| There was a voiceless interval of some duration, now, in which no
sounds were heard but the beating of the rain upon the panes, the sighing
and complaining of the winds, and now and then a muffled sob from Roxana.
The sobs became more and more infrequent, and at last ceased. Then the
refugee began to talk again: "Shet down dat light a little. More. More
yit. A pusson dat is hunted don't like de light. Dah-dat'll do. I kin see
whah you is, en dat's enough. I's gwine to tell you de tale, en cut it
jes as short as I kin, en den I'll tell you what you's got to do. Dat man
dat bought me ain't a bad man; he's good enough, as planters goes; en if
he could'a' had his way I'd 'a' be'n a house servant in his fambly en be'n
comfortable: but his wife she was a Yank, en not right down good lookin',
en she riz up agin me straight off; so den dey sent me out to de quarter
'mongst de common fiel' han's. Dat woman warn't satisfied even wid dat,
but she worked up de overseer ag'in' me, she 'uz dat jealous en hateful;
so de overseer he had me out befor' day in de mawnin's en worked me de
whole long day as long as dey'uz any light to see by; en many's de lashin's
I got 'ca'se I couldn't come up to de work o' de stronges'. Dat overseer
wuz a Yank, too, outen New Englan', and anybody down South kin tell you
what dat mean. Dey knows how to work a nigger to death, en day knows how
to whale 'em, too-whale 'em till dey backs is welted like a washboard.
'Long at fust my marster day de good word for me to de overseer, but dat'uz
bad for me; for de mistis she fine it out, en arter dat I jist ketched
it at every turn-dey warn't no mercy for me no mo'." |