He lingered a little while, not knowing what to do. Then he spoke of 'Dolphus, taking occasion to explain the extreme distrust he felt concerning the man and the degraded nature which so many of this class had exhibited.
Both sisters seemed interested, but not greatly.
"Of course, we never thought whether we liked or disliked him," cried Bertha. "That is not the way one thinks of men like that. We knew him to have been unfortunate; and he is certainly very ill."
Miss Smith said, with a kind smile lighting up her face: "I think, Mr. Durgan, you don't mean that even a 'thieving yellow nigger' hasn't an immortal soul. Even if we can't get real religion into his mind, we can show him kindness which must help him to believe in the mercy of God--not" (she added in humble haste) "that I have ever been kind to him, but I guess Birdie tried to be this morning."
Durgan was never far from the thought that the slave-owning race was responsible for the very existence of a people who had been nourished and multiplied in their homes for the sake of gain.
"Not only for the soul he has, but for the diseased body of him, for all that he suffers and for all the injury he does--he and all his class----" Durgan stopped. Both women were looking at him inquiringly. "Before God I take my share of the blame and shame of it. But it is one thing to be guilty, and another to know how to make reparation. Take an illustration from the brood of snakes in the cliff here. In some slight way you are responsible even for their existence, for you ought to have had the parents killed. But you cannot benefit this brood by kindness; you would wrong the world by protecting them. Believe me, I have been reared among these people; I know the good and bad of them; a rattlesnake is less dangerous than a man like this 'Dolphus. While I would defend such fellows as Adam with my life, if need be, I believe that I should do the best thing for the world in killing such creatures as 'Dolphus and Adam's wife. While such as I ought to bear the punishment of their sins and our own in the next world, the best reparation we could make in this world would be to slaughter them."
Bertha had listened, fascinated by his most unusual earnestness of manner. But at the last words she rose hastily and went out with averted face. The tardy moon was now high. They saw her pacing the walk between the tall sides of the garden beds.