University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.

Next morning I arose betimes, and equipped myself
without delay. I had eight or ten miles to walk, so
far from the town being the residence of these people;
and I forthwith repaired to their dwelling. The persons
whom I desired to see were known to me only by
name, and by their place of abode. It was a mother
and her three daughters to whom I now carried the
means not only of competence but riches; means
which they, no doubt, had long ago despaired of regaining,
and which, among all possible messengers,
one of my age and guise would be the least suspected
of being able to restore.

I arrived, through intricate ways, at eleven o'clock,
at the house of Mrs. Maurice. It was a neat dwelling,
in a very fanciful and rustic style, in the bosom of a
valley, which, when decorated by the verdure and blossoms
of the coming season, must possess many charms.
At present it was naked and dreary.

As I approached it, through a long avenue, I observed
two female figures, walking arm-in-arm and
slowly to and fro, in the path in which I now was.
These, said I, are daughters of the family. Graceful,
well-dressed, fashionable girls they seem at this
distance. May they be deserving of the good tidings

which I bring.—Seeing them turn towards the house,
I mended my pace, that I might overtake them and request
their introduction of me to their mother.

As I more nearly approached, they again turned;
and, perceiving me, they stood as if in expectation of
my message. I went up to them.

A single glance, cast at each, made me suspect that
they were not sisters; but, somewhat to my disappointment,
there was nothing highly prepossessing in
the countenance of either. They were what is every
day met with, though less embellished by brilliant
drapery and turban, in markets and streets. An air,
somewhat haughty, somewhat supercilious, lessened
still more their attractions. These defects, however,
were nothing to me.

I enquired, of her that seemed to be the elder of the
two, for Mrs. Maurice.

She is indisposed, was the cold reply.

That is unfortunate. Is it not possible to see her?

No—with still more gravity.

I was somewhat at a loss how to proceed. A pause
ensued. At length, the same lady resumed—What's
your business? You can leave your message with
me.

With no body but her. If she be not very indisposed—

She is very indiposed, interrupted she peevishly. If
you cannot leave your message, you may take it back
again, for she must not be disturbed.

This was a singular reception. I was disconcerted
and silent. I knew not what to say. Perhaps, I at
last observed, some other time—

No, with increasing heat, no other time. She is
more likely to be worse than better. Come, Betsy,
said she, taking hold of her companion's arm; and,
hieing into the house, shut the door after her, and disappeared.
I stood, at the bottom of the steps, confounded
at such strange and unexpected treatment. I
could not withdraw till my purpose was accomplished.
After a moment's pause, I stepped to the door, and

pulled the bell. A Negro came, of a very unpropitious
aspect, and opening the door, looked at me in silence.
To my question, was Mrs. Maurice to be
seen? he made some answer, in a jargon which I could
not understand; but his words were immediately followed
by an unseen person within the house—Mrs.
Maurice can't be seen by any body. Come in, Cato,
and shut the door. This injunction was obeyed by
Cato without ceremony.

Here was a dilemma! I came with ten thousand
pounds in my hands, to bestow freely on these people,
and such was the treatment I received. I must adopt,
said I, a new mode.

I lifted the latch, without a second warning, and,
Cato having disappeared, went into a room, the door
of which chanced to be open, on my right hand. I
found within the two females whom I had accosted in
the portico. I now addressed myself to the younger—
This intrusion, when I have explained the reason of it,
will, I hope, be forgiven. I come, madam—

Yes, interrupted the other, with a countenance suffused
by indignation, I know very well whom you
come from, and what it is that prompts this insolence,
but your employer shall see that we have not sunk so
low as he imagines. Cato! Bob! I say.

My employer, madam! I see you labor under
some great mistake. I have no employer. I come
from a great distance. I come to bring intelligence
of the utmost importance to your family. I come to
benefit and not to injure you.

By this time, Bob and Cato, two sturdy blacks, entered
the room. Turn this person, said the imperious
lady, regardless of my explanations, out of the house.
Don't you hear me? she continued, observing that
they looked one upon the other and hesitated.

Surely, madam, said I, you are precipitate. You
are treating like an enemy one who will prove himself
your mother's best friend.

Will you leave the house? she exclaimed, quite beside
herself with anger. Villains! why don't you do
as I bid you?

The blacks looked upon each other, as if waiting
for an example. Their habitual deference for every
thing white, no doubt, held their hands from what
they regarded as a profanation. At last Bob said, in
a whining, beseeohing tone—Why, missee, massa buckra
wanna go for doo, dan he wanna go fo' wee.

The lady now burst into tears of rage. She held
out her hand, menacingly. Will you leave the house?

Not willingly, said I, in a mild tone. I came too
far to return with the business that brought me unperformed.
I am persuaded, madam, you mistake my
character and my views. I have a message to deliver
your mother which deeply concerns her and your happiness,
if you are her daughter. I merely wished to
see her, and leave with her a piece of important news;
news in which her fortune is deeply interested.

These words had a wonderful effeot upon the young
lady. Her anger was checked. Good God! she exclaimed,
are you Watson?

No: I am only Watson's representative, and come
to do all that Watson could do if he were present.

She was now importunate to know my business.

My business lies with Mrs. Maurice. Advertisements,
which I have seen, direct me to her, and to
this house, and to her only shall I deliver my message.

Perhaps, said she, with a face of apology, I have
mistaken you. Mrs. Maurice is my mother. She is
really indisposed, but I can stand in her place on this
occasion.

You cannot represent her in this instance. If I
cannot have access to her now, I must go; and shall
return when you are willing to grant it.

Nay, replied she, she is not, perhaps, so very sick
but that—I will go, and see if she will admit you.—
So saying, she left me for three minutes; and returning
said, her mother wished to see me.

I followed up stairs, at her request; and, entering
an ill-furnished chamber, found, seated in an armchain,
a lady seemingly in years, pale and visibly infirm.

The lines of her countenance were far from
laying claim to my reverence. It was too much like
the daughter's

She looked at me, at my entrance, with great eagerness,
and said, in a sharp tone, pray, friend, what is
it you want with me? Make haste; tell your story,
and begone.

My story is a short one, and easily told. Amos
Watson was your agent in Jamaica. He sold an estate
belonging to you, and received the money.

He did, said she, attempting ineffectually to rise
from her seat, and her eyes beaming with a significance
that shocked me—He did, the villain, and purloined
the money, to the ruin of me and my daughters.
But if there be justice on earth it will overtake him.
I trust, I shall have the pleasure one day—I hope to
hear he's hanged. Well, but go on, friend. He did
sell it, I tell you.

He sold it for ten thousand pounds, I resumed, and
invested this sum in bills of exchange. Watson is
dead. These bills came into my hands. I was lately
informed, by the public papers, who were the real
owners, and have come from Philadelphia with no
other view than to restore them to you. There they
are, continued I, placing them in her lap, entire and
untouched.

She seized the papers, and looked at me and at her
daughter, by turns, with an air of one suddenly bewildered.
She seemed speechless, and growing suddenly
more ghastly pale, leaned her head back upon the
chair. The daughter screamed, and hastened to support
the languid parent, who difficultly articulated—
O! I am sick; sick to death. Put me on the bed.

I was astonished and affrighted at this scene. Some
of the domestics, of both colours, entered, and gazed
at me with suprize. Involuntarily I withdrew, and
returned to the room below into which I had first entered,
and which I now found deserted.

I was for some time at a loss to guess at the cause
of these appearances. At length it occurred to me,

that joy was the source of the sickness that had seized
Mrs. Maurice. The abrupt recovery of what had
probably been deemed irretrievable, would naturally
produce this effect upon a mind of a certain texture.

I was deliberating, whether to stay or go, when
the daughter entered the room, and, after expressing
some surprize at seeing me, whom she supposed to
have retired, told me that her mother wished to see me
again before my departure. In this request there was
no kindness. All was cold, supercilious, and sullen.
I obeyed the summons without speaking.

I found Mrs. Maurice seated in her arm-chair,
much in her former guise. Without desiring me to
be seated, or relaxing ought in her asperity of looks
and tones—Pray, friend, how did you come by these papers?

I assure you, madam, they were honestly come by,
answered I, sedately and with half a smile; but, if
the whole is there that was missing, the mode and time
in which they came to me is matter of concern only to
myself. Is there any deficiency?

I'm not sure. I don't know much of these matters.
There may be less. I dare say there is. I shall know
that soon. I expect a friend of mine every minute
who will look them over. I don't doubt you can give
a good account of yourself.

I doubt not but I can—to those who have a right to
demand it. In this case, curiosity must be very urgent
indeed, before I shall consent to gratify it.

You must know this is a suspicious case. Watson;
to be sure, embezzled the money: to be sure, you are
his accomplice.

Certainly, said I, my conduct, on this occasion,
proves that. What I have brought to you, of my own
accord; what I have restored to you, fully and unconditionally,
it is plain Watson embezzled, and that I
was aiding in the fraud. To restore what was never
stolen always betrays the thief. To give what might
be kept without suspicion, is, without doubt, arrant

knavery.—To be serious, madam, in coming thus far,
for this purpose, I have done enough; and must now
bid you farewel.

Nay, don't go yet. I have something more to say
to you. My friend I'm sure will be here presently.
There he is, noticing a peal upon the bell. Polly, go
down, and see if that's Mr. Somers. If it is, bring
him up. The daughter went.

I walked to the window absorbed in my own reflections.
I was disappointed and dejected. The scene
before me was the unpleasing reverse of all that my
fancy, while coming hither, had foreboded. I expected
to find virtuous indigence and sorrow lifted, by
my means, to affluence and exultation. I expected to
witness the tears of gratitude and the caresses of affection.
What had I found? Nothing but sordidness,
stupidity, and illiberal suspicion.

The daughter staid much longer than the mother's
patience could endure. She knocked against the floor
with her heel. A servant came up.—Where's Polly,
you slut? It was not you, hussey, that I wanted. It
was her.

She is talking in the parlour with a gentleman.

Mr. Somers, I suppose; hay! fool! Run with my
compliments to him, wench. Tell him, please walk
up.

It is not Mr. Somers, ma'am.

No! Who then, saucebox? What gentleman can
have any thing to do with Polly?

I don't know, ma'am.

Who said you did, impertinence? Run, and tell her
I want her this instant.

The summons was not delivered, or Polly did not
think proper to obey it. Full ten minutes of thoughtful
silence on my part, and of muttered vexation and
impatience on that of the old lady, elapsed before Polly's
entrance. As soon as she appeared, the mother
began to complain bitterly of her inattention and neglect;
but Polly, taking no notice of her, addressed

herself to me, and told me, that a gentleman below
wished to see me. I hastened down, and found a stranger,
of a plain appearance, in the parlour. His aspect,
was liberal and ingenuous; and I quickly collected
from his discourse, that this was the brother-in-law of,
Watson, and the companion of his last voyage.