Clotelle :: :: University of Virginia Library

The night was dark, the rain descended in torrents from the black
and overhanging clouds, and the thunder, accompanied with vivid
flashes of lightning, resounded fearfully, as Henry Linwood stepped from
his chaise and entered Isabella's cottage.

More than a fortnight had elapsed since the accidental meeting, and
Isabella was in doubt as to who the lady was that Henry was with in
the carriage. Little, did she think that it was his wife. With
a smile, Isabella met the young man as he entered her little dwelling.
Clotelle had already gone to bed, but her father's voice aroused her
from her sleep, and she was soon sitting on his knee.

The pale and agitated countenance of Henry betrayed his uneasiness,
but Isabella's mild and laughing allusion to the incident of their meeting
him on the day of his pleasure-drive, and her saying, “I presume,
dear Henry, that the lady was one of your relatives,” led him to believe
that she was still in ignorance of his marriage. She was, in fact, ingorant
who the lady was who accompanied the man she loved on that
eventful day. He, aware of this, now acted more like himself, and
passed the thing off as a joke. At heart, however, Isabella felt uneasy,
and this uneasiness would at times show itself to the young man. At
last, and with a great effort, she said,—

“Now, dear Henry, if I am in the way of your future happiness, say
so, and I will release you from any promises that you have made me.
I know there is no law by which I can hold you, and if there was, I
would not resort to it. You are as dear to me as ever, and my thoughts
shall always be devoted to you. It would be a great sacrifice for me to
give you up to another, but if it be your desire, as great as the sacrifice
is, I will make it. Send me and your child into a Free State if we are
in your way.”

Again and again Linwood assured her that no woman possessed his
love but her. Oh, what falsehood and deceit man can put on when
dealing with woman's love!

The unabated storm kept Henry from returning home until after the
clock had struck two, and as he drew near his residence he saw his wife
standing at the window. Giving his horse in charge of the servant who
was waiting, he entered the house, and found his wife in tears. Although
he had never satisfied Gertrude as to who the quadroon woman
and child were, he had kept her comparatively easy by his close attention
to her, and by telling her that she was mistaken in regard to the
child's calling him “papa.” His absence that night, however, without

any apparent cause, had again aroused the jealousy of Gertrude; but
Henry told her that he had been caught in the rain while out, which
prevented his sooner returning, and she, anxious to believe him, received
the story as satisfactory.

Somewhat heated with brandy, and wearied with much loss of sleep,
Linwood fell into a sound slumber as soon as he retired. Not so with
Gertrude. That faithfulness which has ever distinguished her sex, and
the anxiety with which she watched all his movements, kept the
wife awake while the husband slept. His sleep, though apparently
sound, was nevertheless uneasy. Again and again she heard him pronounce
the name of Isabella, and more than once she heard him say,
“I am not married; I will never marry while you live.” Then he
would speak the name of Clotelle and say, “My dear child, how I love
you!”

After a sleepless night, Gertrude arose from her couch, resolved that
she would reveal the whole matter to her mother. Mrs. Miller was a
woman of little or no feeling, proud, peevish, and passionate, thus making
everybody miserable that came near her; and when she disliked any
one, her hatred knew no bounds. This Gertrude knew; and had she
not considered it her duty, she would have kept the secret locked in her
own heart.

During the day, Mrs. Linwood visited her mother and told her all that
had happened. The mother scolded the daughter for not having informed
her sooner, and immediately determined to find out who the
woman and child were that Gertrude had met on the day of her ride.
Three days were spent by Mrs. Miller in this endeavor, but without success.

Four weeks had elapsed, and the storm of the old lady's temper had
somewhat subsided, when, one evening, as she was approaching her
daughter's residence, she saw Henry walking in the direction of where
man had not seen her, the old woman at once resolved to follow him.
Linwood's boots squeaked so loudly that Mrs. Miller had no difficulty
in following him without being herself observed.

After a walk of about two miles, the young man turned into a narrow
and unfrequented road, and soon entered the cottage occupied by Isabella.
It was a fine starlight night, and the moon was just rising when
they got to their journey's end. As usual, Isabella met Henry with a
smile, and expressed her fears regarding his health.

Hours passed, and still old Mrs. Miller remained near the house, determined
to know who lived there. When she undertook to ferret out
anything, she bent her whole energies to it. As Michael Angelo, who
subjected all things to his pursuit and the idea he had formed of it,

painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave and would have
broken up the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have entered
the sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object
she wished to find.

The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon surrounding
objects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door, and looking at his
watch, said,—

“I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten.”

Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door.
As Henry walked to the gate, Isabella followed with her left hand
locked in his. Again he looked at his watch, and said,—

“I must go.”

“It is more than a year since you staid all night,” murmured Isabella,
as he folded her convulsively in his arms, and pressed upon her
beautiful lips a parting kiss.

He was nearly out of sight when, with bitter sobs, the quadroon retraced
her steps to the door of the cottage. Clotelle had in the mean
time awoke, and now inquired of her mother how long her father had
been gone. At that instant, a knock was heard at the door, and supposing
that it was Henry returning for something he had forgotten, as he
frequently did, Isabella flew to let him in. To her amazement, however,
a strange woman stood in the door.

“Who are you that comes here at this late hour?” demanded the
half-frightened Isabella.

Without making any reply, Mrs. Miller pushed the quadroon aside,
and entered the house.

“What do you want here?” again demanded Isabella.

“I am in search of you,” thundered the maddened Mrs. Miller; but
thinking that her object would be better served by seeming to be kind,
she assumed a different tone of voice, and began talking in a pleasing
manner.

In this way, she succeeded in finding out the connection existing between
Linwood and Isabella, and after getting all she could out of the
unsuspecting woman, she informed her that the man she so fondly loved
had been married for more than two years. Seized with dizziness, the
poor, heart-broken woman fainted and fell upon the floor. How long
she remained there she could not tell; but when she returned to consciousness,
the strange woman was gone, and her child was standing by
her side. When she was so far recovered as to regain her feet, Isabella
went to the door, and even into the yard, to see if the old woman was
not somewhere about.

As she stood there, the full moon cast its bright rays over her whole
person, giving her an angelic appearance and imparting to her flowing

hair a still more golden hue. Suddenly another change came over her
features, and her full red lips trembled as with suppressed emotion.
The muscles around her faultless mouth became convulsed, she gasped
for breath, and exclaiming, “Is it possible that man can be so false!”
again fainted.

Clotelle stood and bathed her mother's temples with cold water until
she once more revived.

Although the laws of Virginia forbid the education of slaves, Agnes
had nevertheless employed an old free negro to teach her two daughters
to read and write. After being separated from her mother and sister,
Isabella turned her attention to the subject of Christianity, and received
that consolation from the Bible which is never denied to the children
of God. This was now her last hope, for her heart was torn with
grief and filled with all the bitterness of disappointment.

The night passed away, but without sleep to poor Isabella. At the
dawn of day, she tried to make herself believe that the whole of the
past night was a dream, and determined to be satisfied with the explanation
which Henry should give on his next visit.