August 21,1939 M
J. WILL not be hurried, Doctor Copeland said. Just let me be. Kindly allow me to sit here in peace a moment.』
Father, us n to rush you. But it time now to get gone from here.』
Doctor Copeland rocked stubbornly, his gray shawl drawn close around his shoulders. Although the m was warm and fresh, a small wood fire burned iove. The kit was bare of all
furniture except the chair in which he sat. The other rooms were empty, too. Most of the furniture had been moved to Portias house, and the rest was tied to the automobile outside. All was in readiness except his own mind. But how could he leave when there was her beginning nor end, her truth nor purpose in his thoughts? He put up his hand to steady his trembling head and tio rock himself slowly in the creakingchair.
Behind the closed door he heard their voices: I done all I . He determio sit there till he good and ready to leave.』
Buddy and me done ed the a plates and------』
Us should have left before the dew dried, said the old man. As is, night liable to catch us on the road.』
Their voices quieted. Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway and he could hear them no more. On the floor beside him and saucer. He filled it with coffee from the pot oop of the stove.
As he rocked he drankthe coffee and warmed his fingers ieam. This could not truly be the end. Other voices called wordless in his heart. The voice of Jesus and of John Brown. The voice of the great Spinoza and of Karl Marx. The calling voices of all those who had fought and to whom it had been vouchsafed to plete their missions. The grief-bound voices of his people. And also the voice of the dead. Of the mute Singer, who was a righteous white man of uanding. The voices of the weak and of the mighty. The , rolling voice of his people growing always in strength and in power. The voice of the strong, true purpose. And in ahe words trembled on his lips—the words which are surely the root of all human grief—so that he almost said aloud: Almighty Host! Utmost power of the universe! I have dohose things which I ought not to have done a uhose things which I ought to have done.
So this ot truly be the end.』
He had first e into the house with her whom he loved.
And Daisy was dressed in her bridal gown and wore a white lace veil. Her skin was the beautiful color of dark honey and her laughter was sweet. At night he had shut himself in the bright room to study alone. He had tried to cogitate and to
discipline himself to study. But with Daisy near him there was a strong desire in him that would not go away with study. So sometimes he surreo these feelings, and agai his lips aated with the books throughout the night.
And then there were Hamilton and Karl Marx and William and Portia. All lost. No one remained.
And Madyben and Benny Mae. And Benedine Madine and Mady Copeland. Those who carried his name. And those whom he had exhorted. But out of the thousands of them where was there oo whom he could entrust the mission and then take ease? ,All of his life he had known it strongly. He had known the reason for his w and was sure in his heart because he knew each day what lay ahead of him. He would go with his bag from house to house, and on all things he would talk to them and patiently explain. And then in the night he would be happy in the knowledge that the day had been a day of purpose. And even without Daisy and Hamilton and Karl Marx an