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When Parson Jones awoke, a bell was somewhere tolling for midnight. Somebody was at the door of his cell with a key. The lock grated, the door swung, the turnkey looked in and stepped back, and a ray of moonlight fell upon M. Jules St.-Ange. The prisoner sat upon the empty shackles and ring-bolt in the centre of the floor. "Misty Posson Jone'," said the visitor, softly. "O Jools!"
"I don' know w'ere mais he is wid Baptiste. Baptiste is a beautiful to take care of somebody." "Is he as good as you, Jools?" asked Parson Jones, sincerely. Jules was slightly staggered. "You know, Posson Jone', you know, a nigger cannot be good as a w'ite man mais Baptiste is a good nigger." The parson moaned and dropped his chin into his hands.
Aw'll shake honds wi' tho i' thae's a mind, owd dog." "Get forrud wi' that stuff, an' say nought," answered Jone. I left Sam at his soup, and went up into the town. In the course of the day I sat some hours in the Boardroom, listening to the relief cases; but of this, and other things, I will say more in my next.
M. St.-Ange stood up aghast, and for a moment speechless, at this exhibition of moral heroism; but an artifice was presently hit upon. "Mais, Posson Jone'!" in his old falsetto "de order you cannot read it, it is in French compel you to go hout, sir!" "Is that so?" cried the parson, bounding up with radiant face "is that so, Jools?"
"'Now then, says Jone, as the cars went abuzzin' along, 'I feel as if I was really on a bridal-trip, which I mus' say I didn't at that there asylum. "An' then I said: 'I should think not, an' we both bust out a-laughin', as well we might, feelin' sich a change of surroundin's.
"I got a letter to write in a 'urry. Give me a paper and envelope," she demanded. "MISTER P. SLOTMAN, Dear sir," Alice wrote. "This is to imform you, as agreed, that Mister Alston has gone. Miss Jone writ him a letter, what about cannot say, only as soon as he gets it, he packs up and leaves Starden. I have been to Mrs.
Jules, me boy, juz the man to make complete the game! Posson Jone', it was a specious providence! I win in t'ree hours more dan six hundred dollah! Look." He produced a mass of bank-notes, bons, and due-bills. "And you got the pass?" asked the parson, regarding the money with a sadness incomprehensible to Jules. "It is here; it take the effect so soon the daylight."
"Now," said he, still tarrying, "this is jest the way; had I of gone to church" "Posson Jone'," said Jules. "What?" "I tell you. We goin' to church!" "Will you?" asked Jones, joyously. "Allons, come along," said Jules, taking his elbow. They walked down the Rue Chartres, passed several corners, and by and by turned into a cross street.
'Is that your husband? says he, pointin' to Jone. 'Yes, says I. 'It was very good in him to come along, says he. 'Is these two your groomsman and bridesmaid? 'No sir, says I. 'They're crazy. 'No wonder, says he.
"Mais, w'at de matter, Posson Jone'?" "My sins, Jools, my sins!" "Ah! Posson Jone', is that something to cry, because a man get sometime a litt' bit intoxicate? Mais, if a man keep all the time intoxicate, I think that is again' the conscien'." "Jools, Jools, your eyes is darkened oh I Jools, Where's my pore old niggah?" "Posson Jone', never min'; he is wid Baptiste." "Where?"
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