VISITOR AND DEPARTURE.
--"Other cares engross me, and my tired soul with emulative haste, Looks
to its God."
THE brother associated with James in business, in Baltimore, was sent
for to confer with one who might never be able to see him there.
James began to speak of life as closing; of heaven, as of a place in
immediate prospect; of aspirations, which waited for fruition in glory.
His brother, Lewis by name, was an especial favorite of sister Mary;
more like her, in disposition and preferences than James or Jack.
He arrived as soon as possible after the request, and saw with regret
the sure indications of fatality in his sick brother, and listened to
his admonitions--admonitions to a Christian life--with tears, and
uttered some promises of attention to the subject so dear to the heart
of James.
How gladly he would have extended healing aid. But, alas! it was not in
his power; so, after listening to his wishes and arrangements for his
family and business, he decided to return home.
Anxious for company home, he persuaded his father and mother to permit
Mary to attend him. She was not at all needed in the sick room; she did
not choose to be useful in the kitchen, and then she was fully
determined to go.
So all the trunks were assembled and crammed with the best selections
from the wardrobe of herself and mother, where the last-mentioned
articles could be appropriated.
"Nig was never so helpful before," Mary remarked, and wondered what had
induced such a change in place of former sullenness.
Nig was looking further than the present, and congratulating herself
upon some days of peace, for Mary never lost opportunity of informing
her mother of Nig's delinquencies, were she otherwise ignorant.
Was it strange if she were officious, with such relief in prospect?
The parting from the sick brother was tearful and sad. James prayed in
their presence for their renewal in holiness; and urged their immediate
attention to eternal realities, and gained a promise that Susan and
Charlie should share their kindest regards.
No sooner were they on their way, than Nig slyly crept round to Aunt
Abby's room, and tiptoeing and twisting herself into all shapes, she
exclaimed,--
"She's gone, Aunt Abby, she's gone, fairly gone;" and jumped up and
down, till Aunt Abby feared she would attract the notice of her mistress
by such demonstrations.
"Well, she's gone, gone, Aunt Abby. I hope she'll never come back
again."
"No! no! Frado, that's wrong! you would be wishing her dead; that won't
do."
"Well, I'll bet she'll never come back again; somehow, I feel as though
she wouldn't."
"She is James's sister," remonstrated Aunt Abby.
"So is our cross sheep just as much, that I ducked in the river; I'd
like to try my hand at curing HER too."
"But you forget what our good minister told us last week, about doing
good to those that hate us."
"Didn't I do good, Aunt Abby, when I washed and ironed and packed her
old duds to get rid of her, and helped her pack her trunks, and run here
and there for her?"
"Well, well, Frado; you must go finish your work, or your mistress will
be after you, and remind you severely of Miss Mary, and some others
beside."
Nig went as she was told, and her clear voice was heard as she went,
singing in joyous notes the relief she felt at the removal of one of her
tormentors.
Day by day the quiet of the sick man's room was increased. He was
helpless and nervous; and often wished change of position, thereby
hoping to gain momentary relief. The calls upon Frado were consequently
more frequent, her nights less tranquil. Her health was impaired by
lifting the sick man, and by drudgery in the kitchen. Her ill health she
endeavored to conceal from James, fearing he might have less repose if
there should be a change of attendants; and Mrs. Bellmont, she well
knew, would have no sympathy for her. She was at last so much reduced as
to be unable to stand erect for any great length of time. She would SIT
at the table to wash her dishes; if she heard the well-known step of her
mistress, she would rise till she returned to her room, and then sink
down for further rest. Of course she was longer than usual in completing
the services assigned her. This was a subject of complaint to Mrs.
Bellmont; and Frado endeavored to throw off all appearance of sickness
in her presence.
But it was increasing upon her, and she could no longer hide her
indisposition. Her mistress entered one day, and finding her seated,
commanded her to go to work. "I am sick," replied Frado, rising and
walking slowly to her unfinished task, "and cannot stand long, I feel so
bad."
Angry that she should venture a reply to her command, she suddenly
inflicted a blow which lay the tottering girl prostrate on the floor.
Excited by so much indulgence of a dangerous passion, she seemed left to
unrestrained malice; and snatching a towel, stuffed the mouth of the
sufferer, and beat her cruelly.
Frado hoped she would end her misery by whipping her to death. She bore
it with the hope of a martyr, that her misery would soon close. Though
her mouth was muffled, and the sounds much stifled, there was a sensible
commotion, which James' quick ear detected.
"Call Frado to come here," he said faintly, "I have not seen her
to-day."
Susan retired with the request to the kitchen, where it was evident some
brutal scene had just been enacted.
Mrs. Bellmont replied that she had "some work to do just now; when that
was done, she might come."
Susan's appearance confirmed her husband's fears, and he requested his
father, who sat by the bedside, to go for her. This was a messenger, as
James well knew, who could not be denied; and the girl entered the room,
sobbing and faint with anguish.
James called her to him, and inquired the cause of her sorrow. She was
afraid to expose the cruel author of her misery, lest she should provoke
new attacks. But after much entreaty, she told him all, much which had
escaped his watchful ear. Poor James shut his eyes in silence, as if
pained to forgetfulness by the recital. Then turning to Susan, he asked
her to take Charlie, and walk out; "she needed the fresh air," he said.
"And say to mother I wish Frado to sit by me till you return. I think
you are fading, from staying so long in this sick room." Mr. B. also
left, and Frado was thus left alone with her friend. Aunt Abby came in
to make her daily visit, and seeing the sick countenance of the
attendant, took her home with her to administer some cordial. She soon
returned, however, and James kept her with him the rest of the day; and
a comfortable night's repose following, she was enabled to continue, as
usual, her labors. James insisted on her attending religious meetings in
the vicinity with Aunt Abby.
Frado, under the instructions of Aunt Abby and the minister, became a
believer in a future existence--one of happiness or misery. Her doubt
was, IS there a heaven for the black? She knew there was one for James,
and Aunt Abby, and all good white people; but was there any for blacks?
She had listened attentively to all the minister said, and all Aunt Abby
had told her; but then it was all for white people.
As James approached that blessed world, she felt a strong desire to
follow, and be with one who was such a dear, kind friend to her.
While she was exercised with these desires and aspirations, she attended
an evening meeting with Aunt Abby, and the good man urged all, young or
old, to accept the offers of mercy, to receive a compassionate Jesus as
their Saviour. "Come to Christ," he urged, "all, young or old, white or
black, bond or free, come all to Christ for pardon; repent, believe."
This was the message she longed to hear; it seemed to be spoken for her.
But he had told them to repent; "what was that?" she asked. She knew she
was unfit for any heaven, made for whites or blacks. She would gladly
repent, or do anything which would admit her to share the abode of
James.
Her anxiety increased; her countenance bore marks of solicitude unseen
before; and though she said nothing of her inward contest, they all
observed a change.
James and Aunt Abby hoped it was the springing of good seed sown by the
Spirit of God. Her tearful attention at the last meeting encouraged his
aunt to hope that her mind was awakened, her conscience aroused. Aunt
Abby noticed that she was particularly engaged in reading the Bible; and
this strengthened her conviction that a heavenly Messenger was striving
with her. The neighbors dropped in to inquire after the sick, and also
if Frado was "SERIOUS?" They noticed she seemed very thoughtful and
tearful at the meetings. Mrs. Reed was very inquisitive; but Mrs.
Bellmont saw no appearance of change for the better. She did not feel
responsible for her spiritual culture, and hardly believed she had a
soul.
Nig was in truth suffering much; her feelings were very intense on any
subject, when once aroused. She read her Bible carefully, and as often
as an opportunity presented, which was when entirely secluded in her own
apartment, or by Aunt Abby's side, who kindly directed her to Christ,
and instructed her in the way of salvation.
Mrs. Bellmont found her one day quietly reading her Bible. Amazed and
half crediting the reports of officious neighbors, she felt it was time
to interfere. Here she was, reading and shedding tears over the Bible.
She ordered her to put up the book, and go to work, and not be
snivelling about the house, or stop to read again.
But there was one little spot seldom penetrated by her mistress'
watchful eye: this was her room, uninviting and comfortless; but to
herself a safe retreat. Here she would listen to the pleadings of a
Saviour, and try to penetrate the veil of doubt and sin which clouded
her soul, and long to cast off the fetters of sin, and rise to the
communion of saints.
Mrs. Bellmont, as we before said, did not trouble herself about the
future destiny of her servant. If she did what she desired for HER
benefit, it was all the responsibility she acknowledged. But she seemed
to have great aversion to the notice Nig would attract should she become
pious. How could she meet this case? She resolved to make her complaint
to John. Strange, when she was always foiled in this direction, she
should resort to him. It was time something was done; she had begun to
read the Bible openly.
The night of this discovery, as they were retiring, Mrs. Bellmont
introduced the conversation, by saying:
"I want your attention to what I am going to say. I have let Nig go out
to evening meetings a few times, and, if you will believe it, I found
her reading the Bible to-day, just as though she expected to turn pious
nigger, and preach to white folks. So now you see what good comes of
sending her to school. If she should get converted she would have to go
to meeting: at least, as long as James lives. I wish he had not such
queer notions about her. It seems to trouble him to know he must die and
leave her. He says if he should get well he would take her home with
him, or educate her here. Oh, how awful! What can the child mean? So
careful, too, of her! He says we shall ruin her health making her work
so hard, and sleep in such a place. O, John! do you think he is in his
right mind?"
"Yes, yes; she is slender."
"Yes, YES!" she repeated sarcastically, "you know these niggers are just
like black snakes; you CAN'T kill them. If she wasn't tough she would
have been killed long ago. There was never one of my girls could do half
the work."
"Did they ever try?" interposed her husband. "I think she can do more
than all of them together."
"What a man!" said she, peevishly. "But I want to know what is going to
be done with her about getting pious?"
"Let her do just as she has a mind to. If it is a comfort to her, let
her enjoy the privilege of being good. I see no objection."
"I should think YOU were crazy, sure. Don't you know that every night
she will want to go toting off to meeting? and Sundays, too? and you
know we have a great deal of company Sundays, and she can't be spared."
"I thought you Christians held to going to church," remarked Mr. B.
"Yes, but who ever thought of having a nigger go, except to drive others
there? Why, according to you and James, we should very soon have her in
the parlor, as smart as our own girls. It's of no use talking to you or
James. If you should go on as you would like, it would not be six months
before she would be leaving me; and that won't do. Just think how much
profit she was to us last summer. We had no work hired out; she did the
work of two girls--"
"And got the whippings for two with it!" remarked Mr. Bellmont.
"I'll beat the money out of her, if I can't get her worth any other
way," retorted Mrs. B. sharply. While this scene was passing, Frado was
trying to utter the prayer of the publican, "God be merciful to me a
sinner."