for having refused my offer.
Then, bowing to me with mock politeness, he turned on his heel and walked rapidly away, leaving me weeping and dishevelled.
CHAPTER FOUR
As soon as he was out of sight, I twisted up my hair and arranged the disorder of my attire as much as was possible; then I hurried home, and fortunately got up to my room without being seen by either Miss Dean or Martha.
Locking the door, I undressed, for my clothes were in a dreadful state; my frock, a white one, was torn at the gathers nearly all the way round, and the back was stained green; the strings of my petticoats were broken, my chemise was torn and my drawers were hanging in ribbons about my legs; my thighs were covered with black marks made by the pressure of the man’s fingers, and I was sore and bruised all over.
After I had put on clean things I threw myself on the bed, buried my face in the pillow and cried. But my tears now were angry ones, for the keenness of my shame had somewhat worn off.
I was enraged at my foolishness in having trusted myself alone with Randolph, for whom I had a feeling of distrust ever since he had expressed to me his low opinion of the virtue of women. I also felt degraded in my own estimation that he should have taken for granted that I was the sort of girl who would give herself up to a man for the asking. I am sure that I had never given him the least encouragement.
Then I remembered that he had said that I would be sorry for not accepting his offer. I had made an enemy of him, so most probably he would give information about us to the police.
It was not pleasant to think of. I felt that I ought to let Miss Dean know that we had been found out, but, had I done so, I should have been obliged to enter into all the details of my affair with Randolph. And I could not bear to tell her of the outrage which I had been subjected to. Altogether, through my imprudence, we were in a dreadful fix, and there was nothing to be done but wait miserably for the end, which would be in the jail. (Already in my mind I pictured Miss Dean and myself clad in coarse prison garments, and with our hair cropped short, toiling at some hard labor.)
Presently Martha knocked at the door to tell me that tea was ready; so I had to pull myself together and go down to the parlor. I could not eat much, and Miss Dean noticed at once my want of appetite; she also saw that my face was pale and my eyes red, and she asked me what was the matter.
I told her that I had a bad headache, which was the truth. On hearing that, the kind-hearted woman made me lie on the sofa while she bathed my forehead with eau de Cologne. Then she recommended that I go to bed, so that I might have a long night’s rest and sleep off the headache.
But I did not sleep well. My rest was broken by a succession of horrid dreams in which I fancied that I was struggling in the arms of a man with an enormous member, who always succeeded in overcoming my resistance and taking my maidenhead. In the morning, while dressing, I wondered where we should be in twenty-four hours’ time, for I fully expected that Miss Dean and I would be arrested before the night came.
The day wore slowly away. I was uneasy and restless, I could not settle down to my usual routine of work. I was constantly peeping out of the window watching for the arrival of the police.
They did not come. But, at nine o’clock, a runaway made his appearance in a starving condition, and, in attending to the poor creature’s wants, I forgot for the time, my own precarious position.
Several days went by quietly and I began to think that Randolph after all was not going to be so mean as to inform on us. But all the same I was very anxious to get out of the state of Virginia, so I said to Miss Dean that I thought we had now done our share of the work and that we ought to go back to Philadelphia. Miss Dean however would not hear of such a thing.
She said we were doing good work and that we must go on with it, for some time longer at any rate.
Another fortnight passed, during which period three fugitives had arrived, two men and a woman, all of whom we had sent on to the next station without, as far as I knew, exciting any suspicion, and, since nothing had occurred to alarm me, my spirits rose and I became quite myself again.
I had not seen Randolph since the day he had assaulted me, but I often had thought of the shameful affair, the recollection of it always sending the blood in a hot flood to my cheeks. I had a hatred for the man and hoped that I should never again set eyes on him.
But, alas! I was fated to see him before long, under the most painful circumstances. One afternoon, about five o’clock, we were sitting in the veranda at the front of the house. Miss Dean, looking very sweet and pretty in a dove-colored dress, was as usual usefully employed in making shirts for the runaways, while I was engaged in trimming a hat for myself. Martha was in the kitchen washing up plates and dishes, for we had just finished tea.
I was in good spirits, and as I worked I sang to myself in a low voice a plantation song I had learned from the Negroes, called Carry Me Back To Ole Virginny. It was strange that I should have been singing that particular song, for I was very anxious to get away from Ole Virginny and had I been out of that state I certainly would not have asked anyone to carry me back to it.
Presently the stillness of the evening was broken by the clatter of horses’ hoofs mingled with the sound of loud voices in the distance, and, on looking down the lane, I saw a number of men, some of them mounted, some on foot, coming towards the house. Miss Dean and I gazed at them as they came along, and we wondered where they were all going; people very rarely entered our secluded lane.
To our surprise, the party stopped at the house, the men on horseback dismounting and hitching their horses to the fence. Then the whole crowd came into the veranda and gathered round us as we sat, in silent astonishment, on our chairs. I noticed however, that there was a hard stern look on the face of every man, while some of them scowled at us with angry glances.
There were fifteen men, all of whom were quite unknown to me, even by sight. Most of them were bearded, rough looking fellows, dressed in coarse cotton shirts of various colors, with their trousers tucked into boots reaching to the knees, and wearing slouch hats on their heads.
But there were some men better dressed, and evidently of a higher class.
My heart began to flutter, and a vague foreboding of evil came over me, for, though I had not the least suspicion of what the men’s intentions were, I guessed from their looks that they had not come to pay us a friendly visit.
One of the intruders, a man about forty years of age, who was addressed by the others as Jake Stevens and who appeared to be the leader of the band, stepped forward, and laying his hand on Miss Dean’s shoulder, at the same time looking at me, said sternly: Stand up you two, I’ve got sumthin’ to say to you.
We both rose to our feet, and Miss Dean asked in a quiet tone: Why have you and your companions invaded my house in this rough manner?
The man laughed scornfully, saying, Well, I should say you orter pretty well guess what’s brought us here. You ain’t so innocent as you look, by a long chalk. Then, with an oath, he went on: It has come to the knowledge of the white folks in these parts that you are keeping an ’underground station.’ Since you have been here you have got away a great many slaves.
Now I jest tell you that we Southerners don’t allow no derned Northern abolitionists to run off our slaves. When we ketches abolitionists we makes it hot for them, and now that we’ve ketched you and your assistant, we are going to bring you before Judge Lynch’s court. The boys who have come here with me are the gentlemen of the jury. Isn’t that the right talk boys? he said to the men round him.
Yes, yes, Jake. That’s the talk. You’ve put it the right way, shouted several voices.
I sank down on my chair, horribly frightened. I had heard dreadful stories of the cruelties perpetrated under the name of Lynch.
