THE night was dark, the rain descended in torrents from the black and
overhanging clouds, and the thunder, accompanied with vivid flashes of
lightning, resounded fearfully, as Henry Linwood stepped from his chaise
and entered Isabella's cottage.
More than a fortnight had elapsed since the accidental meeting, and
Isabella was in doubt as to who the lady was that Henry was with in the
carriage. Little, however, did she think that it was his wife. With a
smile, Isabella met the young man as he entered her little dwelling.
Clotelle had already gone to bed, but her father's voice aroused her
from her sleep, and she was soon sitting on his knee.
The pale and agitated countenance of Henry betrayed his uneasiness, but
Isabella's mild and laughing allusion to the incident of their meeting
him on the day of his pleasure-drive, and her saying, “I presume, dear
Henry, that the lady was one of your relatives,” led him to believe that
she was still in ignorance of his marriage. She was, in fact, ignorant
who the lady was who accompanied the man she loved on that eventful day.
He, aware of this, now acted more like himself, and passed the thing off
as a joke. At heart, however, Isabella felt uneasy, and this uneasiness
would at times show itself to the young man. At last, and with a great
effort, she said,--
“Now, hear Henry, if I am in the way of your future happiness, say so,
and I will release you from any promises that you have made me. I know
there is no law by which I can hold you, and if there was, I would
not resort to it. You are as dear to me as ever, and my thoughts shall
always be devoted to you. It would be a great sacrifice for me to give
you up to another, but if it be your desire, as great as the sacrifice
is, I will make it. Send me and your child into a Free State if we are
in your way.”
Again and again Linwood assured her that no woman possessed his love
but her. Oh, what falsehood and deceit man can put on when dealing with
woman's love!
The unabated storm kept Henry from returning home until after the
clock had struck two, and as he drew near his residence he saw his wife
standing at the window. Giving his horse in charge of the servant who
was waiting, he entered the house, and found his wife in tears. Although
he had never satisfied Gertrude as to who the quadroon woman and child
were, he had kept her comparatively easy by his close attention to
her, and by telling her that she was mistaken in regard to the child's
calling him “papa.” His absence that night, however, without any
apparent cause, had again aroused the jealousy of Gertrude; but Henry
told her that he had been caught in the rain while out, which prevented
his sooner returning, and she, anxious to believe him, received the
story as satisfactory.
Somewhat heated with brandy, and wearied with much loss of sleep,
Linwood fell into a sound slumber as soon as he retired. Not so with
Gertrude. That faithfulness which has ever distinguished her sex, and
the anxiety with which she watched all his movements, kept the wife
awake while the husband slept. His sleep, though apparently sound, was
nevertheless uneasy. Again and again she heard him pronounce the name
of Isabella, and more than once she heard him say, “I am not married;
I will never marry while you live.” Then he would speak the name of
Clotelle and say, “My dear child, how I love you!”
After a sleepless night, Gertrude arose from her couch, resolved that
she would reveal the whole matter to her mother. Mrs. Miller was a woman
of little or no feeling, proud, peevish, and passionate, thus making
everybody miserable that came near her; and when she disliked any
one, her hatred knew no bounds. This Gertrude knew; and had she not
considered it her duty, she would have kept the secret locked in her own
heart.
During the day, Mrs. Linwood visited her mother and told her all that
had happened. The mother scolded the daughter for not having informed
her sooner, and immediately determined to find out who the woman and
child were that Gertrude had met on the day of her ride. Three days were
spent by Mrs. Miller in this endeavor, but without success.
Four weeks had elapsed, and the storm of the old lady's temper had
somewhat subsided, when, one evening, as she was approaching her
daughter's residence, she saw Henry walking in the direction of where
the quadroon was supposed to reside. Being satisfied that the young
man had not seen her, the old woman at once resolved to follow him.
Linwood's boots squeaked so loudly that Mrs. Miller had no difficulty in
following him without being herself observed.
After a walk of about two miles, the young man turned into a narrow and
unfrequented road, and soon entered the cottage occupied by Isabella. It
was a fine starlight night, and the moon was just rising when they got
to their journey's end. As usual, Isabella met Henry with a smile, and
expressed her fears regarding his health.
Hours passed, and still old Mrs. Miller remained near the house,
determined to know who lived there. When she undertook to ferret out
anything, she bent her whole energies to it. As Michael Angelo, who
subjected all things to his pursuit and the idea he had formed of it,
painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave and would have
broken up the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have entered
the sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object she
wished to find.
The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon surrounding
objects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door, and looking at his watch,
said,--
“I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten.”
Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door. As
Henry walked to the gate, Isabella followed with her left hand locked in
his. Again he looked at his watch, and said,--
“I must go.”
“It is more than a year since you staid all night,” murmured Isabella,
as he folded her convulsively in his arms, and pressed upon her
beautiful lips a parting kiss.
He was nearly out of sight when, with bitter sobs, the quadroon retraced
her steps to the door of the cottage. Clotelle had in the mean time
awoke, and now inquired of her mother how long her father had been gone.
At that instant, a knock was heard at the door, and supposing that it
was Henry returning for something he had forgotten, as he frequently
did, Isabella flew to let him in. To her amazement, however, a strange
woman stood in the door.
“Who are you that comes here at this late hour?” demanded the
half-frightened Isabella.
Without making any reply, Mrs. Miller pushed the quadroon aside, and
entered the house.
“What do you want here?” again demanded Isabella.
“I am in search of you,” thundered the maddened Mrs. Miller; but
thinking that her object would be better served by seeming to be kind,
she assumed a different tone of voice, and began talking in a pleasing
manner.
In this way, she succeeded in finding out that connection existing
between Linwood and Isabella, and after getting all she could out of the
unsuspecting woman, she informed her that the man she so fondly loved
had been married for more than two years. Seized with dizziness, the
poor, heart-broken woman fainted and fell upon the floor. How long
she remained there she could not tell; but when she returned to
consciousness, the strange woman was gone, and her child was standing by
her side. When she was so far recovered as to regain her feet, Isabella
went to the door, and even into the yard, to see if the old woman was no
somewhere about.
As she stood there, the full moon cast its bright rays over her whole
person, giving her an angelic appearance and imparting to her flowing
hair a still more golden hue. Suddenly another change came over her
features, and her full red kips trembled as with suppressed emotion.
The muscles around her faultless mouth became convulsed, she gasped for
breath, and exclaiming, “Is it possible that man can be so false!” again
fainted.
Clotelle stood and bathed her mother's temples with cold water until she
once more revived.
Although the laws of Virginia forbid the education of slaves, Agnes had
nevertheless employed an old free negro to teach her two daughters
to read and write. After being separated from her mother and sister,
Isabella turned her attention to the subject of Christianity, and
received that consolation from the Bible which is never denied to the
children of God. This was now her last hope, for her heart was torn with
grief and filled with all the bitterness of disappointment.
The night passed away, but without sleep to poor Isabella. At the dawn
of day, she tried to make herself believe that the whole of the past
night was a dream, and determined to be satisfied with the explanation
which Henry should give on his next visit.