 | CHAPTER XIV. A romance of the republic |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
ALFRED R. KING, when summoned home to Boston
by the illness of his mother, had, by advice of
physicians, immediately accompanied her to the South of
France, and afterward to Egypt. Finding little benefit
from change of climate, and longing for familiar scenes and
faces, she urged her son to return to New England, after a
brief sojourn in Italy. She was destined never again to
see the home for which she yearned. The worn-out garment
of her soul was laid away under a flowery mound in
Florence, and her son returned alone. During the two
years thus occupied, communication with the United States
had been much interrupted, and his thoughts had been so
absorbed by his dying mother, that the memory of that
bright evening in New Orleans recurred less frequently
than it would otherwise have done. Still, the veiled picture
remained in his soul, making the beauty of all other
women seem dim. As he recrossed the Atlantic, lonely
and sad, a radiant vision of those two sisters sometimes
came before his imagination with the distinctness of actual
presence. As he sat silently watching the white streak
of foam in the wake of the vessel, he could see, as in a
mirror, all the details of that flowery parlor; he could hear
the continuous flow of the fountain in the garden, and the
melodious tones of “Buena Notte, amato bene.”
Arrived in Boston, his first inquiry of the merchants
was whether they had heard anything of Mr. Royal. He
received the news of his death with a whirl of emotions.
questions would of course be unavailing, since their existence
was entirely unknown at the North. That Mr. Royal
had died insolvent, and his property had been disposed of
at auction, filled him with alarm. It instantly occurred to
him how much power such circumstances would place in
the hands of Mr. Fitzgerald. The thought passed through
his mind, “Would he marry Rosabella?” And he seemed
to hear a repetition of the light, careless tones, “Of course
not, — she was a quadroon.” His uneasiness was too strong
to be restrained, and the second day after his arrival he
started for New Orleans.
He found the store of his old friend occupied by strangers,
who could only repeat what he had already heard. He
rode out to the house where he had passed that never-tobe-forgotten
evening. There all was painfully changed.
The purchasers had refurnished the house with tasteless
gewgaws, and the spirit of gracefulness had vanished.
Their unmodulated voices grated on his ear, in contrast
with the liquid softness of Rosabella's tones, and the merry,
musical tinkling of Floracita's prattle. All they could tell
him was, that they heard the quadroons who used to be
kept there by the gentleman that owned the house had
gone to the North somewhere. A pang shot through his
soul as he asked himself whether they remembered his offer
of assistance, and had gone in search of him. He turned
and looked back upon the house, as he had done that farewell
morning, when he assured them that he would be a
brother in time of need. He could hardly believe that all
the life and love and beauty which animated that home
had vanished into utter darkness. It seemed stranger
than the changes of a dream.
Very sad at heart, he returned to the city and sought
out a merchant with whom his father had been accustomed
to transact business. “Mr. Talbot,” said he, “I have come
to New Orleans to inquire concerning the affairs of the late
Mr. Alfred Royal, who was a particular friend of my
father. I have been surprised to hear that he died insolvent;
for I supposed him to be wealthy.”
“He was generally so considered,” rejoined Mr. Talbot.
“But he was brought down by successive failures, and
some unlucky investments, as we merchants often are, you
know.”
“Were you acquainted with him,” asked Alfred.
“I knew very little of him, except in the way of business,”
replied the merchant. “He was disinclined to
society, and therefore some people considered him eccentric;
but he had the reputation of being a kind-hearted,
honorable man.”
“I think he never married,” said Alfred, in a tone of
hesitating inquiry, which he hoped might lead to the subject
he had at heart.
But it only elicited the brief reply, “He was a bachelor.”
“Did you ever hear of any family not legitimated by
law?” inquired the young man.
“There was a rumor about his living somewhere out of
the city with a handsome quadroon,” answered the merchant.
“But such arrangements are so common here, they
excite no curiosity.”
“Can you think of any one who had intimate relations
with him, of whom I could learn something about that connection?”
“No, I cannot. As I tell you, he never mixed with
society, and people knew very little about him. Ha!
give you some information. Hallo, Signor Papanti!”
The Italian, who was thus hailed, halted in his quick
walk, and, being beckoned to by Mr. Talbot, crossed the
street and entered the store.
“I think you brought a bill against the estate of the late
Mr. Alfred Royal for lessons given to some quadroon girls.
Did you not?” inquired the merchant.
Having received an answer in the affirmative, he said:
“This is Mr. King, a young gentleman from the North,
who wishes to obtain information on that subject. Perhaps
you can give it to him.”
“I remember the young gentleman,” replied the Signor.
“Mr. Royal did introduce me to him at his store.”
The two gentlemen thus introduced bade Mr. Talbot
good morning, and walked away together, when Mr. King
said, “My father and Mr. Royal were as brothers, and
that is the reason I feel interested to know what has become
of his daughters.”
The Italian replied, “I will tell you, sir, because Mr.
Royal told me you were an excellent man, and the son of
his old friend.”
Rapid questions and answers soon brought out the principal
features of the sisters' strange history. When it came
to the fact of their being claimed as slaves, Mr. King
started. “Is such a thing possible in this country?” he
exclaimed. “Girls so elegant and accomplished as they
were!”
“Quite possible, sir,” responded the Signor. “I have
known several similar instances in this city. But in this
case I was surprised, because I never knew their mother
was a slave. She was a singularly handsome and ladylike
woman.”
“How was it possible that Mr. Royal neglected to manumit
her?” inquired the young man.
“I suppose he never thought of her otherwise than as
his wife, and never dreamed of being otherwise than rich,”
rejoined the Signor. “Besides, you know how often death
does overtake men with their duties half fulfilled. He did
manumit his daughters a few months before his decease;
but it was decided that he was then too deeply in debt to
have a right to dispose of any portion of his property.”
“Property!” echoed the indignant young man. “Such
a term applied to women makes me an Abolitionist.”
“Please not to speak that word aloud,” responded the
Italian. “I was in prison several weeks on the charge of
helping off those interesting pupils of mine, and I don't
know what might have become of me, if Mr. Fitzgerald
had not helped me by money and influence. I have my
own opinions about slavery, but I had rather go out of
New Orleans before I express them.”
“A free country indeed!” exclaimed the young man,
“where one cannot safely express his indignation against
such enormities. But tell me how the girls were rescued
from such a dreadful fate; for by the assurance you gave
me at the outset that they needed no assistance, I infer that
they were rescued.”
He listened with as much composure as he could to the
account of Mr. Fitzgerald's agency in their escape, his marriage,
Rosabella's devoted love for him, and her happy
home on a Paradisian island. The Signor summed it up
by saying, “I believe her happiness has been entirely
without alloy, except the sad fate of her sister, of which
we heard a few weeks ago.”
“What has happened to her?” inquired Alfred, with
eager interest.
“She went to the sea-shore to gather mosses, and never
returned,” replied the Signor. “It is supposed she slipped
into the water and was drowned, or that she was seized by
an alligator.”
“O horrid!” exclaimed Alfred. “Poor Floracita! What
a bright, beaming little beauty she was! But an alligator's
mouth was a better fate than slavery.”
“Again touching upon the dangerous topic!” rejoined
the Signor. “If you stay here long, I think you and the
prison-walls will become acquainted. But here is what
used to be poor Mr. Royal's happy home, and yonder is
where Madame Papanti resides, — the Madame Guirlande
I told you of, who befriended the poor orphans
when they had no other friend. Her kindness to them,
and her courage in managing for them, was what first put
it in my head to ask her to be my wife. Come in and have
a tête-à-tête with her, sir. She knew the girls from the
time they were born, and she loved them like a mother.”
Within the house, the young man listened to a more
prolonged account, some of the details of which were new,
others a repetition. Madame dwelt with evident satisfaction
on the fact that Rosa, in the midst of all her peril, refused
to accept the protection of Mr. Fitzgerald, unless she
were married to him; because she had so promised her
father, the night before he died.
“That was highly honorable to her,” replied Mr. King;
“but marriage with a slave is not valid in law.”
“So the Signor says,” rejoined Madame. “I was so
frightened and hurried, and I was so relieved when a protector
offered himself, that I did n't think to inquire anything
about it. Before Mr. Fitzgerald made his appearance,
we had planned to go to Boston in search of you.”
“Of me!” he exclaimed eagerly. “O, how I wish you
had, and that I had been in Boston to receive you!”
“Well, I don't know that anything better could be done
than has been done,” responded Madame. “The girls
were handsome to the perdition of their souls, as we say in
France; and they knew no more about the world than two
blind kittens. Their mother came here a stranger, and
she made no acquaintance. Thus they seemed to be left
singularly alone when their parents were gone. Mr. Fitzgerald
was so desperately in love with Rosabella, and she
with him, that they could not have been kept long apart
any way. He has behaved very generously toward them.
By purchasing them, he has taken them out of the power
of the creditors, some of whom were very bad men. He
bought Rosa's piano, and several other articles to which
they were attached on their father's and mother's account,
and conveyed them privately to the new home he had provided
for them. Rosabella always writes of him as the
most devoted of husbands; and dear little Floracita used to
mention him as the kindest of brothers. So there seems
every reason to suppose that Rosa will be as fortunate as
her mother was.”
“I hope so,” replied Mr. King. “But I know Mr.
Royal had very little confidence in Mr. Fitzgerald; and
the brief acquaintance I had with him impressed me with
the idea that he was a heartless, insidious man. Moreover,
they are his slaves.”
“They don't know that,” rejoined Madame. “He has
had the delicacy to conceal it from them.”
“It would have been more delicate to have recorded
their manumission,” responded Mr. King.
“That would necessarily involve change of residence,”
manumission of slaves within the State.”
“What blasphemy to call such cruel enactments by the
sacred name of law!” replied the young man. “As well
might the compacts of robbers to secure their plunder be
called law. The walls have no ears or tongues, Signor,”
added he, smiling; “so I think you will not be thrust in
jail for having such an imprudent guest. But, as I was
saying, I cannot help having misgivings concerning the
future. I want you to keep a sharp lookout concerning
the welfare of those young ladies, and to inform me from
time to time. Wheresoever I may happen to be, I will
furnish you with my address, and I wish you also to let me
know where you are to be found, if you should change
your residence. My father and Mr. Royal were like
brothers when they were young men, and if my father
were living he would wish to protect the children of his
friend. The duty that he would have performed devolves
upon me. I will deposit five thousand dollars with Mr.
Talbot, for their use, subject to your order, should any
unhappy emergency occur. I say their use, bearing in
mind the possibility that Floracita may reappear, though
that seems very unlikely. But, my friends, I wish to bind
you, by the most solemn promise, never to mention my
name in connection with this transaction, and never to
give any possible clew to it. I wish you also to conceal
my having come here to inquire concerning them. If they
ever need assistance, I do not wish them to know or conjecture
who their benefactor is. If you have occasion to
call for the money, merely say that an old friend of their
father's deposited it for their use.”
“I will solemnly pledge myself to secrecy,” answered
safe with women, I believe Madame may be trusted to any
extent, where the welfare of these girls is concerned.”
“I think you might say rather more than that, my
friend,” rejoined Madame. “But that will do. I promise
to do in all respects as the young gentleman has requested,
though I trust and believe that his precautions will prove
needless. Mr. Fitzgerald is very wealthy, and I cannot
suppose it possible that he would ever allow Rosabella to
want for anything.”
“That may be,” replied Mr. King. “But storms come
up suddenly in the sunniest skies, as was the case with
poor Mr. Royal. If Mr. Fitzgerald's love remains constant,
he may fail, or he may die, without making provision
for her manumission or support.”
“That is very true,” answered the Signor. “How much
forecast you Yankees have!”
“I should hardly deserve that compliment, my friends,
if I failed to supply you with the necessary means to carry
out my wishes.” He put two hundred dollars into the
hands of each, saying, “You will keep me informed on the
subject; and if Mrs. Fitzgerald should be ill or in trouble,
you will go to her.”
They remonstrated, saying it was too much. “Take it
then for what you have done,” replied he.
When he had gone, Madame said, “Do you suppose he
does all this on account of the friendship of their fathers?”
“He's an uncommon son, if he does,” replied the Signor.
“But I'm glad Rosabella has such a firm anchor to
the windward if a storm should come.”
Mr. King sought Mr. Talbot again, and placed five thousand
dollars in his hands, with the necessary forms and instructions,
render a larger sum necessary, please to advance it, and
draw on me. I am obliged to sail for Smyrna soon, on
business, or I would not trouble you to attend to this.”
Mr. Talbot smiled significantly, as he said, “These
young ladies must be very charming, to inspire so deep
an interest in their welfare.”
The young man, clad in the armor of an honest purpose,
did not feel the point of the arrow, and answered quietly:
“They are very charming. I saw them for a few hours
only, and never expect to see them again. Their father
and mine were very intimate friends, and I feel it a duty to
protect them from misfortune if possible.” When the business
was completed, and they had exchanged parting salutations,
he turned back to say, “Do you happen to know
anything of Mr. Fitzgerald of Savannah?”
“I never had any acquaintance with him,” replied Mr.
Talbot; “but he has the name of being something of a
roué, and rather fond of cards.”
“Can the death of Floracita be apocryphal?” thought
Alfred. “Could he be capable of selling her? No. Surely
mortal man could not wrong that artless child.”
He returned to his lodgings, feeling more fatigued and
dispirited than usual. He had done all that was possible
for the welfare of the woman who had first inspired him
with love; but O, what would he not have given for such
an opportunity as Fitzgerald had! He was obliged to
confess to himself that the utter annihilation of his hope
was more bitter than he had supposed it would be. He no
longer doubted that he would have married her if he could,
in full view of all her antecedents, and even with his mother's
prejudices to encounter. He could not, however, help
she was from what I had previously resolved to choose!
How wisely I have talked to young men about preferring
character to beauty! And lo! I found myself magnetized
at first sight by mere beauty!”
But manly pride rebelled against the imputation of such
weakness. “No, it was not mere outward beauty,” he said
to himself. “True, I had no opportunity of becoming acquainted
with the qualities of her soul, but her countenance
unmistakably expressed sweetness, modesty, and dignity,
and the inflexions of her voice were a sure guaranty for
refinement.”
With visions of past and future revolving round him, he
fell asleep and dreamed he saw Rosabella alone on a plank,
sinking in a tempestuous sea. Free as he thought himself
from superstition, the dream made an uncomfortable impression
on him, though he admitted that it was the natural
sequence of his waking thoughts.
| CHAPTER XIV. A romance of the republic | |