Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Miss Thane stood doubtful, with the shawl in her hand. Bergan took it
from her quietly, and threw it across his broad shoulder. "It is
always safe to carry a shawl, if not to wear it," said he, lightly.
There was no formal arrangement of the party. The path lay through the
fields, and was often too narrow to admit more than one person; at
other times, partnerships of two or three were formed or broken, very
much by chance. A broad glory of moonshine not only lighted them on
their way, but surrounded them with enchantment,--softening lines, and
deepening shadows, and turning the whole earth into a new creation of
silver and ebony.
IV.
A WORD IN DUE SEASON.
Ere long, the shadowy wood-line was reached, and very soon a red
twinkle of light became visible through the trees, broadening and
brightening as they advanced. The sweet and solemn notes of a hymn,
sung by many voices, next pervaded the air; and in a few minutes more,
they were standing on the edge of the camp-ground, interested observers
of a singularly picturesque scene.
Opposite to them was the speaker's stand, well lighted, covered with
evergreen boughs, and affording accommodation to a goodly company of
preachers, but too distant to be unpleasantly prominent. Between them
and it, the whole vast space was crowded with negro worshippers; some
sitting, some kneeling; here, an uncouth figure bowed in an attitude of
absorbed meditation (or, it might be, indulging in a peaceful sleep);
there, a dusky, upturned face, intent, or agonized, or rapturous,
according as the owner was devoutly receptive, torn with conviction of
sin, or blissfully assured of pardon. From among them the brown trunks
of the forest trees rose straight and shapely as the pillars of a vast
temple; and overhead, the under surfaces of the leaves showed gray and
spectral against the sombre night sky. Here and there, lanterns were
fastened to the trees, but the place was chiefly illuminated by great
fires of pitch pine, whence clouds of smoke arose ever and anon, and
hung trembling in the tree-tops; and the flames of which, as they rose
and fell, cast alternate glow and gloom upon the upturned faces, and
seemed to work corresponding changes of expression,--sudden transitions
of joy and sorrow for which there was no apparent cause. Outside of
these fires, scattered groups of spectators now came out into bold
relief, and now lost themselves in shadow; strong profiles caught the
eye, and then vanished; here and there, too, white faces offered an
effective contrast to their darker neighbors.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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