A Story of Sacrifice, dpmance, Humor and Tragedy
DU BCXfEE
HEYWARD
Autho* of
PORGV
i
WHAT HAS HAPPENED IN THE LAST FEW INSTALLMENTS.
Lissa has blossomed into a maiden of exotic beauty. She has become Identified with
an intellectual group where her voice—the deep contralto, handed down from Mamba
through Baxter—has attracted much attention.
Lissa is now a member of Charleston's intelligentsia where she meets Frank North,
a young Negro painter and violinist. He is very talented and worthwhile, and Is In
terested in Lissa. . ..... .
Lissa is considerably disgusted with her lofty associates. One day she tells Mamba
that in spite of the >act that she is told to be proud of her Negro heritage, all her
associates are trying their "damndest’’ to be white.
Gardinia Whitmore, a mulatto beauty and the true flapper type, seeks Lissa s com
panionship. But Lissa, because of her refined nature, is rather afraid of Gardinia's over
Gardinia has asked Lissa to accompany her on a "wild1’ party. After much in
ward conflict Lissa consents to go. Bu* she soon abandons her accustomed reserve
and becomes the scintillating life of the party.
Prince, the village sbeik. whose favor is courted by all the fair damsels, is at
tracted to Lissa. He proceeds to give Lissa a "good time."
Prince does not meet with the approval of Mamba. Nevertheless. Lissa Introduces
Mamba to Prince as the young couple arc about to go upon another of their frequent
auto riBes. The auto ride ends at a dance, where the whole crowd falls a victim to
Prince’s bad liquor, Gardinia, a member of the crowd, recovers from her intoxicated
spell only after she has discovered that Prince and Lissa have disappeared from the
bunch.
Gardinia makes good her promise to Mamba to “look out" for Lissa by immediately
notifying her of Prince and Lissa's disappearance.
Mamba senses the danger and immediately summons Hagar, who. having been told
that ’ Prince" is none other than Gilly Biuton. whom she befriended years before, --cog
nizes the necessity of immediate action.
Hagar remembers an isolated cabin frequented by "Prince" during the latter s under
world activities. Thereupon, she and Mamba set out for the cabin. As they approach
it, they hear Lissa's frightened voice.
When they open the door they find Lissa seated in a corner with her dress torn and
arms locked about her legs below the knees. "Prince” stands over her in a threatening
manner.
Lissa leaps Into Mamba’s arms and togethei they leave the cabin. Hagar, completely
forgetting herself, unleashes her great strength upon the cowering and ungrateful
“Prince.” and strangles him to death with her bare hand...
Hagar is forced into hiding. Mamba sends Lissa to New York City, where Saint Went
worth meets her.
Saint and Lissa take a taxi for the home of the Reverend Thomas Grayson, who. upon
their arrival, offers Lissa the protection of his home—especially after Lissa produces the
address giv^n to her mother many years before by Grayson.
Back home. Hagar disposes of Gilly Bluton’s body in the swamp. She also amazes
the town by committing suicide.
Lissa receives an account of her mother’s suicidal death from Saint. She Is con
*ld»t>»Hly disappointed, but is comforted by the kindness of the Grayson home.
—NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY—
INSTALLMENT XVII
Her mother was known only as Bax
ter, a vagrant Negro woman who had
come to the mines ten years before,
had' once saved Bluton's life, and
had later, presumably in a fit of jeal
ous rage, destroyed him. But while
her mind assimilated these facts,
coolly felicitating her upon her ec
cape, upon the final complete erasure
of the record of her own origin, an
inexplicable tremor seized upon her
body, shaking her so that she fell
into a chair, seized the arms with
her sallow, expressive hands and
gripped desperately while the tremor
possessed her like the sustained ten
sion of a galvanic current. Presently
the seizure abated. Then came weak
ness as from a protracted illness, and
a pang of loneliness and longing that
swelled, mounted, and overwhelmed
her, flinging her head down upon her
arms, and blinding her with a gosh
ox tears.
With everyone there is some pic
ture etched into the child mind b-'
the bite of some early and penetrat
ing emotion. It stands there always,
isolated, marking the beginning of
memory, obscuring lesser subsequent
impressions. Up now from under the
drifted years this picture flashed into
Lissa’s consciousness—a great bruised
figure standing in a doorway with a
policeman beside it—a strange salty
taste upon her child lips where her
mother had pressed a farewell kiss.
The girl sat waiting. Her tranced
gaze had found the window and had
escaped the confines of the room into
an infinity of sky. Then another
picture began to brighten, assume
colour, form—a gigantic black woman
kneeling in the dirt of the public
road, patting her with great clumsy
i hands, while her body mingled a tang
of sweat and phosphate dust with the
druggy perfume of roadside honey
suckle. This memory held a poison
| that she could not at once identify.
(Then it came—the beginning of a
(fastidiousness in herself that had
j turned her away from the great crea
| ture who might soil her dress to the
I cleanness of Mamba’s arms. A gap.
j A time of things wanted because of a
strange loneliness that needed as
suaging—a fire in her blood that had
driven her in a half-desperate search
for the unattainable to the Broadens
—the roadhouse dances—the last
night with Prince. Her last picture of
Hagar, the dominant figure of that
insane night looming like destiny
( over the body of Bluton, taking her in
(her arms and giving her for one
brief moment a sense of refuge, of
(sudden arriva at some remote and
illusory goal. It was strange now
that she could not remember a word
that her mother had ever said. She
imagined her as vast, inarticulate
! power—encompassing love, possess
ing her all the more now because
I of her silence.
She saw now with agonising clarity
1 all that Hagar had given, and now
that she had gone there would -never
be anything tha^ she could offer in
return. She felt ar impulse to wound
herself in some way. believing vague
ly that pain would expiate her
thoughtlessness, her indifference She
closed her hands in a muscular spasm
that drove the nails into her tender
palms, and imagined a slackening of
th3 grip upon her heart. Now she was
fiercely glad that she was alone. For
the first time in her life she was glad
to be free of Mamba and her indom
“I won’t go on”, Ussa sobbed, “I hate bjimsIg. If it hadn’t
been for that, Na’d be alive today.”
itvble will. The old woman would
j tell her to go ahead and forget what
■ had happened. Now her only comfort
j came from sending her thought back
; to the three impressions of her moth
er. and in a blind search for some
' way in which she could punish her
'self for her selfish neglect.
Beyond the window the shortening
September day dwindled into twi
light. In the street the cooling pave
iments called the dark children from
: the serried houses. They swarmed
down, noisy as blackbirds, and flung
a gay chattering sound up to Lissa’s
'room. Prom the two adjacent Elc
j vatcd lines sounded roar and answer
ing roar as the trains hurtled with
j mechanical punctuality over the
| darkening streets. To Lissa they
J seemed like the tick-tock of a ti
tanic clock dividing the present into
minute segments and hurling it into
the limbo of the past. On the Ave
nue the windows of an apartment
house lost the red of the sunset,
stared blank, for a moment, then
winked to life again, restless in the
blue dusk. But these things that
Lissa had loved as symbols of her new
life had lost their magic. She sat
staring through them into the Caro
lina Low Country. Once she rose from
her chair, got from a bureau drawer
the prayer book that Hagar had given
her, opened it at the flyleaf with its
inscription, then sat again with the
volume in her hands.
It was not until after breakfast
the -‘ollowing morning that Lissa
left her room. She wore the clothes
that she had hao. on when she came
from her music lesson the preceding
afternoon, and she went directly to
the study of Thomas Grayson, open
ed the door without knocking, and
entered.
He sat at a large square desk in
the middle of the room looking over
the notes for the sermon that he
would deliver at the morning service,
The massive severity of the desk
Imade a fitting base for the bust and
! head of the man who sat there.
Lissa closed the door behind her,
! and stood with her back against it as
i though taking refuge from some pur
suer. Grayson looked up and saw
[her face. The live bronze had gone
i a lustreless brown, except where it
had darkened to violet under the
j eyes. From swollen lids the eves
! looked with a hard brilliance. The
hint of tragedy that had been latent
in her expression was suddenly all
that he saw there, rendering the face
drawn and haggard. Her hair was
dishevelled, her dress looked as
though it had been slept in. There
was a shocking incongruity in the
pair of frivolous red pumps on her
feet.
His response was characteristic. He
said in a deliberately matter-of-fact
voice: “Don’t be afraid. Lissa. Come
here and tell me your trouble.”
Without risine he motioned to a
chair that faced him across the pol
ished mahogany with its piles of
meticulously arranged papers. The
girl hesitated. He seemed unsympa
thetic—more rock-like than ever in
his unyielding power. Then she saw
his face soften. He leaned forward
and extended a hand across the desk.
“Sit down. Daughter, and tell me,”
he urged. “Ada and I have been
fearful that your letter brought bad
news.”
She sank into the chair, then she
placed the letter, clippings, and pray
er book before him. “Read that letter
and those papers, please," she begged.
“They’re afc'ut Ma.”
She watched him take the papers
in his heavy, well-kept, hairless
hands, and read them through with
his habitual thoroughness. Now that
she was close to him hei feeling to
ward him changed. Out of his massive
silence strong emanations of sympa
thy flowed toward her. She felt his
power now, not as opposition, but as
a sustaining force. She was glad that
he had not spent it in easy volubility.
He finished the last clipping, then
folded them all carefully and return
ed them. When he spoke his voice
seemed stilted, inadequate in con
trast with his unspoken sympathy.
“Your mother was a truly great wo
man. Lissa. The just God who knows
everything will forgive her. She has
given her life for you. You .should be
proud of your parentage—your race.”
She did not comment upon this
tribute. Her reply struck out at a tan
gent, as though she had waited for
him to finish speaking to say what
had long been on her mind. She
leaned forward, swaying slightly in
her chair. Her speaking voice had
caught the tragic timbre of her low
singing notes. Her short sentences
were spoken in unconscious rhythm.
“I can’t stay here now. I can’t let
it stand like that. See what she says
—that he was her lover. She despised
him—it took me to put up with his
kind—I’ve got to go home and tell
them the truth—I’ve got to face the
Broadens and their crowd with it—
I’ve got to claim her now before ev
erybody. It’s ai! I can do."
orayson sat ileavy, suuu, uw anno
resting on the desk before him, his
eyes on her face. Without speak
ing he made Lissa feel his attitude
as it changed from the sympathetic
to the coolly judicial.
“You’re emotionally upset to-day,
Lissa." he said at last. “You're in
no condition to arrive at such an im
portant decision. You must wait a
dav or two.” _
Her form stiffened. She eyed
Grayson with distrust. Immediately
she was on the defensive. “I thought
I could count on you," she said. “I
thought vou'd see it as my Christian
dutv and help me. or I wouldn’t have
told you. But you can’t stop me now—
nobody can—not even Grandma. I
always did what other neople thought.
Now I am going to think for myself,
and I know I'm right. I’m going.”
Gravson made no reply: then Lissa
realised that he had not been listen
ing to what she had said. He had not
moved, but sat gazing past her, his
eyes intent behind their glasses, his
brow deeply furrowed. In one of her
violent reversions she sprang to her
feet.
‘•A hell of a lot you care for other
people's troubles!” she flung at him;
then she turned to go.
“Wait!”
She was arrested by the impact of
the single word and faced him again,
her beautiful expressive body fixed
in an attitude of fear like that of an
animal at bay.
“Now sit down and keep quiet," he
commanded.
For a moment longer her defiance
lasted; then suddenly she bent her
head and commenced to cry softly
into the crook of her arm in the
manner characteristic of Hagar when
faced by overwhelming difficulties.
Then obediently she resumed her
seat.
When .. rayson broke his portentous
silence his voice was compassionate
but firm. He said: “I’ve thought it all
out now, Daughter. Look at it this
way": he picked up the clippings and
selected the one which contained
Hagar’s confession. Lissa raised her
tear-stained face, and lie pointed to
the words. "That,” he said, “is your
mother’s last will and testament. In
it she has left you something that
she has conceived to be of inestimable
value. It was all that she had to
give. You cannot repudiate it. You
must give her silence in return.”
“But it's a lie. I can’t go on always
living a lie. What am I to do?”
"You must carry on. Make your life
worth the price that has been paid
fer it. There’s 1.0 turning back now
without breaking faith with your
mother. Therp's nowhere for you to
go but ahead; no way to praise her
Due in your wonts.
“I won’t go on,” she rebelled. “I
hate music. If it hadn’t been for that
Ma’d be alive to-day. I didn’t know
until that night how much I was
missing her. I was always lonely, and
I didn't know why. Grandma never
gave me time to think. Now she’s
gone, an’ I’m sick of everything. I'm
the loneliest girl in the world.”
“I know.” said Grayson gently,
“you think now that it is thus great
los; that makes vou so. I. Isn’t. Like
Ishmael. you were born for loneli
ness. But you have this to be thank
ful for—you were also born for suc
cess. I had a talk with Salinski yes
terday. He’s extravagant in his nraise
of your voice. He has never taken a
Neero before, and it took all of the
influence that I could bring to boar
to interest him in giving you a trial.
It’s a great chance for you. It’s more
than that. It’s a great chance for the
Negro race. If you drop it now. go
South and perhaps run the risk of
being arrested as an accessory to the
murder, certainly, at the least, re
turning to start over again handi
capped bv a scandal, you will have
thrown that chance away. For Ha
(Conlinued on Page Four)
IHIgnSlMglfflg
he Stormy Career of Jack Johnson--No. 13
Drawn by FRED B. WATSON
Text by ROLFE DELLON
In New York a few weeks later Jack sirned
a thirty-week theatrical contract, which net
ted him a considerable sum and took him ov
er a great part of the United States and Can
ada. On this tour he r»*e many exhibitions.
Jack remained in Excellent physical con
dition; hence, between theatrical engage
ments he took in several minor ring affairs.
In one of these he defeated Victor McLagh
Ien, now a famous movie actor.
During this time there had been a spirited
search for a “white hope/' who could wrest
the championship from Johnson. Jim Jeffries,
once champion, had retired, but his friends
prevailed upon him as a last resort.
Stanley Ketchel was believed to be able to
defeat Johnson, so they fought at Colma,
California, October IS, 1909. Ketchel was de
cisively beaten, bat succeeded In winning the
exclusive distinction of flooring Johnson.