Jacob Jessuron was never known to be generous without expecting some
reward. Never did he fling out a sprat without the expectation of
catching a salmon.
What object had he in view in thus becoming the patron and protector of
the young Englishman--an outcast adventurer, apparently incapable of
making him any return? Why such liberal conditions unasked, and to all
appearance unmerited--for, to say the truth, Herbert Vaughan was not the
stuff for a _slave-driver_, a term almost synonymous with that of
_book-keeper_.
No doubt the Jew had some deep scheme; but in this, as in most other
matters, he kept his counsel to himself. Even his "precious Shoodith"
was but half-initiated into his designs upon this special subject:
though a conversation, which occurred between father and daughter, had
placed before the latter some data calculated to assist her in guessing
at them.
The date of this dialogue was upon the morning after Herbert's arrival
at the penn.
"Show the young man every kindness, Shoodith dear! Don't shpare pains
to pleashe him."
"Why particularly _him_, my worthy parent?"
"Hush! mine Shoodith! Shpeak low, for the luf of Gott! Don't let him
hear you talk in that shtyle. Theesh young Englishmen are not ushed to
our ways. I hash a reason for being friendly to him."
"What! because he is the nephew of Vanity Vaughan? Is that your reason,
rabbi?"
"I shay, shpeak low! He's in his shleeping room, and may hear you. A
single word like that you shay might shpoil all my plans."
"Well, father, I'll talk in whispers, if you like. But what _are_ your
plans? You'll let _me_ know them, I suppose?"
"I will, Shoodith, but not shoost now. I hash an idea, mine daughter--a
grand idea, it ish! And if all goes right, you, Shoodith, will be the
richest woman in Shamaica."
"Oh, I have no objection to that--to be the richest woman in Jamaica,
with a prince for my footman! Who won't envy Judith Jessuron, the
daughter of the slave-merchant?"
"Shtay! a word about that, Shoodith dear. In hish presence we musht say
as little ash possible upon the subject of shlaves. He musht see no
shlave-whipping here--at leasht till he gets ushed to it. Ravener musht
be told to behave himshelf. I knowsh of more than one young Englishmans
who left his place joosh for that very thing. He needn't go among the
field handsh at all. I'll take care of that. But, dearest Shoodith!
everything depends on you; and I knowsh you can, if you will."
"Can what, worthy father?"
"Make this young fellow satishfied to shtay with ush."
The look which accompanied these words betokened some other meaning,
than what they might have literally conveyed.
"Well," replied Judith, affecting to understand them literally, "I fancy
there will not be much difficulty about that. If he's as poor as you
say, he'll only be too well pleased to get a good situation, and keep
it, too, I should think."
"I'sh not so sure about that. He'sh a young man of a proud spirit.
That ish proved by hish leaving his uncle ash he has done--without a
shilling in hish pocket--and then to defy the Cushtos faysh to faysh!
Blesh my soul! what a foolish young fellow he ish! He must be managed,
Shoodith, dear--he must be managed; and you're shoost the one to do it."
"Why, father, to hear you talk, one would think that this poor young
Englishman was a rich sugar estate--to be managed for some grand
profit--"
"Aha!" exclaimed the other, interrupting her; "maybe yesh--maybe he
_ish_ a rich sugar estate. We shee--we shee."
"Now, had it been the grand guest of Mount Welcome," continued Judith,
without heeding the interruption; "had it been this lord of Montagu
Castle that you wished me to _manage_,"--at the word the Jewess smiled
significantly--"I might have come nearer comprehending you."
"Ah! there is no schance there--no schance whatever, Shoodith."
"No chance of what?" abruptly inquired the Jewess.
"Why, no schance of--that ish--"
"Come, worthy rabbi, speak out! You needn't be afraid to tell me of
what you're thinking: I know it already."
"Of what wash I thinking, Shoodith?" The father put this question
rather with a view to escape from an explanation. The daughter
instantaneously answered,
"You were thinking, and I suppose still are, that I--your daughter, the
child of an old nigger-dealer as you are--would have no chance with this
aristocratic stranger who has arrived--this Mr Montagu Smythje. That's
your thought, Jacob Jessuron?"
"Well, Shoodith, dear! you know he ish to be the guesht of the Cushtos;
and the Cushtos, ash I hash reason to know, hash an eye on him for his
own daughter. Miss Vochan is thought a great belle, and it would be no
ushe for ush to ashpire--"
"She a belle!" exclaimed the Jewess, with a proud toss of her head, and
a slight upturning of her beautiful spiral nostril; "she was not the
belle of the last ball at the Bay--not she, indeed; and as for
_aspiring_, the daughter of a slave-dealer is at least equal to the
daughter of a slave--maybe a slave herself--"
"Hush, Shoodith! not a word about that--not a whisper in the hearing of
thish young man. You know he ish her cousin. Hush!"
"I don't care if he was her brother," rejoined the Jewess, still
speaking in a tone of spiteful indignation--for Kate Vaughan's beauty
was Judith Jessuron's especial fiend; "and if he were her brother,"
continued she, "I'd treat him worse than I intend to do. Fortunately
for him, he's only her cousin; and as he has quarrelled with them all, I
suppose--has he said anything of _her_?"
The interrogatory was put as if suggested by some sudden thought--and
the questioner seemed to wait with considerable anxiety for the answer.
"Of hish cousin Kate, you mean?"
"Why, who should I mean!" demanded Judith, bluntly. "There is no other
_she_ in Mount Welcome the young fellow is likely to be talking about;
nor _you_ either--unless, indeed, you've still got that copper-coloured
wench in your head. Of course, it's Kate Vaughan I mean. What says he
of her? He must have seen her--short as his visit seems to have been;
and, if so, you must have talked about her last night--since you sat
late enough to have discussed the whole scandal of the island."
With all this freedom of verbiage, the Jewess seemed not to lose sight
of the original interrogatory; and her frequent repetition of it was
rather intended to conceal the interest with which she looked for the
answer. If her words did not betray that interest, her looks certainly
did: for, as she bent forward to listen, a skilled observer might have
detected in her eyes that sort of solicitude which springs from a heart
where the love-passion is just beginning to develop itself--budding, but
not yet blooming.
"True, Shoodith, true," admitted the slave-merchant, thus bantered by
his own bold offspring. "The young man did shpeak of hish cousin; for I
hash a wish to know what wash hish opinion of her, and ashked him. I
wash in hopes he had quarrelled with her too; but, ach! no--he hashn't--
he hashn't."
"What might that signify to you?"
"Moch, moch, daughter Shoodith; a great deal."
"You're a mysterious old man, father Jacob; and, though I've been
studying you for nearly a score of years, I don't half understand you
yet. But what did he say of Kate Vaughan? He saw her, I suppose?"
"Yesh. He had an interview with her. He saysh she behaved very kind to
him. He'sh not angry with _her_. S'help me, no!"
This information appeared to produce no very pleasant impression upon
the Jewess; who, with her eyes downcast upon the floor, remained for
some moments in a thoughtful attitude.
"Father," she said, in a tone half serious, half in simplicity, "the
young fellow has got a bit of blue ribbon in his button-hole. You have
noticed it, I suppose? I am curious to know what he means by wearing
that. Is it an order, or what? Did he tell you?"
"No. I notished it; but, ash he shayed nothings about it, I did not
ashk him. It'sh no order--nothing of the kind. His father was only a
poor artisht."
"I wonder where he procured that piece of ribbon?" said Judith, speaking
in a low tone, and half in soliloquy.
"You can ashk him for yourself, Shoodith. There ish no harm in that."
"No, not I," answered Judith, suddenly changing countenance, as if
ashamed of having shown the weakness of curiosity. "What care I for
him, or his ribbon?"
"No matter for that, Shoodith, dear; no matter for that, if yoush can
make him _care for you_."
"Care for _me_! What, father! do you want him to fall in love with me?"
"Joosh that--joosh so."
"For what reason, pray?"
"Don't ash know. I hash a purpose. You shall know it in good time,
Shoodith. You make him in luff with you--over head and earsh, if you
like."
The counsel did not appear averse to her who received it. Anything but
displeasure was in her looks as she listened to it.
"But what," asked she, after a reflective pause, and laughing as she
spake, "what if, in luring him, I should myself fall into the lure?
They say that the tarantula is sometimes taken in its own trap."
"If you succeed in catching your fly, mine goot shpider Shoodith, that
won't signify. So much the better ish that. But fusht catch your fly.
Don't let go the shtrings of your heart, till you hash secured hish; and
then you may do as you pleashe about falling in luff with him. Hush! I
hear him coming from hish shamber. Now, Shoodith dear, show him every
reshpect. Shower on him your sweetest of shmiles!"
And terminating the dialogue with this parental injunction, Jacob
Jessuron walked off to conduct his guest into the great hall.
"Ah! worthy father!" said Judith, looking after him with a singular
expression upon her countenance, "for once, you may find me a dutiful
daughter; though not for you or your purpose--whatever that may be. I
have my suspicion of what it is. No: not for that either--grand destiny
as it might be deemed. There is something grander still--a passion
perilous to play with; and just for that peril shall I play with it.
Ha--he comes! How proud his step! He looks the master, and yon old
Israelite his overseer--his book-keeper--ha! ha! ha!"
"Ach!" she exclaimed, suddenly checking her laughter, and changing her
smile to a frown; "the ribbon! he wears it still! What can it mean? No
matter now! Ere long I shall unravel the skein of its silken mystery--
even if this heart should be torn in the attempt!"
Volume One, Chapter XXXIII.