"_Jaffier_. O, Belvidera!
_Belvidera_. Why was I last night delivered to a villain?
_Jaffier_. Ha! a villain?
_Belvidera_. Yes, to a villain!"
OTWAY.
Agreeably to the arrangement of the previous night, Emily was on board
of the "Montezuma," prepared to commence her journey to Bellevue. While
De Guy conducted Emily to the ladies' cabin, Hatchie was getting her few
articles of baggage on board, and the boat was fairly under weigh
without the faithful mulatto's having had a sight of the new protector
of Emily. The attorney congratulated himself on this circumstance; his
mind had thus been released from the pressure of a most painful anxiety.
His plan was now accomplished.
But the meeting could not be much longer deferred. De Guy, however, now
that they were free from the friends of Emily, no longer dreaded it.
The dinner hour arrived, and Hatchie was standing by the side of his
mistress on the gallery, when De Guy approached and announced the fact.
His voice startled Hatchie. It was the same squeaking tone he had heard
at Bellevue on the night of his escape. He turned to look upon the
speaker, and was confounded to behold the very person who had plotted
with Jaspar on that memorable night! With a presence of mind which never
deserted him, he held his peace, resolved not to frighten his mistress
by exposing the fact.
Hatchie stood lost in thought on the gallery long after De Guy had
conducted his mistress to the dinner-table. The mulatto was in a
quandary,--a worse quandary than the congressional hero of Kentucky has
described in any of his thousand relations of hair-breadth escapes. His
mistress was fairly committed to her new destiny, and how could he
extricate her?
He resolved to do the only thing he possibly could do,--to watch
unceasingly, to be ever ready to defend his mistress in case of
necessity. The papers which De Guy had brought from Bellevue, and which
he heard described by the doctor, did much to assure him that no evil
was intended towards her; but the man who had been a villain once was,
in his opinion, exceedingly apt to be so again.
Emily was ill at ease during the passage; not that she felt unsafe, or
dreaded treachery, but something seemed to whisper that evil _might_ be
near her. An undefined sensation of doubt seemed to beset her path, and
urge upon her the unpleasant necessity of extreme caution. She was
conscious of being engaged in a good work. She had forgiven her great
enemy, and was now on her way to smooth his dying pillow. There was
something lofty and beautiful in the thought, and she derived much
consolation from it.
De Guy rarely intruded himself upon her notice during the passage. At
meal-hours he was scrupulously polite and attentive, but he was as cold
and formal as she could desire. She never ventured upon the promenade
deck, unless her faithful Hatchie was near.
The mulatto, with all his watchfulness, was unable to discover any
indications of treachery on the part of De Guy, though an apparently
confidential conversation with the captain of the steamer, on the night
before their arrival at New Orleans, had rather an unfavorable
appearance.
It was late at night when the Montezuma arrived at New Orleans. The
steamer quietly took her berth at the levee, so that few of the
passengers took any notice of their arrival, and contentedly turned
over in their berths to wait the advent of the coming day.
Hatchie, who occupied a room near the boiler deck, had been awakened by
the confusion of making fast the steamer. His watchful vigil over the
safety of his mistress did not permit him to slumber while the
possibility of danger existed. He had, therefore, risen; but scarcely
had he completed his dress, when the door of his room was suddenly
opened, and himself violently seized by two stout men. The attack had
been so sudden, and the movements of the assailants so well directed,
that resistance was hopeless. Before he fully realized the presence of
his foes, his hands were pinioned behind him. In this condition, without
knowing why or by whom he was assailed, he was hurried away to the
calaboose.
At an early hour in the morning carriages and drays began to assemble on
the levee, and all the noise and bustle of landing passengers, baggage
and freight, commenced.
Emily Dumont, as soon as it was fairly light, rose from her couch, and
made her preparations to leave the steamer. Fully equipped for her
journey to Bellevue, she entered the cabin, where De Guy soon presented
himself.
"Where is Hatchie?" was the first question she asked; for Hatchie had
always been on the spot whenever and wherever she needed his services.
"I have taken the liberty to send him up to the St. Charles with your
luggage. You will, of course, breakfast there," said the attorney,
blandly.
"Such was not my intention," replied she, as a cold tremor--she knew not
why--agitated her.
"I am sorry to have mistaken your purpose; the ride to Bellevue is a
long one to take without any refreshment."
"I mind it not; my haste is too great to admit of any delay."
"I sent by your servant to order an early breakfast, and a carriage at
seven o'clock."
"Very well, I will conform to the arrangement you have made," replied
Emily, with a dissatisfied air.
A carriage was called from the mass which had congregated, whose drivers
were not a whit behind those of the metropolitan city in earnest
perseverance; and De Guy assisted her into it, seating himself at a
respectful distance on the forward seat.
Now, the act of engaging a cab or a carriage is of itself quite an easy
matter; but we question whether passengers are generally as well suited
as in the present instance. Without troubling the worthy Mr. De Guy with
any foolish queries as to where he should drive them, the Jehu mounted
his box, and conducted his team apparently to the entire satisfaction of
his fare. It may be that the intelligent driver had a way of divining
the wishes of his customers; or it may be that De Guy, in deference to
any supposed repugnance to business matters on the part of his
companion, had previously discussed this topic. Without any design of
prejudicing the reader's mind in favor of the latter supposition, we
confess our inclination to accept it as correct.
Emily vainly attempted to assure herself that her companion was
conducting her in good faith to the home of her early years. An
undefined feeling of insecurity was painfully besetting her, whichever
way she turned. She considered and reconsidered the evidences he had
brought to Cottage Island of the truth of his own statements, and of his
own trustworthiness. It was all in vain. Could those papers have been
forgeries? It was a terrible thought to her.
The carriage stopped, and the attorney invited her to alight.
Change--anything, was a relief to the painful sensations which had
almost overpowered her, and without reflection she did so. Her faculties
were so confused she did not notice that it was not the private entrance
of the St. Charles. She took everything for granted, and accepted the
offered arm of De Guy. She crossed the broad side-walk, and, raising her
eyes, was overwhelmed by seeing at the side of the door she was about
to enter the sign of "_Anthony Marwell, Attorney and Counsellor at
Law_."
"Please to walk up stairs," squeaked the attorney, drawing her after him
to the inside of the door, which he immediately closed and bolted.
"Not a step further, sir!" said she, with as much firmness as she could
command. "What means this? Am I again betrayed?"
"Nay, nay, madam, walk up quietly," said De Guy, in a soothing tone, as
he applied a little gentle force to the arm he held.
"Unhand me, sir!" screamed Emily, as loud as her agitated condition
would permit.
But De Guy heeded her not; and, without condescending to utter another
word, he took her up like a child, and bore her up the stairs to
Maxwell's office. Turning the key to prevent interruption, he opened the
lawyer's private apartment in the rear, and placed the fainting girl
upon the bed, and retired.
Unlocking the office door, he was confronted by an old negress, who had
charge of the sweeping and cleaning department of the building.
"Sar! what's all dis about?" screamed she, in no gentle tone; for the
colored lady had witnessed De Guy's achievement from the stair-case
above.
"Hush, Dido--"
"Sar! who are you dat come inter Massa Maxwell's room widout no leave?"
"Never mind who I am, Dido. There is a lady in the bedroom, by whom Mr.
Maxwell sets his life--do you hear?--sets his life. She has fainted, and
you must take care of her,"--and De Guy slipped a half-eagle into the
negress' hands.
"Dat alters de case," said the black lady, eying the money with much
satisfaction. "Massa Maxwell's a sly dog. I take good care ob de
lady--not de fus time, nuder."
"Don't let her get away; take good care of her, and you shall have half
a dozen just such pieces."
"Never fear, Massa, I's use to de business."
De Guy left the building, satisfied, it would seem, of the negress'
fidelity.