On Agate Hill (28 page)

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February 16, 1876

Two days down with Headache, I can neither See nor Hear. Yet sometimes I wonder if this affliction is not God’s judgment upon me for

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February 20, 1876

Frances is such a frail, annoying child, she whines and whines until I think I shall lose my mind, frankly. None of the boys were like this. I am fortunate to have had the services of Miss Beere’s Kitty as wet nurse, she is the only one who can quiet her. Oh I know I am too much the Teacher. But I really do not like them at all until they can speak & learn, I know this is a horrible Sin and Failing on my part.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

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February 29, 1876

Tonight I have suffered the attentions of Dr. Snow, followed by a delightful and shockingly cold Bath, then awake all night long with Palpitations of the Heart. I am not at all well.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

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March 3, 1876

Oh dear God I did not mean to complain, I did not want her to Die, certainly, God knows I did not want that above all things. As she lay like a little
wax doll in my arms, I was struck by her Beauty: too late, too late. I am a vile, unnatural Mother, deserving Nothing. He must Punish me as He sees fit.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

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May 11, 1876

I am more & more convinced that Molly Petree is a judgment upon me, no doubt well deserved. She continues to thrive, a big, healthy girl now, she attempts to please me by begging to work in the greenhouse, and the garden, affecting a real interest, knowing I am partial to my plants. But I shall not be swayed so easily, nor fooled by her wiles.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

”Impressions”
As duly recorded by Agnes Rutherford
To the attention of Mrs. Mariah Snow,
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy

November 5, 1876

Dear Mariah,

As you are currently incapacitated by headache, I will take a moment to describe for you in detail an incident which just happened, while it is still fresh in my mind. I know you would wish to be apprized of it immediately.

No sooner had I convened the first Study Hour this morning than I was summoned by old Primus who appeared right at the classroom door, much to my surprise.

“What is it?” I asked him in the corridor, having left the girls under Mayme Ragsdale’s jurisdiction. I closed the door behind me.

“They is a boy out front wanting to see Miss Molly Petree,” Primus said in his raspy voice. “He has been there nearabout all night long, far as anybody can tell, and he say he won’t go away till he see her.”

“Well, what sort of a boy is he?” I asked, quite amazed, for as far as I know, Molly Petree has never had a visitor in all her time at this Academy.

This, then, was a mystery.

“He is a boy that don’t have no business around here,” Primus said unequivocally.

“I suppose I’d best talk to him myself then.” I sighed and grabbed my jacket off the hook and headed for the front door, my steps dogged by Primus who was utterly determined to come too.

Upon the porch, I found an ill-dressed country boy, sixteen years old perhaps, leaning against a post smoking a cigarette. “Good morning,” I said crisply. “I am Agnes Rutherford, a teacher here at Gatewood Academy, where, I have to tell you, we do not allow smoking.”

Without a word he took another long pull on the cigarette before tossing it right out into the wet flower bed, staring at me insolently all the while. He exhaled smoke into the chill misty air. This was a thick-set, unattractive boy, Mariah, with not one shred of manners. No wonder he had alarmed Primus.

“And you are—” I began.

He stared at me uncomprehending.

“What is your name?”

He shook his head, causing his long thick yellow hair to flop upon his low forehead. “That don’t matter. I need to see Molly Petree just for a minute,” he said.

“Miss Petree is in class,” I said. “Perhaps you can tell me what business you have with her?”

“No ma’am,” he said, obstinate as a post.

I was still attempting to get to the bottom of it when classes changed and of all things, here came Molly herself walking around the side of the building. I was never so dismayed to see anyone.

“Godfrey!” she shrieked, dropping her books. “Godfrey, what are you doing here?”

Too late I recognized him as one of the “ghost children” at Agate Hill Plantation—to which Molly has never returned, following Mr. Black’s express instructions—nor has she ever, to my knowledge, asked to do so.

“Spence is dead,” the boy said bluntly. “We come over here to tell you, then we going on.”

Molly sank down upon the wooden steps, her cloak slipping off her head and shoulders, her face upturned to the thin cold rain which now began in earnest. “Dead?” she said slowly, wonderingly. “Why what happened? Was he sick? Did he get sick, Godfrey?”

“Shot,” Godfrey said with no expression on his flat pasty face. “What happened was, Rom went in that country store out by Big Pine to buy some hoop cheese and crackers”—Molly nodded, she seemed to know the place— “and there was some men in there that didn’t like the way Rom spoke to the girl behind the counter, this was a white girl, married to the son of one of them, and they said something to Rom and he said something back to them”—Molly nodded, biting her fist, apparently she understood this recital better than I did— “and so when he went back outside with the hoop cheese, they was three of them that follered him and jumped on him and started beating him upside the head with a ax handle because they didn’t like the way he had spoke to that white girl—” Here Molly waved her hand impatiently, but the boy went on: “Spence was out there waiting to get some hoop cheese for lunch, and when he saw what they were doing, he gave that kind of yell he does, and waded right in among them, and was laying them all out right and left when another man from the store come up with a shotgun and shot him in the back of
the head. Four or five times,” he added unnecessarily. “They wasn’t much left by the end of it.”

Toward the end of this horrible recital, I attempted to hug Molly, but by then she had covered her ears with her hands, sobbing.

The boy, on the other hand, betrayed no emotion at all. “He said for me to tell you,” he said, looking out toward the gate where for the first time I saw the Negro on the horse there waiting. I don’t know if he had been there all along or not, Mariah. It was like he had just taken shape from the rain and the icy fog. Something about the way he sat his horse frightened me, though I could not even see his face for the weather and the hat he wore. I elected to ask no further questions. Moving closer to Molly, I said, “Thank you very much for coming by to tell her. And now I know you will want to be on your way.”

Without a word he stepped off the porch and crossed the yard.

Molly looked up. “Rom!” she cried.

The Negro touched his hat as the boy jumped up behind him. For an instant then I saw his face, as hard and scary as any face I have ever seen, Negro or white.

“Rom!” Molly screamed, running through the mud across the yard. The horse reared up and whinnied and blew out breath like clouds and they were gone.

Primus and I reached Molly at the same time. She would not get up out of the mud, nor would she stop screaming, so that soon a little crowd had gathered there around her in the yard, all of them getting soaking wet and more alarmed by the minute.

It was only with the aid of Lucius Bonnard and Primus that I was able to get Molly to my house where I have deposited her in my own room, as I did not wish to disturb the other girls more than they shall be disturbed in any case. Clearly I cannot return to classes this day. Molly cries intermittently and talks without cease, words tumbling out one over the other so fast it is hard to follow her thought, or to tell what is real and not real. I fear that this
incident has brought back sad memories from her childhood which might have best been forgotten, I fear too that she is growing feverish. I have given her a sage infusion, with a little lemon juice and sugar, to no effect.