Occupying one corner of the mansion of Mount Welcome--that which was
farthest removed from the din and clangour of the kitchen--was a small
chamber, richly and elegantly furnished. The light was admitted into it
on two sides through latticed windows, that, when open, left a free
passage from the floor to a little balcony outside--with which each of
the windows was provided.
One of these windows looked out to the rearward, commanding a view of
the garden, and the wooded steep beyond. The other opened to the left
side of the house, upon the shrubbery grounds that extended in that
direction as far as the foot of the ridge.
Even had there been no one within this little chamber, the style and
character of its furniture would have told, that the person to whom it
appertained was of the gentler sex.
In one corner stood a bed, with carved posts of yellow lance wood; from
which hung what at first sight might have been taken for white muslin
curtains, but which, on closer scrutiny, could be seen to be the
gauze-like netting of a "mosquito bar."
The size of the bed told that it was intended for but one individual.
Its habitual occupant was therefore unmarried.
In the bay of one of the windows stood a dressing-table of _papier
mache_, inlaid with mother-of-pearl; and upon this was placed a mirror
of circular shape on a stand of the finest Spanish mahogany.
In front of the mirror was a variety of objects of different forms--
among which might be noticed the usual implements of the toilet, with
many of those eccentric little articles of _luxe_ and _vertu_, that
bespeak the refined presence of woman.
Other pieces of furniture in the room were three or four Chinese chairs;
a small marqueterie table; a work-box of tortoise-shell veneer, on a
pedestal of like material; and a little cabinet of ebony wood, richly
inlaid with buhl.
There was neither mantel nor fireplace--the climate of eternal summer
precluding all necessity for such "fixtures."
The window-curtains were of a thin transparent muslin, with a pattern of
pink flowering woven into the stuff, and bordered with a fringe of
alternate pink and white tassels.
A breeze, laden with the perfume of a thousand flowers, blowing in
through the open lattice-work of the jalousies, kept these light
hangings almost continually in motion, imparting an aspect of coolness
to the chamber. This was further heightened by the glossy smoothness of
the hard-wood floor, which glistened under foot like a mirror.
No one could have glanced into this little apartment, without being
struck with its costly yet chaste adornment. Rich and elegant, however,
as was the case, it was no more than worthy of the jewel which it was
accustomed to contain. It was the bedroom and boudoir of "Lilly
Quasheba," the heiress _presumptive_ of Mount Welcome.
But few were ever favoured with a glance into that luxurious chamber.
It was a sacred precinct, into which curious eyes were not permitted to
penetrate. Its polished floor was not to be trodden by vulgar feet.
With the exception of her father, no man had ever intruded into that
virgin shrine; and he, only on rare and extraordinary occasions. Even
to the domestics it was not of free access. Only one, besides its
mistress, could enter it unbidden--her brown-skinned handmaid Yola.
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On that same day--shortly after the ringing of the bells had announced
the arrival of the English ship, and while the dusky domestics were
engaged, as described, in their ante-prandial preparations--two
individuals occupied the chamber in question.
One was the young lady to whom the apartment pertained--the other her
maid.
They were in different attitudes: the mistress seated upon one of the
Chinese chairs in front of the window, while the maid was standing
behind, occupied in arranging her mistress's hair.
The girl was just entering upon her task--if we may so designate that
which many might have deemed a pleasure. Already the complicated
machinery of combs and hair-pins lay strewed over the table; and the
long chestnut-coloured tresses hung in luxuriant confusion around those
shoulders of snow, in whose velvet-like epidermis there appeared no
trace of the _taint_.
Involuntarily the maid ceased from her task, and stood gazing upon her
young mistress with a look of instinctive admiration.
"Oh, beautiful!" exclaimed she, in a low, murmured voice; "you
beautiful, missa!"
"Tut, Yola: 'tis only flattery of you to say so! You are as beautiful
as I; only your beauty is of a different order. No doubt, in your
country you would be a great belle."
"Ah, missa, you belle anywhere--black man--white man--all think you
beautiful--all the same!"
"Thank you, Yola! but I shouldn't particularly desire to be the object
of such universal admiration. For my part, I don't know one male biped
in whose eyes I care to appear attractive."
"Perhaps missa no so say, when come young buckra from Inglis' country!"
"Which buckra?--there are two of them expected from the English
country."
"Yola no hear two come. Massa she hear speak of one--only one."
"Oh, you've heard speak of one only! Did you hear his name mentioned?"
"Yes; he grand man--great lord--Sultan of Mongew. He have other name--
Yola hear it; but she no sabbey speak it."
"Ha! ha! ha! I don't wonder at that. It's as much as I `sabbey' myself
to pronounce that second name: which I presume to be _Smythje_. Is that
the name you heard?"
"That it, missa--he berry fine gentl'man, he beauty man. Massa he so
tell Massr' Trusty."
"Ah, Yola! your master is a man, and men are not always the best judges
of one another's looks. Perhaps the Sultan of Mongew, as you call him,
might not be such a pattern of perfection as papa describes him. But no
doubt, we shall soon have an opportunity of judging for ourselves. Did
you hear your master say nothing about another `buckra' that is
expected?"
"No, Missa Kate. One only he speak of--dis same one of Mongew Castle."
A low ejaculation, expressive of disappointment, escaped the lips of the
young Creole, as she settled down into an attitude of silent reflection,
her eyes turned upon the shining floor at her feet.
It is not easy to tell why she put the last interrogatory. Perhaps she
had some suspicion of her father's plans. At all events, she knew there
was some mystery, and was desirous of penetrating it.
The maid was still gazing upon her, when all at once the dark Arab-like
features of the latter assumed a changed expression--the look of
admiration giving place to one of earnest inquiry, as if some strange
thought had occurred to her.
"Allah!" ejaculated she, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the face of
her mistress.
"Well, Yola," said the latter, attracted by the exclamation, and looking
up; "why do you call upon Allah? Has anything occurred to you?"
"Oh! beauty missa! you so like one man."
"I like a man! I resemble a man! Is that what you mean?"
"Yes, missa. Nebber see it before--you berry, berry like!"
"Well, Yola, you are certainly not flattering me now. Who might this
man be? I pray you tell me."
"He man of the mountains--Maroon."
"Oh! worse and worse! I resemble a _Maroon_? Gracious me! Surely you
are jesting, Yola?"
"Oh! missa, he beauty man; roun black eyes that glance like the fire-fly
in the wood--eyes like yours--berry like you eyes, missa."
"Come, silly girl!" said the young lady, speaking in a tone of reproval,
more affected than real; "do you know that it is very naughty of you, to
compare me to a man--much more to a Maroon?"
"Oh! Missa Kate, he beauty man--berry beauty man."
"That I doubt very much; but even were it so, you should not speak of
his resembling _me_."
"Me pardon, missa. I no more so say."
"No, you had better not, good Yola. If you do, I shall ask papa to
_sell_ you."
This was said in a tone of gentle raillery, which told that any
intention of carrying out the threat was far from the speaker's
thoughts.
"By the bye, Yola," continued the young lady, "I could get a good price
for you. How much do you suppose I was offered for you the other day?"
"Missa Kate, I no know. Allah forbid me you ebber leave! If you no
more my missa, I care no more live."
"Thanks, Yola," said the young Creole, evidently touched by the words of
her attendant, the sincerity of which was proved by the tone in which
they were spoken. "Be not afraid of my parting with you. As proof that
I shall not, I refused a very large sum--how much, can you guess?"
"Ah! missa, I worth nothing to no one but you. If I you forced leave, I
be no more happy in this world."
"Well, there is one who thinks you worth two hundred pounds, and has
offered that for you."
"Who, missa?"
"Why--he who sold you to papa--Mr Jessuron."
"Allah help poor Yola! Oh! missa Kate, he bad master; he berry wicked
man. Yola die--Cubina kill her! Yola herself kill rather than she go
back to Jew slave-dealer! Good missa!--beauty missa!--you no sell you
poor slave?"
The girl fell upon her knees at the feet of her young mistress, with her
hands clasped over her head, and for some moments remained in this
attitude.
"Don't fear my selling you," said the young lady, motioning the
suppliant to rise to her feet; "least of all to him--whom I believe to
be what you have styled him, a very wicked man. Have no fear for that.
But tell me, what name was that you pronounced just now? _Cubina_, was
it not?"
"Yes, missa, Cubina."
"And pray who is Cubina?"
The brown maid hesitated before making reply, while the crimson began to
show itself on her chestnut-coloured cheeks.
"Oh, never mind!" said her young mistress, noticing her hesitation. "If
there's any secret, Yola, I shall not insist upon an answer."
"Missa, from you Yola no have secret. Cubina, he mountain man--Maroon."
"What! is he the Maroon I am supposed to resemble?"
"True, missa, he same."
"Oh! I see how it is--I suppose that accounts for you thinking _me_
beautiful? This Cubina, no doubt, is a sweetheart of yours?"
Yola lowered her eyes without making reply. The crimson appeared in
deeper tint through the chestnut.
"You need not answer, good Yola," said the young Creole, with a
significant smile. "I know what your answer _ought_ to be, if you were
to speak your mind. I think I have heard of this Cubina. Have a care,
my girl! These Maroons are a very different sort of men from the
coloured people on the plantations. Like me, he is--ha! ha! ha!" and
the young beauty glanced coyly at the mirror. "Well, Yola, I'm not
angry with you, since it is your sweetheart with whom I am compared.
Love, they say, is a wonderful beautifier; and no doubt Master Cubina
is, in your eyes, a perfect Endymion.
"Come girl!" added she, coquettishly tossing the chestnut tresses over
her shoulders of ivory, "I fear we have been wasting time. If I'm not
ready to receive this grand guest, I'll get into trouble with papa. Go
on, and trick me out in a style becoming the mistress of Mount Welcome."
With a peal of merry laughter at the air of grandeur she had thus
jestingly assumed, the young lady bent down her head, submitting her
magnificent _chevelure_ to the manipulation of her maid.
Volume One, Chapter XIII.