On emerging from the Duppy's Hole, the penn-keeper tracked it, as
straight as the path would permit him, towards his own home. He walked
with hurried steps, as if he had some purpose before him beyond that of
going to bed. Late as was the hour--or early, it should rather be said,
since it was getting on for daybreak--in the eye of the old Israelite
there was no sign of sleepiness; but, on the contrary, a wide-awake
expression that betokened his intention to accomplish some desired
object before retiring to rest.
The mutterings which fell from his lips, as he moved onward among the
trees, told that his discontent still continued. Chakra's assurances,
that had, for the moment, partially removed his ill-humour, on
reflection failed to satisfy him. More than once before, the myal-man
had given him promises which he had failed in keeping; and so might it
be with the promise of the death-spell. With this thought was revived
in full vigour the apprehension that his enemy might escape; and,
consequently, his deep-conceived scheme would result in ignominious
failure.
The measures which the myal-man had taken for administering the
_spell-medicine_--that bottle of strong waters which Cynthia carried
home in her basket--had been revealed to the Jew. The revelation had
been made--as suited the subject--in a low tone of voice; and it was
this part of the dialogue between the two conspirators which Cubina had
not heard.
But the Coromantee might be mistaken in his skill? The prescription
might fail in producing the desired effect? The slave might not find
the opportunity to administer it?
Considering the early hour at which the traveller was to start--Jessuron
knew the hour--Cynthia might not have a chance to give the _medicine_?
Or, frayed by contemplation of the fearful consequence, which she now
knew would follow almost instantaneously upon the act, she might in the
end shy from the dangerous duty? The intended victim might, in the
meantime, have become suspicious of the mixtures prepared by the
mulatta, and decline to drink the deadly draught?
There were many chances that the Custos might escape.
"`There ish many a shlip between the cup and the lipsh'!" muttered the
wicked old man, quoting one of his favourite proverbs. "Ach! that ish
true," he added, with bitter emphasis, as the probabilities of failure
passed more palpably before his mind.
"S'help me!" continued he, with an attempt at self-consolation; "I shall
not be deprived of my refenge--that ish certain--whether he goesh to
Spanish Town, or shtays at home. Ach!" he exclaimed, again changing his
tone to one of chagrin, "what dosh that signify, beshide the other? If
he could be shtopped, it wash a grand destiny for mine Shoodith, for
myshelf--me, old Shacob Shessuron! Mount Welcome wash mine! It musht
belong to this young fellow--he belongs to Shoodith--Shoodith belongsh
to me! Ach! what a pity if my shkeme ish to fail--after all I hash done
to make it succeed!
"If it fail," he continued, the probabilities of failure presenting a
new phase to him, "if it fail, I'm a ruined man!--I am! Shoodith may
want to marry this young fellow. I believe she luffs him--I'm afeerd
she doesh--and he hasn't the worth of the shoosh he shstands in. Blesh
my shoul! I musht try to prevent it. It musht go no further till I'm
sure of the Cushtos. Not a shtep--not a shtep. She musht be seen, and
thish very night. Yesh; I musht see Shoodith before I shleep."
Urged on by the desire of the interview thus announced, the Jew hastened
his steps; and soon arrived under the shadow of the dark pile that
constituted his dwelling.
Admitted by the black porter at the gate--for that of the courtyard, or
slave inclosure, was always kept locked--he mounted the wooden steps,
and stole as silently along the verandah, as if he had been a stranger
in the house instead of its owner. His object, in this stealthy
movement, appeared to be to avoid disturbing some one who slept in a
hammock near one end of the long gallery.
It was towards the other end, however, that he went--in the direction of
a chamber through the lattice-window of which a light was streaming. It
was the sleeping apartment of the Jewess.
On arriving opposite the door, he knocked, not loudly--at the same time
pronouncing, in a half-whisper, the name "Shoodith!"
"That you, rabbi?" inquired a voice from within; while a footstep
passing across the floor told either that the Jewess had not yet sought
her couch, or had sought, and again forsaken it.
The door was opened; and the worthy father of this wakeful daughter
passed inside.
"Well," said she, as he entered, "I won't inquire what errand you've
been on, my good papa Jessuron: some slave speculation, I suppose? But
what have I to do with it, that you should compel me to sit up for you
till this time of the night? It's now near morning; and I am precious
sleepy, I can tell you!"
"Ach! Shoodith, dear," replied the father, "everything ish goin' wrong!
s'help me, everything!"
"Well, one might think so, from that doleful phiz of yours. What's
troubling you now, my worthy parent?"
"Ach! Shoodith! Don't dishtress me by your speeches. I hash something
of importance to shay to you, before I go to shleep."
"Say it quick, then: for I want to go to sleep myself. What is it,
pray?"
"Well, Shoodith, dear, it ish this: you mushn't trifle any more with
thish young fellow."
"What young fellow do you mean, my good man?"
"Vochan, of coursh--Mashter Vochan."
"Ho! ho! you've changed your tune. What's this about?"
"I hash reason, Shoodith; I hash reason."
"Who said I was trifling with him? Not I, father! Anything but that, I
can assure you."
"That ish not what I mean, Shoodith."
"Well, then, what do you mean, old gentleman? Come now! make yourself
intelligible!"
"I mean thish, Shoodith: you mushn't let things go any further with the
young fellow--that ish, shoost now--till I knowsh something more about
him. I thought he wash going to be lich--you know I thought that, mine
daughter--but I hash found out, thish very night, that--perhaps--he may
never be worth a shingle shilling; and therefore, Shoodith, you couldn't
think of marrying him--and mushn't think of it till we knowsh more about
him!"
"Father!" replied the Jewess, at once throwing aside her habitual
badinage, and assuming a serious tone, "it is too late! Did I not tell
you that the tarantula might get caught in its own trap? The proverb
has proved true; _I_ am that unhappy spider!"
"You don't say so, Shoodith?" inquired the father, with a look of alarm.
"O do! Yonder sleeps the fly,"--and the speaker pointed along the
gallery in the direction of the hammock--"secure from any harm I can
ever do him. And were he as poor as he appears to be--as humble as the
lowest slave on your estate--he is rich enough for me. Ah! it will be
_his_ fault, not _mine_, if he do not become my husband!"
The proud, determined tone in which the Jewess spoke, was only modified
as she uttered the last words. The conjunctive form of the closing
speech, with a certain duplexity of expression upon her countenance
showed that she was not yet sure of the heart of Herbert Vaughan.
Notwithstanding his attentions at the ball--notwithstanding much that
had since occurred, there appeared to be a doubt--a trace of distrust
that still lingered.
"Never, Shoodith!" cried the father, in a tone of determined authority.
"You mushn't think of it! You shall never marry a pauper--never!"
"Pauper him as much as you like, father; he won't care for that, any
more than I do."
"I shall disinherit you, Shoodith!" said the Jew, giving way to a
feeling of spiteful resentment.
"As you like about that, too. Disinherit me at your pleasure. But
remember, old man, it was you who began this game--you who set me to
playing it; and if you are in danger of losing your stake--whatever it
may be--I tell you you're in danger of losing _me_--that is, if he--"
The hypothetic thought--whatever it was--that at this crisis crossed the
mind of the Jewess, was evidently one that caused her pain: as could be
seen by the dark shadow that came mantling over her beautiful brow.
Whether or not she would have finished the speech is uncertain. She was
not permitted to proceed. The angry father interrupted her:--
"I won't argue with you now, Shoodith. Go to your bed, girl! go to
shleep! Thish I promish you--and, s'help me, I keepsh my promish!--if
thish pauper ish to be a pauper, he never marries you with my conshent;
and without my conshent he never touches a shilling of my monish. You
understand that, Shoodith?"
And without waiting to hear the reply--which was quite as defiant as his
own declaration--the Jew hurried out of his daughter's chamber, and
shuffled off along the verandah.
Volume Two, Chapter XXXIII.