A Romance of the Republic - Lydia Maria Francis Child
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"I will gladly buy all you have," rejoined the lady, "and I should
like to have you make me some more; especially of these garlands of
rice-shells, trembling so lightly on almost invisible silver wire."
"I will make some immediately," replied Flora. "But I must go, dear
Mrs. Delano. I wish I could stay longer, but I cannot."
"When will you come again?" asked the lady.
"I can't tell," responded Flora, "for I have to manage to come here."
"That seems strange," said Mrs. Delano.
"I know it seems strange," answered the young girl, with a kind of
despairing impatience in her tone. "But please don't ask me, for
everything seems to come right out to you; and I don't know what I
ought to say, indeed I don't."
"I want you to come again as soon as you can," said Mrs. Delano,
slipping a gold eagle into her hand. "And now go, my dear, before you
tell me more than you wish to."
"Not more than I wish," rejoined Floracita; "but more than I ought. I
_wish_ to tell you everything."
In a childish way she put up her lips for a kiss, and the lady drew
her to her heart and caressed her tenderly.
When Flora had descended the steps of the piazza, she turned and
looked up. Mrs. Delano was leaning against one of the pillars,
watching her departure. Vines of gossamer lightness were waving round
her, and her pearly complexion and violet-tinted dress looked lovely
among those aerial arabesques of delicate green. The picture impressed
Flora all the more because it was such a contrast to the warm and
gorgeous styles of beauty to which she had been accustomed. She smiled
and kissed her hand in token of farewell; the lady returned the
salutation, but she thought the expression of her face was sad, and
the fear that this new friend distrusted her on account of unexplained
mysteries haunted her on her way homeward.
Mrs. Delano looked after her till she and her donkey disappeared among
the trees in the distance. "What a strange mystery is this!" murmured
she. "Alfred Royal's child, and yet she bears her mother's name. And
why does she conceal from me where she lives? Surely, she cannot
be consciously doing anything wrong, for I never saw such perfect
artlessness of look and manner." The problem occupied her thoughts for
days after, without her arriving at any satisfactory conjecture.
Flora, on her part, was troubled concerning the distrust which
she felt must be excited by her mysterious position, and she was
continually revolving plans to clear herself from suspicion in
the eyes of her new friend. It would have been an inexpressible
consolation if she could have told her troubles to her elder sister,
from whom she had never concealed anything till within the last few
weeks. But, alas! by the fault of another, a barrier had arisen
between them, which proved an obstruction at every turn of their daily
intercourse; for while she had been compelled to despise and dislike
Gerald, Rosa was always eulogizing his noble and loving nature, and
was extremely particular to have his slightest wishes obeyed. Apart
from any secret reasons for wishing to obtain money, Floracita was
well aware that it would not do to confess her visit to Mrs. Delano;
for Gerald had not only forbidden their making any acquaintances,
but he had also charged them not to ride or walk in the direction of
either of the plantations unless he was with them.
Day after day, as Flora sat at work upon the garlands she had
promised, she was on the watch to elude his vigilance; but more than a
week passed without her finding any safe opportunity. At last Gerald
proposed to gratify Rosa's often-expressed wish, by taking a sail to
one of the neighboring islands. They intended to make a picnic of it,
and return by moonlight. Rosa was full of pleasant anticipations,
which, however, were greatly damped when her sister expressed a
decided preference for staying at home. Rosa entreated, and Gerald
became angry, but she persisted in her refusal. She said she wanted to
use up all her shells, and all her flosses and chenilles. Gerald swore
that he hated the sight of them, and that he would throw them all
into the sea if she went on wearing her beautiful eyes out over them.
Without looking up from her work, she coolly answered, "Why need you
concern yourself about _my_ eyes, when you have a wife with such
beautiful eyes?"'
Black Tom and Chloe and the boat were in waiting, and after a flurried
scene they departed reluctantly without her.
"I never saw any one so changed as she is," said Rosa. "She used to
be so fond of excursions, and now she wants to work from morning till
night."
"She's a perverse, self-willed, capricious little puss. She's been too
much indulged. She needs to be brought under discipline," said Gerald,
angrily whipping off a blossom with his rattan as they walked toward
the boat.
As soon as they were fairly off, Flora started on a second visit to
the Welby plantation. Tulee noticed all this in silence, and shook her
head, as if thoughts were brooding there unsafe for utterance.
Mrs. Delano was bending over her writing-desk finishing a letter, when
she perceived a wave of fragrance, and, looking up, she saw Flora on
the threshold of the open door, with her arms full of flowers.
"Excuse me for interrupting you," said she, dropping one of her little
quick courtesies, which seemed half frolic, half politeness. "The
woods are charming to-day. The trees are hung with curtains of
jasmine, embroidered all over with golden flowers. You love perfumes
so well, I couldn't help stopping by the way to load Thistle with an
armful of them."
"Thank you, dear," replied Mrs. Delano. "I rode out yesterday
afternoon, and I thought I had never seen anything so beautiful as the
flowery woods and the gorgeous sunset. After being accustomed to the
splendor of these Southern skies, the Northern atmosphere will seem
cold and dull."
"Shall you go to the North soon?" inquired Flora, anxiously.
"I shall leave here in ten or twelve days," she replied; "but I may
wait a short time in Savannah, till March has gone; for that is a
blustering, disagreeable month in New England, though it brings you
roses and perfume. I came to Savannah to spend the winter with my
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Welby; but I have always taken a great fancy to
this island, and when they were suddenly called away to Arkansas by
the illness of a son, I asked their permission to come here for a few
weeks and watch the beautiful opening of the spring. I find myself
much inclined to solitude since I lost a darling daughter, who died
two years ago. If she had lived, she would have been about your age."
"I am _so_ sorry you are going away," said Flora. "It seems as if I
had always known you. I don't know what I shall do without you. But
when you go back among your friends, I suppose you will forget all
about poor little me."
"No, my dear little friend, I shall never forget you," she replied;
"and when I come again, I hope I shall find you here."
"I felt troubled when I went away the other day," said Flora. "I
thought you seemed to look sadly after me, and I was afraid you
thought I had done something wicked, because I said you wouldn't wish
I were your daughter if you knew everything about me. So I have come
to tell you my secrets, as far as I can without betraying other
people's. I am afraid you won't care anything more about me after I
have told you; but I can't help it if you don't. Even that would be
better than to have you suspect me of being bad."
Mrs. Delano drew an ottoman toward her, and said, "Come and sit here,
dear, and tell me all about it, the same as if I were your mother."
Floracita complied; and resting one elbow on her knee, and leaning
her cheek upon the hand, she looked up timidly and wistfully into the
friendly face that was smiling serenely over her. After a moment's
pause, she said abruptly: "I don't know how to begin, so I won't begin
at all, but tell it right out. You see, dear Mrs. Delano, I am a
colored girl."
The lady's smile came nearer to a laugh than was usual with her. She
touched the pretty dimpled cheek with her jewelled finger, as she
replied: "O, you mischievous little kitten! I thought you were really
going to tell me something about your troubles. But I see you are
hoaxing me. I remember when you were at Madame Conquilla's you always
seemed to be full of fun, and the young ladies there said you were a
great rogue."
"But this is not fun; indeed it is not," rejoined Flora. "I _am_ a
colored girl."
She spoke so earnestly that the lady began to doubt the evidence of
her own eyes. "But you told me that Mr. Alfred Royal was your father,"
said she.
"So he was my father," replied Flora; "and the kindest father that
ever was. Rosa and I were brought up like little princesses, and we
never knew that we were colored. My mother was the daughter of a rich
Spanish gentleman named Gonsalez. She was educated in Paris, and was
elegant and accomplished. She was handsomer than Rosa; and if you were
to see Rosa, you would say nobody _could_ be handsomer than she is.
She was good, too. My father was always saying she was the dearest and
best wife in the world. You don't know how he mourned when she died.
He couldn't bear to have anything moved that she had touched. But
_cher papa_ died very suddenly; and first they told us that we were
very poor, and must earn our living; and then they told us that our
mother was a slave, and so, according to law, we were slaves too. They
would have sold us at auction, if a gentleman who knew us when papa
was alive hadn't smuggled us away privately to Nassau. He had been
very much in love with Rosa for a good while; and he married her, and
I live with them. But he keeps us very much hidden; because, he says,
he should get into lawsuits and duels and all sorts of troubles with
papa's creditors if they should find out that he helped us off. And
that was the reason I was called Senorita Gonsalez in Nassau, though
my real name is Flora Royal."
She went on to recount the kindness of Madame Guirlande, and the
exciting particulars of their escape; to all of which Mrs. Delano
listened with absorbed attention. As they sat thus, they made a
beautiful picture. The lady, mature in years, but scarcely showing the
touch of time, was almost as fair as an Albiness, with serene lips,
and a soft moonlight expression in her eyes. Every attitude and every
motion indicated quietude and refinement. The young girl, on the
contrary, even when reclining, seemed like impetuosity in repose for
a moment, but just ready to spring. Her large dark eyes laughed and
flashed and wept by turns, and her warmly tinted face glowed like the
sunlight, in its setting of glossy black hair. The lady looked down
upon her with undisguised admiration while she recounted their
adventures in lively dramatic style, throwing in imitations of the
whistling of _Ca ira_, and the tones of the coachman as he sang, "Who
goes there?"
"But you have not told me," said Mrs. Delano, "who the gentleman was
that married your sister. Ah, I see you hesitate. No matter. Only tell
me one thing,--is he kind to you?"
Flora turned red and pale, and red again.
"Let that pass, too," said the lady. "I asked because I wished to know
if I could help you in any way. I see you have brought some more boxes
of shell-work, and by and by we will examine them. But first I want to
tell you that I also have a secret, and I will confide it to you that
you may feel assured I shall love you always. Flora, dear, when your
father and I were young, we were in love with each other, and I
promised to be his wife."
"So you might have been my Mamita!" exclaimed Floracita, impetuously.
"No, not _your_ Mamita, dear," replied Mrs. Delano, smiling. "You
call me the Java sparrow, and Java sparrows never hatch gay little
humming-birds or tuneful mocking-birds. I might tell you a long story
about myself, dear; but the sun is declining, and you ought not to be
out after dusk. My father was angry about our love, because Alfred was
then only a clerk with a small salary. They carried me off to Europe,
and for two years I could hear nothing from Alfred. Then they told
me he was married; and after a while they persuaded me to marry Mr.
Delano. I ought not to have married him, because my heart was not in
it. He died and left me with a large fortune and the little daughter
I told you of. I have felt very much alone since my darling was taken
from me. That void in my heart renders young girls very interesting to
me. Your looks and ways attracted me when I first met you; and when
you told me Alfred Royal was your father, I longed to clasp you to my
heart. And now you know, my dear child, that you have a friend ever
ready to listen to any troubles you may choose to confide, and
desirous to remove them if she can."
She rose to open the boxes of shell-work; but Flora sprung up, and
threw herself into her arms, saying, "My Papasito sent you to me,--I
know he did."
After a few moments spent in silent emotion, Mrs. Delano again spoke
of the approaching twilight, and with mutual caresses they bade each
other adieu.
Four or five days later, Floracita made her appearance at the Welby
plantation in a state of great excitement. She was in a nervous
tremor, and her eyelids were swollen as if with much weeping. Mrs.
Delano hastened to enfold her in her arms, saying: "What is it, my
child? Tell your new Mamita what it is that troubles you so."
"O, _may_ I call you Mamita?" asked Flora, looking up with an
expression of grateful love that warmed all the fibres of her friend's
heart. "O, I do so need a Mamita! I am very wretched; and if you don't
help me, I don't know what I _shall_ do!"
"Certainly, I will help you, if possible, when you have told me your
trouble," replied Mrs. Delano.
"Yes, I will tell," said Flora, sighing. "Mr. Fitzgerald is the
gentleman who married my sister; but we don't live at his plantation.
We live in a small cottage hidden away in the woods. You never saw
anybody so much in love as he was with Rosa. When we first came here,
he was never willing to have her out of his sight a moment. And Rosa
loves him so! But for these eight or ten weeks past he has been making
love to me; though he is just as affectionate as ever with Rosa. When
she is playing to him, and I am singing beside her, he keeps throwing
kisses to me behind her back. It makes me feel so ashamed that I can't
look my sister in the face. I have tried to--keep out of his way. When
I am in the house I stick to Rosa like a burr; and I have given up
riding or walking, except when he is away. But there's no telling
when he _is_ away. He went away yesterday, and said he was going to
Savannah to be gone a week; but this morning, when I went into the
woods behind the cottage to feed Thistle, he was lurking there. He
seized me, and held his hand over my mouth, and said I _should_ hear
him. Then he told me that Rosa and I were his slaves; that he bought
us of papa's creditors, and could sell us any day. And he says he will
carry me off to Savannah and sell me if I don't treat him better. He
would not let me go till I promised to meet him in Cypress Grove
at dusk to-night. I have been trying to earn money to go to Madame
Guirlande, and get her to send me somewhere where I could give
dancing-lessons, or singing-lessons, without being in danger of being
taken up for a slave. But I don't know how to get to New Orleans
alone; and if I am his slave, I am afraid he will come there with
officers to take me. So, dear new Mamita, I have come to you, to see
if you can't help me to get some money and go somewhere."
Mrs. Delano pressed her gently to her heart, and responded in tones of
tenderest pity: "Get some money and go somewhere, you poor child! Do
you think I shall let dear Alfred's little daughter go wandering
alone about the world? No, darling, you shall live with me, and be my
daughter."
"And don't you care about my being colored and a slave?" asked
Floracita, humbly.
"Let us never speak of that," replied her friend. "The whole
transaction is so odious and wicked that I can't bear to think of it."
"I do feel so grateful to you, my dear new Mamita, that I don't know
what to say. But it tears my heart in two to leave Rosa. We have never
been separated for a day since I was born. And she is so good, and she
loves me so! And Tulee, too. I didn't dare to try to speak to her. I
knew I should break down. All the way coming here I was frightened
for fear Gerald would overtake me and carry me off. And I cried so,
thinking about Rosa and Tulee, not knowing when I should see them
again, that I couldn't see; and if Thistle hadn't known the way
himself, I shouldn't have got here. Poor Thistle! It seemed as if my
heart would break when I threw the bridle on his neck and left him to
go back alone; I didn't dare to hug, him but once, I was so afraid. O,
I am so glad that you will let me stay here!"
"I have been thinking it will not be prudent for you to stay here,
my child," replied Mrs. Delano. "Search will be made for you in the
morning, and you had better be out of the way before that. There are
some dresses belonging to Mrs. Welby's daughter in a closet up stairs.
I will borrow one of them for you to wear. The boat from Beaufort to
Savannah will stop here in an hour to take some freight. We will go to
Savannah. My colored laundress there has a chamber above her wash-room
where you will be better concealed than in more genteel lodgings. I
will come back here to arrange things, and in a few days I will return
to you and take you to my Northern home."
The necessary arrangements were soon made; and when Flora was
transformed into Miss Welby, she smiled very faintly as she remarked,
"How queer it seems to be always running away."
"This is the last time, my child," replied Mrs. Delano. "I will keep
my little bird carefully under my wings."
When Flora was in the boat, hand in hand with her new friend, and no
one visible whom she had ever seen before, her excitement began to
subside, but sadness increased. In her terror the poor child had
scarcely thought of anything except the necessity of escaping
somewhere. But when she saw her island home receding from her, she
began to realize the importance of the step she was taking. She fixed
her gaze on that part where the lonely cottage was embowered, and
she had a longing to see even a little whiff of smoke from Tulee's
kitchen. But there was no sign of life save a large turkey-buzzard,
like a black vulture, sailing gracefully over the tree-tops. The
beloved sister, the faithful servant, the brother from whom she had
once hoped so much, the patient animal that had borne her through so
many pleasant paths, the flowery woods, and the resounding sea, had
all vanished from her as suddenly as did her father and the bright
home of her childhood.
The scenes through which they were passing were beautiful as Paradise,
and all nature seemed alive and jubilant. The white blossoms of
wild-plum-trees twinkled among dark evergreens, a vegetable imitation
of starlight. Wide-spreading oaks and superb magnolias were lighted up
with sudden flashes of color, as scarlet grosbeaks flitted from tree
to tree. Sparrows were chirping, doves cooing, and mocking-birds
whistling, now running up the scale, then down the scale, with an
infinity of variations between. The outbursts of the birds were the
same as in seasons that were gone, but the listener was changed.
Rarely before had her quick musical ear failed to notice how they
would repeat the same note with greater or less emphasis, then flat
it, then sharp it, varying their performances with all manner of
unexpected changes. But now she was merely vaguely conscious of
familiar sounds, which brought before her that last merry day in her
father's house, when Rosabella laughed so much to hear her puzzle the
birds with her musical vagaries. Memory held up her magic mirror, in
which she saw pictured processions of the vanished years. Thus the
lonely child, with her loving, lingering looks upon the past, was
floated toward an unknown future with the new friend a kind Providence
had sent her.
CHAPTER IX.
Rosa was surprised at the long absence of her sister; and when the sun
showed only a narrow golden edge above the horizon, she began to feel
anxious. She went to the kitchen and said, "Tulee, have you seen
anything of Floracita lately? She went away while I was sleeping."
"No, missy," she replied. "The last I see of her was in her room, with
the embroidery-frame before her. She was looking out of the window, as
she did sometimes, as if she was looking nowhere. She jumped up and
hugged and kissed me, and called me 'Dear Tulee, good Tulee.' The
little darling was always mighty loving. When I went there again, her
needle was sticking in her work, and her thimble was on the frame, but
she was gone. I don't know when she went away. Thistle's come back
alone; but he does that sometimes when little missy goes rambling
round."
There was no uneasiness expressed in her tones, but, being more
disquieted than she wished to acknowledge, she went forth to search
the neighboring wood-paths and the sea-shore. When she returned, Rosa
ran out with the eager inquiry, "Is she anywhere in sight?" In reply
to the negative answer, she said: "I don't know what to make of it.
Have you ever seen anybody with Floracita since we came here?"
"Nobody but Massa Gerald," replied Tulee.
"I wonder whether she was discontented here," said Rosa. "I don't see
why she should be, for we all loved her dearly; and Gerald was as kind
to her as if she had been his own sister. But she hasn't seemed like
herself lately; and this forenoon she hugged and kissed me ever so
many times, and cried. When I asked her what was the matter, she said
she was thinking of the pleasant times when _Papasito querido_ was
alive. Do you think she was unhappy?"
"She told me once she was homesick for Madame Guirlande," replied
Tulee.
"Did she? Perhaps she was making so many things for Madame because she
meant to go there. But she couldn't find her way alone, and she knew
it would be very dangerous for either of us to go to New Orleans."
Tulee made no reply. She seated herself on a wooden bench by the open
door, swinging her body back and forth in an agitated way, ever and
anon jumping up and looking round in all directions. The veil of
twilight descended upon the earth, and darkness followed. The two
inmates of the cottage felt very miserable and helpless, as they sat
there listening to every sound. For a while nothing was heard but the
dash of the waves, and the occasional hooting of an owl. The moon rose
up above the pines, and flooded earth and sea with silvery splendor.
"I want to go to the plantation and call Tom," said Rosa; "and there
is such bright moonshine we might go, but I am afraid Gerald would be
displeased."
Tulee at once volunteered to bring out Thistle, and to walk beside her
mistress.
Both started at the sound of footsteps. They were not light enough for
Floracita, but they thought it might be some one bringing news. It
proved to be the master of the house.
"Why, Gerald, how glad I am! I thought you were in Savannah,"
exclaimed Rosa. "Have you seen anything of Floracita?"
"No. Isn't she here?" inquired he, in such a tone of surprise, that
Tulee's suspicions were shaken.
Rosa repeated the story of her disappearance, and concluded by saying,
"She told Tulee she was homesick to go to Madame."
"She surely wouldn't dare to do that," he replied.
"Massa Gerald," said Tulee, and she watched him closely while she
spoke, "there's something I didn't tell Missy Rosy, 'cause I was
feared it would worry her. I found this little glove of Missy Flory's,
with a bunch of sea-weed, down on the beach; and there was marks of
her feet all round."
Rosa uttered a cry. "O heavens!" she exclaimed, "I saw an alligator a
few days ago."
An expression of horror passed over his face. "I've cautioned her not
to fish so much for shells and sea-mosses," said he; "but she was
always so self-willed."
"_Don't_ say anything against the little darling!" implored Rosa.
"Perhaps we shall never see her again."
He spoke a few soothing words, and then took his hat, saying, "I am
going to the sea-shore."
"Take good care of yourself, dear Gerald!" cried Rosa.
"No danger 'bout that," muttered Tulee, as she walked out of hearing.
"There's things with handsomer mouths than alligators that may be more
dangerous. Poor little bird! I wonder where he has put her."
His feelings as he roamed on the beach were not to be envied. His mind
was divided between the thoughts that she had committed suicide,
or had been drowned accidentally. That she had escaped from his
persecutions by flight he could not believe; for he knew she was
entirely unused to taking care of herself, and felt sure she had no
one to help her. He returned to say that the tide had washed away the
footprints, and that he found no vestige of the lost one.
At dawn he started for the plantation, whence, after fruitless
inquiries, he rode to the Welby estate. Mrs. Delano had requested
the household servants not to mention having seen a small young lady
there, and they had nothing to communicate.