A Romance of the Republic - Lydia Maria Francis Child
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28
"I don't intend to tell them much of anything," replied Madame. "I
may, perhaps, give them a hint that one of your father's old friends
invited you to come to the North, and that I did not consider it my
business to hinder you."
"O fie, Madame!" said Floracita; "what a talent you have for
arranging the truth with variations!"
Madame tried to return a small volley of French pleasantry; but the
effort was obviously a forced one. The pulses of her heart were
throbbing with anxiety and fear; and they all began to feel suspense
increasing to agony, when at last the whistled tones of _Ca ira_ were
heard.
"Now don't act as if you were afraid," whispered Madame, as she put
her hand on the latch of the door. "Go out naturally. Remember I am my
cousin, and you are the boys."
They passed through the garden into the street, feeling as if some
rough hand might at any instant seize them. But all was still, save
the sound of voices in the distance. When they came in sight of the
carriage, the driver began to bum carelessly to himself, "Who goes
there? Stranger, quickly tell!"
"A friend. Good night,"--sang the disguised Madame, in the same
well-known tune of challenge and reply. The carriage door was
instantly opened, they entered, and the horses started at a brisk
pace. At the house where the driver stopped, they were received as
expected guests. Their disguises were quickly exchanged for dresses
from their carpet-bags, which had been conveyed out in Madame's boxes,
and smuggled into the carriage by their invisible protector. Flora,
who was intent upon having things seem a little like a wedding, made
a garland of orange-buds for her sister's hair, and threw over her
braids a white gauze scarf. The marriage ceremony was performed at
half past ten; and at midnight Madame was alone with _her protegees_
in the cabin of the ship Victoria, dashing through the dark waves
under a star-bright sky.
CHAPTER VI.
Mr. Fitzgerald lingered on the wharf till the vessel containing his
treasure was no longer visible. Then he returned to the carriage,
and was driven to his hotel. Notwithstanding a day of very unusual
excitement and fatigue, when he retired to rest he felt no inclination
to sleep. Rosabella floated before him as he had first seen her, a
radiant vision of beauty surrounded by flowers. He recalled the shy
pride and maidenly modesty with which she had met his ardent glances
and impassioned words. He thought of the meek and saddened expression
of her face, as he had seen it in these last hurried interviews, and
it seemed to him she had never appeared so lovely. He remembered with
a shudder what Madame Guirlande had said about the auction-stand. He
was familiar with such scenes, for he had seen women offered for
sale, and had himself bid for them in competition with rude, indecent
crowds. It was revolting to his soul to associate the image of Rosa
with such base surroundings; but it seemed as if some fiend persisted
in holding the painful picture before him. He seemed to see her
graceful figure gazed at by a brutal crowd, while the auctioneer
assured them that she was warranted to be an entirely new and
perfectly sound article,--a moss rosebud from a private royal
garden,--a diamond fit for a king's crown. And men, whose upturned
faces were like greedy satyrs, were calling upon her to open her ruby
lips and show her pearls. He turned restlessly on his pillow with a
muttered oath. Then he smiled as he thought to himself that, by saving
her from such degradation, he had acquired complete control of her
destiny. From the first moment he heard of her reverses, he had felt
that her misfortunes were his triumph. Madly in love as he had been
for more than a year, his own pride, and still more the dreaded scorn
of proud relatives, had prevented him from offering marriage; while
the watchful guardianship of her father, and her dutiful respect to
his wishes, rendered any less honorable alliance hopeless. But now he
was her sole protector; and though he had satisfied her scruples by
marriage, he could hide her away and keep his own secret; while she,
in the fulness of her grateful love, would doubtless be satisfied
with any arrangement he chose to make. But there still remained some
difficulties in his way. He was unwilling to leave his own luxurious
home and exile himself in the British West Indies; and if he should
bring the girls to Georgia, he foresaw that disastrous consequences
might ensue, if his participation in their elopement should ever be
discovered, or even suspected. "It would have been far more convenient
to have bought them outright, even at a high price," thought he; "but
after the Signor repeated to me that disgusting talk of Bruteman's,
there could be no mistake that he had _his_ eye fixed upon them; and
it would have been ruinous to enter into competition with such a
wealthy _roue_ as he is. He values money no more than pebble-stones,
when he is in pursuit of such game. But though I have removed them
from his grasp for the present, I can feel no security if I bring them
back to this country. I must obtain a legal ownership of them; but how
shall I manage it?" Revolving many plans in his mind, he at last fell
asleep.
His first waking thought was to attend a meeting of the creditors at
noon, and hear what they had to say. He found ten or twelve persons
present, some of gentlemanly appearance, others hard-looking
characters. Among them, and in singular contrast with their
world-stamped faces, was the ingenuous countenance of Florimond
Blumenthal. Three hundred dollars of his salary were due to him, and
he hoped to secure some portion of the debt for the benefit of the
orphans. A few individuals, who knew Mr. Fitzgerald, said, "What, are
you among the creditors?"
"I am not a creditor," he replied, "but I am here to represent the
claims of Mr. Whitwell of Savannah, who, being unable to be present in
person, requested me to lay his accounts before you."
He sat listening to the tedious details of Mr. Royal's liabilities,
and the appraisement of his property, with an expression of listless
indifference; often moving his fingers to a tune, or making the motion
of whistling, without the rudeness of emitting a sound.
Young Blumenthal, on the contrary, manifested the absorbed attention
of one who loved his benefactor, and was familiar with the details of
his affairs. No notice was taken of him, however, for his claim was
small, and he was too young to be a power in the commercial world. He
modestly refrained from making any remarks; and having given in his
account, he rose to take his hat, when his attention was arrested by
hearing Mr. Bruteman say: "We have not yet mentioned the most valuable
property Mr. Royal left. I allude to his daughters."
Blumenthal sank into his chair again, and every vestige of color
left his usually blooming countenance; but though Fitzgerald was on
tenter-hooks to know whether the escape was discovered, he betrayed no
sign of interest.
Mr. Bruteman went on to say, "We appraised them at six thousand
dollars."
"Much less than they would bring at auction," observed Mr. Chandler,"
as you would all agree, gentlemen, if you had seen them; for they are
fancy articles, A No. 1."
"Is it certain the young ladies are slaves?" inquired Blumenthal, with
a degree of agitation that attracted attention toward him.
"It _is_ certain," replied Mr. Bruteman. "Their mother was a slave,
and was never manumitted."
"Couldn't a subscription be raised, or an appeal be made to some court
in their behalf?" asked the young man, with constrained calmness
in his tones, while the expression of his face betrayed his inward
suffering. "They are elegant, accomplished young ladies, and their
good father brought them up with the greatest indulgence."
"Perhaps you are in love with one or both of them," rejoined Mr.
Bruteman. "If so, you must buy them at auction, if you can. The law is
inexorable. It requires that all the property of an insolvent debtor
should be disposed of at public sale."
"I am very slightly acquainted with the young ladies," said the
agitated youth; "but their father was my benefactor when I was a poor
destitute orphan, and I would sacrifice my life to save _his_ orphans
from such a dreadful calamity. I know little about the requirements of
the law, gentlemen, but I implore you to tell me if there isn't _some_
way to prevent this. If it can be done by money, I will serve any
gentleman gratuitously any number of years he requires, if he will
advance the necessary sum."
"We are not here to talk sentiment, my lad," rejoined Mr. Bruteman.
"We are here to transact business."
"I respect this youth for the feeling he has manifested toward his
benefactor's children," said a gentleman named Ammidon. "If we _could_
enter into some mutual agreement to relinquish this portion of the
property, I for one should be extremely glad. I should be willing to
lose much more than my share, for the sake of bringing about such an
arrangement. And, really, the sale of such girls as these are said to
be is not very creditable to the country. If any foreign travellers
happen to be looking on, they will make great capital out of such a
story. At all events, the Abolitionists will be sure to get it into
their papers, and all Europe will be ringing changes upon it."
"Let 'em ring!" fiercely exclaimed Mr. Chandler. "I don't care a damn
about the Abolitionists, nor Europe neither. I reckon we can manage
our own affairs in this free country."
"I should judge by your remarks that you were an Abolitionist
yourself, Mr. Ammidon," said Mr. Bruteman. "I am surprised to hear
a Southerner speak as if the opinions of rascally abolition-
amalgamationists were of the slightest consequence. I consider
such sentiments unworthy any Southern _gentleman_, sir."
Mr. Ammidon flushed, and answered quickly, "I allow no man to call in
question my being a gentleman, sir."
"If you consider yourself insulted, you know your remedy," rejoined
Mr. Bruteman. "I give you your choice of place and weapons."
Mr. Fitzgerald consulted his watch, and two or three others followed
his example.
"I see," said Mr. Ammidon, "that gentlemen are desirous to adjourn."
"It is time that we did so," rejoined Mr. Bruteman. "Officers have
been sent for these slaves of Mr. Royal, and they are probably now
lodged in jail. At our next meeting we will decide upon the time of
sale."
Young Blumenthal rose and attempted to go out; but a blindness came
over him, and he staggered against the wall.
"I reckon that youngster's an Abolitionist," muttered Mr. Chandler.
"At any rate, he seems to think there's a difference in niggers,--and
all such ought to have notice to quit."
Mr. Ammidon called for water, with which he sprinkled the young man's
face, and two or three others assisted to help him into a carriage.
Another meeting was held the next day, which Mr. Fitzgerald did not
attend, foreseeing that it would be a stormy one. The result of it was
shown in the arrest and imprisonment of Signor Papanti, and a vigilant
search for Madame Guirlande. Her cousin, Mr. Duroy, declared that he
had been requested to take care of her apartments for a few weeks, as
she was obliged to go to New York on business; that she took her young
lady boarders with her, and that was all he knew. Despatches were
sent in hot haste to the New York and Boston police, describing the
fugitives, declaring them to be thieves, and demanding that they
should be sent forthwith to New Orleans for trial. The policeman who
had been employed to watch Madame's house, and who had been induced to
turn his back for a while by some mysterious process best known to
Mr. Fitzgerald, was severely cross-examined and liberally pelted with
oaths. In the course of the investigations, it came out that Florimond
Blumenthal had visited the house on the day of the elopement, and that
toward dusk he had been seen lingering about the premises, watching
the windows. The story got abroad that he had been an accomplice in
helping off two valuable slaves. The consequence was that he received
a written intimation that, if he valued his neck, he had better quit
New Orleans within twenty-four hours, signed Judge Lynch.
Mr. Fitzgerald appeared to take no share in the excitement. When he
met any of the creditors, he would sometimes ask, carelessly, "Any
news yet about those slaves of Royal's?" He took occasion to remark to
two or three of them, that, Signor Papanti being an old friend of his,
he had been to the prison to see him; that he was convinced he had no
idea where those girls had gone; he was only their music-teacher, and
such an impetuous, peppery man, that they never would have thought of
trusting him with any important secret. Having thus paved the way, he
came out with a distinct proposition at the next meeting. "I feel a
great deal of sympathy for Signor Papanti," said he. "I have been
acquainted with him a good while, and have taken lessons of him, both
in music and Italian; and I like the old gentleman. He is getting ill
in prison, and he can never tell you any more than he has told you.
Doubtless he knew that Madame intended to convey those girls to the
North if she possibly could; but I confess I should have despised him
if he had turned informer against the daughters of his friend, who had
been his own favorite pupils. If you will gratify me by releasing him,
I will make you an offer for those girls, and take my chance of ever
finding them."
"What sum do you propose to offer?" inquired the creditors.
"I will pay one thousand dollars if you accede to my terms."
"Say two thousand, and we will take the subject under consideration,"
they replied.
"In that case I must increase my demands," said he. "I have reason
to suspect that my friend the Signor would like to make a match with
Madame Guirlande. If you will allow her to come back to her business
and remain undisturbed, and will make me a sale of these girls, I
don't care if I do say two thousand."
"He has told you where they are!" exclaimed Mr. Bruteman, abruptly;
"and let me tell you, if you know where they are, you are not acting
the part of a gentleman."
"He has not told me, I assure you, nor has he given me the slightest
intimation. It is my firm belief that he does not know. But I am
rather fond of gambling, and this is such a desperate throw, that it
will be all the more exciting. I never tried my luck at buying slaves
running, and I have rather a fancy for experimenting in that game
of chance. And I confess my curiosity has been so excited by the
wonderful accounts I have heard of those nonpareil girls, that I
should find the pursuit of them a stimulating occupation. If I should
not succeed, I should at least have the satisfaction of having done a
good turn to my old Italian friend."
They asked more time to reflect upon it, and to hear from New York
and Boston. With inward maledictions on their slowness, he departed,
resolving in his own mind that nothing should keep him much longer
from Nassau, come what would.
As he went out, Mr. Chandler remarked: "It's very much like him. He's
always ready to gamble in anything."
"After all, I have my suspicion that he's got a clew to the mystery
somehow, and that he expects to find those handsome wenches," said Mr.
Bruteman. "I'd give a good deal to baffle him."
"It seems pretty certain that _we_ cannot obtain any clew," rejoined
Mr. Ammidon, "and we have already expended considerable in the effort.
If he can be induced to offer two thousand five hundred, I think we
had better accept it."
After a week's absence in Savannah and its vicinity, making various
arrangements for the reception of the sisters, Mr. Fitzgerald returned
to New Orleans, and took an early opportunity to inform the creditors
that he should remain a very short time. He made no allusion to his
proposed bargain, and when they alluded to it he affected great
indifference.
"I should be willing to give you five hundred dollars to release my
musical friend," said he. "But as for those daughters of Mr. Royal, it
seems to me, upon reflection, to be rather a quixotic undertaking to
go in pursuit of them. You know it's a difficult job to catch a slave
after he gets to the North, if he's as black as the ace of spades; and
all Yankeedom would be up in arms at any attempt to seize such white
ladies. Of course, I could obtain them in no other way than by
courting them and gaining their goodwill."
Mr. Bruteman and Mr. Chandler made some remarks unfit for repetition,
but which were greeted with shouts of laughter. After much dodging
and doubling on the financial question, Fitzgerald agreed to pay two
thousand five hundred dollars, if all his demands were complied with.
The papers were drawn and signed with all due formality. He clasped
them in his pocket-book, and walked off with an elastic step, saying,
"Now for Nassau!"
CHAPTER VII.
The scenery of the South was in the full glory of June, when Mr.
Fitzgerald, Rosa, and Floracita were floating up the Savannah River in
a boat manned by negroes, who ever and anon waked the stillness of
the woods with snatches of wild melody. They landed on a sequestered
island which ocean and river held in their arms. Leaving the servants
to take care of the luggage, they strolled along over a carpet of
wild-flowers, through winding bridle-paths, where glances of bright
water here and there gleamed through the dark pines that were singing
their sleepy chorus, with its lulling sound of the sea, and filling
the air with their aromatic breath. Before long, they saw a
gay-colored turban moving among the green foliage, and the sisters at
once exclaimed, "Tulipa!"
"Dear Gerald, you didn't tell us Tulee was here," said Rosa.
"I wanted to give you a pleasant surprise," he replied.
She thanked him with a glance more expressive than words. Tulipa,
meanwhile, was waving a white towel with joyful energy, and when
she came up to them, she half smothered them with hugs and kisses,
exclaiming: "The Lord bless ye, Missy Rosy! The Lord bless ye, Missy
Flory! It does Tulee's eyes good to see ye agin." She eagerly led the
way through flowering thickets to a small lawn, in the midst of which
was a pretty white cottage.
It was evident at a glance that she, as well as the master of the
establishment, had done her utmost to make the interior of the
dwelling resemble their old home as much as possible. Rosa's piano was
there, and on it were a number of books which their father had
given them. As Floracita pointed to the ottomans their mother had
embroidered, and the boxes and table she had painted, she said: "Our
good friend the Signor sent those. He promised to buy them."
"He could not buy them, poor man!" answered Fitzgerald, "for he was in
prison at the time of the auction; but he did not forget to enjoin it
upon me to buy them."
A pleasant hour was spent in joyful surprises over pretty novelties
and cherished souvenirs. Rosa was full of quiet happiness, and
Floracita expressed her satisfaction in lively little gambols. The sun
was going down when they refreshed themselves with the repast Tulipa
had provided. Unwilling to invite the merciless mosquitoes, they sat,
while the gloaming settled into darkness, playing and singing melodies
associated with other times.
Floracita felt sorry when the hour of separation for the night came.
Everything seemed so fearfully still, except the monotonous wash of
the waves on the sea-shore! And as far as she could see the landscape
by the light of a bright little moon-sickle, there was nothing but
a thick screen of trees and shrubbery. She groped her way to her
sleeping-apartment, expecting to find Tulee there. She had been there,
and had left a little glimmering taper behind a screen, which threw a
fantastic shadow on the ceiling, like a face with a monstrous nose. It
affected the excitable child like some kind of supernatural presence.
She crept to the window, and through the veil of the mosquito-bar she
dimly saw the same thick wall of greenery. Presently she espied a
strange-looking long face peering out from its recesses. On their
voyage home from Nassau, Gerald had sometimes read aloud to them
from "The Midsummer Night's Dream." Could it be that there were such
creatures in the woods as Shakespeare described? A closet adjoining
her room had been assigned to Tulee. She opened the door and said,
"Tulee, are you there? Why don't you come?" There was no answer. Again
she gave a timid look at the window. The long face moved, and a
most unearthly sound was heard. Thoroughly frightened, she ran out,
calling, "Tulee! Tulee! In the darkness, she ran against her faithful
attendant, and the sudden contact terrified her still more.
"It's only Tulee. What is the matter with my little one?" said the
negress. As she spoke, the fearful sound was heard again.
"O Tulee, what is that?" she exclaimed, all of a tremble.
"That is only Jack," she replied.
"Who's Jack?" quickly asked the nervous little maiden.
"Why, the jackass, my puppet," answered Tulee. "Massa Gerald bought
him for you and Missy Rosy to ride. In hot weather there's so many
snakes about in the woods, he don't want ye to walk."
"What does he make that horrid noise for?" asked Flora, somewhat
pacified.
"Because he was born with music in him, like the rest of ye," answered
Tulee, laughing.
She assisted her darling to undress, arranged her pillows, and kissed
her cheek just as she had kissed it ever since the rosy little mouth
had learned to speak her name. Then she sat by the bedside talking
over things that had happened since they parted.
"So you were put up at auction and sold!" exclaimed Flora. "Poor
Tulee! how dreadfully I should have felt to see you there! But Gerald
bought you; and I suppose you like to belong to _him_."
"Ise nothin' to complain of Massa Gerald," she answered; "but I'd like
better to belong to myself."
"So you'd like to be free, would you?" asked Flora.
"To be sure I would," said Tulee. "Yo like it yerself, don't ye,
little missy?"
Then, suddenly recollecting what a narrow escape her young lady had
had from the auction-stand, she hastened with intuitive delicacy to
change the subject. But the same thought had occurred to Flora; and
she fell asleep, thinking how Tulee's wishes could be gratified.
When morning floated upward out of the arms of night, in robe of
brightest saffron, the aspect of everything was changed. Floracita
sprang out of bed early, eager to explore the surroundings of their
new abode. The little lawn looked very beautiful, sprinkled all
over with a variety of wild-flowers, in whose small cups dewdrops
glistened, prismatic as opals. The shrubbery was no longer a dismal
mass of darkness, but showed all manner of shadings of glossy green
leaves, which the moisture of the night had ornamented with shimmering
edges of crystal beads. She found the phantom of the night before
browsing among flowers behind the cottage, and very kindly disposed to
make her acquaintance. As he had a thistle blossom sticking out of his
mouth, she forthwith named him Thistle. She soon returned to the
house with her apron full of vines, and blossoms, and prettily tinted
leaves. "See, Tulee," said she, "what a many flowers! I'm going
to make haste and dress the table, before Gerald and Rosa come to
breakfast." They took graceful shape under her nimble fingers, and,
feeling happy in her work, she began to hum,
"How brightly breaks the morning!"
"Whisper low!" sang Gerald, stealing up behind her, and making her
start by singing into her very ear; while Rosa exclaimed, "What a
fairy-land you have made here, with all these flowers,_pichoncita
mia_"
The day passed pleasantly enough, with some ambling along the
bridle-paths on Thistle's back, some reading and sleeping, and a good
deal of music. The next day, black Tom came with a barouche, and they
took a drive round the lovely island. The cotton-fields were all
abloom on Gerald's plantation, and his stuccoed villa, with spacious
veranda and high porch, gleamed out in whiteness among a magnificent
growth of trees, and a garden gorgeous with efflorescence. The only
drawback to the pleasure was, that Gerald charged them to wear thick
veils, and never to raise them when any person was in sight. They made
no complaint, because he told them that he should be deeply involved
in trouble if his participation in their escape should be discovered;
but, happy as Rosa was in reciprocated love, this necessity of
concealment was a skeleton ever sitting at her feast; and Floracita,
who had no romantic compensation for it, chafed under the restraint.
It was dusk when they returned to the cottage, and the thickets were
alive with fire-flies, as if Queen Mab and all her train were out
dancing in spangles.
A few days after was Rosa's birthday, and Floracita busied herself
in adorning the rooms with flowery festoons. After breakfast, Gerald
placed a small parcel in the hand of each of the sisters. Rosa's
contained her mother's diamond ring, and Flora's was her mother's gold
watch, in the back of which was set a small locket-miniature of
her father. Their gratitude took the form of tears, and the
pleasure-loving young man, who had more taste for gayety than
sentiment, sought to dispel it by lively music. When he saw the smiles
coming again, he bowed playfully, and said: "This day is yours, dear
Rosa. Whatsoever you wish for, you shall have, if it is attainable."