"Well," I said at length, "what have you to tell me?"

"Sit down there," he said, in a calm and even commanding tone, "and speak low; for there are more ears near than yours and mine. I do not want to take you at a disadvantage. If we have to fight this thing out, let us fight it out together; though still I am better off than you are; for you love life, I hate it. You have hopes, I have none, but to do the work upon which I am sent, how much soever I detest it, and then to quit it for the grave." As he spoke, he seated himself where he had before been lying, putting his musket carelessly down beside him, as if he had no apprehension that I would take advantage of any negligence on his part. I was more careful; for what he had said of more ears being near than ours had roused suspicions; and placing my gun close to my hand as I seated myself, I drew the pistol from my pocket, and laid it within reach.

"There is no need of such care," he said, in a somewhat sarcastic tone;--"the first loud call, the first gun-report, will bring plenty of others hither."

"I have your life, at all events, at my command," I replied. "You cannot escape me; and I do not intend you shall, though my own life be lost the moment after." The man laughed till he showed all his white row of teeth.

"Why, then," demanded he, "should I tell you anything? But be not too sure, Englishman. I would fain spare your life. You are not one of our oppressors; you have never held a slave. Your countrymen, I hear, have set my countrymen free, wherever they were in bondage; and we have no quarrel with you."

"Then why," I exclaimed, thinking of the unhappy McGrubber, "did you kill a man who was the advocate of your emancipation, the bold denouncer of your masters? Why did you chop him to pieces with your axes, in Mr. Stringer's house?"

"Because he did it all for his own selfish purposes," answered Turner; "because he did it all for the political ends of himself, and his party, not for any love of us, or of freedom, or of justice. Do you think we are to be caught by such vain talk? Do you think we never hear from our brethren who have fled to those Northern states? Do you think they do not send us word that they are worse off there than they are here? That they are treated like dogs by the very men who pretended to be their friends? That they are excluded from their churches? That to ride in the same carriage with them is an abomination--to shake them by the hand--a defilement? Do you think that we know all these things and then--although all that these preachers and Abolitionists say is true, holy as the gospel, just as God himself--do you think, I ask, we give them thanks for what they say, when their acts do not accord with their words, and we know by their deeds that they despise and hate us, although they profess to regard us as brethren, and equal with themselves?"

"Well, well," I answered, "all these abstruse discussions are vain. I know nothing of your parties in this land; I have nothing to do with them. I act as I think right myself; and I try to keep my professions and my deeds upon a par----"

"And so you do," interrupted the man.

"The question now is," I continued, "what have you to tell me concerning Miss Davenport?"

"You shall hear presently," he answered. "Last night--a terrible night it was--and nothing but the will of God and His command sustained me in the dreadful work He had appointed me to do----"

"Forbear! forbear!" I cried, my blood boiling with indignation. "Do not blaspheme the name of the Lord, by giving His word as a sanction for the murder, the dark, silent assassination of innocent girls and babes."

"He sent me forth to destroy," said the man, in a gloomy but still a solemn tone. "He told me--He Himself, when, like him of old, I lay in a trance, but having my eyes open--when His visible presence was before me, and I heard His voice within my soul--He told me that Christ had laid down the yoke He had borne so long for me, and that I was to take it up--that Satan and the avenger were loosed, and that I was to go forth and destroy, sparing neither age nor sex of the oppressor. Even as He gave commands to the Israelites of old, so gave He commandment unto me, and the command was to destroy. I have obeyed it to the uttermost, although my heart often quivered when my hand struck firmly. Yet, when we had smitten root and branch in Stringer's house, last night, and I found that Bessy Davenport had escaped, I rejoiced, while all the others were furious, and I said, 'This is God's doing.' For she had been like an angel amongst the people--she had comforted, she had befriended us all. She had sat by my own mother on her death-bed, and had wiped the cold sweat from her brow, and held the cool drink to her lips, and spoke the words of comfort in her ears. She knew no difference between white and black then; and why should I know any difference now? Yet if I had found her, I would have killed her too, for it was God's command not to spare. But the Lord delivered her. It was His doing, and I was grateful."

"Well, well," I cried, somewhat impatiently, "come to the point. It matters little to me what were your motives; they will be judged by yourself and others. All that I know is that you and your companions have murdered in cold blood women and children who could not wrong you."

"Does not he who kills the serpent tread upon her eggs?" said the man, gloomily. "Do you suppose we would have another race of oppressors grow up when we could nip them in the bud? Even worldly policy would say 'No.' But what have I to do with worldly policy, when I Lave got God's command in my heart? Did He not tell me to destroy, to smite them hip and thigh, as soon as I saw the appointed sign in the heavens? When the sun was darkened at noon-day, I was to commence the work, and not to withdraw my hand until it was accomplished."

"Foolish man!" I exclaimed; "that was only an eclipse, a thing that returns continually at fixed and certain periods by the mere movements of the earth and the moon. But, without argument, what have you to tell me? Give me the information you promised about Miss Davenport." He mused for a moment with a very gloomy brow; and although I cannot of course tell exactly what were his thoughts, I believe that the idea of the sign in the heavens, on which he laid so much stress, being a mere natural phenomenon, gave him much discomfort. At length he murmured, as if speaking to himself,--

"An eclipse!--I have heard of such things. No, no; it was the sign--it was the sign. Well, well," he continued, turning his face to me; "I will tell you. Do you remember going out to walk with Bessy Davenport, and sitting with her under an old tree, and a long conversation you had with her, and how she wept and told you, though she loved you, she could never be your wife?--I was very near you then, though you did not know it."

"I did not, indeed," I replied. "But what of that?"

"Well," responded Turner, "I was sorry for you; for I am not without a heart, though you may think so. There was something said about a packet of old letters, and she would not tell you what they contained, though in them lay the bar between you and her. Well, when the men had dashed in the door, and we found that she was gone, the others ran about like mad things seeking for her; but I stood still in the room, and I saw a packet of old letters lie upon the table. I took it up. It is the only thing, I have ever taken, except horses and arms; for I do not rob or steal; but I said to myself--'If ever I see that young Englishman again, he shall see this, and know the truth. Every man has a right to know the truth regarding his own fate.' Here it is, you can take it." Without rising, he drew the papers from his pocket, and held them forth to me. I rose hastily, and incautiously approached him without my arms. He gave me the paper; but at the same moment some evil spirit seemed to come over him, for his eyes rolled wildly in his head, and he murmured in a low, guttural tone--

"Now I could kill you."

"Do not be too sure of that," I answered, retreating.

"Fear not, fear not," he cried. "It is gone. It is a temptation, but it is over. It is pleasant to see the red blood of our enemies, and when we have seen it, we like to see more, and it becomes a thirst; but it is over." I seated myself by my arms again, and put the papers in my pocket.

"As to this packet," I said, "I thank you for it, and will give it to Miss Davenport as soon as I find her. You mistake me, however, if you imagine I will read a word of it before I give it to her. No man of honour would do so, even if he knew his happiness for life depended on it. Now, therefore, tell me where she is? What have you and your people done with her? for I gather from your words that you have not injured her." He gazed at me for a moment with a fixed stare, and then asked--

"Do you not know where she is?"

"No," I answered; "but you must know; for you and your people passed over the very spot where I left her, not five hundred yards from this place." He was silent for a moment or two, and then answered coldly,--

"If you do not know, neither do I." There was something almost sneering in his tone; and starting up with my weapons in my hand, I exclaimed,--

"Turner, you are telling me a lie."

"A lie!" he cried fiercely, rising likewise; "a lie! and that to me, the destroying messenger of God, commissioned to bring down the high, and to raise up the lowly;--to me, who never told anything but truth in all my life!"

"Ay," I answered angrily, for I felt quite sure he was deceiving me. "You are telling me a lie; and if you do not instantly let me know what has become of Miss Davenport, I will send the charge of this gun through your heart." He gave a low whistle, and then a laugh; and I had hardly time to raise the gun to my shoulder, before three stout negroes were by his side, each with a musket in his hand. These were somewhat fearful odds; but there was no escape, and I made up my mind instantly. They might hit, or they might miss me; but I felt very sure that before I fell, I would have two of their lives. The right-hand barrel of my gun for Turner himself; the left-hand barrel for the man next to him: such was the calculation; and then, if I still survived, I had the sword and the pistol left. Long deliberation under such circumstances is neither possible nor necessary. Both hammers were up, my finger was on the trigger, murderers were before, and the next instant I should have fired at any risk, and at any odds. But just at that moment I heard a rushing, rustling sort of sound, close upon my right hand; and, afraid of being taken on the flank, I paused and turned my head a little to see who was coming. At the same moment, a tall, stalwart black man standing on the right of Nat Turner fired his musket, and I felt the ball go through my hair, and slightly graze my temple.

"That is one shot lost," I said to myself, drawing back towards the great tree, and so covering my right side. "He shall not have time to load again." But before I could discharge my gun, the space between me and my adversaries was occupied by two figures which I recognized, indeed, but not quite distinctly in the excitement of the moment and the somewhat waning light.