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Updated: May 24, 2025
During the time of waiting to see the sheriff the jailer's wife frequently spent an hour or two in social conversation. She said they never bought or sold a slave but at the earnest solicitation of the slave. "Our black Mary was one of the most pitiable objects you ever saw.
"God saved him, Charles; it was therefore good that he did not die." "For us?" "I cannot fathom the ways of the Lord. I tell you, my beloved Charles, beware of Roland; Roland is close by." Charles smiled incredulously. "I tell you that he is not only near here, but he has been seen." "He has been seen! Where? Who saw him?" "Who saw him?" "Yes." "Charlotte, my maid, the jailer's daughter.
These were the country folks, coming in early to make a big day of it; orchardists; ranchers from the cattle lands in the south end of the county; truck and vegetable farmers; flower-seed gardeners; the Japs and Chinese from their little, closely cultivated patches; this tide streamed past me on my left hand, as I made my way to Worth and the jailer's office, trying with every mile I put behind me, to bolster my courage.
Her name and something of her sweet innocence and fidelity were given to the jailer's daughter of "The Bravo." "The well is deep far down they lie, beneath the cold, blue water! My ear-rings! my ear-rings!"
This justified his suspicions of the Squire; but by no means lessened his bitterness against him, for the prank he had intended to play upon him. With great simplicity, he presented himself at the Big House, and met its owner on the lawn, accompanied by two other gentlemen. The magistrate was somewhat surprised at seeing Art at large, when he imagined him to be under the jailer's lock and key.
His countenance, for a few moments, becomes dark and desponding; but the kind words that fall from the jailer's lips inspire him with confidence; and, turning partly on his side, he thrusts his begrimed hands into a pair of greasy pockets, whistling "Yankee Doodle," with great composure.
One fine, frosty morning, then, when I had lain in this distress just four weeks, the door of my cell open'd, and there appear'd a young woman, not uncomely, bringing in my bread and water. She was the jailer's daughter, and wore a heavy bunch of keys at her girdle. "Oh, good morning!" said I: for till now her father only had visited me, and this was a welcome change.
These friends, calling as often as prudence would allow, brought to her presents of fruit and of flowers. At last the jailer's wife, unable to resist the pleadings of her own heart for one whom she could not but love and admire, ventured to remove her to a more comfortable apartment, where the daylight shone brightly in through the iron bars of the window.
The next morning he was free to go, but he had stayed a week longer, making a pair of red morocco shoes for the jailer's little girl, idling over them: when they were done, tying them on, himself, with a wonderful bow-knot, and looking anxiously in her clean Dutch face to see if she were pleased. "Kiss the gentleman, Meg," growled Ben. "Where's yer manners?" Stephen drew back sharply.
It would have made a fine picture, worthy of Rembrandt, the gloomy winding stairs illuminated by the reddish glare of the cresset of Gryphus, with his scowling jailer's countenance at the top, the melancholy figure of Cornelius bending over the banister to look down upon the sweet face of Rosa, standing, as it were, in the bright frame of the door of her chamber, with embarrassed mien at being thus seen by a stranger.
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