Part 17 (2/2)
While they were lingering at the tea-table, the door-bell rang, and Flora, with a look of alarm, started to run up stairs. ”Wait a moment, till the name is brought in,” said her friend. ”If I admit the visitor, I should like to have you follow me to the parlor, and remain there ten or fifteen minutes. You can then go to your room, and when you are there, dear, be careful not to sing loud. Mr. Fitzgerald shall not take you from me; but if he were to find out you were here, it might give rise to talk that would be unpleasant.”
The servant announced Mr. Willard Percival; and a few moments afterward Mrs. Delano introduced her _protegee_. Mr. Percival was too well bred to stare, but the handsome, foreign-looking little damsel evidently surprised him. He congratulated them both upon the relation between them, and said he need not wish the young lady happiness in her new home, for he believed Mrs. Delano always created an atmosphere of happiness around her. After a few moments of desultory conversation, Flora left the room. When she had gone, Mr. Percival remarked, ”That is a very fascinating young person.”
”I thought she would strike you agreeably,” replied Mrs. Delano. ”Her beauty and gracefulness attracted me the first time I saw her; and afterward I was still more taken by her extremely _nave_ manner.
She has been brought up in seclusion as complete as Miranda's on the enchanted island; and there is no resisting the charm of her impulsive naturalness. But, if you please, I will now explain the note I sent to you this morning. I heard some months ago that you had joined the Anti-Slavery Society.”
”And did you send for me hoping to convert me from the error of my ways?” inquired he, smiling.
”On the contrary, I sent for you to consult concerning a slave in whom I am interested.”
”_You_, Mrs. Delano!” he exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise.
”You may well think it strange,” she replied, ”knowing, as you do, how bitterly both my father and my husband were opposed to the anti-slavery agitation, and how entirely apart my own life has been from anything of that sort. But while I was at the South this winter, I heard of a case which greatly interested my feelings. A wealthy American merchant in New Orleans became strongly attached to a beautiful quadroon, who was both the daughter and the slave of a Spanish planter. Her father became involved in some pecuniary trouble, and sold his daughter to the American merchant, knowing that they were mutually attached. Her bondage was merely nominal, for the tie of affection remained constant between them as long as she lived; and he would have married her if such marriages had been legal in Louisiana.
By some unaccountable carelessness, he neglected to manumit her. She left two handsome and accomplished daughters, who always supposed their mother to be a Spanish lady, and the wedded wife of their father. But he died insolvent, and, to their great dismay, they found themselves claimed as slaves under the Southern law, that 'the child follows the condition of the mother.' A Southern gentleman, who was in love with the eldest, married her privately, and smuggled them both away to Na.s.sau. After a while he went there to meet them, having previously succeeded in buying them of the creditors. But his conduct toward the younger was so base, that she absconded. The question I wish to ask of you is, whether, if he should find her in the Free States, he could claim her as his slave, and have his claim allowed by law.”
”Not if he sent them to Na.s.sau,” replied Mr. Percival. ”British soil has the enviable distinction of making free whosoever touches it.”
”But he afterward brought them back to an island between Georgia and South Carolina,” said Mrs. Delano. ”The eldest proved a most loving and faithful wife, and to this day has no suspicion of his designs with regard to her sister.”
”If he married her before he went to Na.s.sau, the ceremony is not binding,” rejoined Mr. Percival; ”for no marriage with a slave is legal in the Southern States.”
”I was ignorant of that law,” said Mrs. Delano, ”being very little informed on the subject of slavery. But I suspected trickery of some sort in the transaction, because he proved himself so unprincipled with regard to the sister.”
”And where is the sister?” inquired Mr. Percival.
”I trust to your honor as a gentleman to keep the secret from every mortal,” answered Mrs. Delano. ”You have seen her this evening.”
”Is it possible,” he exclaimed, ”that you mean to say she is your adopted daughter?”
”I did mean to say that,” she replied. ”I have placed great confidence in you; for you can easily imagine it would be extremely disagreeable to me, as well as to her, to become objects of public notoriety.”
”Your confidence is a sacred deposit,” answered he. ”I have long been aware that the most romantic stories in the country have grown out of the inst.i.tution of slavery; but this seems stranger than fiction. With all my knowledge of the subject, I find it hard to realize that such a young lady as that has been in danger of being sold on the auction-block in this republic. It makes one desirous to conceal that he is an American.”
”My princ.i.p.al reason for wis.h.i.+ng to consult you,” said Mrs. Delano, ”is, that Mr. Fitzgerald, the purchaser of these girls, is now in the city, and Flora met him this morning. Luckily, she was closely veiled, and he did not recognize her. I think it is impossible he can have obtained any clew to my connivance at her escape, and yet I feel a little uneasy. I am so ignorant of the laws on this subject, that I don't know what he has the power to do if he discovers her. Can he claim her here in Boston?”
”He could claim her and bring her before the United States Court,”
replied Mr. Percival; ”but I doubt whether he _would_ do it. To claim such a girl as _that_ for a slave, would excite general sympathy and indignation, and put too much ammunition into the hands of us Abolitionists. Besides, no court in the Free States could help deciding that, if he sent her to Na.s.sau, she became free. If he should discover her whereabouts, I shouldn't wonder if attempts were made to kidnap her; for men of his character are very unscrupulous, and there are plenty of caitiffs in Boston ready to do any bidding of their Southern masters. If she were conveyed to the South, though the courts _ought_ to decide she was free, it is doubtful whether they _would_ do it; for, like Achilles, they scorn the idea that laws were made for such as they.”
”If I were certain that Mr. Fitzgerald knew of her being here, or that he even suspected it,” said Mrs. Delano, ”I would at once take measures to settle the question by private purchase; but the presumption is that he and the sister suppose Flora to be dead, and her escape cannot be made known without betraying the cause of it.
Flora has a great dread of disturbing her sister's happiness, and she thinks that, now she is away, all will go well. Another difficulty is, that, while the unfortunate lady believes herself to be his lawful wife, she is really his slave, and if she should offend him in any way he could sell her. It troubles me that I cannot discover any mode of ascertaining whether he deserts her or not. He keeps her hidden in the woods in that lonely island, where her existence is unknown, except to a few of his negro slaves. The only white friends she seems to have in the world are her music teacher and French teacher in New Orleans. Mr.
Fitzgerald has impressed it upon their minds that the creditors of her father will prosecute him, and challenge him, if they discover that he first conveyed the girls away and then bought them at reduced prices.
Therefore, if I should send an agent to New Orleans at any time to obtain tidings of the sister, those cautious friends would doubtless consider it a trap of the creditors, and would be very secretive.”
”It is a tangled skein to unravel,” rejoined Mr. Percival. ”I do not see how anything can be done for the sister, under present circ.u.mstances.”
”I feel undecided what course to pursue with regard to my adopted daughter,” said Mrs. Delano. ”Entire seclusion is neither cheerful nor salutary at her age. But her person and manners attract attention and excite curiosity. I am extremely desirous to keep her history secret, but I already find it difficult to answer questions without resorting to falsehood, which is a practice exceedingly abhorrent to me, and a very bad education for her. After this meeting with Mr. Fitzgerald, I cannot take her to any public place without a constant feeling of uneasiness. The fact is, I am so unused to intrigues and mysteries, and I find it so hard to realize that a young girl like her _can_ be in such a position, that I am bewildered, and need time to settle my thoughts upon a rational basis.”
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