She remembered the rector in Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool‚Äôs library, and his question that revealed unfathomable depths of ignorance: ‚ÄúReally, now, how do you account for the distressing increase in crime among your people?‚Äù
She swung into the great road trembling with the woe of the world in her eyes. Cruelty, poverty, and crime she had looked in the face that morning, and the hurt of it held her heart pinched and quivering. A moment the mists in her eyes shut out the shadows of the swamp, and the roaring in her ears made a silence of the world.
Before she found herself again she dimly saw a couple sauntering along the road, but she hardly noticed their white faces until the little voice of the girl, raised timidly, greeted her.
“Howdy, Zora.”
Zora looked. The girl was Emma, and beside her, smiling, stood a half-grown white man. It was Emma, Bertie’s child; and yet it was not, for in the child of other days Zora saw for the first time the dawning woman.
And she saw, too, the white man. Suddenly the horror of the swamp was upon her. She swept between the couple like a gust, gripping the child’s arm till she paled and almost whimpered.
‚ÄúI‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI was just going on an errand for Miss Smith!‚Äù she cried.
Looking down into her soul, Zora discerned its innocence and the fright shining in the child’s eyes. Her own eyes softened, her grip became a caress, but her heart was hard.
The young man laughed awkwardly and strolled away. Zora looked back at him and the paramount mission of her life formed itself in her mind. She would protect this girl; she would protect all black girls. She would make it possible for these poor beasts of burden to be decent in their toil.