African Americans -- Fiction; Short stories, American; Southern States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
There was never a time but there were some rocks in its channel around
which the little stream had to glide or over which it had to bound and
bubble; and thus it was with the loves of our young friends. But in
this case the crystal stream seemed destined neither to bound over nor
glide by the obstacle in its path, but rather to let its merry course be
checked thereby.
It may, at first, seem a strange thing to say, but it was nevertheless
true, that the whole sweep and torrent of the trouble had rise in the
great religious revival that was being enthusiastically carried on at
the little Baptist meeting-house. Interest, or, perhaps more correctly
speaking, excitement ran high, and regularly as night came round all
the hands on the neighbouring plantations flocked to the scene of their
devotions.
There was no more regular attendant at these meetings, nor more deeply
interested listener to the pastor’s inflammatory exhortations, than
Anner ’Lizer. The weirdness of the scene and the touch of mysticism in
the services—though, of course, she did not analyse it thus—reached her
emotional nature and stirred her being to its depths. Night after night
found her in her pew, the third bench from the rude pulpit, her large
eyes, dilated to their fullest capacity, following the minister through
every motion, seeming at times in their steadfastness to look through him
and beyond to the regions he was describing,—the harp-ringing heaven of
bliss or the fire-filled home of the damned.
Now Sam, on the other hand, could not be induced to attend these
meetings; and when his fellow-servants were at the little church praying,
singing, and shouting, he was to be found sitting in one corner of his
cabin, picking his banjo, or scouring the woods, carrying axe and taper,
and, with a dog trotting at his heels, hunting for that venison of the
negro palate,—’coon.
Of course this utter irreverence on the part of her lover shocked
Anner ’Lizer; but she had not entered far enough into the regions of
the ecstasy to be a proselyte; so she let Sam go his way, albeit with
reluctance, while she went to church unattended. But she thought of Sam;
and many a time when she secretly prayed to get religion she added a
prayer that she might retain Sam.
He, the rogue, was an unconscious but pronounced sceptic; and day by day,
as Anner ’Lizer became more and more possessed by religious fervour, the
breach between them widened; still widening gradually until the one span
that connected the two hearts was suddenly snapped asunder on the night
when Anner ’Lizer went to the mourner’s bench.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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