"I say, Nina," said her brother, coming in, a day or two after, from a survey he had been taking round the premises, "you wantmehere to manage this place. Everything going at sixes and sevens; and that nigger of a Harry riding round with his boots shining. That fellow cheats you, and feathers his own nest well. I know! These white niggers are all deceitful."
"Come, Tom, you know the estate is managed just as father left word to have it; and Uncle John says that Harry is an excellent manager. I'm sure nobody could have been more faithful to me; and I am very well satisfied."
"Yes, I dare say. All left to you and the executors, as you call them; as ifIwere not the natural guardian of my sister! Then I come here to put up with that fellow's impudence!"
"Whose?—Harry's? He is never impudent. He is always gentlemanly. Everybody remarks it."
"Gentlemanly! There it is, Nin! What a fool you are to encourage the use of that word in connection with any of your niggers! Gentleman, forsooth! And while he plays gentleman, who takes care? I tell you what, you'll find one of these days how things are going on. But that's just the way! You never would listen to me, or pay the least attention to my advice."
"Oh, Tom, don't talk about that—don't! I never interfere about your affairs. Please leave me the right to manage mine in my own way."
"And who is this Clayton that's hanging about here? Are you going to have him, or he you—hey?"
"I don't know," said Nina.
"BecauseI, for one, don't like him; and I shan't give my consent to let him have you. That other one is worth twice asmuch. He has one of the largest properties in New York. Joe Snider has told me about him. You shall have him."
"I shallnothave him, say what you please; and Ishallhave Mr. Clayton, if I choose!" said Nina, with a heightened color. "You have no right to dictate to me of my own affairs; and I shan't submit to it, I tell you frankly."
"Highty-tighty! We are coming up, to be sure!" said Tom.
"Moreover," said Nina, "I wish you to let everything on this place entirely alone; and remember that my servants are not your servants, and that you have no control over them whatever."
"Well, we will see how you'll help yourself! I am not going to go skulking about on my father's own place as if I had no right or title there; and if your niggers don't look sharp, they'll find out whether I am the master here or not, especially that Harry. If the dog dare so much as to lift his fingers to countermand any one of my orders, I'd put a bullet through his head as soon as I would through a buck's. I give you warning!"
"Oh, Tom, pray don't talk so!" said Nina, who really began to be alarmed. "What do you want to make me such trouble for?"
The conversation was here suspended by the entrance of Milly.
"If you please, Miss Nina, come and show me which of your muslins you wish to be done up, as I's starching for Miss Loo."
Glad of an opportunity to turn the conversation, Nina ran up to her room, whither she was followed by Milly, who shut the door, and spoke to her in mysterious tones.
"Miss Nina, can't you make some errand to get Harry off the place for two or three days, while Mas'r Tom's round?"
"But what right," said Nina, with heightened color, "has he to dictate to my servants, or me? or to interfere with any of our arrangements here?"
"Oh, dere's no use talking aboutrights, honey. We must all do jest what weken. Don't make much odds whether our rights is one way or t'other. You see, chile, it's just here. Harry's your right hand. But you see he an't learnt tobend'fore the wind, like the rest of us. He is spirity; he is just asfull now as a powder-box; and Mas'r Tom is bent on aggravating him. And, laws, chile, dere may be bloody work—dere may so!"
"Why, do you think he'ddare"—
"Chile, don't talk to me! Dare!—yes; sure 'nough he will dare! Besides, dere's fifty ways young gentlemen may take to aggravate and provoke. And, when flesh and blood can't bear it no longer, if Harry raises his hand, why, den shoot him down! Nothing said—nothing done. You can't help yourself. You won't want to have a lawsuit with your own brother; and, if you did, 'twouldn't bring Harry to life! Laws, chile, ef I could tell you what I've seen—you don't know nothing 'bout it. Now, I tell you, get up some message to your uncle's plantation; send him off for anything or nothing; only have him gone! And then speak your brother fair, and then may be he will go off. But don't you quarrel! don't you cross him, come what may! Dere an't a soul on the place that can bar de sight on him. But, then, you see the rest deyall bends! But, chile, you must be quick about it! Let me go right off and find him. Just you come in the little back room, and I'll call him in."
Pale and trembling, Nina descended into the room; and, in a few moments after, Milly appeared, followed by Harry.
"Harry!" said Nina, in a trembling voice, "I want you to take your horse and go over to Uncle John's plantation, and carry a note for me."
Harry stood with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, and Nina continued,—
"And, Harry, I think you had better make some business or errand to keep you away two or three days, or a week."
"Miss Nina," said Harry, "the affairs of the place are very pressing now, and need overlooking. A few days' neglect now may produce a great loss, and then it will be said that I neglected my business to idle and ride round the country."
"Well, but if I send you, I take the responsibility, and I'll bear the loss. The fact is, Harry, I'm afraid that you won't have patience to be here, now Tom is at home. In fact, Harry, I'm afraid for your life! And now, if you have any regard for me, make the best arrangement with the work you can, and be off. I'll tell him that I sent you on business of my own, andI am going to write a letter for you to carry. It's the only safe way. He has so many ways in which he can provoke and insult you, that, at last, you may say or do something that will give him occasion against you; and I think he is determined to drive you to this."
"Isn't this provoking, now? isn't this outrageous!" said Harry, between his teeth, looking down, "that everything must be left, and all because I haven't the right to stand up like a man, and protect you and yours!"
"It is a pity! it is a shame!" said Nina. "But, Harry, don't stop to think upon it; do go!" She laid her hand softly on his. "For my sake, now, be good—be good!"
The room where they were standing had long windows, which opened, like those of the parlor, on the veranda, and commanded a view of a gravel-walk bordered with shrubbery. As Harry stood, hesitating, he started at seeing Lisette come tripping up the walk, balancing on her head a basket of newly-ironed muslins and linens. Her trim little figure was displayed in a close-fitting gown of blue, a snowy handkerchief crossed upon her bust, and one rounded arm raised to steady the basket upon her head. She came tripping forward, with her usual airy motion, humming a portion of a song; and attracted, at the same moment, the attention of Tom Gordon and of her husband.
"'Pon my word, if that isn't the prettiest concern!" said Tom, as he started up and ran down the walk to meet her.
"Good-morning, my pretty girl!" he said.
"Good-morning, sir," returned Lisette, in her usual tone of gay cheerfulness.
"Pray, who do you belong to, my pretty little puss! I think I've never seen you on this place."
"Please, sir, I'm Harry's wife."
"Indeed! you are, hey? Devilish good taste he has!" said he, laying his hand familiarly on her shoulder.
The shoulder was pulled away, and Lisette moved rapidly on to the other side of the path, with an air of vexation which made her look rather prettier.
"What, my dear, don't you know that I am your husband's young master? Come, come!" he said, following her, and endeavoring to take hold of her arm.
"Please let me alone!" said Lisette, coloring, and in a petted, vexed tone.
"Let you alone? No, that I shan't, not while you ask it in such a pretty way as that!" And again the hand was laid upon her shoulder.
It must be understood that Harry had witnessed so far, in pantomime, this scene. He had stood with compressed lips, and eyes slowly dilating, looking at it. Nina, who was standing with her back to the window, wondered at the expression of his countenance.
"Look there, Miss Nina!" he said. "Do you see my wife and your brother?"
Nina turned, and in an instant the color mounted to her cheeks; her little form seemed to dilate, and her eyes flashed fire; and before Harry could see what she was doing, she was down in the gravel-walk, and had taken Lisette's hand.
"Tom Gordon," she said, "I'm ashamed of you! Hush! hush!" she continued, fixing her eyes on him, and stamping her foot. "Dareto come to my place, and take such liberties here! You shall not be allowed to whileIam mistress; and Iammistress!Dareto lay a finger on this girl while she is here under my protection! Come, Lisette!" And she seized the trembling girl by the hand, and drew her along towards the house.
Tom Gordon was so utterly confused at this sudden burst of passion in his sister, that he let them go off without opposition. In a few moments he looked after her, and gave a long, low whistle.
"Ah! Pretty well up for her! But she'll find it's easier said than done, I fancy!" And he sauntered up to the veranda, where Harry stood with his arms folded, and the veins in his forehead swelling with repressed emotion.
"Go in, Lisette," said Nina; "take the things into my room, and I'll come to you."
"'Pon my word, Harry," said Tom, coming up, and addressing Harry in the most insulting tone, "we are all under the greatest obligations to you for bringing such a pretty little fancy article here!"
"My wife does not belong to this place," said Harry, forcing himself to speak calmly. "She belongs to a Mrs. Le Clere, who has come into Belleville plantation."
"Ah! thank you for the information! I may take a fancy to buy her, and I'd like to know who she belongs to. I've been wanting a pretty little concern of that sort. She's a good housekeeper, isn't she, Harry? Does up shirts well? What do you suppose she could be got for? I must go and see her mistress."
During this cruel harangue Harry's hands twitched and quivered, and he started every now and then, looking first at Nina, and then at his tormentor. He turned deadly pale; even his lips were of ashy whiteness; and, with his arms still folded, and making no reply, he fixed his large blue eyes upon Tom, and, as it sometimes happened in moments of excitement and elevation, there appeared on the rigid lines of his face, at that moment, so strong a resemblance to Colonel Gordon, that Nina noticed and was startled by it. Tom Gordon noticed it also. It added fuel to the bitterness of his wrath; and there glared from his eyes a malignancy of hatred that was perfectly appalling. The two brothers seemed like thunder-clouds opposing each other, and ready to dart lightning. Nina hastened to interfere.
"Hurry, hurry, Harry! I want that message carried. Do, pray, go directly!"
"Let me see," said Tom, "I must call Jim, and have my horse. Which is the way to that Belleville plantation? I think I'll ride over." And he turned and walked indolently down the steps.
"For shame, Tom! you won't! you can't! How can you want to trouble me so?" said Nina.
He turned and looked upon her with an evil smile, turned again, and was gone.
"Harry, Harry, go quick! Don't you worry; there's no danger!" she added, in a lower voice. "Madam Le Clere never would consent."
"There's no knowing!" said Harry, "never any knowing! People act about money as they do about nothing else."
"Then—then I'll send and buy her myself!" said Nina.
"You don't know how our affairs stand, Miss Nina," said Harry hurriedly. "The money couldn't be raised now for it, especially if I have to go off this week. It will make a great difference, my being here or not being here; and very likelyMaster Tom may have a thousand dollars to pay down on the spot. I never knew him to want money when his will was up. Great God! haven't I borne this yoke long enough?"
"Well, Harry," said Nina, "I'll sell everything I've got—my jewels—everything. I'll mortgage the plantation, before Tom Gordon shall do this thing! I'm notquiteso selfish as I've always seemed to be. I know you've made the sacrifice of body and soul to my interest; and I've always taken it because I loved my ease, and was a spoiled child. But, after all, I know I've as much energy as Tom has, when I am roused, and I'll go over this very morning and make an offer for her. Only you be off. You can't stand such provocation as you get here; and if you yield, as any man will do, at last, then everything and everybody will go against you, and I can't protect you. Trust tome. I'm not so much of a child as I have seemed to be! You'll find I can act for myself, and you too! There comes Mr. Clayton through the shrubbery—that's right! Order two horses round to the door immediately, and we'll go over there this morning."
Nina gave her orders with a dignity as if she had been a princess, and in all his agitation Harry could not help marvelling at the sudden air of womanliness which had come over her.
"I could serveyou," he said, in a low voice, "to the last drop of my blood! But," he added, in a tone which made Nina tremble, "I hate everybody else! I hate your country! I hate your laws!"
"Harry," said Nina, "you do wrong—you forget yourself!"
"Oh, I do wrong, do I? We are the people that areneverto do wrong! People may stick pins in us, and stick knives in us, wipe their shoes on us, spit in our face—wemust be amiable! we must be models of Christian patience! I tell you, your father should rather have put me into quarters and made me work like a field-negro, than to have given me the education he did, and leave me under the foot of every white man that dares tread on me!"
Nina remembered to have seen her father in transports of passion, and was again shocked and startled to see the resemblance between his face and the convulsed face before her.
"Harry," she said, in a pitying, half-admonitory tone, "do think what you are saying! If you love me, be quiet!"
"Love you? You have always held my heart in your hand. That has been the clasp upon my chain. If it hadn't been for you, I should have fought my way to the north before now, or I would have found a grave on the road!"
"Well, Harry," said Nina, after a moment's thought, "my love shall not be a clasp uponanychain; for, as there is a God in heaven, I will set you free! I'll have a bill introduced at the very next legislature, and I know what friend will see to it. So go, now, Harry, go!"
Harry stood a moment, then suddenly raised the hand of his little mistress to his lips, turned, and was gone.
Clayton, who had been passing through the shrubbery, and who had remarked that Nina was engaged in a very exciting conversation, had drawn off, and stood waiting for her at the foot of the veranda steps. As soon as Nina saw him, she reached out her hand frankly, saying,—
"Oh, there, Mr. Clayton, you are just the person! Wouldn't you like to take a ride with me?"
"Of course I should," said he.
"Wait here a moment," said she, "till I get ready. The horses will be here immediately." And, running up the steps, she passed quickly by him, and went into the house.
Clayton had felt himself in circumstances of considerable embarrassment ever since the arrival of Tom Gordon, the evening before. He had perceived that the young man had conceived an instinctive dislike of himself, which he was at no particular pains to conceal; and he had found it difficult to preserve the appearance of one who does not notice. He did not wish to intrude upon Nina any embarrassing recognition of her situation, even under the guise of sympathy and assistance; and waited, therefore, till some word from her should authorize him to speak. He held himself, therefore, ready to meet any confidence which she might feel disposed to place in him; not doubting, from the frankness of her nature, that she would soon find it impossible not to speak of what was so deeply interesting to her.
Nina soon reappeared, and, mounting their horses, they found themselves riding through the same forest-road that led to the cottage of Tiff, from which a divergent path went to the Belleville plantation.
"I'm glad to see you alone this morning, for many reasons," said Nina; "for I think I never needed a friend's help more. I'm mortified that you should have seen what you did last night; but, since you have, I may as well speak of it. The fact is, that my brother, though he is the only one I have, never did treat me as if he loved me. I can't tell what the reason is: whether he was jealous of my poor father's love for me, or whether it was because I was a wilful, spoiled girl, and so gave him reason to be set against me, or whatever the reason might be,—he never has been kind to me long at a time. Perhaps he would be, if I would always do exactly as he says; but I am made as positive and wilful as he is. I never have been controlled, and I can't recognize the right which he seems to assume to control me, and to dictate as to my own private affairs. He was not left my guardian; and, though I do love him, I shan't certainly take him as one. Now, you see, he has a bitter hatred, and a most unreasonable one, towards my Harry; and I had no idea, when I came home, in how many ways he had the power to annoy me. It does seem as if an evil spirit possessed them both when they get together; they seem as full of electricity as they can be, and I am every instant afraid of an explosion. Unfortunately for Harry, he has had a much superior education to the generality of his class and station, and the situation of trust in which he has been placed has given him more the feelings of a free man and a gentleman than is usual; for, except Tom, there isn't one of our family circle that hasn't always treated him with kindness, and even with deference; and I think this very thing angers Tom the more, and makes him take every possible occasion of provoking and vexing. I believe it is his intention to push Harry up to some desperate action; and, when I see how frightfully they look at each other, I tremble for the consequences. Harry has lately married a very pretty wife, with whom he lives in a little cottage on the extremity of the Belleville estate; and this morning Tom happened to spy her, and it seemed to inspire him with a most ingenious plan to trouble Harry. He threatened to come over and buy her of Madam Le Clere; and so, to quiet Harry, I promised to come over here before him, and make an offer for her."
"Why," said Clayton, "do you think her mistress would sell her?"
"I can't say," said Nina. "She is a person I am acquainted with only by report. She is a New Orleans creole who has lately bought the place. Lisette, I believe, hired her time of her. Lisette is an ingenious, active creature, and contrives, by many little arts and accomplishments, to pay a handsome sum, monthly, to her mistress. Whether the offer of a large sum at once would tempt her to sell her, is more than I know until it's tried. I should like to have Lisette, for Harry's sake."
"And do you suppose your brother was really serious?"
"I shouldn't be at all surprised if he were. But, serious or not serious, I intend to make the matter sure."
"If it be necessary to make an immediate payment," said Clayton, "I have a sum of money which is lying idle in the bank, and it's but drawing a check which will be honored at sight. I mention this, because the ability to make an immediate payment may make the negotiation easier. You ought to allow me the pleasure of joining you in a good work."
"Thank you," said Nina, frankly. "It may not be necessary; but, if it should be, I will take it in the same spirit in which it is offered."
After a ride of about an hour, they arrived in the boundaries of Belleville plantation.
In former days, Nina had known this as the residence of an ancient rich family, with whom her father was on visiting terms. She was therefore uncomfortably struck with the air of poverty, waste, and decay, everywhere conspicuous through the grounds.
Nothing is more depressing and disheartening than the sight of a gradual decay of what has been arranged and constructed with great care; and when Nina saw the dilapidated gateway, the crushed and broken shrubbery, the gaps in the fine avenue where the trees had been improvidently cut down for fire-wood, she could not help a feeling of depression.
"How different this place used to be when I came here as a child!" said she. "This madam, whatever her name is, can't be much of a manager."
As she said this, their horses came up the front of the house, in which the same marks of slovenly neglect wereapparent. Blinds were hanging by one hinge; the door had sunk down into the rotten sill; the wooden pillars that supported it were decayed at the bottom; and the twining roses which once climbed upon them laid trailing, dishonored, upon the ground. The veranda was littered with all kinds of rubbish,—rough boxes, saddles, bridles, overcoats; and various nondescript articles formed convenient hiding-places and retreats, in which a troop of negro children and three or four dogs were playing at hide-and-go-seek with great relish and noise. On the alighting of Nina and Clayton at the door, they all left their sports, and arranged themselves in a grinning row, to see the new-comers descend. Nothing seemed to be further from the minds of the little troop than affording the slightest assistance in the way of holding horses or answering questions. All they did was alternately to look at each other and the travellers, and grin.
A tattered servant-man, with half a straw hat on his head, was at length raised by a call of Clayton, who took their horses—having first distributed a salutation of kicks and cuffs among the children, asking where their manners were that they didn't show the gentleman and lady in. And Nina and Clayton were now marshalled by the whole seven of them into an apartment on the right of the great hall. Everything in the room appeared in an unfinished state. The curtains were half put up at the windows, and part lying in a confused heap on the chairs. The damp, mouldy paper, which hung loosely from the wall, had been torn away in some places, as if to prepare for repapering; and certain half-opened rolls of costly wall-paper lay on the table, on which appeared the fragment of some ancient luncheon; to wit, plates, and pieces of bread and cheese, dirty tumblers, and an empty bottle. It was difficult to find a chair sufficiently free from dust to sit down on. Nina sent up her card by one of the small fry, who, having got half-way up the staircase, was suddenly taken with the desire to slide down the banisters with it in his hand. Of course he dropped the card in the operation; and the whole group precipitated themselves briskly on to it, all in a heap, and fought, tooth and nail, for the honor of carrying it up stairs. They were aroused, however, by the entrance of the man with half a hat; who, on Nina's earnest suggestion, plunged into the troop, which ran, chattering and screaminglike so many crows, to different parts of the hall, while he picked up the card, and, with infinite good-will beaming on his shining black face, went up with it, leaving Nina and Clayton waiting below. In a few moments he returned.
"Missis will see de young lady up stairs."
Nina tripped promptly after him, and left Clayton the sole tenant of the parlor for an hour. At length she returned, skipping down the stairs, and opening the door with great animation.
"The thing is done!" she said. "The bill of sale will be signed as soon as we can send it over."
"I had better bring it over myself," said Clayton, "and make the arrangement."
"So be it!" said Nina. "But pray let us be delivered from this place! Did you ever see such a desolate-looking house? I remember when I've seen it a perfect paradise—full of the most agreeable people."
"And pray what sort of a person did you find?" said Clayton, as they were riding homeward.
"Well," said Nina, "she's one of the tow-string order of women. Very slack-twisted, too, I fancy—tall, snuffy, and sallow. Clothes looked rough-dry, as if they had been pulled out of a bag. She had a bright-colored Madras handkerchief tied round her head, and spoke French a little more through her nose than French people usually do. Flourished a yellow silk pocket-handkerchief. Poor soul! She said she had been sick for a week with toothache, and kept awake all night! So, one mustn't be critical! One comfort about these French people is, that they are always 'ravis de vous voir,' let what will turn up. The good soul was really polite, and insisted on clearing all the things off from a dusty old chair for me to sit down in. The room was as much at sixes and sevens as the rest of the house. She apologized for the whole state of things by saying that they could not get workmen out there to do anything for her; and so everything is left in the second future tense; and the darkeys, I imagine, have a general glorification in the chaos. She is one of the indulgent sort, and I suspect she'll be eaten up by them like the locusts. Poor thing! she is shockingly home-sick, and longing for Louisiana, again. For, notwithstanding her snuffyappearance, and yellow pocket-handkerchief, she really has a genuine taste for beauty; and spoke most feelingly of the oleanders, crape myrtles, and cape jessamines, of her native state."
"Well, how did you introduce your business?" said Clayton, laughing at this description.
"Me?—Why, I flourished out the little French I have at command, and she flourished her little English; and I think I rather prepossessed the good soul, to begin with. Then I made a sentimental story about Lisette and Harry's amours; because I know French people always have a taste for the sentimental. The old thing was really quite affected, wiped her little black eyes, pulled her hooked nose as a tribute to my eloquence, called Lisette her 'enfant mignon,' and gave me a little lecture on the tender passion, which I am going to lay up for future use."
"Indeed!" said Clayton. "I should be charmed to have you repeat it. Can't you give us a synopsis?"
"I don't know what synopsis means. But, if you want me to tell you what she said, I shan't do it. Well, now, do you know I am in the best spirits in the world, now that I've got this thing off my mind, and out of that desolate house? Did you ever see such a direful place? What is the reason, when we get down south, here, everything seems to be going to destruction, so? I noticed it all the way down through Virginia. It seems as if everything had stopped growing, and was going backwards. Well, now, it's so different at the north! I went up, one vacation, into New Hampshire. It's a dreadfully poor, barren country; nothing but stony hills, and poor soil. And yet the people there seem to be so well off! They live in such nice, tight, clean-looking white houses! Everything around them looks so careful and comfortable; and yet their land isn't half so good as ours, down here. Why, actually, some of those places seem as if there were nothing but rock! And, then, they have winter about nine months in the year, I do believe! But these Yankees turn everything to account. If a man's field is covered with rock, he'll find some way to sell it, and make money out of it; and if they freeze up all winter, they sell the ice, and make money out of that. They just live by selling their disadvantages!"
"And we grow poor by wasting our advantages," said Clayton.
"Do you know," said Nina, "people think it's a dreadful thing to be an abolitionist? But, for my part, I've a great inclination to be one. Perhaps because I have a contrary turn, and always have a little spite against what everybody else believes. But, if you won't tell anybody, I'll tell you—I don't believe in slavery!"
"Nor I, either!" said Clayton.
"You don't! Well, really, I thought I was saying something original. Now, the other day, Aunt Nesbit's minister was at our house, and they sat crooning together, as they always do; and, among other things, they said, 'What a blessed institution it was to bring these poor Africans over here to get them Christianized!' So, by way of saying something to give them a start, I told them I thought they came nearer to making heathen of us than we to making Christians of them."
"That's very true," said Clayton. "There's no doubt that the kind of society which is built up in this way constantly tends to run back towards barbarism. It prevents general education of the whites, and keeps the poorer classes down to the lowest point, while it enriches a few."
"Well, what do we have it for?" said Nina. "Why don't we blow it up, right off?"
"That's a question easier asked than answered. The laws against emancipation are very stringent. But I think it is every owner's business to contemplate this as a future resort, and to educate his servants in reference to it. That is what I am trying to do on my plantation."
"Indeed!" said Nina, looking at him with a good deal of interest. "Well, now, that reminds me of what I was going to say to you. Generally speaking, my conscience don't trouble me much about my servants, because I think they are doing about as well with me as they would be likely to do anywhere else. But, now, there's Harry! He is well-educated, and I know that he could do for himself, anywhere, better than he does here. I have always had a kind of sense of this; but I've thought of it more lately, and I'm going to try to have him set free at the next legislature. And I shall want you to help me about all the what-do-you-call-'ems."
"Of course, I shall be quite at your service," said Clayton.
"There used to be some people, when I was up at the north, who talked as if all of us were no better than a pack of robbers and thieves. And, of course, when I was there I was strong for our institutions, and would not give them an inch of ground. It set me to thinking, though; and the result of my thinking is, that we have no right to hold those to work for us who clearly can do better. Now, there's Aunt Nesbit's Milly—there's Harry and Lisette. Why, it's clear enough, if they can support themselves and us too, they certainly can support themselves alone. Lisette has paid eight dollars a month to her mistress, and supported herself besides. I'm sure it'swethat are the helpless ones!"
"Well, do you think your Aunt Nesbit is going to follow your example?"
"No! catch her at it! Aunt Nesbit is doubly fortified in her religion. She is so satisfied with something or other about 'cursed be Canaan,' that she'd let Milly earn ten dollars a month for her, all the year round, and never trouble her head about taking every bit of it. Some folks, you know, have a way of calling everything they want to do a dispensation of providence! Now, Aunt Nesbit is one of 'em. She always calls it a dispensation that the negroes were brought over here, and a dispensation that we are the mistresses. Ah! Milly will not get free while Aunt Nesbit is alive! And do you know, though it does not seem very generous in me, yet I'm resigned to it, because Milly is such a good soul, and such a comfort to me?—do you know she seems a great deal more like a mother to me than Aunt Nesbit? Why, I really think, if Milly had been educated as we are, she would have made a most splendid woman—been a perfect Candace queen of Ethiopia. There's a vast deal that is curious and interesting in some of these old Africans. I always did love to be with them; some of them are so shrewd and original! But I wonder, now, what Tom will think of my cutting him out so neatly? 'Twill make him angry, I suppose."
"Oh, perhaps, after all, he had no real intention of doing anything of the kind," said Clayton. "He may have said it merely for bravado."
"I should have thought so, if I hadn't known that he always had a grudge against Harry."
At this moment the galloping of a horse was heard in the woodland path before them; and very soon Tom Gordon appeared in sight accompanied by another man, on horseback, with whom he was in earnest conversation. There was something about the face of this man which, at the first glance, Nina felt to be very repulsive. He was low, thickset, and yet lean; his features were thin and sharp; his hair and eyebrows bushy and black, and a pair of glassy, pale-blue eyes formed a peculiar contrast to their darkness. There was something in the expression of the eye which struck Nina as hard and cold. Though the man was habited externally as a gentleman, there was still about him an under-bred appearance, which could be detected at the first glance, as the coarseness of some woods will reveal themselves through every varnish.
"Good-morrow, Nina," said her brother, drawing his horse up to meet hers, and signing to his companion to arrest his, also. "Allow me to present to you my friend, Mr. Jekyl. We are going out to visit the Belleville plantation."
"I wish you a pleasant ride!" said Nina. And, touching her horse, she passed them in a moment. Looking back almost fiercely, a moment, she turned and said to Clayton:
"I hate that man!"
"Who is it?" said Clayton.
"I don't know!" said Nina. "I never saw him before. But I hate him! He is a bad man! I'd as soon have a serpent come near me as that man!"
"Well, the poor fellow's face isn't prepossessing," said Clayton. "But I should not be prepared for such an anathema."
"Tom's badness," continued Nina, speaking as if she were following out a train of thought, without regarding her companion's remark, "is good turned to bad. It's wine turned to vinegar. But this man don't even know what good is!"
"How can you be so positive about a person that you've only seen once!" said Clayton.
"Oh," said Nina, resuming her usual gay tones, "don't you know that girls and dogs, and other inferior creatures, have the gift of seeing what's in people? It doesn't belong to highly-cultivated folks like you, but to us poor creatures, who have to trust to our instincts. So, beware!" And, as she spoke, she turned to him with a fascinating air of half-saucy defiance.
"Well," said Clayton, "have you seen, then, what is in me?"
"Yes, to be sure!" said Nina, with energy; "I knew what you were the very first time I saw you. And that's the reason why"—
Clayton made an eager gesture, and his eye met hers with a sudden flash of earnestness. She stopped, and blushed, and then laughed.
"What, Nina?"
"Oh, well, I always thought you were a grandfatherly body, and that you wouldn't take advantage of 'us girls,' as some of the men do. And so I've treated you with confidence, as you know. I had just the same feeling that you could be trusted, as I have that that other fellow cannot!"
"Well," said Clayton, "that deduction suits me so well that I should be sorry to undermine your faith. Nevertheless, I must say such a way of judging isn't always safe. Instinct may be a greater matter than we think; yet it isn't infallible, any more than our senses. We try the testimony even of our eyesight by reason. It will deceive us, if we don't. Much more we ought to try this more subtle kind of sight."
"May be so," said Nina; "yet I don't think I shall like that man, after all. But I'll give him a chance to alter my feeling, by treating him civilly if Tom brings him back to dinner. That's the best I can do."
On entering the house, Nina was met at the door by Milly, with a countenance of some anxiety.
"Miss Nina," she said, "your aunt has heard bad news this morning."
"Bad news!" said Nina, quickly,—"what?"
"Well, honey, ye see dere has been a lawyer here," said Milly, following Nina as she was going up stairs; "and she has been shut up with him all de mornin'; and when he come out I found her taking on quite dreadful! And she says she has lost all her property."
"Oh! is that all?" said Nina. "I didn't know what dreadful thing might have happened. Why, Milly, this isn't so very bad. She hadn't much to lose."
"Oh, bless you, chile! nobody wants to lose all they got, much or little!"
"Yes; but," said Nina, "you know she can always live here with us; and what little money she wants to fuss with, to buy new caps, and paregoric for her cough, and all such little matters, we can give her, easily enough."
"Ah, Miss Nina, your heart is free enough; you'd give away both ends of the rainbow, if you had 'em to give. But the trouble is, chile, youhaven't got 'em. Why, chile, dis yer great place, and so many mouths opened to eat and eat, chile, I tell you it takes heaps to keep it a going. And Harry, I tell you, finds it hard work to bring it even all the year round, though he never says nothing to you about his troubles,—wants you always to walk on flowers, with both hands full, and never think where they come from. I tell you what, chile, we's boun' to think for you a little; and I tell you what, I's jist a going to hire out."
"Why, Milly, how ridiculous!"
"It an't ridiculous, now. Why, just look on it, Miss Nina. Here's Miss Loo, dat's one; here's me, dat's two; here's Polly,—great grown girl,—three; dere's Tomtit, four; all on us eating your bread, and not bringing in a cent to you, 'cause all on us together an't done much more than wait on Miss Loo. Why, you's got servants enough of your own to do every turn that wants doing in dis yer house. I know, Miss Nina, young ladies don't like to hear about dese things; but the fac' is, victuals cost something, and dere must be some on us to bring in something. Now, dat ar gentleman what talked with your aunt, he said he could find me a right good place up dar to the town, and I was jest a going. Sally, she is big enough now to do everything that I have been used to doing for Miss Loo, and I am jest a going; besides, to tell you the truth, I think Miss Loo has kind o' set her heart upon it. You know she is a weakly kind of thing,—don't know how to do much 'cept sit in her chair and groan. She has always been so used to having me make a way for her; and when I told her about dis yer, she kind o' brightened up."
"But, Milly, what shall I do? I can't spare you at all," said Nina.
"Law blessyou, chile! don't you suppose I's got eyes? I tell you, Miss Nina, I looked that gen'leman over pretty well for you, and my opinion ishe'll do."
"Oh, come, you hush!" said Nina.
"You see, chile, it wouldn't be everybody that our people would be willing to have come on to de place, here, but there an't one of 'em that wouldn't go in for dis yar, now I tell you. Dere's Old Hundred, as you calls him, told me 'twas just as good as a meeting to hear him reading de prayers dat ar day at de funeral. Now, you see, I's seen gen'lemen handsome, and rich, and right pleasant, too, dat de people wouldn't want at all; 'cause why? dey has dere frolics and drinks, and de money flies one way for dis ting and one way for dat, till by and by it's all gone. Den comes de sheriff, and de people is all sold, some one way and some another way. Now, Mr. Clayton, he an't none of dem."
"But, Milly, all this may be very well; but if I couldn't love him?"
"Law sakes, Miss Nina! You look me in the face and tell me dat ar? Why, chile, it's plain enough to see throughyou. 'Tis so! The people's all pretty sure, by this time. Sakes alive, we's used to looking out for the weather; and we knows pretty well what's coming. And now, Miss Nina, you go right along and give him a good word, 'cause you see, dear lamb, youneeda good, husband to take care of you,—dat's what you want, chile. Girls like you has a hard life being at the head of a place, especially your brother being just what he is. Now, if you had a husband here, Mas'r Tom 'ud be quiet, 'cause he knows he couldn't do nothing. But just as long as you's alone he'll plague you. But, now, chile, it's time for you to be getting ready for dinner."
"Oh, but, do you know, Milly," said Nina, "I've something to tell you, which I had liked to have forgotten! I have been out to the Belleville plantation, and bought Harry's wife."
"You has, Miss Nina! Why, de Lord blessyou! Why, Harry was dreadful worked, dis yer morning, 'bout what Mas'r Tom said. 'Peared like he was most crazy."
"Well," said Nina, "I've done it. I've got the receipt here."
"Why, but, chile, where alive did you get all the money to pay right sudden so?"
"Mr. Clayton lent it to me," said Nina.
"Mr. Clayton! Now, chile, didn't I tell you so? Do you suppose, now, you'd a let him lend you dat ar money if you hadn't liked him? But, come, chile, hurry! Dere's Mas'r Tom and dat other gen'leman coming back, and you must be down to dinner."
The company assembled at the dinner-table was not particularly enlivening. Tom Gordon, who, in the course of his morning ride, had discovered the march which his sister had stolen upon him, was more sulky and irritable than usual, though too proud to make any allusion to the subject. Nina was annoyed by the presence of Mr. Jekyl, whom her brother insisted should remain to dinner. Aunt Nesbit was uncommonly doleful, of course. Clayton, who, in mixed society, generally took the part of a listener rather than a talker, said very little; and had it not been for Carson, there's no saying whether any of the companycould have spoken. Every kind of creature has its uses, and there are times when a lively, unthinking chatterbox is a perfect godsend. Those unperceiving people, who never notice the embarrassment of others, and who walk with the greatest facility into the gaps of conversation, simply because they have no perception of any difficulty there, have their hour; and Nina felt positively grateful to Mr. Carson for the continuous and cheerful rattle which had so annoyed her the day before. Carson drove a brisk talk with the lawyer about the value of property, percentage, etc.; he sympathized with Aunt Nesbit on her last-caught cold; rallied Tom on his preoccupation; complimented Nina on her improved color from her ride; and seemed on such excellent terms both with himself and everybody else, that the thing was really infectious.
"What do you call your best investments, down here,—land, eh?" he said to Mr. Jekyl.
Mr. Jekyl shook his head.
"Land deteriorates too fast. Besides, there's all the trouble and risk of overseers, and all that. I've looked this thing over pretty well, and I always invest in niggers."
"Ah!" said Mr. Carson, "you do?"
"Yes, sir, I invest in niggers; that's what I do; and I hire them out, sir,—hire them out. Why, sir, if a man has a knowledge of human nature, knows where to buy and when to buy, and watches his opportunity, he gets a better percentage on his money that way than any other. Now, that was what I was telling Mrs. Nesbit, this morning. Say, now, that you give one thousand dollars for a man,—and I always buy the best sort, that's economy,—well, and he gets—put it at the lowest figure—ten dollars a month wages, and his living. Well, you see there, that gives you a pretty handsome sum for your money. I have a good talent of buying. I generally prefer mechanics. I have got now working for me three bricklayers. I own two first-rate carpenters, and last month I bought a perfect jewel of a blacksmith. He is an uncommonly ingenious man; a fellow that will make, easy, his fifteen dollars a month; and he is the more valuable because he has been religiously brought up. Why, some of them, now, will cheat you if they can; but this fellow has been brought up in a district where they have amissionary, and a great deal of pains has been taken to form his religious principles. Now, this fellow would no more think of touching a cent of his earnings than he would of stealing right out of my pocket. I tell people about him, sometimes, when I find them opposed to religious instruction. I tell them, 'See there, now—you see how godliness is profitable to the life that now is.' You know the Scriptures, Mrs. Nesbit?"
"Yes," said Aunt Nesbit, "I always believed in religious education."
"Confound it all!" said Tom, "Idon't! I don't see the use of making a set of hypocritical sneaks of them! I'd make niggers bring me my money; but, hang it all, if he came snuffling to me, pretending 'twas his duty, I'd choke him! They never think so,—they don't and they can't—and it's all hypocrisy, this religious instruction, as you call it!"
"No, it isn't," said the undiscouraged Mr. Jekyl, "not when you found it on right principles. Take them early enough, and work them right, you'll get it ground into them. Now, when they begun religious instruction, there was a great prejudice against it in our part of the country. You see they were afraid that the niggers would getuppish. Ah, but you see the missionaries are pretty careful; they put it in strong in the catechisms about the rights of the master. You see the instruction is just grounded on this, that the master stands in God's place to them."
"D—d bosh!" said Tom Gordon.
Aunt Nesbit looked across the table as if she were going to faint. But Mr. Jekyl's composure was not in the slightest degree interrupted.
"I can tell you," he said, "that, in a business, practical view,—for I am used to investments,—that, since the publishing of those catechisms, and the missionaries' work among the niggers, the value of that kind of property has risen ten per cent. They are better contented. They don't run away, as they used to. Just that simple idea that their master stands in God's place to them. Why, you see, it cuts its way."
"I have a radical objection to all that kind of instruction," said Clayton.
Aunt Nesbit opened her eyes, as if she could hardly believe her hearing.
"And pray what is your objection?" said Mr. Jekyl, with an unmoved countenance.
"My objection is that it is all a lie," said Clayton, in such a positive tone that everybody looked at him with a start.
Clayton was one of those silent men who are seldom roused to talk, but who go with a rush when they are. Not seeming to notice the startled looks of the company, he went on: "It's a worse lie, because it's told to bewilder a simple, ignorant, confiding creature. I never could conceive how a decent man could ever look another man in the face and say such things. I remember reading, in one of the missionary reports, that when this doctrine was first propounded in an assembly of negroes somewhere, all the most intelligent of them got up and walked deliberately out of the house; and I honor them for it."
"Good for them!" said Tom Gordon. "I can keep my niggers down without any such stuff as that!"
"I have no doubt," said Clayton, "that these missionaries are well-intending, good men, and that they actually think the only way to get access to the negroes at all is to be very positive in what will please the masters. But I think they fall into the same error that the Jesuits did when they adulterated Christianity with idolatry in order to get admission in Japan. A lie never works well in religion, nor in morals."
"That's what I believe," said Nina, warmly.
"But, then, if you can't teach them this, what can you teach them?" said Mr. Jekyl.
"Confound it all!" said Tom Gordon, "teach them that you'vegot the power!—teach them the weight of your fist! That's enough for them. I am bad enough, I know; but I can't bear hypocrisy. I show a fellow my pistol. I say to him, You see that, sir! I tell him, You do so and so, and you shall have a good time with me. But, you do that, and I'll thrash you within an inch of your life! That's my short method with niggers, and poor whites, too. When one of these canting fellows comes round to my plantation, let him see what he'll get, that's all!"
Mr. Jekyl appeared properly shocked at this declaration. Aunt Nesbit looked as if it was just what she had expected, andwent on eating her potato with a mournful air, as if nothing could surprise her. Nina looked excessively annoyed, and turned a sort of appealing glance upon Clayton.
"For my part," said Clayton, "I base my religious instruction to my people on the ground that every man and every woman must give an account of themselvesto God alone; and that God is to be obeyed first, and before me."
"Why," said Mr. Jekyl, "that would be destructive of all discipline. If you are going to allow every fellow to judge for himself, among a parcel of ignorant, selfish wretches, what the will of God is, one will think it's one thing, another will think it's another; and there will be an end of all order. It would be absolutely impossible to govern a place in that way."
"They must not be left an ignorant set," said Clayton. "They must be taught to read the Scriptures for themselves, and be able to see that my authority accords with it. If I command anything contrary to it, they ought to oppose it!"
"Ah! I should like to see a plantation managed in that way!" said Tom Gordon, scornfully.
"Please God, you shall see such an one, if you'll come to mine," said Clayton, "where I should be very happy to see you, sir."
The tone in which this was said was so frank and sincere, that Tom was silenced, and could not help a rather sullen acknowledgment.
"I think," said Mr. Jekyl, "that you'll find such a course, however well it may work at first, will fail at last. You begin to let people think, and they won't stop where you want them to; they'll go too far; it's human nature. The more you give, the more you may give. You once get your fellows to thinking, and asking all sorts of questions, and they get discontented at once. I've seen that thing tried in one or two instances, and it didn't turn out well. Fellows got restless and discontented. The more was given to them, the more dissatisfied they grew, till finally they put for the free states."
"Very well," said Clayton; "if that's to be the result, they may all 'put' as soon as they can get ready. If my title to them won't bear an intelligent investigation, I don't wish to keepthem. But I never will consent to keep them by making false statements to them in the name of religion, and presuming to put myself as an object of obedience before my Maker."
"I think," said Mr. Carson, "Mr. Clayton shows an excellent spirit—excellent spirit! On my word, I think so. I wish some of our northern agitators, who make such a fuss on the the subject, could hear him. I'm always disgusted with these abolitionists producing such an unpleasantness between the north and the south, interrupting trade, and friendship, and all that sort of thing."
"He shows an excellent spirit," said Mr. Jekyl; "but I must think he is mistaken if he thinks that he can bring up people in that way, under our institutions, and not do them more harm than good. It's a notorious fact that the worst insurrections have arisen from the reading of the Bible by these ignorant fellows. That was the case with Nat Turner, in Virginia. That was the case with Denmark Vesey, and his crew, in South Carolina. I tell you, sir, it will never do, this turning out a set of ignorant people to pasture in the Bible! That blessed book is a savor of life unto life when it's used right; but it's a savor of death unto death when ignorant people take hold of it. The proper way is this: administer such portions only as these creatures are capable of understanding. This admirable system of religious instruction keeps the matter in our own hands, by allowing us to select for them such portions of the word as are best fitted to keep them quiet, dutiful, and obedient; and I venture to predict that whoever undertakes to manage a plantation on any other system will soon find it getting out of his hands."
"So you are afraid to trust the Lord's word without holding the bridle!" said Tom, with a sneer. "That's pretty well for you!"
"Iam not!" said Clayton. "I'm willing to resign any rights to any one that I am not able to defend in God's word—any that I cannot make apparent to any man's cultivated reason. I scorn the idea that I must dwarf a man's mind, and keep him ignorant and childish, in order to make him believe any lie I choose to tell him about my rights over him! I intend to have an educated, intelligent people, who shall submit to me because they think it clearly for their best interests to do so; becausethey shall feel that what I command is right in the sight of God."
"It's my opinion," said Tom, "that both these ways of managing are humbugs. One way makes hypocrites, and the other makes rebels. The best way of educating is, to show folks that they can't help themselves. All the fussing and arguing in the world isn't worth one dose of certainty on that point. Just let them know that there are no two ways about it, and you'll have all still enough."
From this point the conversation was pursued with considerable warmth, till Nina and Aunt Nesbit rose and retired to the drawing-room. Perhaps it did not materially discourage Clayton, in the position he had taken, that Nina, with the frankness usual to her, expressed the most eager and undisguised admiration of all that he said.
"Didn't he talk beautifully? Wasn't it noble?" she said to Aunt Nesbit, as she came in the drawing-room. "And that hateful Jekyl! isn't he mean?"
"Child!" said Aunt Nesbit, "I'm surprised to hear you speak so! Mr. Jekyl is a very respectable lawyer, an elder in the church, and a very pious man. He has given me some most excellent advice about my affairs; and he is going to take Milly with him, and find her a good place. He's been making some investigations, Nina, and he's going to talk to you about them, after dinner. He's discovered that there's an estate in Mississippi worth a hundred thousand dollars, that ought properly to come to you!"
"I don't believe a word of it!" said Nina. "Don't like the man!—think he is hateful!—don't want to hear anything he has to say!—don't believe in him!"
"Nina, how often have I warned you against such sudden prejudices—against such a good man, too!"
"You won't make me believe he is good, not if he were elder in twenty churches!"
"Well, but, child, at any rate you must listen to what he has got to say. Your brother will be very angry if you don't, and it's really very important. At any rate, you ought not to offend Tom, when you can help it."
"That's true enough," said Nina; "and I'll hear, and tryand behave as well as I can. I hope the man will go, some time or other! I don't know why, but his talk makes me feel worse than Tom's swearing! That's certain."
Aunt Nesbit looked at Nina as if she considered her in a most hopeless condition.
After the return of the gentlemen to the drawing-room, Nina, at the request of Tom, followed him and Mr. Jekyl into the library.
"Mr. Jekyl is going to make some statements to us, Nina, about our property in Mississippi, which, if they turn out as he expects, will set us up in the world," said Tom.
Nina threw herself carelessly into the leather arm-chair by the window, and looked out of it.
"You see," said Mr. Jekyl, also seating himself, and pulling out the stiff points of his collar, "having done law business for your father, and known, in that way, a good deal about the family property, I have naturally always felt a good deal of interest in it; and you remember your father's sister, Mrs. Stewart, inherited, on the death of her husband, a fine estate in Mississippi."
"I remember," said Tom,—"well, go on."
"Well, she died, and left it all to her son. Well, he, it seems, like some other young men, lived in a very reprehensible union with a handsome quadroon girl, who was his mother's maid; and she, being an artful creature, I suppose, as a great many of them are, got such an ascendency over him, that he took her up to Ohio, and married her, and lived there with her some years, and had two children by her. Well, you see, he had a deed of emancipation recorded for her in Mississippi, and just taking her into Ohio, set her free by the laws of that state. Well, you see, he thought he'd fixed it so that the thing couldn't be undone, and she thought so too; and I understand she's a pretty shrewd woman—has a considerable share of character, or else she wouldn't have done just what she has; for, you see, he died about six months ago, and left the plantation and all the property to her and her children, and she hasbeen so secure that she has actually gone and taken possession. You see, she is so near white, you must know that there isn't one in twenty would think what she was,—and the people round there, actually, some of them, had forgotten all about it, and didn't know but what she was a white woman from Ohio; and so, you see, the thing never would have been looked into at all, if I hadn't happened to have been down there. But, you see, she turned off an overseer that had managed the place, because the people complained of him; and I happened to fall in with the man, and he began telling me his story, and, after a little inquiry, I found who these people were. Well, sir, I just went to one of the first lawyers, for I suspected there was false play; and we looked over the emancipation laws together, and we found out that, as the law stood, the deed of emancipation was no more than so much waste paper. And so, you see, she and her children are just as much slaves as any on her plantation; and the whole property, which is worth a hundred thousand dollars, belongs to your family. I rode out with him, and looked over the place, and got introduced to her and her children, and looked them over. Considered as property, I should call them a valuable lot. She is past forty, but she don't look older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, I should say. She is a very good-looking woman, and then, I'm told, a very capable woman. Well, her price in the market might range between one thousand and fifteen hundred dollars. Smalley said he had seen no better article sold for two thousand dollars; but, then, he said, they had to give a false certificate as to the age,—and that I couldn't hear of, for I never countenance anything like untruth. Then, the woman's children: she has got two fine-looking children as I have ever seen—almost white. The boy is about ten years old; the little girl, about four. You may be sure I was pretty careful not to let on, because I consider the woman and children are an important part of the property, and, of course, nothing had better be said about it, lest she should be off before we are ready to come down on them. Now, you see, you Gordons are the proper owners of this whole property; there isn't the slightest doubt in my mind that you ought to put in your claim immediately. The act of emancipation was contrary to law, and, though the man meant well, yet itamounted to a robbery of the heirs. I declare, it rather raised my indignation to see that creature so easy in the possession of property which of right belongs to you. Now, if I have only the consent of the heirs, I can go on and commence operations immediately."
Nina had been sitting regarding Mr. Jekyl with a fixed and determined expression of countenance. When he had finished, she said to him,—
"Mr. Jekyl, I understand you are an elder in the church; is that true?"
"Yes, Miss Gordon, I have that privilege," said Mr. Jekyl, his sharp, business tone subsiding into a sigh.
"Because," said Nina, "I am a wild young girl, and don't profess to know much about religion; but I want you to tell me, as a Christian, if you think it would berightto take this woman and children, and her property."
"Why, certainly, my dear Miss Gordon; isn't it right that every one should have his own property? I view things simply with the eye of the law; and, in the eye of the law, that woman and her children are as much your property as the shoe on your foot; there is no manner of doubt of it."
"I should think," said Nina, "that you might see with the eye of the Gospel, sometimes! Do you think, Mr. Jekyl, that doing this is doing as I should wish to be done by, if I were in the place of this woman?"
"My dear Miss Gordon, young ladies of fine feeling, at your time of life, are often confused on this subject by a wrong application of the Scripture language. Suppose I were a robber, and had possession of your property? Of course, I shouldn't wish to be made to give it up. But would it follow that the golden rule obliged the lawful possessor not to take it from me? This woman is your property; this estate is your property, and she is holding it as unlawfully as a robber. Of course, she won't want to give it up; but right is right, notwithstanding."
Like many other young persons, Nina couldfeelher way out of sophistry much sooner than she could think it out; and she answered to all this reasoning,—
"After all, I can't think it would be right."
"Oh, confound the humbug!" said Tom; "who cares whetherit is right or not? The fact is, Nin, to speak plain sense to you, you and I both are deuced hard up for money, and want all we can get; and what's the use of being more religious than the very saints themselves at our time of day? Mr. Jekyl is a pious man—one of the tallest kind! He thinks this is all right, and why need we set ourselves all up? He has talked with Uncle John, and he goes in for it. As for my part, I am free to own I don't care whether it's right or not! I'll do it if I can. Might makes right,—that's my doctrine!"
"Why," said Mr. Jekyl, "I have examined the subject, and I haven't the slightest doubt that slavery is a divinely-appointed institution, and that the rights of the masters are sanctioned by God; so, however much I may naturally feel for this woman, whose position is, I must say, an unfortunate one, still it is my duty to see that the law is properly administered in the case."
"All I have to say, Mr. Jekyl," said Nina, "is just this: that I won't have anything to do with this matter; for, if I can't prove it's wrong, I shall always feel it is."
"Nina, how ridiculous!" said Tom.
"I have said my say," said Nina, as she rose and left the room.
"Very natural,—fine feelings, but uninstructed," said Mr. Jekyl.
"Certainly, we pious folks know a trick worth two of that, don't we?" said Tom. "I say, Jekyl, this sister of mine is a pretty rapid little case, I can tell you, as you saw by the way she circumvented us, this morning. She is quite capable of upsetting the whole dish, unless we go about it immediately. You see, her pet nigger, this Harry, is this woman's brother; and if she gave him the word, he'd write at once, and put her on the alarm. You and I had better start off to-morrow, before this Harry comes back. I believe he is to be gone a few days. It's no matter whether she consents to the suit or not. She don't need to know anything about it."
"Well," said Jekyl, "I advise you to go right on, and have the woman and children secured. It's a perfectly fair, legal proceeding. There has been an evident evasion of the law of the state, by means of which your family are defrauded of an immense sum. At all events, it will be tried in an open courtof justice, and she will be allowed to appear by her counsel. It's a perfectly plain, above-board proceeding; and, as the young lady has shown such fine feelings, there's the best reason to suppose that the fate of this woman would be as good in her hands as in her own."
Mr. Jekyl was not now talking to convince Tom Gordon, but himself; for, spite of himself, Nina's questions had awakened in his mind a sufficient degree of misgiving to make it necessary for him to pass in review the arguments by which he generally satisfied himself. Mr. Jekyl was a theologian, and a man of principle. His metaphysical talent, indeed, made him a point of reference among his Christian brethren; and he spent much of his leisure time in reading theological treatises. His favorite subject of all was the nature of true virtue; and this, he had fixed in his mind, consisted in a love of the greatest good. According to his theology, right consisted in creating the greatest amount of happiness; and every creature had rights to be happy in proportion to his capacity of enjoyment or being. He whose capacity was ten pounds had a right to place his own happiness before that of him who had five, because, in that way, five pounds more of happiness would exist in the general whole. He considered the right of the Creator to consist in the fact that he had a greater amount of capacity than all creatures put together, and, therefore, was bound to promote his own happiness before all of them put together. He believed that the Creator made himself his first object in all that He did; and, descending from Him, all creatures were to follow the same rule, in proportion to their amount of being; the greater capacity of happiness always taking precedence of the less. Thus, Mr. Jekyl considered that the Creator brought into the world yearly myriads of human beings with no other intention than to make them everlastingly miserable; and that this was right, because his capacity of enjoyment being greater than all theirs put together, He had a right to gratify himself in this way.
Mr. Jekyl's belief in slavery was founded on his theology. He assumed that the white race had the largest amount of being; therefore, it had a right to take precedence of the black. On this point he held long and severe arguments with his partner, Mr. Israel McFogg, who, belonging to a different school oftheology, referred the whole matter to no natural fitness, but to a divine decree, by which it pleased the Creator in the time of Noah to pronounce a curse upon Canaan. The fact that the African race didnotdescend from Canaan was, it is true, a slight difficulty in the chain of the argument; but theologians are daily in the habit of surmounting much greater ones. Either way, whether by metaphysical fitness or Divine decree, the two partners attained the same practical result.
Mr. Jekyl, though a coarse-grained man, had started from the hands of nature no more hard-hearted or unfeeling than many others; but his mind, having for years been immersed in the waters of law and theology, had slowly petrified into such a steady consideration of the greatest general good, that he was wholly inaccessible to any emotion of particular humanity. The trembling, eager tone of pity, in which Nina had spoken of the woman and children who were about to be made victims of a legal process, had excited but a moment's pause. What considerations of temporal loss and misery can shake the constancy of the theologian who has accustomed himself to contemplate and discuss, as a cool intellectual exercise, the eternal misery of generations?—who worships a God that creates myriads only to glorify himself in their eternal torments?