The Strength of Gideon | Page 3

It was the voices that did it at first. There was no hymn
or "spiritual" that Gideon could start to which Martha could not sing an
easy blending second, and never did she open a tune that Gideon did
not swing into it with a wonderfully sweet, flowing, natural bass. Often
he did not know the piece, but that did not matter, he sang anyway.
Perhaps when they were out he would go to her and ask, "Sis' Martha,
what was that hymn you stahrted to-day?" and she would probably
answer, "Oh, dat was jes' one o' my mammy's ol' songs."
"Well, it sholy was mighty pretty. Indeed it was."
"Oh, thanky, Brothah Gidjon, thanky."
Then a little later they began to walk back to the master's house
together, for Martha, too, was one of the favored ones, and served, not
in the field, but in the big house.
The old women looked on and conversed in whispers about the pair, for
they were wise, and what their old eyes saw, they saw.
"Oomph," said Mam' Henry, for she commented on everything, "dem
too is jes' natchelly singin' demse'ves togeddah."
"Dey's lak de mo'nin' stahs," interjected Aunt Sophy.
"How 'bout dat?" sniffed the older woman, for she objected to any one's
alluding to subjects she did not understand.
"Why, Mam' Henry, ain' you nevah hyeahd tell o' de mo'nin' stahs whut
sung deyse'ves togeddah?"
"No, I ain't, an' I been livin' a mighty sight longah'n you, too. I knows
all 'bout when de stahs fell, but dey ain' nevah done no singin' dat I
knows 'bout."
"Do heish, Mam' Henry, you sho' su'prises me. W'y, dat ain' happenin's,
dat's Scripter."

"Look hyeah, gal, don't you tell me dat's Scripter, an' me been a-settin'
undah de Scripter fu' nigh onto sixty yeah."
"Well, Mam' Henry, I may 'a' been mistook, but sho' I took hit fu'
Scripter. Mebbe de preachah I hyeahd was jes' inlinin'."
"Well, wheddah hit's Scripter er not, dey's one t'ing su'tain, I tell
you,--dem two is singin' deyse'ves togeddah."
"Hit's a fac', an' I believe it."
"An' it's a mighty good thing, too. Brothah Gidjon is de nicest house
dahky dat I ever hyeahd tell on. Dey jes' de same diffunce 'twixt him
an' de othah house-boys as dey is 'tween real quality an' strainers--he
got mannahs, but he ain't got aihs."
"Heish, ain't you right!"
"An' while de res' of dem ain' thinkin' 'bout nothin' but dancin' an' ca'in'
on, he makin' his peace, callin', an' 'lection sho'."
"I tell you, Mam' Henry, dey ain' nothin' like a spichul named chile."
"Humph! g'long, gal; 'tain't in de name; de biggest devil I evah knowed
was named Moses Aaron. 'Tain't in de name, hit's all in de man hisse'f."
But notwithstanding what the gossips said of him, Gideon went on his
way, and knew not that the one great power of earth had taken hold of
him until they gave the great party down in the quarters, and he saw
Martha in all her glory. Then love spoke to him with no uncertain
sound.
It was a dancing-party, and because neither he nor Martha dared
countenance dancing, they had strolled away together under the pines
that lined the white road, whiter now in the soft moonlight. He had
never known the pine-cones smell so sweet before in all his life. She
had never known just how the moonlight flecked the road before. This
was lovers' lane to them. He didn't understand why his heart kept

throbbing so furiously, for they were walking slowly, and when a
shadow thrown across the road from a by-standing bush frightened her
into pressing close up to him, he could not have told why his arm stole
round her waist and drew her slim form up to him, or why his lips
found hers, as eye looked into eye. For their simple hearts love's
mystery was too deep, as it is for wiser ones.
Some few stammering words came to his lips, and she answered the
best she could. Then why did the moonlight flood them so, and why
were the heavens so full of stars? Out yonder in the black hedge a
mocking-bird was singing, and he was translating--oh, so poorly--the
song of their hearts. They forgot the dance, they forgot all but their
love.
"An' you won't ma'y nobody else but me, Martha?"
"You know I won't, Gidjon."
"But I mus' wait de yeah out?"
"Yes, an' den don't you think Mas' Stone'll let us have a little cabin of
ouah own jest outside de quahtahs?"
"Won't it be blessid? Won't it be blessid?" he cried, and then the kindly
moon went under a cloud for a moment and came out smiling, for he
had peeped through and had seen what passed.