Part 32 (2/2)
”Come, my love--what news? Ah! you are looking grave, Yola; your news is not very joyful, I fear?”
”No, not joyful--bad news.”
”Let me hear them, love. Something Cynthy has been saying to you? You shouldn't heed what that girl says.”
”No, Cubina, I no care what her me tell. I her know, wicked, bad girl.
Not Cynthy say that thing me trouble now. Missa Kate me tell.”
”Ah! something Miss Vaughan has told you? I wouldn't look for bad news from her. But what is it, dear Yola? Maybe, after all, it's nothing?”
”Ah! yes, Cubina, something. I fear me keep from you long, long time.”
”Keep you from me! Surely Miss Vaughan don't object to your meeting me?”
”No--not that. Something I fear me hinder from be--.”
”Be what?” inquired the lover, seeing that his sweetheart hesitated to p.r.o.nounce some word, the thought of which was causing her to blush.
”Come, dear Yola, don't fear to tell _me_. You know we're engaged.
There should be no secret between us. What were you going to say?”
In a low, murmured voice, and looking lovingly in his eyes as she spoke, the girl p.r.o.nounced the word ”marry.”
”Ho! ho!” exclaimed the lover, in a confident tone. ”I think nothing can occur to hinder that--at least, for a very long time. I have now nearly a hundred pounds laid by, and a lucky capture I've just made this morning will help still further to make up that sum. Surely the Custos will not require more than a hundred pounds; though if you were once mine,” continued the speaker, casting a look of smiling fondness upon his sweetheart's face, ”all the money in the world wouldn't tempt me to part with you. I hope,” added he, speaking in a jocular air, ”a hundred pounds will be enough to make you _my slave_?”
”You slave, Cubina?”
”Yes, Yola, as I am yours now.”
”Ah--that way, Yola yours; yours ever--evermore.”
”I will believe you, dear girl,” rejoined the lover, gazing, with a gratified look, in the face of his beloved. ”I am very happy to think that in that way you are mine; and that I have, as you a.s.sure me, your heart and soul. But, dearest Yola, so long as another is the owner of your body--not with the right, but the powder to do, ay--indeed, almost as he might please--for who can hinder these proud planters from committing crimes of which they are their own judges? Ah! Yola, girl, it is fearful to reflect on their wicked doings. This very morning I have come across a sample of their cruelty; and when I think of you being in the power of one, it makes me feel as if every hour was a day until I can obtain your freedom. I am always in fear lest something may happen to hinder me.
”Just to-day I am in high hopes,” continued the lover, evincing the truth of his words by a pleasant smile. ”I have succeeded in raising nearly the hundred pounds; and the bounty I expect to receive for the runaway I have caught will make it quite that.”
The girl returned no reply to this speech of her lover, but stood gazing upon him silently, and as if half reproachfully. Something of this kind he read, or fancied he read, in her looks.
”What, Yola, you are not satisfied with what I have said? You reproach me? Ah! true. I confess it is not a very creditable way of procuring your purchase-money. _Maldito_! what can I do? We Maroons have no other way of raising money, except by hunting the wild hogs, and selling their barbecued flesh. But that barely gives us a living. _Crambo_! I could never have got together a hundred pounds in that way. So do not reproach me, dear Yola, for what I've done. I a.s.sure you it goes against my grain, this man-hunting business. As for the young fellow I caught this morning, I'd risk a good real rather than give him up--if it wasn't for the purpose of procuring your freedom. For that I must have the hundred pounds, which it is to be hoped will be enough to satisfy your master.”
”All, Cubina!” replied his slave-love, with a sigh, ”that the bad news I you bring. Hundred pound no more enough. Only two days go, he have him offer twice so much for poor slave Yola.”
”Two hundred pounds offered for _you_!” exclaimed the Maroon, with a start of surprise, his brow becoming suddenly clouded. ”Is that what you mean, Yola?”
”Ah, yes!” answered the slave, repeating her sad sigh.
”And who--who is he?” demanded the lover, in a quick earnest tone, at the same time that a gleam of jealous thought flashed from his dark eyes, like forked lightning across a clouded sky.
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