He said nothing for several seconds. His look initially was empty, vague and then his face reddened. He swallowed and then said locking his weeping eyes on mine eyes, "And she was more to me, exceeding more…your dream carried that truth."
I felt a challenging grimace come on my face. My look must have been hard or threatening.
He held up his hand. "Sir, do not make assumptions or sanctimonious judgments. Do not suppose the facts you discovered can in any way complete the story. Academic treatise serves to give the broad outline but not the intimated sentiments. I have given you my seasoned sense of slavery. Yes, I participated in that evil but know better now that complicity and accept it. The rules of slavery and social convention were there and they were stronger than any one person." Then he bowed his head and whispered into his upturned open hands, "Or any two persons!"
"What you do with it in your story is up to you. You seem to be the only one to care to know my story. I shall say no more on the subject of slavery, sir." His gaze briefly conveyed anger, determination…and something else.
I carried little for slavery at this point.
Rebecca was my story. Mike Wallace or Chris Matthews did not seem appropriate models for what I needed to be in this situation. I could not force this story. Mr. Jones eyes looked pained and plaintive.
"Friend Mansfield, you came in search of my story. You have, in good measure, found the facts about my public existence and some things of my personal life. Pray, I was no paragon of virtue in life. I sought acclaim, power, and wealth, as most morals have done and still do. I was no more honest or dishonest than most who avoid prison." He smiled at what I guess he considered wit and an effort to lighten the mood. Then his face went blank. It was time for him to speak of Rebecca. And he did.
"I grew to love Rebecca. I did not desire or seek that, but it happened. I literally saw her grow from newborn to adult. She was bright, determined, and kind. From early on, every time I'd return from my congressional duties and political outings she would appear at my door, first as a little child and then as a true woman. Her welcome greeting became the great joy of my homecomings. I told her of all the sights and personages that I encountered in my travels. There was an ease between us and exceeding growing attachment."
"When Rebecca was seventeen, her mother Josie asked permission of me for her to take a husband. One of Dr. Bonner's talented slaves, a blacksmith I think it was, had let it be known he wanted Rebecca. Word had reached Josie that Dr. Bonner was about to make an offer to buy Rebecca as mate for his man. Bonner's man was a valuable asset and his good will important. My feelings at Josie's request shocked me. I found the possibility of Rebecca not being a part of my life hard to deal with…I could not see Rebecca gone from my life. I was so nonplused by the emergence of those feelings that I sent Josie away with out a word.