It was some time before the master could understand what the old man meant, but Mr. Sanders finally made it clear, and Meriwether Clopton sent the negroes about their business with a promise that none of them should ever be "Bledserd" by his consent.

A year or two before this "rising" occurred, General Jesse Bledsoe had died leaving a will, by the terms of which all his negroes were given their freedom, and provision was made for their transportation to a free State. But the General had relatives, who put in their claims, and succeeded in breaking the will, with the result that many of the negroes were carried to the West and Southwest, bringing about a wholesale separation of families, the first that had ever occurred in that section. The impression it made on both whites and negroes was a lasting one. In the minds of the blacks, freedom was only another name for "Bledserin'."

Nevertheless, when, after the collapse of the Confederacy and the advent of Sherman's army, the Clopton negroes were told that they were free, a large number of them joined the restless, migratory throng that pa.s.sed to and fro along the public highway, some coming, some going, but all moved by the same irresistible impulse to test their freedom--to see if they really could come hither and go yonder without let or hinderance.

Uncle Plato and his family, with a dozen others who were sagacious enough to follow the old man's example, remained in their places and fared better than the rest.

For a time Shady Dale rested peacefully in its seclusion, watching the course of events with apparent tranquillity. But behind this appearance of repose there was a good deal of restlessness and uneasiness.

Sometimes its bosom (so to speak) was inflamed with anger, and sometimes it would be sunk in despair. One of the events that brought Shady Dale closer to the troubles that the newspapers were full of, was a circular letter issued by Major Tomlin Perdue, of Halcyondale. Major Perdue had returned home thoroughly reconstructed. He was full of admiration for General Grant's att.i.tude toward General Lee, and he endorsed with all his heart the tone and spirit of Lee's address to his old soldiers; but when he saw the unexpected turn that the politicians had been able to give to events, he found it hard to hold his peace. Finally, when he could restrain himself no longer, he incited his friends to hold a meeting and propose his name as a candidate for Congress. This was done, and the Major seized the opportunity to issue a circular letter declining the nomination, and giving his reasons therefor. This letter remains to this day the most scathing arraignment of carpet-baggery, bayonet rule, and the Republican Party generally that has ever been put in print. It contained some decidedly picturesque references to the personality of the commander of the Georgia district, who happened to be General Pope, the famous soldier who had his head-quarters in the saddle at a very interesting period of the Civil War.

Major Perdue did not intend it so, but his letter was a piece of pure recklessness. The effect of this scorching doc.u.ment was to bring a company of Federal troops to Halcyondale, and in the course of a few weeks a detachment was stationed at Shady Dale. In each case they brought their tents with them, and went into camp. This was taken as a signal by the carpet-baggers that the region round-about was to be cultivated for political purposes, and forthwith they began operations, receiving occasional accessions in the person of a number of scalawags, the most respectable and conscientious of these being Mr. Mahlon b.u.t.ts, who had been a vigorous and consistent Union man all through the war. He could be neither convinced nor intimidated, and his consistency won for him the respect of his neighbours. But when the carpet-baggers made their appearance, and Mahlon b.u.t.ts began to fraternise with them, he was ostracised along with the rest.

It soon became necessary for the whites to take counsel together, and Shady Dale became, as it had been before the war, the Mecca of the various leaders. Before the war, the politicians of both parties were in the habit of meeting at Shady Dale, enjoying the barbecues for which the town was famous, and taking advantage of the occasion to lay out the programme of the campaign. And now, when it was necessary to organise a white man's party, the leaders turned their eyes and their steps to Shady Dale.

Then it was that Gabriel had an opportunity to see Toombs, and Stephens, and Hill, and Herschel V. Johnson--he who was on the national ticket with Douglas in 1860--and other men who were to become prominent later.

There were some differences of opinion to be settled. A few of the leaders had advised the white voters to take no part in the political farce which Congress had arranged, but to leave it all to the negroes and the aliens, especially as so many of the white voters had been disfranchised, or were labouring under political disabilities. Others, on the contrary, advised the white voters to qualify as rapidly as possible. It was this difference of opinion that remained to be settled, so far as Georgia was concerned.

It was Gabriel's acquaintance with Mr. Stephens that first fired his ambition. Here was a frail, weak man, hardly able to stand alone, who had been an invalid all his life, and yet had won renown, and by his wisdom and conservatism had gained the confidence and esteem of men of all parties and of all shades of opinion. His willpower and his energy lifted him above his bodily weakness and ills, and carried him through some of the most arduous campaigns that ever occurred in Georgia, where heated canva.s.ses were the rule and not the exception. Watching him closely, and noting his wonderful vivacity and cheerfulness, Gabriel Tolliver came to the conclusion that if an invalid could win fame a strong healthy lad should be able to make his mark.

It fell out that Gabriel attracted the attention of Mr. Stephens, who was always partial to young men. He made the lad sit near him, drew him out, and gave him some sound advice in regard to his studies. At the suggestion of Mr. Stephens, the lad was permitted to attend the conferences, which were all informal, and the kindly statesman took pains to introduce the awkward, blushing youngster to all the prominent men who came.

It was curious, Gabriel thought, how easily and naturally the invalid led the conversation into the channel he desired. He was smoking a clay pipe, which his faithful body-servant replenished from time to time.

"Mr. Sanders," he began, "I have heard a good deal about your attempt to kidnap Lincoln. What did you think of Lincoln anyhow?"

"Well, sir, I thought, an' still think that he was the best all-'round man I ever laid eyes on."

"He certainly was a very great man," remarked Mr. Stephens. "I knew him well before the war. We were in Congress together. It is odd that he showed no remarkable traits at that time."

"Well," replied Mr. Sanders, "arter the Dimmycrats elected him President, he found hisself in a corner, an' he jest had to be a big man."

"You mean after the Republicans elected him," some one suggested.

"Not a bit of it,--not a bit of it!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders. "Why the Republicans didn't have enough votes to elect three governors, much less a President. But the Dimmycrats, bein' perlite by natur' an' not troubled wi' any surplus common sense, divided up the'r votes, an' the Republicans walked in an' took the cake. If you ever hear of me votin'

the Dimmycrat ticket--an' I reckon I'll have to do it--you may jest put it down that it ain't bekase I want to, but bekase I'm ableege to. The party ain't hardly got life left in it, an' yit here you big men are wranglin' an' jowerin' as to whether you'll set down an' let a drove of mules run over you, or whether you'll stan' up to the rack, fodder or no fodder."

"This brings us to the very point we are to discuss," said Mr. Stephens, laughing. "I may say in the beginning that I am much of Mr. Sanders's opinion. Some very able men insist that if we take no part in this reconstruction business, we'll not be responsible for it. That is true, but we will have to endure the consequences just the same. Radicalism has majorities at present, but these will disappear after a time."

"I reckon some of us can be trusted to wear away a few majorities," said Mr. Sanders, dryly, and it was his last contribution to the discussion.

As might be supposed, no definite policy was. .h.i.t upon. The conditions were so new to those who had to deal with them, that, after an interchange of views, the company separated, feeling that the policy proper to be pursued would arise naturally out of the immediate necessities of the occasion, or the special character of the situation.

This was the view of Mr. Stephens, who, as he was still suffering from his confinement in prison, accepted the invitation of Meriwether Clopton to remain at Shady Dale for a week or more.

During that week, there was hardly a day that Gabriel did not go to the Clopton Place. He went because he could see that his presence was agreeable to Mr. Stephens, as well as to Meriwether Clopton. He was led along to join in the conversation which the older men were carrying on, and in that way he gained more substantial information about political principles and policies than he could have found in the books and the newspapers.

Moreover, Gabriel came in closer contact with Francis Bethune. That young gentleman seized the opportunity to invite Gabriel to his room, where they had several familiar and pleasant talks. Bethune told Gabriel much that was interesting about the war, and about the men he had met in Richmond and Washington. He also related many interesting incidents and stories of adventure, in which he had taken part. But he never once put himself forward as the hero of an exploit. On the contrary, he was always in the background; invariably, it was some one else to whom he gave the credit of success, taking upon himself the responsibility of the failures.

Gabriel had never suspected this proud-looking young man of modesty, and he at once began to admire and like Bethune, who was not only genial, but congenial. He seemed to take a real interest in Gabriel, and gave him a good deal of sober advice which he should have taken himself.

"I'll never be anything but plain Bethune," he said to Gabriel. "I'd like to do something or be something for the sake of those who have had the care of me; but it isn't in me. I don't know why, but the other fellow gets there first when there's something to be won. And when I am first it leads to trouble. Take my college sc.r.a.pe; you've heard about it, no doubt. Well, the boys there have been playing poker ever since there was a college, and they'll play it as long as the college remains; but the first game I was inveigled into, the Chancellor walked in upon us while I was shuffling the cards, and stood at my back and heard me cursing the others because they had suddenly turned to their books.

'That will do, Mr. Bethune,' said the Chancellor; 'we have had enough profanity for to-night.' Well, that has been the way all through. I wanted to win rank in the army--and I did; I ranked everybody as the king-bee of insubordination. That isn't all. Take my gait--the way I walk; everybody thinks I hold my head up and swagger because I am vain.

But look at the matter with clear eyes, Tolliver; I walk that way because it is natural to me. As for vanity, what on earth have I to be vain of?"

"Well, you are young, you know," said Gabriel--"almost as young as I am; and though you have been unlucky, that is no sign that it will always be so."

"No, Tolliver, I am several years older than you. All your opportunities are still to come; and if I can do nothing myself, I should like to see you succeed. I have heard my grandfather say some fine things about you."

Now, such talk as that, when it carries the evidence of sincerity along with it, is bound to win a young fellow over; youth cannot resist it.

Bethune won Gabriel, and won him completely. It was so pleasing to Gabriel to be able to have a cordial liking for Bethune that he had the feelings of those who gain a moral victory over themselves in the matter of some evil habit or pa.s.sion. His grandmother smiled fondly on his enthusiasm, remarking:

"Yes, Gabriel; he is certainly a fine young gentleman, and I am glad of it for Nan's sake. He will be sure to make her happy, and she deserves happiness as much as any human being I ever knew."

Gabriel also thought that Nan deserved to be very happy, but he could imagine several forms of happiness that did not include marriage with Bethune, however much he might admire his friend. And his enthusiastic praises of Bethune ceased so suddenly that his grandmother looked at him curiously. The truth is, her remarks about Nan and Bethune always gave Gabriel a cold chill. His grandmother was to him the fountain-head of wisdom, the embodiment of experience. When he was a bit of a lad, she used to untie all the hard knots, and untangle all the tangles that persisted in invading his large collection of string, cords and twines, and the ease with which she did this--for the knots seemed to come untied of their own accord, and the tangles to vanish as soon as her fingers touched them--gave Gabriel an impression of her ability that he never lost. Her word was law with him, though he had frequently broken the law, and her judgment was infallible.

CHAPTER NINE

_Nan and Gabriel_

Gabriel renewed his enthusiasm for Bethune as soon as he had an opportunity to see Nan. These opportunities became rarer and rarer as the days went by. Sometimes she was friendly and familiar, as on the day when she went home with him to hear the story of poor Margaret Gaither; but oftener she was cool and dignified, and appeared to be inclined to patronise her old friend and comrade. This was certainly her att.i.tude when Gabriel began to sing the praises of Francis Bethune when, on one occasion, he met her on the street.

"I'm sure it is very good of you, Gabriel, to speak so kindly of Mr.

Bethune," she said. "No doubt he deserves it all. He also says some very nice things about you, so I've heard. Nonny says there's some sort of an agreement between you--'you tickle me and I'll tickle you.' Oh, there's nothing for you to blush about, Gabriel," she went on very seriously.

"Nonny may laugh at it, but I think it speaks well for both you and Mr.

Bethune."

Gabriel made no reply, and as he stood there looking at Nan, and realising for the first time what he had only dimly suspected before, that they could no longer be comrades and chums, he presented a very uncomfortable spectacle. He was the picture of awkwardness. His hands and his feet were all in his way, and for the first time in his life he felt cheap. Nan had suddenly loomed up as a woman grown. It is true that she resolutely refused to follow the prevailing fashion and wear hoop-skirts, but this fact and her long dress simply gave emphasis to the fact that she was grown.

"Well, Nan, I'm very sorry," said Gabriel, by way of saying something.

He spoke the truth without knowing why.

"Sorry! Why should you be sorry?" cried Nan. "I think you have everything to make you glad. You have your Mr. Bethune, and no longer than yesterday I heard Eugenia Claiborne say that you are the handsomest man she ever saw--yes, she called you a man. She declared that she never knew before that curly hair could be so becoming to a man. And Margaret says that you and Eugenia would just suit each other, she a blonde and you a brunette."

Gabriel blushed again in spite of himself, and laughed, too--laughed at the incongruity of the situation. This Nan, with her long gingham frock, and her serious ways, was no more like the Nan he had known than if she had come from another world. It was laughable, of course, and pathetic, too, for Gabriel could laugh and feel sorry at the same moment.

"You haven't told me why you are sorry," said Nan, when the lad's silence had become embarra.s.sing to her.

"Well, I am just sorry," Gabriel replied.

"You are angry," she declared.

"No," he insisted, "I am just sorry. I don't know why, unless it's because you are not the same. You have been changing all the time, I reckon, but I never noticed it so much until to-day." His tone was one of complaint.

As Nan stood there regarding Gabriel with an expression of perplexity in her countenance, and tapping the ground impatiently with one foot, the two young people got their first whiff of the troubles that had been slowly gathering over that region. Around the corner near which they stood, two men had paused to finish an earnest conversation. Evidently they had been walking along, but their talk had become so interesting, apparently, that they paused involuntarily. They were hid from Nan and Gabriel by the high brick wall that enclosed Madame Awtry's back yard.

"As president of this league," said a voice which neither Nan nor Gabriel could recognise, "you will have great responsibility. I hope you realise it."

"I'm in hopes I does, suh," replied the other, whose voice there was no difficulty in recognising as that of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin.