Chapter VII: The Day Before

Never since the night at the sod house had Agnes Stewart been the same person. She could not seem to dismiss Jean Baptiste, and the instance of her providence in getting lost and thereby saving him, from her mind. His strange words and singular recognition of her was baffling. Being so very curious therefore, she had since learned that he was well known in the community and held in popular favor.

She knew little and understood less with regard to predestination; but she had, since meeting him, recalled that he was the one she had seen in her dream--and loved! She tried to laugh away such a freak; but do what she might, she grew more curious to see him again as the days passed; to talk with him, and learn at last what she was anxious to know--curious to know. _How did he come to utter her name and say that he had waited?_

And, coincident with this, she recalled anew what she had learned--which positively was little--regarding her mother. She had been told that she inherited that one's peculiarity; that her mother had possessed rare eyes, which in a measure explained her own. But she had not been told or knew why her mother had arranged the legacy as she had. Not until the day before she was to marry must she know. And then should she not have won a husband to herself by the time she had reached thirty, she was to have the same then, anyhow. Singular, but in a sense practical.

Well, it was so, and she could only sigh and be patient. Most girls she had known back in "Nubbin Ridge" were usually married by the time they had reached her present age. But she was not quite like other girls, and did not even have a beau.

She wondered if the man she had saved had a sweetheart. And when she thought of this, she had a feeling that she would know in time. And as the days passed she began at last to believe that in some manner he would play a part in her own life. But Agnes Stewart was too innocent to know--at least appeared not to be aware of--_the custom of the country and its law_, and therefore could not appreciate the invisible and socially invincible barrier between them. 'Twas only the man Jean Baptiste she saw and reckoned according to what she understood. Therefore, because she could get nowhere in her wonderings, as a diversion she turned to the little diary and recorded therein:

JANUARY 20TH, 19-- I have not had the patience since arriving here
to record any of the events that have transpired since we left
Indiana. We have been here now nearly three weeks. Have not as yet
had time to draw any conclusion with regard to the country, but
this much I can cheerfully say--and which did not prevail back
where we came from--there is spirit in the country, the spirit of
the Pioneer.

The weather has been cold, cold every day since we arrived. Because
we ran out of urgent provisions soon after coming here I ventured
to go to Gregory, which is seven miles distant, for some more. I
have been too much upset over what took place on that memorable
trip to say much about it. Because I have never kept anything from
him, I told papa how I started from the town, became lost, and
stayed all night at a house and saved a man thereby. He has been so
frightened over what happened that he will not let me go anywhere
alone again--not even in the daytime. "Just think, my girl," he has
said time and again, "supposing you had not stumbled into that
house, you would surely have frozen to death on the plains!" I
somehow feel that Dolly would have brought me home; but that is a
matter for conjecture. But what I say to papa in return is: "Had I
not gotten lost, that man that is known so well about the country
must surely have suffered death!" This seems to pacify him, and he
is pleased after all to know that my getting lost was so provident
and opportune.

He has met the man, Jean Baptiste, (such an odd name,) and likes
him very much--in fact, he is very much carried away with him. I
have not seen him since the morning I left him at his sod house;
but I cannot get out of my mind the events that passed while I was
there. Always I can see him look up into my eyes with that strange
recognition, and then as he turned, call "_Agnes, it is you. I'm
glad you have come for I've waited for you so long._" What that
means I would give most half my life to know. I know that I shall
never rest in peace until I have become well enough acquainted with
him to ask him why and how he knew me. Then followed the morning
when he talked to himself and did not know I heard. It is all so
vivid in my mind.

Of late I have had an uncontrollable desire. I have wanted to know
more of my mother. It seems that if I could have known her, I would
understand myself better. I am positive now, that she must have
been a rare person. That she was French and very high tempered,
papa has told me; and also that she had lived in the West Indies
before he met her, but that she was born in France. As to the
legacy, he lays that to her peculiarity. She was always peculiar
in a way, says he; and that at all times she was mysterious. She
had been over almost all the world, and was wise in many things. He
thinks I have inherited much of her wit, and that eventually it
will express itself in some manner, which is all so strange. I
hope, however, it will. To rise in some manner out of the simple,
uneventful life I've lived would certainly be appreciated; but
whatever it is I cannot conclude.

Should I ever rise in any way, I feel now it would be due in some
manner to my meeting that strange colored man. I have wondered so
often since meeting him, how it feels to be a Negro. Papa and I
have discussed it often since. I understand there is a sort of
prejudice against the race in this country; that in the South they
are held down and badly treated; that in the North, even, they are
not fairly treated. Papa and I were both agreed about it. We cannot
understand why one should be disliked because his skin is dark; or
because his ancestors were slaves. But withal I cannot understand
how one could deal unfairly with them because of this. It is said
that some of the race are very ignorant and vicious; that they very
often commit the unspeakable crime. I suppose that is possible. If
so, then they should be educated. Take this Jean Baptiste, for
instance, an educated man, and what a gentleman! But papa, (he is
very vindictive!) he says that only about half the colored people
in this country are full blood; that in the days of slavery and
since, even, the white man who is very often ready to abuse the
black men, has been the cause of this mixture.... I should think
their consciences would disturb them.

Oh, well, I am glad that I have grown up where prejudice against
races is not a custom. My mother was French; my father Scotch all
through, and because I know him and am so ingrained with his
liberal traditions--even tho' he be poor,--I am at peace with all
mankind.

We haven't all the money we need, and the fact worries me. Papa
says he will hire Bill to some one if any one should need help. It
might be that the colored man will hire him, maybe. They say he is
going to hire a man. Papa intends to speak to him about it. The
only thing that worries us is that we have to explain that weakness
in Bill and George. George is impossible: too slow, talks too much,
and would never earn his salt. But if one is patient with Bill
until he catches on, he is an excellent worker, and faithful. I
wish the colored man would give him the job. He owns the quarter
that corners with us, which he expects to complete breaking out and
putting into flax next summer, so we are told. If Bill could get
that job it would be handy. Handy for Bill, for Mr. Baptiste, and
for us.

We have not met many people as yet. Because it is so cold to get
out, I haven't met any so to speak; but papa appears to be getting
acquainted right along. We are going to town--to Gregory again
Saturday. I am looking forward to it with pleasant anticipation. I
sincerely trust it will be a beautiful day. In the meantime the
clock has struck one, papa is turning over in bed and I can hear
him. I'll hear his voice presently, so I will close this with hopes
that Saturday will be a beautiful day and that I'll meet and become
acquainted with some nice people.