; 'But you have not asked who bought you, yet." The sound of his voice seemed to have awakened the girl from a sort of trance, into which she had fallen. Q uick as thou ght_5liP wa_ s down bpfnrp him, clas ping his knees, aiH rrying-iteously.*'—\>. 32. MABEL. 31 ever be parted with, less we 's sot free, as we sartin should be when he died, — so do n't hev no trouble on dat score, chile." " No, mammy. Mas'r Geoffrey tole me afterward that I was n't sole away, but jes made a Christmas gif to him," said Toinette. " A Christmas gift to Geoffrey Hunter ! " said Mabel incredulously. "Yes," Toinette hastened to say; "but he is go- ing to live on the Lovett place, and I can come and see you when I choose." " No doubt, no doubt," said her mother, with a sneer. " Ah, chile, chile, better you had never been born. O God ! O God ! canst thou not leave me_J this one ! " She sat down upon the floor of the kitchen, pulled the white turban from her head, and weaving back and forth, moaned piteously. With her eyes closed, her long, white hair waving in the chill winter wind, her tall form swaying to and fro, and muttering brakenly, it is no wonder that the superstitious servants fled in affright, declaring that Aunt Mabel was making charms to witch somebody. Toinette having tried in vain to arouse and console her mother fled with the other ser- vants in terror. In an hour or two the report of Aunt Mabel's condition reached Miss Lucy, Geoffrey's aunt, who straightway repaired to the kitchen ; having in constant remembrance the fact that the grand dinner was de- pendent solely upon the exertions of the old cook. Entering the hut which served the princely Hunters 32 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. for a kitchen, she beheld Aunt Mabel squatted on the ground before the fire, surrounded by the implements of cookery, still weaving to and fro, and continu- ing the sing-song utterances which had been taken for incantations. And indeed there was something truly fearful in the thin, spare figure, the stern, sad face, of old parchment hue, and the heaving masses of long white hair, which floated unconfined about her head, r Allied to the race whose curse s he bore, remotely, if a t all, Au nt Mabel was a woman who showed unmist ak- able m arks of terrible suffering and all but invincible fo rtitud e. The tall figure was unbowed, and the vigor of maturity rather than the weakness and indecision of age characterized her movements. It was evident that the deep furrows on her brow and the mass of white hair which hung upon her shoulders were the result of sorrow and affliction, not of years. The mouth whose nether lip had not lost its fullness, even amid the relaxation of overwhelming calamity, yet bore evi- dence of unusual firmness. " What 's all this fuss about, gal ? " was the greet- ing of Miss Lucy. Old Mabel, for the first time, ceased her crooning, and turned sharply on the intruder. Her brow gath- ered a severe expression, and her face darkened with wrath. "Is it true, Miss Lucy?" she said almost fiercely. " Ye know, an' ye need n't try to fool old Mabel. Is it true ? Has Manwell Hunter " — she had forgotten the mastership in her agony and wrath — " sole my baby, my darlin', my las' one, that he promised Miss Ruthy MABEL. 33 0> on her dyin' bed should never be sole, but stay wid de family till he died? He certain sed dat, ef I'd take keer o' Miss Ruthy, an' I did — Toinette an' me nussed her like a baby. An' Toinette learned to read — Miss -^ Ruthy holp her, though 'twas agin the law — so that she might hear the blessed Gospel an' the Psalms, when f&* &ur£u- her own darters wud be gone for months, Mass'r Man- Pur?^^^, well on the circuit, an' young Mass'r Geoff away to college, ez he' s allers been nigh about. An' he prom- ised atterwards — on'y the very day afore Miss Ruthy died, when she was a beggin' him to set us free right away, an' he 'llowed he would ef 't was n't for the law — he promised then that Toinette nor me shouldn't never b g"~soTd, he did, an' that he 'd put usjn hig wi ll, so 'z w e 'd both be sot free as so on as ever he died, which he 'llowed would n't be long no way."/ " Law, gal, there 's no use to take on so. Toi- nette ain't sold — only given to Geoffrey for a Christ- mas. He '11 never take her away. What does he want of her ? " answered Miss Lucy. " Aye," broke in old Mabel, springing to her feet, "what does he want of my gal? What did my young m aster want of Mabel when she was young and hand- some? When her cheek was 'most as fair an' her eye as bright an' her step as nimble as Toinette's ? Does you know, Miss Lucy ? Mabel's cheek was n't holler then, nor her hair bleached. What made it? There was three of 'em and dey 's all gone. T -nette was de las' one. I ought to hev killed 'em when der lives was young an' der souls was white an' pure. God forgive ■ me that I did n't. But I loved 'em, Miss Lucy, an' I <- -pie /*>«■* rXMI*^ £^ % 61^ k^ «)*MiUfr*( & 34 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. hoped. An' now you come an' ax me what dey want of my Toinette ! " — " The well-kempt mistress shrank from the uplifted finger, flashing eyes, and scathing tongue of the aroused old slave-woman, with scarcely less of terror than the servants had previously manifested. " What an awful wicked old creature ! " she mut- tered, as she trotted back to the house, glancing over her shoulder half-fearfully as she spoke. Then she remembered she had said nothing to Mabel about the dinner, which had been the object of her visit to the kitchen, and, after hesitating a moment, she returned. Seeing that Mabel had resumed her old position, she gathered courage and spoke as a mistress should, sharply and peremptorily. " Mabel, we will have dinner at half-past one. There will be at least ten, and you had better set about getting it ready.'' " Ef 't was only not de las' one ! "J muttered the grim presence on the hearth, with a fierce side-look from under her close-bent brows which sent the blood back to her mistress's heart with renewed terror. — "Horrid old thing!" said Miss Lucy, fleeing again to the house. " I do believe she would poison us all. I shall be quite afraid to eat anything after this. Who ever saw such an ungrateful creature ? After being so indulged and having her own way in everything, too. But law, it's just like these niggers ! " and the good lady arranged her collar at the parlor glass, and sat ^down to wait for dinner and the diners. Mabel watched her as she retreated to the house, MABEL. J35 and then, as if a new thought had struck her, arose and marched at once up the latticed walk which led from the house to Squire Hunter's office, along it to the door, and, opening this without ceremony, walked up to the table where her master sat, and, looking him straight in the eyes while a deep fire burned in her own, she ex- claimed : "Is it true? Hev ye sole my gal, my baby, my Toinette ? " jys "Sho, sho, Auntie," said the old attorney, fussily\J^1' > ^7(i "don't be so put out! Sold Toinette? No more if ^^ l ~^> hain't! Jes' made a present of her to Geoffrey. YoiiL^s*-^ know the boy is lonely out at the Lovett place, witn ff*^^ nobody but old Maggie in the house, an' all old folk| on the plantation, too; an' no wonder either." — ^ " Did n't you promise the blessed saint Miss Ruthy on her dyin' bed that we shouldn't ever be separated, and that we should both be sot free when you died, if not afore ? " she asked. " Law, yes, child ! " he replied, " but do n't take on so ; I forgot all about that ; I did certain, Auntie, or I would n't hev let him have her though he did ask me, so I wouldn't. But, law, gal, he '11 be tired of his bar- gain and want me to rue, in a week. He '11 be glad to send her back to you to get rid of her by that time. Eh, gal ? " and he attempted an unsuccessful chuckle. " Yes, he '11 get tired of her some time an' send her — not to her old mammy, but to de auction block ! Oh, Mas'r Manwell, what '11 ye tell Miss Ruthy when she axes ye' bout little Toinette, that she loved most like her own child ? " said the old woman, solemnly. 36 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. " Pshaw, pshaw, gal, you 're foolish. The gal 's well enough off, an' would hev to be sold or hired some time," he said. " Not ef you hed kep' your promise to the dead," broke in the old woman. "That 's neither here nor there, now," he said, pet- tishly. " I have given a bill of sale to Geoffrey, and she 's his property now. If I 've broken my word, it 's the worse for me. But I '11 think of it when he comes in again, and see if he won't exchange her for some other gal." "He won't do it, Manwell Hunter," she replied; "I knows the Hunter blood too well. Ef he 's set his heart on havin' the gal, the ole debble hisself couldn't get him to turn loose his hold on her." "Well, well, I don't know; she's his property and not mine. I 've nothing to do with it. Go away, gal, go way, and do n't bother me. There," said he, handing her a slip of paper, on which he had hastily written a few words, " give that to Hendricks, and he '11 let you have a fine calico and a new bonnet be- sides your regular Christmas." Mabel had taken the paper, evidently thinking it referred to the matter uppermost in her mind, but as he spoke of its contents, she dropped it as if it burned her hand, and without looking up walked to the door, where, turning suddenly, she said in a deep, low^voice : " Manwell Hunter, may de God above do to you as you have done to Mabel's Toinette ; little Toinette, dat Miss Ruthy loved an' you forgot. May de old Mas'r forgit you forever ! " Mabel, 37 She closed the door and departed. Manuel Hun- ter shivered in his great arm-chair before the blazing fire. There was no dinner at the great house for the crowd of Christmas friends that day. It was a thing unheard of in the model menage of Manuel Hunter; but when Miss Lucy went to the kitchen at one o'clock, to give some trifling directions about the re- past which should have been served some thirty min- utes later, the great gaping fireplace was cold, pots and kettles were scattered around, and the materials which had been given out for the viands were still untouched. Amid the confusion, Mabel was nowhere to be seen. Miss Lucy's lungs were exerted to the utmost shouting, " Mabel ! O, Mabel ! " Her patience received another strain, and "the ingratitude of these niggers," was duly anathematized. Messengers were sent hither and yon among the ser- vants to hunt up and return the delinquent under threats of various penalties. But all without success. Old Mabel had disappeared from the possession and control of Manuel Hunter. Another cook was per- force extemporized from among the servants, and two hours later a miserable travesty of the dinner expected was placed upon the board at the Hunter Home. All this annoyance and discomfort was laid to Geoffrey's charge by his disappointed aunt and sisters, in terms which did not tend to increase his desire for their society. 38 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. "It was all owing to his foolish fancy for Toi- nette," they said, " that there was such trouble with old Mabel. He was so selfish. He would have that good-for-nothing yaller gal, if everybody went without dinners for a year. It was just like him." Such remarks impaired his self-complacency. He did not like to be blamed abstractly, and especially not for what he considered to be a mere accident. So when plre Hunter said to the new wearer of the toga virilis, after ominous fidgettings and stammerings, the next evening, " Geoffy, son, would you mind ex- changing that gal Toinette for Mary's Cely ? " The young ex-collegian merely smoked a little impatiently and said : "I know of no reason why I should." "Well, there ain't no reason, only Mabel takes on so," replied the father. " I do n't intend to make any woman my mistress nor allow her to control my actions — least of all a servant," said the son. "Toinette will be as well off at the Lodge as here, and better, too, for I sha'n't expect her to work much. I am not a fool, and though I do n't intend to turn speculator, I know her value. I asked for the girl because she was a favorite of ma's and a sprightly creature. Now that you have given her to me I shall keep her because Aunt Lucy and my sisters have raised such a furore over my causing old Mabel's pout, and so spoiling their dinner." " True, true, she 's your property," said the old man with a tone of disappointment, and so the subject was dropped. jLt-j MABEL. 39 It had been Geoffrey's intention to remain at the paternal mansion during the Christmas' week, but his annoyance was so great that he directed his body- servant, Bob, to have everything in readiness to return to Lovett Lodge the next morning. He then sent for Toinette and bade her make preparations to accompany him. Seeing that the girl's face was clouded, and divining the cause, he said : " Do n't be put out at Aunt Mabel's huff. She feels badly at your going away, no doubt, but when she finds how much easier you '11 live at the Lodge than here, she '11 be glad you "ve gone." Toinette was young and fond of -novelty. To be the property of Geoffrey, the son, instead of Manuel, the father, was by no means a terrible thing in her eyes. Her alarm on learning that she was sold was the result not of a change of ownership, but of fear of removal from her mother and acquaintances. Her memories of Geoffrey before his collegiate days, and during vacations since, were not unpleasant. He had always been a favorite among his father's servants, and /was r eported by the hands on the Lovett place to be a good, kind master, and especially opposed to the cruel regime of so ma ny masters and overseers. They even reported that the tobacco crop had been housed that year and cured in fine style without a lick being struck, or hardly an ill word being uttered ; that they had been well fed and fairly worked. Indeed, she knew that very many of both sexes who had con- trol of their own hiring had applied to " Young Mass' Geoff' to put in wid him for de nex' year." f ^r%^ ■ffcor 40 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. But she remembered her mother's grief, so she only said: "Thank you, Mas'r Geoffrey, I hope we'll get on well," — in a quick, simple manner. Geoffrey looked at her and though t— as he ovould of a thoroughbred _£oll- — fine blood there. She would be a la dy if _ she wasn^t a ni gger.^ Yet she was a nigger. He knew that, and his property, too. She stood fondling old Leon's ear while their master mused. The dog had become very fond of the young girl who was making such trouble to others. At length Geoffrey said, " But I promised you a new dress and apron, — I will do better; there," handing her a paper; "is an order on Hendricks for a full rig ; dress, shoes, apron, and other toggery, as a sailor would say. Get a nice Sunday suit, and never mind the price. Bob will go round with you." The order read: Messrs. Hendricks & Son. — Please furnish my girl Toinette, the bearer, with as fine an outfit as your stock affords, regardless of cost, allowing her to select, and send bill by Bob. Geoffrey Hunter. " If I choose to make the gah a doll it 's nobody's business. She's mine," said he to himself, as Toinette went out. The idea seemed to strike him with pecu- liar force. He would dress this slave girl as a lady, and people should count it among the eccentricities which already they attributed to him. She and Leon should be his pets./ People should not say he didTiot show- good taste in his selections. The idea pleased him wonderfully. He went himself the next morning MABEL. 41 to Hendricks & Son to see that his order was not taken with a limitation. Old Mabel did not come back to the kitchen of Manuel Hunter during the Christmas, and all search . for her proved unavailing. Miss L ucy decla red that the overseer sh ould give her "twenty licks" for every day she was absent, a report which Manuel Hunter in- stantly negatived upon hearin g it,-— informmg Miss, i Lucy, somewhat sharply, that no one shoul d s trike I his niggers, except b y his direction. / He asked every morning if she had returned, and seemed greatly troubled when answered in the negative. His neighbors said that "he sot a heap by that ongrateful old nigger." The servants " 'llowed he was afeard he 'd lose de bes' cook in de State." Which was right? Was it the loss of his dinner or the loss of his chattel that troubled him, or had con- science stripped the husk of mastership from his soul and impressed upon him the humanity of his slave? It was strange, but he made no threats, offered no rewards, and, in short, took none of the steps a master should to secure the recapture of a runaway. ^~- A fo b^tU^^sU CHAPTER IV. FROM SIRE TO SON. AT the time appointed, greatly to the surprise of the paternal Hunter, Geoffrey started for his new plan- tation, — himself and the driver, Bob, in the buggy seat, and on the oval trunk support behind, his new " yaller gal " Toinette, and — strange anomaly — her little bundle of earthly possessions, the chattels-personal, which, from a sort of necessity, adhered to the animate-personalty, the chattel-real. For, somehow, there was no legal subtlety which could deny the slave's right to some sort of an outfit. The fourth day of " the Christmas " — for " th; Christmas " to the slave reached from Dec. 25th to Jan. 1 st, inclusive, the successive days being distin- guished by numbering — had not opened as pleasantly as its predecessor seemed to have promised. A cold, drizzling, steady rain had set in with a sharp wind from the north-west. It was almost the first cold storm of the season. As Bob had remarked, lucidly, to the temporary cook, in the kitchen of the Hunter man- sion — "Bin so warm, it jes' open de skin so 't one git full ob cold in a minit." Long wear had also opened the finger ends of Bob's gloves — " they was once Mass' Geoffrey's best pair, but that was a time ago," he had said, jollily — and, as he drove along, each dusky finger Prom sire to soat. 43 showed chill and shrunken through the worn integu- ment. Well clad and comfortable sat the young mas- ter beside him, wrapped and muffled, smoking in quiet complacency. And behind, one hand clinging to the back of the buggy seat, the other at once holding her bundle and acting as an improvised balancing pole, sat Toinette. Her abbreviated frock, of the coarse linsey-woolsey which constituted the winter wear of slaves and poor whites, flying in the wind and her stockingless legs swinging to and fro, with the huge uncomely shoes, made for plantation use, bouncing back and forth as the wheels sank into overflowing ruts or mounted upon roots and stumps which adorned the highway, and which Bob was in no mood to shun. Bespattered with mud, bedraggled with rain, chilled^ with the cold breath of the coming winter, she thought of her mother's words, "Child, it were better you had never been born." She was going away from her mother, away from home — she called it " home " and "hers." She almost laughed as she thought of it, not\ bitterly — she had not yet reached the dregs — but it seemed so absurd. What difference did it make to her where she was — where she went? Nothing was hers, not even herself. She doubted if her soul was. What; matter where she lived? It was only so many days and then — would she have anything, own anything, possess anything, be anything, after that great "Then "?] She doubted. — ' • How the wind blew ! She almost wished the chill would reach her heart and stop its beating, before her 44 A RQVAL GENTLEMAN. life grew so fearfully sad as she knew her mother's must have been. The master was dreaming of the in- heritance toward which he rode, and Bob was too cold to let the proud-stepping bay sleep in the traces. He looked around sometimes too, and saw the little half-clad creature behind, clinging to the seat-rail, and bouncing to and fro as if blown by the wind. He heard the low moans which came from the chilled lips, and slyly gave the bay a touch of the whip. The road was short from the Hunter Home to Lovett Lodge that day to one of the men, long enough to the bare-fingered chattel who held the whip and reins, and seemed almost endless to the drenched and drabbled creature, who was borne, chilled to the marrow, tearful and hopeless, away from slavery's childhood and a chattel mother, to a womanhood of bondage, with the protection only of Him who shields the lamb from winter storms. Thus they went to Lovett Lodge. " Bless me ! " exclaimed Geoffrey, jumping from the buggy as they reached their destination, half-benumbed in spite of wrappings, as he saw old Leon, with his fore-paws upon the axle, licking the tear-stained face of his new friend, who clung in shivering unconscious- ness to her perch, " Bless -afiEpff^the child isn't near about frozen ! Maggie ! O VMaggie^r ' The master's voice broughrfrom the house old Mag- gie, — the very picture of rotund, healthy, black benig- nity. A form and face that bade defiance to age and trouble, and a step that showed capacity for a " heap o' work yit." Her best calico was doing its Christmas FROM SIRE TO SON. 45 duty, the sleeves rolled above the elbows, to avoid mis- hap, while the snowiest of turbans crowned her head, whose matted locks were just beginning to show silver threads. "Why, whoever in the world hev yo' got thar, Mass' Geoffrey?" she exclaimed, after dropping a curtsey and uttering the customary " Christmas Gif." "Lawsakes, ef t' aint Mabel's Toinette ! Shakes like it had an agur fit," and the kind-hearted old slave woman folded her sooty arms about the shivering, splattered figure on the "buck-board," regardless of consequences to the best calico, and carried her affectionately into the house. Old Leon followed, contentedly, bringing the bundle which had fallen from Toinette's grasp. There was a huge fire in the great sitting-room of the mansion, for, besides the master's absence, the fact that she was housekeeper at the Lodge, and his almost constant occupation of the Library, had given Maggie a show of reason for making herself a pretty constant denizen of this room. A measure which was attended with so many conveniences, and so pru- dently executed, that Geoffrey had not only come to acquiesce in, but really to approve, it. He had all confidence in old Maggie, people said, and allowed her great privileges. Why should he not ? Those strong arms had been his cradle, and from that bosom he had drawn the strength of his young life. She was his o ld nurse, and she loved him as her son, a ye, even as sh e loved that so n_jdiose Jirjs__had__h££n__taken from her breast, and who had been sold to the trader, that she might give more at- &"■ .. ROYAL GENTLEMAN. v/ / t f"tmn inH r orp__ tr. tV ynnng heir of the Hunter "^ f family. "There was no trusting them," the sage Manuel had said, when remonstrated with by his feeble wife. They would neglect the children they were nursing, as long as their own brats were in reach. It was a likely young nigger, and wouldn't bring anything now, scarcely; but it was better to sacrifice something, to make sure the boy — his boy, the hope of the Hunter name — should receive proper attention. So the black baby was taken from the clinging arms / and yearning breast, and the puny white one placed I there instead. How the arms loathed it ! How the 1 swelling breasts shrank from it, and refused it suste- I nance until its wailing cry minded the mother of her own J lost treasure. Then the arms clasped it close, the breast yielded its wealth, and the slave mother supplied with tearful assiduity the wants of her infant lord and mas- ter. She had a foolish notion, that as she cared for her nursling so would the Good Master in Heaven care for her own motherless boy. Of course it was foolish. God cared nothing for the little nigger brat. But it consoled her, and she had always kept up the delusion. It made her feel better, and kept her from giving up entirely. Thus the w hite baby had come almost un- consciously to take the place of the black one she Fad lost, or, rather , since the latter was neveTTor gotten, the Caucasian master-child had come to be a twin exist- ence, in the memory ot the chlitt^TrroTKeTPwitrr the lost African slave-brat. So~ that when the actual baby in her arms was christened, with abundant ceremony, FROM SIRE TO SON. 47 "Geoffrey," with loving tears she had baptized the dusky mannikin she nourished still in memory, " Jeff." Before the huge fireplace sat a large splint-bottomed arm-chair, from which Maggie had risen when called by Geoffrey, and here she now deposited her burden, and had removed the dripping bonnet when Geoffrey appeared, bringing in the Christmas gifts which, care- fully bundled up, had been stowed under the seat, during the ride. " Pore thing, pore thing," repeated old Maggie, " whatever did you bring her fur, in dis awful weather Mas'r Geoffrey ? " "Why, to see you, Maggie, and be a little company for you," replied the young .#iSsterT " Wal, wal ! " laughed mint Maggie^-for she was not proof against flattery, especially from Geoffrey, and when it assumed the form of considerate kindness, "but ole Maggie's not so bad off fur company while young Mas'r Geoff's about that you need to go and freeze dis pore gal to death jes to bring her out to visit me, though I da'say she wanted to come an' see old Mag- gie. Dey all takes to me, black an' white — even de ole dog hisself. Why, whatever has he got now ? " she ex- claimed, as Leon came waddling up to her with a somewhat cumbrous bundle in his mouth. " Law sakes ! ef 't tain't the pore chile's duds ! What does it all mean, Mass'r Geoffrey ? " " Simply that my father made me a very bountiful Christmas gift, including the Lovett place, my old nurse, and about a dozen other servants," said Geoffrey, with a poorly-assumed air of confident indifference. 48 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. "Wal, wal, I'se jes de same as bin yourn' dis one an' twenty years," replied Maggie, "but dat don't 'splain Toinette's bein' here." "Toinette was a part of the present," said Geof- frey. "Wal, wal, I nebber! Toinette a part of de gif M " said the old nurse in amazement. "Why, what is there so surprising about that?" ■ Geoffrey. "Oh, nuffin, nuffin, only I heard Mass'r Manwel promise Miss Ruth that he never would sell or give 'way Toinette ner Mabel, an' when he died dat dey sarjin should be sot free," answered Maggie. " Did my father promise my mother that ? " asked Geoffrey. " He did, chile, sartin shore ; shore 's ole nuss tells ye, an' ye know she would n't tell a lie fur de hull worl'," Maggie replied. " No, Aunt Maggie, you never told me a lie, and I do n't think you '11 begin now. This explains some- thing though," said Geoffrey, and he began to pace the room with a disturbed countenance. "What is it, honey?" said old Maggie, as she paused in her task of restoring consciousness by rubbing and warming Toinette's chilled limbs. And then the young master sat down near the old servant and told her all that had occurred during the two previous days at the Hunter mansion. When he had finished the old nurse looked grave for a time, and then, turning sharply upon him, asked: " What made ye ask Toinette of yer father ? Ye FROM SIRE TO SON. 49 know he can't refuse ye, an' what do you want o' de gal, anyhow? " I hardly know," he answered ; " I had a fancy for her. She is so full of life, quick and intelligent. I believe if my motives had been analyzed at the time they would have been found to be, to give you a little elp and a good deal of company." " An' nuffin' else ? " she asked, eyeing him closely. He hesitated a moment, flushed angrily, and then replied, " Nothing else. You do n't think I mean to turn speculator?" and added, "Now that you have told me my father's promise to my mother, I am deter- mined that it shall be fulfilled. I will keep the girl and take good care of her as my mother did, and when my father dies she shall be emancipated. She will be quite as well off here as at home. I do not care to have everybody know my intention, but I will attend to it at once." And so Toinette's future was mapped out before she had recovered her consciousness. This Christmas was likely to be an eventful one to her, at least. Meantime but little progress was made in the process of restoration. The chill was so severe as to threaten serious results, and Geoffrey more than once suggested sending for a physician. Aunt Maggie, however, de- clared it unnecessary, and merely redoubled her own efforts, saying that she " knowed better nor any doc- tor." After a time the opening of Toinette's eyes, and some wondering questions as to her whereabouts, veri- fied the truth of the assertion. "It was only wrappin' and rubbin', an' a good fire an' a little toddy she 50 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. needed to bring her all right," Aunt Maggie said, as she forced another dose of the latter down the girl's unwilling throat. She soon brightened, partook heartily of Aunt Maggie's bountiful dinner, and was ready to begin prospecting in the new dominion of her new master. Having learned the interest manifested in her by Leon, she at once established a sworn friendship with the noble old Newfoundland, and from that day on they were almost inseparable companions. The young master watched her thoughtfully, as she alternately petted the dog and inspected narrowly her surroundings. The old nurse had arrayed her in the best of her slave garments, instead of the old and soiled one in which she had made the journey. Thus clad, and the wealth of black hair brushed back from her forehead and hanging in loose curls upon her shoulders, with dark, liquid eyes, full of childish won- der, and the red flushing the clear, soft olive of her cheek, it was no wonder that Mr. Geoffrey Hun- ter more than once thought of his father's remark — "A right likely gal." But somehow he was not much in- clined to estimate her value now. He had an idea in his head which pleased him better, and was going to carry it out. Why should he not? he asked himself. He could afford to. His mother liked this girl — half child yet — who had attended her in sickness with such unusual devotion — loved her almost as if she had been her own daughter; and it was her desire that Toinette should be emancipated. It should be done. Of course, FROM SIRE TO SON. 51 his mother would not have desired that she should receive her freedom until she was prepared to pre- serve and enjoy it. She should have freedom, and he, Geoffrey Hunter, would prepare her for it. He would do this in honor of his mother's memory. He knew that she would approve the act could she but know of it. The child was all but white, anyhow. It was a shame to hold her a slave. He would edu- cate her and fit her for freedom, and when his father died — perhaps before — she should be free. It was a generous resolve . which warmed the heart and moistened the eye of the young man. It brought the reward which the very contemplation of a good act always brings — the pay in advance which the Lord gives to them that do right — a lightened spirit. "Well, Toinette," said he presently, "did you get a Christmas gift to suit you ? " She lifted her eyes to his face and answered blunt and straight : " No, sah, did n't get any.'' " Not get any, Toinette ! " he said. " Why not ? " "Mass'r Hendricks wouldn't let me have what I wanted, so I come off widout anything,'' she re- plied. " That 's strange. I told Hendricks to let you have whatever you liked, if it was the best in the store," Geoffrey replied. " That 's what he tole me, sah," said Toinette. "And yet he would not let you have what you wanted ? " Geoffrey asked. "No, sah." 52 A ROYAL GENTLEMAN. . "I don't quite understand that. Tell me how it was," her master said kindly. "Well, you see, sah," said she, coming nearer, and speaking earnestly, " I went to de store wid Bob, an' giv' Mass'r Hendricks de order, an' tole him I wanted a Christmas dress an' apron. He said, ' I under- stand, I understand,' an' then begun to take down the prettiest goods in de store, real splendid — like Miss Lucy an' Miss Mary wears — all soft, an' warm, an' nice. An' I kep' lookin' at one piece an' another, an' wishin', an' wishin' I was some great lady to wear such gran' close till I mos' got to thinkin' I was. I stood there, an' kep' sayin', what a pretty dress this would make, an' what a fine mantilly that ; an' Mass'r Hendricks he kep' sayin', ' Which do you like bes', dis one or dat one?' an' of course I'd tell him; an' I do n't know but I'd stood there till now if it had n't been for Bob." She hesitated, and Geoffrey atiked: " Well, what did Bob do ? " " Nuffin', only " — and she hesitated. "Only what?" asked Geoffrey, evidently enjoying the girl's story of her exploit. " Well, he jis said to one of de men in de store, ' Lor' do n't she make Mass'r Geoffrey's money fly, for a young un.' But I had no idea of buyin' them nice things for myself, Mass'r Geoffrey, not a bit. So I tole Mass'r Hendricks I jis wanted soCae good calico, an' was only lookin' at these nice things; — tho' t he was only showin' 'em to me for de fun. He only said, ' Yes, yes, I know,' an' would n't show me any calico at all He said 'twas Mass'r Geoff's orders, an' Mass'r FROM SIRE TO SON, . 53 Geoff knowed what he was about, ef he was n't as old as a bald eagle.' An' the long an' short of it was, he would n't let me have calico, an' I would n't tak e any- thing else." J '"And