CHAPTER XVII

CLOTELLE.

The curtain rises seven years after the death of Isabella. During that

interval, Henry, finding that nothing could induce his mother-in-law to

relinquish her hold on poor little Clotelle, and not liking to contend

with one on whom a future fortune depended, gradually lost all interest

in the child, and left her to her fate.

Although Mrs. Miller treated Clotelle with a degree of harshness

scarcely equalled, when applied to one so tender in years, still the

child grew every day more beautiful, and her hair, though kept closely

cut, seemed to have improved in its soft, silk-like appearance. Now

twelve years of age, and more than usually well-developed, her harsh

old mistress began to view her with a jealous eye.

Henry and Gertrude had just returned from Washington, where the husband

had been on his duties as a member of Congress, and where he had

remained during the preceding three years without returning home. It

was on a beautiful evening, just at twilight, while seated at his

parlor window, that Henry saw a young woman pass by and go into the

kitchen. Not aware of ever having seen the person before, he made an

errand into the cook's department to see who the girl was. He, however,

met her in the hall, as she was about going out.

"Whom did you wish to see?" he inquired.

"Miss Gertrude," was the reply.

"What did you want to see her for?" he again asked.

"My mistress told me to give her and Master Henry her compliments, and

ask them to come over and spend the evening."

"Who is your mistress?" he eagerly inquired.

"Mrs. Miller, sir," responded the girl.

"And what's your name?" asked Henry, with a trembling voice.

"Clotelle, sir," was the reply.

The astonished father stood completely amazed, looking at the now

womanly form of her who, in his happier days, he had taken on his knee

with so much fondness and alacrity. It was then that he saw his own and

Isabella's features combined in the beautiful face that he was then

beholding. It was then that he was carried back to the days when with a

woman's devotion, poor Isabella hung about his neck and told him how

lonely were the hours in his absence. He could stand it no longer.

Tears rushed to his eyes, and turning upon his heel, he went back to

his own room. It was then that Isabella was revenged; and she no doubt

looked smilingly down from her home in the spirit-land on the scene

below.

On Gertrude's return from her shopping tour, she found Henry in a

melancholy mood, and soon learned its cause. As Gertrude had borne him

no children, it was but natural, that he should now feel his love

centering in Clotelle, and he now intimated to his wife his

determination to remove his daughter from the hands of his

mother-in-law.

When this news reached Mrs. Miller, through her daughter, she became

furious with rage, and calling Clotelle into her room, stripped her

shoulders bare and flogged her in the presence of Gertrude.

It was nearly a week after the poor girl had been so severely whipped

and for no cause whatever, that her father learned of the circumstance

through one of the servants. With a degree of boldness unusual for him,

he immediately went to his mother-in-law and demanded his child. But it

was too late,--she was gone. To what place she had been sent no one

could tell, and Mrs. Miller refused to give any information whatever

relative to the girl.

It was then that Linwood felt deepest the evil of the institution under

which he was living; for he knew that his daughter would be exposed to

all the vices prevalent in that part of the country where marriage is

not recognized in connection with that class.

Clotelle: A Tale of the Southern States · 第 17 / 35 章