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Chesnutt, Charles W. (Charles Waddell), 1858-1932

"The Marrow of Tradition"

He could not approve the acts of his own people; neither could
he, to a negro, condemn them. Hence he was silent.
"Thank you, Mr. Ellis," exclaimed Miller, when they had reached the
house where he expected to find his wife. "This is the place where I was
going. I am--under a great obligation to you."
"Not at all, Dr. Miller. I need not tell you how much I regret this
deplorable affair."
Ellis went back down the street. Fastening his horse to the fence,
Miller sprang forward to find his wife and child. They would certainly
be there, for no colored woman would be foolhardy enough to venture on
the streets after the riot had broken out.
As he drew nearer, he felt a sudden apprehension. The house seemed
strangely silent and deserted. The doors were closed, and the Venetian
blinds shut tightly. Even a dog which had appeared slunk timidly back
under the house, instead of barking vociferously according to the usual
habit of his kind.


XXXIV

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
Miller knocked at the door. There was no response. He went round to the
rear of the house. The dog had slunk behind the woodpile. Miller knocked
again, at the back door, and, receiving no reply, called aloud.
"Mrs. Butler! It is I, Dr. Miller. Is my wife here?"
The slats of a near-by blind opened cautiously.
"Is it really you, Dr. Miller?"
"Yes, Mrs. Butler. I am looking for my wife and child,--are they here?"
"No, sir; she became alarmed about you, soon after the shooting
commenced, and I could not keep her.


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