CHAPTER XXIX.
AUNT DILSEY TO THE RESCUE
"Send Miss Betsy to me at once," was Gilcrest's order to a negro girlwho was sweeping the hall one cold, snowy morning in December, as hestrode into the house, whip in hand, clad in overcoat and riding-boots."Where's your mistress?"
"In the settin'-room, marstah."
"Then send Miss Betsy to me there. Put down that broom, and go atonce--move quickly, nigger!" With a grim look he went into thesitting-room, where his wife was dawdling over her tambour frame; andPolly sped up the stairs. In the upper hall she encountered AuntDilsey.
"Whut's the mattah, gal?" asked the old negress. "You look lak a rabbitskeered outen a bresh heap."
"Marstah's stompin' an' ragin' 'roun lak a mad bull down thah," pantedthe girl. "He say teh fotch Miss Betsy to him to oncet in thesettin'-room. She's gwine kotch it sho 'nough this time."
"'Deed she hain't, long's her brack mammy's heah teh p'otect her! MarseHi's losin' his las' grain o' sense; but he bettah min' how he capers'roun'. He's been pussecutin' thet bressed chile long 'nough--all kazeshe's true teh her 'fections, an' woan give in when he say she shan'thev thet nice, rosy-cheek, perlite young gemmin she's begaged to. OleDilsey's done kep' still long 'nough; it's time fer her teh lay down delaw a bit. I hain't feared o' Marse Hi, ef he does stomp an' rumpage.You heahs me, doan you?"
In this, as in all other large households throughout the SouthernStates, the "black mammy" was an indispensable part of the family. Thereal mother usually gave her children careful attention andsuperintended their training; but she took upon herself little of thedrudgery and burden of their upbringing. A subordinate nurse was thechildren's guardian and companion when they went out for play orexercise, but the "black mammy" ruled over this negro and was thehighest authority on all matters pertaining to the nursery. Even thereal mother humored this foster mother in the management of thechildren; and when, as in the case of Mrs. Gilcrest, the mistress wasfrail of health and unassertive by nature, the black mammy's authoritybecame almost paramount. And such was the nature of Dilsey's authority.
Silas Gilcrest, Hiram's father, had bought Dilsey from a Massachusettsslave-ship when she was a child of twelve years. She was just fromAfrica, and could not speak a word of English. Silas Gilcrest broughther at once into his own house, where she served first as nurse to theinfant Hiram, and later as upper house servant. Her skin was black asebony, but she was of superior intelligence and of stout and loyalheart. She nursed Hiram Gilcrest in his babyhood, was his caretaker andfaithful attendant in boyhood, and his loyal adherent in early manhood.When he married, she went with him from Massachusetts to Virginia, andfrom there she and her husband and two children accompanied Hiram andhis wife to Kentucky.
When Betsy, Hiram's first-born, was laid in old Dilsey's arms, she hadjust buried her own baby, and all the mother love of her passionatenature went out to this tiny scion of the house of Gilcrest.Thenceforward, the unreasoning, self-sacrificing devotion which informer days Dilsey had lavished upon Hiram was transferred to hisdaughter.
As time went on, and her cares and responsibilities multiplied with theadvent of each new baby to her master and mistress, Mammy Dilsey,though still faithful and devoted, became more and more self-importantand dictatorial. She felt herself superior in education and position tothe other negroes, and almost, if not quite, as important a part of thehousehold as the master himself. As for Mrs. Gilcrest, Dilsey's regardfor her was compounded of admiration and pitying patronage. She lovedand tended and ruled over all the children, but Betsy was her idol, forwhom she would cheerfully have laid down her own life. ThroughoutBetsy's disagreement with her father, Dilsey had been her confidant andcomforter; and her indignation against her master for the past fewmonths had only thus far been restrained from actual outbreak byBetty's entreating her to be silent, lest by want of tactful patienceshe might still further provoke the irascible spirit of the master ofOaklands. On this particular morning, however, Aunt Dilsey's spirit wasstirred within her, and she felt it high time to assert herself.
When Betsy reached the sitting-room she found her mother cryinghelplessly and her father fuming up and down the room.
"What do you mean by this, girl?" he asked, flourishing a folded paperin her face. "Did I not command you to have nothing more to do withthat worthless fellow? And here you are actually writing to him, andbribing my servants to fetch his letters and to take him your answers!What do you mean?"
"I mean, sir," Betsy answered, facing him bravely, "that I'll notsubmit to your tyrannical treatment any longer--keeping me a prisonerin these grounds, and forbidding me to hold any communication with theman I love and honor and mean to marry. I have been for weeks underrestraint; not even allowed to walk about the yard without a spyingblack slave at my heels. More than this, two weeks ago you intercepteda letter addressed to me, and you now hold in your hand--without anyright whatever--a note of mine to Mr. Logan. What if I did 'stoop tobribe a servant' to carry a message to my lover? That is little incomparison with your keeping me in durance, and intercepting myletters. And you talk to me of 'stooping' and of dishonor!"
"Betsy! Betsy! my dear, my dear!" wailed her mother, "don't use suchlanguage. Oh, oh, you and your father are killing me!"
"Mother, mother, have you no feeling for your daughter, that you havesaid no word to help her in all these months? Are you so under thethrall of that tyrant that you meekly submit without a protest to suchtreatment of me? Yes," she said, turning to her father, who stoodmotionless, his eyes blazing, his face white with passion, "you are atyrant, but I defy you. You shall not break my spirit. I mean to marryAbner Logan as soon as he says the word."
"Be silent, before I strike you!" cried her father, advancing towardher. "Go! Fling yourself into your lover's arms as soon as you please.I wash my hands of you, you willful, passionate hussy!"
"Stop! stop! this instant, Hiram Gilcrest," shrieked his wife, risingfrom her chair and stamping her foot. Then she rushed to him, caughthis arm and actually shook him, crying: "You shall not heap such abuseon my child! I have been silent long enough."
If the portrait of old Silas Gilcrest, hanging above the mantel, hadopened its mouth and spoken, father and daughter could not have beenmore astounded than at this outbreak. In the whole course of hermarried life this was the first time that Jane Gilcrest had everasserted herself, or raised her voice against her lord and master."Yes, you are a brute to use such language and to treat your daughterso! And now, I suppose you'll beat me, next; you look as though you'dlike to fell us both to the earth with that whip--oh! oh! oh!" sheshrieked, and fell back in a swoon.
Betsy, white, unnerved, and more frightened than she had ever been inher life, sprang to her mother's aid, who recovered from her faint onlyto go into violent hysterics. Gilcrest stood dazed and motionless,staring at his wife, with the riding-whip unconsciously clenched in hishand.
_At this juncture the door was flung open by oldDilsey._]
At this juncture, the door was flung open by old Dilsey. She stood asecond on the threshold, as though paralyzed at the tableau before her.Mrs. Gilcrest leaned back in her chair, moaning and trembling; Betsycrouched by her side, in reality trying to pacify her mother, thoughapparently seeking shelter from her father, who stood before them withthe uplifted whip. Then, her black eyes blazing, the negress sprangforward with the swiftness and fierceness of a tiger; and charging uponher master with such force as almost to throw him down, she seized hisarm and wrenched the whip from his grasp.
"I said you had done gone plum crazy," she cried, "but I nebbah thoughtI'd lib teh see the day you'd raise yo' arm ag'in yo' own wife an'chile. Don' you dar' tech 'em! I'll p'otect 'em wid my life's blood!"
"Shut up, you old harridan!" returned Gilcrest. "Nobody's going tostrike your mistress, or her daughter either. Take your Miss Jane toher room, and attend to her."
"I doan lebe dis room tell I speaks my min' 'bout yo' ongodly carryin'on an' yo' shameful 'buse ob my sweet lamb, my own Miss Betsy."
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"Shut up, I tell you!" again cried Gilcrest.
"I woan shet up. I will speak my min'!"
"I'll cowhide you, you black witch!" shouted her master, threateningly.
"Whip me? Ole Dilsey? 'Deed you woan! Ef you lays de weight ob a fingahon me, I'll t'ar you limb f'um limb!" She faced him, arms akimbo, eyessnapping, and defiance in every line of her tall figure and in everyfold of her red turban. "Does you think I'se feared ob you? Me, whutnussed an' tended you when you wuz a pore, sickly baby, an' bossed you,an' spanked yo' back sides many a time when you wuz a streprous,mis-che-vous boy?"
"Leave the room this instant!" cried Gilcrest, white with anger.
"Nary step does I budge tell I frees my mind," answered Dilsey withdetermination. "Hain't you no bowels ob marcy fur yo' own flesh an'blood? Is you done persessed by de Debble, dat you treats dat pore lambso, whut hain't done nuthin' but be true to her sweetheart? Yo' fustborned chile, too, yo' leetle gal whut you kissed an' cried obah furjoy when ole Dilsey fotch her to you; an' you tuck her in yo' arms, detears runnin' down yo' cheeks an' yo' voice trem'lin' an' a-shakin', ezyou thanked de good Lawd fur yo' purty black-eyed baby gal, an' furbringin' yo' pore young wife safe frew her trial!"
"There, there, Dilsey," said Gilcrest, moved in spite of himself by herrough eloquence. "You have entirely misconceived the situation. I hadno intention of striking either your mistress or Miss Betsy. Leave offyour foolish raving, and help me get your Miss Jane to her bed. Don'tyou see she is not able to stand?" Then to his daughter he added, "Ifall this excitement and trouble make your mother really ill, it is yourfault, you rebellious girl."