University of Virginia Library

3. THE DISCOVERY.

Dalcour soon drew me towards a sofa, woven
of bajuca by one of his skillful negroes,
and drew forth footsools of the same sylvan
material. After seeing me at ease, he remained
awhile absorbed in recollection. The perfume
of the flowers came gently wafted over
us; and the charm of pleasure and repose
seemed blended with his melancholy accents,
as he again proceeded in his story.

“Soon after the scene depicted, I left again
the country of Idomen, and was constrained to
make several voyages between France and revolutionized
Hayti. The little I had embarked
in commerce, was, at length, successful. I

had been to this island and was soothed. The
softness of its climate,—the wildness of its recesses,—the
surprising quickness of its vegetation,—all
combined to fix the wavering
choice of one whose hopes had often been scattered.
I had found here also, a friend, an excellent
and honorable German. He saw this
spot where a little coffee had been planted, and
learned that its possession was within the narrow
limits of my fortune. Authorized by letters,
he obtained it for me; and hither, at last
I came, and found solace and amusement in
making these little arrangements which now
call forth your approval.

More than five years had elapsed since I saw
and admired Madam Burleigh. My letters to
her husband had now, for two years, been unanswered.
Relieved from the bustle of commerce,
I began to reflect more intensely on
what might be the probable destiny of the
woman he had cherished and protected. I resolved
to go again to P—d, and waited but
to plant my estate.

Penetrating a few leagues into the country
to procure young coffee and fruit trees, I turned,
as is usual for solitary travellers, from the
rough, unpleasant highway, into the alleys of
a fine coffee plantation, in Guamacaro.

A few moments brought me to the line of
the principal entrance. A noble avenue, half
an English mile in length and leading to the
“casa grande,” or house of the master, was

shaded by palm, orange, and mango trees.—
Between these were planted roses, oleanders,
jessamines, tuberoses, and many other shrubs
and flowers emitting a grateful odour.

At convenient distances were seats, sheltered
by arches of lattice work, and covered,
like those before us, with vines of the passion
flower, convolvulus, and many other odorous
creepers, whose nature it is to climb in
wreaths, and attach themselves with tendrils.

I felt inclined to alight; and left my horse
to the care of the negro who followed me, walking
slowly forward through the shade. I soon
found myself in front of a small edifice standing
a little back from the avenue, and adorned with
jessamines and lyrias.

It was a temple built of the lime stone, abundant
in all its neighborhood, which still lay in
heaps in the higher and less cultivated parts
of the plantation.

The little structure was elevated four steps
from the earth, having in front, an entablature
supported by four white columns, in good accordance
with the rules of Doric architecture.

A French overseer stood at the door, and
invited me to enter. The ceiling within was
slightly concave; and the building seemed to
have served for a library and music room.—
Books were seen packed in boxes; and a few
pictures and ornaments had been taken down
from the walls.

The resident master of the estate was lately

deceased; and the face of the man who bad
me welcome was shaded with melancholy.—
His late employer, he said, was from the north,
and the building we were in had been erected
by a lady, his niece, who came to the island in
deep mourning; and who, a few months before
the sudden death of her uncle, had been summoned,
by a letter, to leave the pleasant place
she had made and visit a relation in Canada.

In a corner of the room stood a little basket
containing what appeared to be slips of waste
paper. I took it to the window, and how was
I surprised, to see fragments of torn verses,
in the hand writing of Idomen!

I asked many questions of the “administrador.”
He knew little of the lady, except that
she was kind and courteous, and that she sometimes
seemed afflicted; that the planters of the
neighborhood had spoken much about her because
of the singularity of her pleasures and
employments, when contrasted with their own
pursuits; and because, though still young and
said to be without fortune, she seemed indifferent
to establishing herself in marriage; she
was fond of flowers, and had rode and rambled
much about the fields; and when her library
was finished, she had passed in it a part of every
morning.

I now remembered that Idomen had told me
of an uncle. Here, then, he had lived; and
here, had probably, been past the first year of
her widowhood! Idomen was now at liberty

to love, but Idomen was now a wanderer. She
was gone to visit her cousin Pharamond at
Quebec. Amid the snows and ice of the St.
Lawrence, who would supply for her the
warmth of a tropical sun? I thought of the
handsome Ethelwald, and felt, for her, I knew
not what of solicitude.

I returned thoughtfully to my home, which
then, had not had time to bear its present aspect
of adornment. I immediately wrote to
Madam Burleigh, and wished her all happiness
and peace; yet offered, if adversity should
threaten her, my humble roof and all that remained
to me for her protection.

For two months I went not even to Matanzas;
every day was pased in marking out improvements,
directing my workmen, and planting
trees and shrubs which needed little care
save that of nature. (14)

My German friend had gone to reside at
Havana; and I had been entirely careless of
what transpired in my neighborhood. At length
I rode to the smiling town, to purchase wine
and linen for my household.

Near the margin of the Yumuri, not a half
league from my own dwelling, I observed, for
the first time, a small house, ornamented with
boxes of flowers, and giving proof of more care
than is common with the inhabitants of this
island. A white female servant stood at the
door of the principal apartment, and I saw
within books, pictures, and a piano forte.

In the course of the morning, I enquired of
a foreign merchant, whether strangers had
lately arrived? “Madam Burleigh,” answered
the Englishman, or as our Spanish friends
call her, “Dona Idomen,” has come, and lives
alone, with her servant, though safe in being
near a Spanish family. The lady is said to be
amiable, but singular in her tastes. What
friends can she possess, who have suffered her
to come unprotected to a country like this?—
She has no doubt returned to look after a bequeathment
of her uncle Llewellyn Lloyde,
with whom she lately passed a year, on his estate,
at Guamacaro. It is about six months
since he died suddenly.

I waited to hear no more, but concluded my
business as speedily as possible; and at the decline
of the sun, stopped at the dwelling I had
remarked in the morning. It had been a full
month, tenanted by Madam Burleigh.

Idomen received me half screaming with
joy and astonishment. The five past years had
left no traces on her countenance. Her person
was simply but carefully adorned; and her
cheeks, neck, and arms, displayed the soft
roundness of health. Her dress was black but
light, thin and graceful; and a few jessamines
and orange blossoms were fragrant in her fair
braided hair.

Idomen, I said, we meet again for my consolation.
I know not what may have befallen
you; but now, at least, you seem in hope and

in health; you have not yet reached the age
of Sappho when she perished at Leucate; but
happy am I that no Phaon has been your destruction.
Tears were my answer, but they
were tears of a softened recollection.

My servants and horses were weary, and
longed for their own nightly shelter. I took
leave of my newly found hope, but not before
having tendered her my eternal friendship, and
the utmost I possesed, either of life or its sustenance.

I soon passed the wood, regained my own
piazza, and threw myself into a hammock, but
the charming events of the day had indisposed
me for sleep. My negroes, pleased with
my return, served my evening repast with all
that they could of alacrity.

My white “administrador” reported the amount
of labor; my four black “mayorales”
came to pay their respectful obeisance, and to
speak to me of their own affairs, either of love
or convenience. One asked for his favorite in
marriage, another to rebuild his cottage thatched
with palm leaves.

Having dismissed them all to their rest,
and taken a bath of malva,[1] I sought at the
hour of eleven, a sofa in this same piazza, like
this which now supports us. Alas! how different
were my feelings!

The sky with all its constellations looked blue
and beautiful as it now looks. These flowers
returned not their fragrance as I breathed; but
all were planted and springing to luxuriance.

The scenes of strife and danger I had passed,
returned but in dim perspective to my
soothed imagination. I looked out upon my
little domain, with a sense of security and
pleasure. My watch dogs slept; the negro who
kept guard at my sheltered portal, sounded a
few notes on a pipe of his own construction.
His sable favorite heard, and crept softly to
rejoin him, through the budding coffee trees,
bearing a present of ground nuts or “manies,”
from her own garden, and roasted at the nightly
fire that still burned'in front of her cottage.[2]

The wild ipomea waved her delicate tendrills,
as if preparing to embrace my newly rooted
bamboos. The night blooming Cereus was
ready to spring open in the woods; the dew
fell warmly in the moonlight;—all was teeming
and quick with the life of vegetation.

How strongly doth hope entwine herself
with the sensations of man; she reddens his
lip when a child, and follows, playing with his
silver hair, even to the brink of his last resting
place!

I was happy, I knew not why. Sixty summers
had passed over my misfortunes. Did I
hope that Idomen would devote her glowing
years to my solitude?—No! The power that
has granted this blooming shelter to the needs
of my declining age, knows well that I wished
not a sacrifice. To sooth and protect was all
—and that was enough for my happiness.

Dalcour was silent a moment, and I saw, by
the moonbeams, that tears were trickling from
his eyes. He arose, walked into the hall,
and awakened a negro, who, with turban of
blue handkerchief, and bracelets of vegetable
coral, on his arms and ancles, was sleeping
with smiles upon his mat and blanket—Benito
awoke slowly; but perforated as soon as he
arose, an unripe cocoa nut, filled two goblets
with its cool[3] delicious liquid, and presented
them to us, on one of the leaves of its tree
which he had twisted and woven into a salver.

The friend of Idomen soon gained his composure.
He quaffed the sweet nutrition and
spoke a word to the negro. Benito went out
and returned with a napkin and a cup, borne
npon the same salver of cocoa-leaf, and formed
of the shell of a ripe nut, filled with water,
pure from the filtering stone, and scented with
blossoms of the orange tree.

My sensitive host bathed his eyes, lips and
forehead, and received a newly opened cluster
of tuberoses from the hand of the faithful Benito,
whose Spanish good night was returned
with benignant courtesy.

We both sat down again upon the sofa of
bajuca; Dalcour handed me the flower, and
seemed pleased thus to resume his story:

Early the next morning I repaired to the
house of Madam Burleigh attended by the good
boy Benito, who had found for her breakfast
some ripe fig-bananas and an avocado pear,—
that fruit or vegetable marrow so cooling and
grateful to the palate, when eaten with the
light bread of Matanzas.

It was nine o'clock when we arrived. The
convolvulus was still unwilted by the sun, and
the malva with its yellow blossoms, was spread
like a carpet near the threshold.

Idomen stood at the door to receive us.—
She was dressed in a white morning robe, after
the English manner, and a passion flower,
of a small singular variety, was placed amid the
natural curls on the left side of her forehead.
Her whole aspect was serene, and fresh as the
air she was breathing. Unequal in years and
born in a distant quarter of the world, she met
me with all the heart healing delight of a perfect
and unalloyed confidence.

Not far from our view, flowed the smooth
stream Yumuri. The hills rose on our left,
covered with eternal verdure and crowned with

a few palmettos, whose plumy tops were waving
softly in the sun.

I held a moment the hand of Idomen, and
was happy. The moaning of the smaller dove
was heard from a neighboring thicket of shrubs
bound together with lianas; but a black vulture
descended and stalked before us in gloomy
stateliness. I looked at the bird and shuddered.