spirits, whose natureis love, and who are not obliged to have recourse to words for theexpression of their feelings.
In the meantime Madame de la Tour, perceiving every day some unfoldinggrace, some new beauty, in her daughter, felt her maternal anxietyincrease with her tenderness. She often said to me, "If I were to die,what would become of Virginia without fortune?"
Madame de la Tour had an aunt in France, who was a woman of quality,rich, old, and a complete devotee. She had behaved with so muchcruelty towards her niece upon her marriage, that Madame de la Tourhad determined no extremity of distress should ever compel her to haverecourse to her hard-hearted relation. But when she became a mother, thepride of resentment was overcome by the stronger feelings of maternaltenderness. She wrote to her aunt, informing her of the sudden death ofher husband, the birth of her daughter, and the difficulties in whichshe was involved, burthened as she was with an infant, and without meansof support. She received no answer; but notwithstanding the high spiritnatural to her character, she no longer feared exposing herself tomortification; and, although she knew her aunt would never pardon herfor having married a man who was not of noble birth, however estimable,she continued to write to her, with the hope of awakening her compassionfor Virginia. Many years, however passed without receiving any token ofher remembrance.
At length, in 1738, three years after the arrival of Monsieur de laBourdonnais in this island, Madame de la Tour was informed that theGovernor had a letter to give her from her aunt. She flew to Port Louis;maternal joy raised her mind above all trifling considerations, andshe was careless on this occasion of appearing in her homely attire.Monsieur de la Bourdonnais gave her a letter from her aunt, in which sheinformed her, that she deserved her fate for marrying an adventurer anda libertine: that the passions brought with them their own punishment;that the premature death of her husband was a just visitation fromHeaven; that she had done well in going to a distant island, rather thandishonour her family by remaining in France; and that, after all, inthe colony where she had taken refuge, none but the idle failed togrow rich. Having thus censured her niece, she concluded by eulogizingherself. To avoid, she said, the almost inevitable evils of marriage,she had determined to remain single. In fact, as she was of a veryambitious disposition she had resolved to marry none but a man ofhigh rank; but although she was very rich, her fortune was not founda sufficient bribe, even at court, to counterbalance the malignantdispositions of her mind, and the disagreeable qualities of her person.
After mature deliberations, she added, in a postscript, that she hadstrongly recommended her niece to Monsieur de la Bourdonnais. This shehad indeed done, but in a manner of late too common which renders apatron perhaps even more to be feared than a declared enemy; for, inorder to justify herself for her harshness, she had cruelly slanderedher niece, while she affected to pity her misfortunes.
Madame de la Tour, whom no unprejudiced person could have seen withoutfeelings of sympathy and respect, was received with the utmost coolnessby Monsieur de la Bourdonnais, biased as he was against her. When shepainted to him her own situation and that of her child, he replied inabrupt sentences,--"We shall see what can be done--there are so many torelieve--all in good time--why did you displease your aunt?--you havebeen much to blame."
Madame de la Tour returned to her cottage, her heart torn with grief,and filled with all the bitterness of disappointment. When shearrived, she threw her aunt's letter on the table, and exclaimed to herfriend,--"There is the fruit of eleven years of patient expectation!"Madame de la Tour being the only person in the little circle who couldread, she again took up the letter, and read it aloud. Scarcely hadshe finished, when Margaret exclaimed, "What have we to do with yourrelations? Has God then forsaken us? He only is our father! Have we nothitherto been happy? Why then this regret? You have no courage."Seeing Madame de la Tour in tears, she threw herself upon her neck,and pressing her in her arms,--"My dear friend!" cried she, "my dearfriend!"--but her emotion choked her utterance. At this sight Virginiaburst into tears, and pressed her mother's and Margaret's handalternately to her lips and heart; while Paul, his eyes inflamed withanger, cried, clasped his hands together, and stamped his foot, notknowing whom to blame for this scene of misery. The noise soon broughtDomingo and Mary to the spot, and the little habitation resounded withcries of distress,--"Ah, madame!--My good mistress!--My dear mother!--Donot weep!" These tender proofs of affections at length dispelled thegrief of Madame de la Tour. She took Paul and Virginia in her arms, and,embracing them, said, "You are the cause of my affliction, my children,but you are also my only source of delight! Yes, my dear children,misfortune has reached me, but only from a distance: here, I amsurrounded with happiness." Paul and Virginia did not understand thisreflection; but, when they saw that she was calm, they smiled, andcontinued to caress her. Tranquillity was thus restored in this happyfamily, and all that had passed was but a storm in the midst of fineweather, which disturbs the serenity of the atmosphere but for a shorttime, and then passes away.
The amiable disposition of these children unfolded itself daily. OneSunday, at day-break, their mothers having gone to mass at the churchof Shaddock Grove, the children perceived a negro woman beneath theplantains which surrounded their habitation. She appeared almost wastedto a skeleton, and had no other garment than a piece of coarse cloththrown around her. She threw herself at the feet of Virginia, who waspreparing the family breakfast, and said, "My good young lady, have pityon a poor runaway slave. For a whole month I have wandered among thesemountains, half dead with hunger, and often pursued by the hunters andtheir dogs. I fled from my master, a rich planter of the Black River,who has used me as you see;" and she showed her body marked with scarsfrom the lashes she had received. She added, "I was going to drownmyself, but hearing you lived here, I said to myself, since there arestill some good white people in this country, I need not die yet."Virginia answered with emotion,--"Take courage, unfortunate creature!here is something to eat;" and she gave her the breakfast she had beenpreparing, which the slave in a few minutes devoured. When her hungerwas appeased, Virginia said to her,--"Poor woman! I should like to goand ask forgiveness for you of your master. Surely the sight of youwill touch him with pity. Will you show me the way?"--"Angel of heaven!"answered the poor negro woman, "I will follow you where you please!"Virginia called her brother, and begged him to accompany her. The slaveled the way, by winding and difficult paths, through the woods, overmountains, which they climbed with difficulty, and across rivers,through which they were obliged to wade. At length, about the middle ofthe day, they reached the foot of a steep descent upon the borders ofthe Black River. There they perceived a well-built house, surrounded byextensive plantations, and a number of slaves employed in their variouslabours. Their master was walking among them with a pipe in his mouth,and a switch in his hand. He was a tall thin man, of a brown complexion;his eyes were sunk in his head, and his dark eyebrows were joinedin one. Virginia, holding Paul by the hand, drew near, and with muchemotion begged him, for the love of God, to pardon his poor slave, whostood trembling a few paces behind. The planter at first paid littleattention to the children, who, he saw, were meanly dressed. But whenhe observed the elegance of Virginia's form, and the profusion of herbeautiful light tresses which had escaped from beneath her blue cap;when he heard the soft tone of her voice, which trembled, as well as herwhole frame, while she implored his compassion; he took his pipe fromhis mouth, and lifting up his stick, swore, with a terrible oath, thathe pardoned his slave, not for the love of Heaven, but of her who askedhis forgiveness. Virginia made a sign to the slave to approach hermaster; and instantly sprang away followed by Paul.
They climbed up the steep they had descended; and having gained thesummit, seated themselves at the foot of a tree, overcome with fatigue,hunger and thirst. They had left their home fasting, and walked fiveleagues since sunrise. Paul said to Virginia,--"My dear sister, it ispast noon, and I am sure you are thirsty and hungry: we shall find nodinner here; let us go down the mountain again,
and ask the masterof the poor slave for some food."--"Oh, no," answered Virginia, "hefrightens me too much. Remember what mamma sometimes says, 'The breadof the wicked is like stones in the mouth.' "--"What shall we do then,"said Paul; "these trees produce no fruit fit to eat; and I shall not beable to find even a tamarind or a lemon to refresh you."--"God will takecare of us," replied Virginia; "he listens to the cry even of the littlebirds when they ask him for food." Scarcely had she pronounced thesewords when they heard the noise of water falling from a neighbouringrock. They ran thither and having quenched their thirst at this crystalspring, they gathered and ate a few cresses which grew on the borderof the stream. Soon afterwards while they were wandering backwards andforwards in search of
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