In the preceding chapter, we said that Mr. Sowers and Wilse Reed reached the mill shortly after their talk beneath the ledge. Well, Mr. Sower[s] stayed at the mill until supper time. Wilse Reed went to Winchester that evening with a load of flour. As soon as Wilse was off, Mr. Sowers went in his office and sat down and fell into a sad reverie. Finally he roused himself and began in a low voice thus: ÷

“I wish, oh! I wish I had never done it. {I} have put myself in Wilse Reed’s power. Oh {m}y god, if I had my days to live over {. . .} from 1820 up to the present time. I have {. . .} my heart gnawed with a guilty conscience all for revenge. She proved false to me, and I was mad when I took Wilse Reed to help me carry out my fiendish plans. Then to think of going to a graveyard! Oh, to think of it makes me miserable, miserable!” He got up and paced the floor for a long time looking out of the window. About five o’clock he saw his wagoner coming. He controlled his feelings as best he could by the time Wilse came in the office.

“Well, Wilse,” said Sowers. “You said you had a proposition to make. Come out with it.”

“Well, Josh, meet me at midnight under the ledge. The man I have got employed will be there at precisely eleven o’clock. You meet me at twelve and I will tell you of the proposition I have to make. Come prepared, for money is {th}e object in all transactions. If you had done as I told you twenty-two years ago, you would have forgotten it all by this time.” As Wilse said this, he eyed his master, or rather his employer, furtively to see the effect of his words.

“Well, Wilse, it is too late to talk about what might have been done. What I do now is not for revenge but to hide my first deviltry.” Here a look of pain passed over his face and he added: “Oh Wilson, to think of it makes me so miserable. When we were talking beneath the ledge, I saw a woman on the ledge sitting still as if listening at us.”

At hearing this, Wilse Reed’s face became ashy pale; however, he said doggedly:

“If I catch anyone eavesdropping [on] me, I’ll {. . .} blow their brains out!” And thus they parted.

Mr. Sowers started toward his fine house, and he was trying hard to conceal his inner feelings. They had a colored boy living with them belonging to the class called free negroes. His name was George, and as Mr. Sowers reached his kitchen door he asked for George. Aunt Sally said, “Indeed, Marse Sowers, I don’t know where he is. These nasty lazy free niggahs is so cunnin’ dey are always hidin’ to keep from deir work. But Marse Joshua, what is de matter, honey, you look so drefful pale: has anything happened? I’ll go and call George. You look as white as a ghost, honey. What’s de matter wid you?”

It took Joshua Sowers a good while to control his feelings enough to speak. At last he said, “No, Aunt Sally, there is nothing the matter with me. Go and call George. Where is Miss Mary and Mattie? I have got a little headache.”

“Dey’s upstairs, honey,” said Aunt Sally. “Now I’ll call dat good-for-nothin’ George. I ’spect he is in de haymow asleep,” said she, and she started towards the barn. She went in and looked all around for George. Finally she called out:

“You, George, come down out of dat haymow—I hear you snorin’. Come down, I say, or shall I come up dere after you? Marse Joshua wants you too. Come down, you lazy trifling free niggah.” She was in the act of going up the ladder when George laid his hand on her shoulder. He had heard her calling him, and he ran from the house to the barn, and as she was standing in the door, he listened at her as long as he wanted to and then slapped his hand on her shoulder.

“Why, Aunt Sally,” said George. “You had no Idea I was upstairs when Mr. Sowers came up. I heard you telling him I was off somewhere asleep.”

George had learned to read and write and he always spoke very fluently, and it always made Aunt Sally mad to hear him speak as proper as the “white folk,” so she said angrily:

“Take your hand off a’me, free niggah. Keep your hand off a’me! I say if you do speak a little conflurently I’ll take none of your impertinence. Dat’s a proper word I’ll bet you.”

“Oh Aunt Sally, don’t be so hard on the free negroes,” said George good humoredly.

“We can’t help being free.”

Shortly after this, they went to the house and George went upstairs again. He was a great favorite of Mrs. Sowers. She was a full New Englander and she didn’t approve of slavery, but her husband would buy Jack and Aunt Sally. We omitted saying in our last chapter that Mrs. Sowers took notice of her husband looking so pale. However, according to the old proverb it is not too late, “while there is life there is hope,” and as Mr. Sowers entered he tried to look calm but his trials was [sic] too thin, Dear Reader, too thin. His wife notice[d] the deathly pallor of his face as soon as he was seated.

“Why my Dear, how awful pale you look!” exclaimed Mrs. Sowers anxiously. “Is anything the matter, love?”

Now Mrs. Sowers was not her husband’s first love. He had always treated her well, but he had very little love for her. He said in a trembling voice, “I am a little sick, Mattie. Bring me some cool water in a basin and bathe my head a little, won’t you?”

“Of course I will, dear Father. I will do anything I can for you,” Mattie said as she hastened to comply with his request. She soon returned, followed by George, but Mr. Sowers could hold out no longer. He had had so much excitement during that eventful day—Monday [the] second of April—that when the reaction came (though he seemed to have an iron constitution and a nerve to be envied) the reaction proved too much for him. Just as Mattie opened the door, he fell forward with a groan. George and Mattie laid him on the sofa and through their exertions he was soon brought back to consciousness. He looked wildly around for a while and then said in a voice of distress: “Why did you bring me back to consciousness? Would that I could—would to God I could relapse into a state of never-ending unconsciousness! Would to God I could sink forever into oblivion!”

Mattie, at hearing this, ran forward and threw her arms around his neck and said, “Oh! Father, it is cruel—it is as cruel as the grave for you to talk that way.”

“Well, Daughter, I have nothing to live for,” said Sowers gloomily. “Have I anything to live for? No! Alas! I have nothing to live for, nothing! Nothing, oh God! Oh God!”^[1]

He controlled his feelings enough in a few minutes to look as calm as ever, but there was a gnawing pain at his heart. The bell rang for supper and they all went down. As they reached the dining room, Wilse Reed came in. He always treated Mr. Sowers with great respect before anyone, but it was his greatest pleasure to torture him with that secret power he held over him when alone. When they were seated at the table, Mr. Sowers asked Wilse if the miller that was to take William Reed’s place had put in an appearance.

“No sir,” Wilse said. “He has not come yet. I hope he’ll be here in the morning.”

“Father, what did you say the young man’s name was?” Mattie inquired.

“His name is Hugh Walters,” Mr. Sowers said. “And Mattie, he is a nice looking gent, I assure you. I can call Wilse to prove that, can’t I, Wilse?” And he turned his face to Wilse.

“Yes sir, he is a fine looking gent, and Miss Mattie, you had best set your cap for him,” answered Wilse. They had finished their supper and they arose from the table. Mr. Sowers went out on the porch and, taking a seat, his thoughts ran thus: ÷

“I have erred greatly in my young days. Oh, if my wife and dear child knew what a villain I have been all for the love of [a] woman. If she had only proved true I would have been a better man, but then I was a drunkard. After she had promised me her hand, I fell in with this Wilse Reed as he called himself, and he has made me what I am. I could not—cannot blame her.”

He arose after sunset and found his wife and daughter in the parlor. They went to bed at nine o’clock, as we said in the preceding chapter, [and] after they had all went [sic] to sleep Sowers got up and stealthily crept downstairs. It was now half past eleven. He was due at the ledge in half an hour’s time. He went to his secretary and got out a considerable amount of gold and silver. He then closed the secretary and set awhile in his easy chair. As he set there in the dim moonlight—he thought—he saw a shadow darken the window but didn’t take any notice of it. At last he arose and started on his very unpleasant errand toward the ledge of rocks.

After Wilse Reed got his supper, he went to see Mrs. Barton. If Wilse Reed held a secret power over Sowers, it was not any more binding than the power Mrs. Barton held over him.

“Well, Jane,” said Wilse as he entered Mrs. Barton’s residence. “Well, Jane, how are you and how have you been? Well, I had my fun with old Sowers today working my secret power over him.”

Mrs. Barton looked at him for a long time before she spoke, and when she did speak, dear Readers, she said something.

“Wilson Reed, as I choose to call you, have you got a secret power over Sowers as you always said you had?”

Wilse did not answer immediately. Finally he said, “Yes, Jane, I have, and if he tries to play any tricks on me I’ll expose him. I’ll let the world and Virginian society see what a villain they have been in company with. He is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Mrs. Barton again eyed him keenly. He was a coarse, vulgar looking man. He looked as if he would not hesitate to do the most heinous crime.

“Wilson Reed, mark my words,” exclaimed Mrs. Barton. “Mark my words: I say the day you expose Joshua Sowers I’ll expose you. The day Joshua Sowers is exposed, you are no longer Wilson Reed but you’ll be carried from here in chains as                .” Here she called a name. Whether the name was of any consequence or not, it brought Wilson Reed to comprehend how fully he was in Mrs. Barton’s power. He looked as if he was thunderstruck.

“Jane, you would not expose me, would you? Why do you forget you are my—” His sentence was cut short for this simple reason: Mrs. Barton’s teacups and saucers were flying around his head in such profusion he had to stop talking to dodge his head to keep the pieces of china out of his eyes.

“No, you vile miscreant,” said Mrs. Barton, exasperated with rage. “No, no, a thousand times no! I recollect it all well enough, but I am not what you was going to say I was.”

There was a silence of a brief duration; then Wilse said, “Jane, I have never told Sowers where I was that two years I was missing, and I never shall, but you will not expose me, will you?” His words and looks were so plaintive Mrs. Barton felt sorry for him.

“Well, Wilse, I will do just as I said,” Mrs. Barton answered. “I will deal with you as you deal with Sowers. You must not torture him so. Kate said she heard your voice on the road by the ledge but she could not make out the other voice, ’twas so plaintive, nor she didn’t see neither of you. I said to myself then you were torturing Sowers. Promise me you’ll not do so again.”

Wilse promised he would not and then departed. He went to the mill and stayed until eleven o’clock, then to the ledge. This mysterious personage that was to meet him at the [ledge] was his companion in some plot. They had a long talk. About half past eleven this personage left, and Wilse walked about backward and forward under the ledge until he heard footsteps nearing. He looked at his watch. He could see the hands dimly in the faint moonlight. The hour was exactly Twelve. Nearer and nearer came the footsteps. At last he could discern the form of a man about five hundred feet distant. He seated himself on a rock to await the coming of his next man, while hovering on the top of the ledge was this mysterious personage waiting for money. At last Mr. Sowers reached the ledge.

“Well, Josh, I see you are on time,” said Wilse Reed as Sowers came to where he was standing.

“Yes, Wilse, I am here now to [do] business at once.”

Wilse did as requested, taking care not to speak loud enough for his accomplice at the top of the ledge to hear. After about a half hour’s talk they separated, or at least they prepared to separate, and as they were saying their parting words they were startled by hearing a loud and deafening scream. Sowers started off home, and near his house he glanced up through some bushes, and he saw a person walking rapidly away.

“Hold on, Josh, I’ll be hanged if I have got money enough. Hold on, I say.”