The Orange Girl

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER XXV

  TRANSPORTATION

  In the evening when I left the prison, it was with emotions strange andbewildering. Jenny, who was to have received a free pardon, was sent, aself-accused convict, to the plantations. To the plantations, where theysend the common rogues and villains. She was to go out on board aconvict ship, counted happy because although one of that shamefulcompany, she was not kept below all the voyage on convict fare withthose wretches vile and unspeakable.

  And I was rich. After all these troubles: after my father's displeasure:after my disinheritance: after my persecution and imprisonment: I wasrich----

  And Matthew, the cause of all, was dead.

  Truly the hand of the Lord had been heavy upon them all. Matthew dyingin starvation and misery. Mr. Probus, lying in prison, a pauper andblind: Merridew stoned to death: the other two escaped with life, butthat was all. But the innocent were suffering with the guilty: the oldman Alderman languishing in a debtors' prison with no hope of release:and Jenny a convict to be transported across the seas. They did well tocall it a voyage: a short exile in a pleasant climate: she was aconvict: she was under sentence.

  And I was rich. So I kept saying to myself as I walked home thatevening. So I kept saying to Alice when I told her what had happenedwhile we sat till late at night talking over these acts of Providence.

  We were to see her go far away across the ocean--a convict, neverperhaps to return: to see her go alone, save for her little maid: indanger of wicked men of whom there are plenty over every part of theworld: perhaps, in spite of what was said, a servant even, at hermaster's beck and call: the woman to whom I owed more than life: farmore than life: honour: and the respect of the world: and the happinessof my children and grandchildren: yea, even unto the third and fourthgeneration. What was wealth? Where was its happiness when we had tothink of Jenny? It was this woman, I say, who by her ready wit, hergenerosity, her fearlessness in the presence of risks certain anddangers inevitable, made my innocence as clear as the noonday's sun. Forthis service shall her name be blessed among those who come after me andbear my name and are stimulated to deeds of honour by the thought thatthey come of an honourable stock. Think of the burden upon their liveshad they been doomed to remember that their father or their grandfatherbefore them had suffered a shameful death for highway robbery!

  Jenny saved me--but at what a price! She braved the worst that therogues, her former friends, could do to her. She compelled her ownpeople: their own associates to betray them in order to prove myinnocence. She paid for the betrayal by prison, trial and ruin. Shepoured out her money like water in order that no doubt whatever shouldexist in the mind of the Court or the Jury as to the real character ofthe witnesses. In return she endured the foul air and the foulcompanionship of Newgate and a shameful transportation to Virginia,there to be set up, if her sentence was carried out, and sold asa slave for five years. It was no common gratitude--we repeated overand over again--that we owed her for this service. We owed herall--all--all--that we possessed or ever could possess.

  But money cannot effect everything: it could not, in this case, giveJenny the full pardon and the immediate release we desired.

  In the dead of night, as I lay sleepless, tortured in my mind because Icould think of nothing that we could do for Jenny, who had done so muchfor us, Alice spoke to me, sitting up in bed.

  'Husband,' she said, and then she fell to weeping for a while and itseemed as if she could not stop her crying and sobbing--but they weretears of prayer and praise. 'Let us talk. It is yet night. The worldsleeps; but the Lord is awake. Let us talk.'

  So we talked.

  'I am heavy in my mind about that poor creature,' she began.

  'And I no less, my dear.'

  'We must not think that the innocent are punished with the guilty. Thatold man the Alderman is pulled down by his son: they lie in ruintogether: but he is innocent: for this reason he has been permitted tolose his wits and now feels nothing. Jenny suffers because though she isinnocent in intention, she is guilty in fact. Will, if I think of thatpoor creature, so good and generous and so self-denying: and of thecompany among whom she has lived: and of the people among whom she wasborn: and how she has no religion, not the least sense of religion, Ithink that this new business may be but the leading of the poortrembling soul to knowledge.'

  'She is assured that before long she will be permitted to return.'

  'Perhaps she will not be permitted to return. There is One who is higherthan kings.'

  'What would you do, Alice?'

  'Let us ask ourselves, Will, what we are to do with our new riches. I ambut a homely body, I cannot become a fine lady. As for yourself,remember, my dear, that you have been a musician, playing for yourlivelihood at the Dog and Duck: and you have stood your trial at the OldBailey: and you have been in a Debtors' Prison: and your father's Houseis bankrupt: and your name is held in contempt where formerly it was inhonour. Where will you seek your new friends? In the country? But theQuality despise a musician. In the City? They despise a musician much:prisoner for debt, more: a bankrupt, most.'

  'I know not what is in your mind, Alice.'

  'I am coming to it, my dear. Remember, once more, what you said to-nightthat we owe her all--all--all. Your life: your honour: your son's pridein his father: my life, for the agony and the shame would have killedme. Oh! Will, what can we do for her? What can we give her in return forbenefits and services such as these?'

  'I will give her all I have, my dear, my whole fortune, this new greatfortune. I will give her everything but you, my dear, and the boy.'

  'Money she does not want and it will not help her in this strait.'

  'What then can we do? We have gratitude--it is hers. And our fortune, itis hers if she will take it.'

  'Oh! Will, be patient with me, dear. We can give her indeed, all that wehave: we can give her'--she bent over me and kissed me, and her tearsfell upon my forehead--'we can give her, Will--ourselves.'

  'What?'

  'We can give her--ourselves. The whole of our lives. We can become herservants in grateful thanks for all that she has done for us.'

  'But how, Alice, how?'

  'Consider: she is going out to a new country--alone. We know not intowhat company she may fall. It is a rough country not yet fully settled Iam told: there are fierce Indians and cruel snakes and wildbeasts--though I fear the men worse than the beasts. Who will protecther? She is beautiful and men are sometimes driven mad by beauty inwomen.'

  I began to understand.

  'Let us go away with her to this new country, where she shall be themistress and we will be the servants. They say it is a beautifulcountry, with fine sunshine and fruits in plenty. Let us go with her,Will, and protect her from dangers and teach her to forget the thieves'kitchen and make her happy among the flowers and the woods. We will turnher captivity into a holiday: we will think of nothing in the world butto make her happy. I have told you. Will, what is in my mind. And, mydear, I verily believe the Lord Himself has put it there.'

  I reflected for a little. Then I kissed her. 'I am content, my dear,' Isaid. 'As you desire, so shall it be. We will go with Jenny and becomeher servants as long as the duty shall be laid upon us.'

  And so we fell asleep. And in the morning this thing seemed a dream. Butit was no dream. Then we had to begin our preparations. It would beclose on three weeks, we learned, before the ship, the _Pride ofRatcliffe_, would be ready to drop down the river. I went on board andsaw the Captain. He told us that Lord Brockenhurst had already engagedthe best cabin for Madame, that although one of the convicts she was tobe treated differently: to be separated from the rest: not to mix withthem: wherein, he said grimly, 'she is lucky indeed.' With her and inher cabin was to go another convict, a young girl. They were to mess inthe Captain's cabin. 'See,' he said, 'what it is to be a friend of anoble Lord.' I told him that the lady was a cousin of my own, whichdisconcerted him. However, without many more words, we came to anunderstanding. I was to have a cabin f
or so much. And the Captainundertook to lay in provisions for us. He was kind enough to draw up alist of the things we should require: it appeared necessary for apassenger to America to buy up half the beeves and sheep of Smithfield,together with all the turkey, geese and poultry, of Leadenhall, not tospeak of wine and rum, enough for the whole crew. He said that in badweather so much of the live-stock was destroyed that it was necessary toprovide against these accidents. So he prevailed, and I think I kept thewhole ship's company with my stores.

  The ship was of 350 tons burden, a stout, well-built ship, with threemasts, not unlike one of my father's West Indiamen, but inferior intonnage: she was slow, it afterwards appeared, generally doing fromfour knots an hour, or about a hundred knots a day at such times asthere was a favourable wind. If the wind was unfavourable, as generallyhappened, her speed was much less. As for the length of the voyage, theCaptain reckoned that taking one voyage with another, she would getacross in six or eight weeks: the uncertainty of the time, as he pointedout, as well as the possibility of storms, called for the apparentlyvast quantity of provisions which he was laying in for our party.

  And now began a busy time. First I communicated our design to Mr.Dewberry, the attorney, who entirely approved of it. Next I arrangedwith him for the safe investment of my new fortune as to which there wasno difficulty at all as soon as the death of Matthew had been dulyproved and attested. The amount which was originally L100,000 had now bythe accumulation of the interest become over L120,000, which, at fiveper cent., produced the enormous income of L6,000 a year--more than ahundred pounds a week. What would we do with a hundred pounds a week?Mr. Dewberry laughed. 'I have never yet,' he said, 'found a rich mancomplaining of too much wealth. For the most part he complains ofpoverty. In a word, Mr. Halliday, your wealth will before many monthscease to be a burden to you. But remember, great as is this income, evenin the wealthy City of London, and enormous as it will be in the distantland of Virginia, there are limits to the power even of such an income.Keep within it: keep within it.'

  It matters not how we made this money safe--that is, as safe as moneycan be made. There are stocks and shares in the National Debt. Some ofthese were obtained: and there were houses in the City which werebought: in a few days my excellent attorney put my affairs in such orderthat I was enabled to leave England without fear, and to be provided,moreover, with letters of credit by which I could draw for such money asmight be necessary from time to time. By this time our plans, muchtalked about, were matured. We would purchase an estate, as aplantation: in Virginia every estate is a plantation: it would beprobably a tobacco-growing estate with its servants and slaves andbuildings complete. Thither we would all go together and take up ourabode. Letters were provided which I could present to responsible andhonest merchants at Baltimore, by whose assistance I hoped to get whatwe desired, and we resolved, further, to tell Jenny nothing of theseplans until we were all on board together.

  The next thing was to find out what we should take out from the oldcountry to the new. It was reported that already they made nearlyeverything that was wanted: such as furniture and things made out of thewoods of the country, which are various and excellent. The things mostin demand were reported to be knives, tools, and ironmongery of allkinds: guns and weapons: clothes of the better kind, especially dressesfor gentlewomen in silk and satin and embroidered work. Books, music,and musical instruments were also scarce. I laid in a great stock of allthese things: they were packed in large chests bound in iron and sent onboard as they were bought.

  In getting these purchases and in procuring this information the dayspassed quickly, because it was necessary as well that I should visitJenny every day. A happy bustling time. After all the trouble of thepast it was pleasant to think of a new world opening before us with newhopes of happiness. These hopes were realized. I do not say that peopleare better in the New World than in the Old; everywhere are menself-seeking and grasping: but there is less suffering, less poverty,and, I believe, none of such infernal wickedness as may be devised athome by men like Probus and Merridew. Such monstrous growths are notfound in a new country where the population is thin, and there is noplace for villains to hide their heads. The worst trouble in Virginia,in those days, was with the convicts, concerning whom I shall speakimmediately.

  While these preparations were going on, Jenny waited in Newgate somewhatsadly. Lord Brockenhurst came to visit her daily: she had the girl whomshe had saved for a maid: the lad Jack came every day to fetch and carryand do her bidding. I said nothing to this fellow of our purpose. Oneday, however, while he waited in the corridor outside the cell, I calledhim in and spoke to him seriously. 'Jack,' I said, ''tis known to theethat Madame sails for America in a week or so?'

  'Ay, Sir,' and his face dropped.

  'What will you do, Jack? There is the old company of the kitchen at theBlack Jack: if that is broken up they have gone to the Spotted Dog.'

  'No, Sir,' he said stoutly, 'I will be a rogue no more. I have promisedMadame.'

  'Then there is the village. You could go home again, Jack.'

  'They will not have me.'

  'Then, Jack, what will you do?'

  He held his hat in his hands, and then with tears rolling down hischeeks he fell on his knees to Jenny. 'Take me with you, Madame,' hesaid. 'I will be your faithful servant to command. Only take me withyou.'

  'Alas, Jack! who am I that I should have a servant with me who shall bebut a servant myself. Poor lad, I cannot take thee.'

  'By your leave, Jenny,' I said. 'There will be a little maid to waitupon you and you will want Jack to protect both you and her. If youconsent to take him, he shall go.'

  'But, Will, you know the conditions. I shall not be mistress even ofmyself.'

  'That is provided. Did not Lord Brockenhurst promise?'

  'Lord Brockenhurst will do what he can. Of that I have no doubt. But asto his power across the Atlantic, of that I have grave doubts.'

  'Jenny,' I took her hand. 'Do you trust my word? Could I deceive you?Could I ever hold out hopes unless I knew that they were well grounded?'

  'Why, Will, whom should I trust if not you?'

  'Then, Jenny, listen and believe. It is so arranged and provided that onlanding in America you will be provided with a house fit for yourstation and with everything, so long as you may stay in the country,that a gentlewoman can require. And all that you have or enjoy will beyours--your own--and over all you shall be mistress.'

  'Dear Will--this providing is your providing.'

  'A manservant you must have to begin with. Negroes there are in plenty,but an English manservant--an honest'--here I looked Jack in the face;he reddened and was confused--'an honest, strong, capable, faithfulservant, that you want, Jenny; and that you must have, and here he is.'I clapped the fellow on the shoulder as he still knelt before hismistress.

  'Get up, Jack,' she said. 'Since it must be so, it must. But you mustthank Mr. Halliday and not me.'

  It was not a servant that she took out with her but a slave, one ofthose willing slaves to whom their slavery is freedom, who have nothoughts or desires of their own; none but the thought how best toplease their Lords or Ladies. Such servants are rare, except those whohave served in the army, where duty is taught to be the first virtue.

  'At least,' said Jenny, 'I shall not be put ashore alone or among thegang of poor creatures with whom I ought to stand as a companion.' Andindeed the prospect of this strong fellow to protect her at the outsetcaused her, I was pleased to find, no slight consolation. Yet I darednot tell her till it was too late to be altered, the resolution which wehad formed to go with her as well.

  Despite the injurious treatment of my two cousins, I took it greatly toheart that the unfortunate Alderman should, for no fault of his own, becondemned to imprisonment for the short remainder of his days. He waspast understanding where he was. In imagination he rolled in his chariotfrom Clapham Common to the Wharf and Counting House: he received theCaptains of the West Indiamen: he appeared on Change: he dined w
ith hisCompany: he sat on the Bench: he walked in his garden: he cutpine-apples and grapes in his hothouses. He was quite happy. But therewas the shame of knowing that he was there and that he was supported bythe charity of his old friends.

  Accordingly I sought Mr. Dewberry's advice and help. There was now butlittle time to be lost, a matter which made things easier, because, Mr.Dewberry said, so long as there was any chance of getting more byputting off the matter it would be put off. In a word, he calledtogether the creditors. They were fortunately a small body: all thosewho had claims in respect to Jenny's liabilities were cut off byMatthew's death. The debt of Mr. Probus was also removed by his deathbecause it was an account of monies borrowed by Matthew privately. Thereremained the debts of the House, and these were due to merchants and tobanks. The creditors met, therefore, and I attended. Mr. Dewberrypointed out that my desire was the release of my uncle: that thecreditors had no claim upon me: that anything I might offer with theview of attaining that object was a free and voluntary gift: that if thecreditors refused this gift they would never get anything at all: andfinally that they should consider that the poor man now in prison hadnot been a party to any of the transactions which led to the ruin ofthe House.

  They asked half an hour to consider. At the end of that time, theyoffered to accept in full discharge of all claims, two shillings in thepound. I was advised to accept this offer. It took nearly L20,000 out ofmy fortune; in fact, all the accumulations. But I had the satisfactionbefore I left of releasing my uncle from his chamber in the loathedKing's Bench.

  I knew how I should be received by my cousins: but words break no bones.Besides, I wished to release him, so to speak, with my own hands.

  'You are come again then,' said my elder cousin, who for some reasonunknown, was much the more bitter of the two. There is your handiwork.Gaze upon it,' she pointed to her father, 'and exult! Exult!'

  'On the whole,' I said, 'I can, this day at least, exult in my work.'

  'It is your doing. None but yours. If you had signed what he wished thismisery would have been saved. And you would have had quite as much asone in your beggarly trade could desire.'

  'Thank you, cousin. You are always kind to me.'

  'You are my brother's murderer. You have ruined my father,' she added.

  'I am anything you wish. Indeed, I have no reply to make to such chargesas these. Meantime I have come here to-day in order to release yourfather. Down below waits the attorney with his discharge in due form. Heis free. You can take him out of the Prison.'

  'Out of prison?'

  They both stared at me. Their eyes flashed: the sudden joy of libertyseized them: they sprang to their feet.

  'Free? He is free?' cried the younger. 'Father, you are free--do youhear?'

  'Free?' he replied. I have been free of the City for six-and-thirtyyears.'

  'Free!' echoed the elder. 'What is the good of freedom without the meansof getting a living? Free? Let us stay here, where at least we have aguinea a week.'

  'Your livelihood is provided for. You will receive during your threelives the sum of three guineas paid weekly.'

  'Three guineas?' The younger caught my hand, 'Cousin Will! Oh! It isour living. It is everything to us poor paupers. Will, I doubt we havemisjudged you.'

  Her sister snatched her hand away. 'Don't touch him!' she cried. 'Don'tspeak to him! Three guineas a week! The miserable pittance! and he hasthousands--thousands--thousands a year'--her voice rose to ashriek--'which ought to have been our murdered brother's and our own!'

  One must never look for gratitude or even for reasonable recognition: orfor the courtesy of thanks: but these words were really more shrewishand more bitter than one can endure. However, I made no reply and leftthem, pleased at least that one of them could be moved to confessing herprejudice. I know not what became of them, nor have I ever heard tidingsof them since that day.

  One more addition was made to our party.

  My brother-in-law, Tom Shirley, came to me one morning with a seriousface--serious at least, for him. 'Will,' he said, 'I have been thinkingabout my own concerns, that is, my wife has been thinking about them forme. It is a great advantage for a man to give over that part of hisbusiness to his wife.'

  'Well, Tom?'

  'She says, if I remember right, because she has been saying a good deal,that so long as I am content to play first fiddle at the Dog and Duckfor thirty shillings a week it matters not, as we shall never get on,and shall have to live in the Rules all our life. Well, Will, I would aslief live in the Rules as out of them. There is very good company in theRules, almost as good as in the King's Bench itself.'

  'She is not content that you should always play the fiddle at thatplace, and you are. Is that so?'

  'For the patronage of aristocracy and the esteem of an audience of tastethere is no equal to the Dog and Duck,' he replied gravely, as if hemeant what he said of the dirty disreputable haunt of 'prentices andtheir kind. 'But I confess, Will, that there are times when I considermy musical compositions and when I long for a wider popularity. I thinkthat I should like an opportunity to get my name better known. At theDog and Duck the noble audience doth not ask the name of the composer.'

  'You would leave the Rules if you could, and go live at Westminster,where there are concerts and rich patrons? Well, Tom, we are now rich.We might manage that for you I believe.'

  He shook his head. 'No. Best not waste good money. I should only getback here again in a month or two. My dear Will, if you only knew howdifficult it is to refuse when things are offered on credit. Now, in theRules no one has any credit, so that we save all our money.'

  I never heard of Tom's saving any money. However, I asked him what hewould have.

  He would go with me. But did they want music in Virginia?

  'Perhaps not now. Wait, however, till they have heard and seen me. Ibelieve there is no musical composer, yet, in the Province. I will bethe first Virginian musician. I will be the Handel of Virginia.'

  'Well, Tom, why not?' The knowledge of my great income made me yielding.Was there not enough for a dozen Toms? 'I dare say we could pay out yourdetaining creditors with no great difficulty.'

  'Not for the world, my dear brother-in-law. Even from you I could notaccept such a favour. Pay me out? Why, it would be no favour: it wouldbe a crime. Do you know that my only detaining creditor is an attorney?Pay an attorney? Never. Remember Probus. Surely you have had enough ofattorneys.'

  'Indeed I am not likely to forget Probus as long as I live. But then, ifyou are not paid out, Tom, how will you get out?'

  'I shall walk out, Mr. William Halliday. If you let us go out with you Ishall send the wife on board with Alice and I shall then walk out withmy violin in one hand and a bundle of music in the other on the eveningbefore the ship sails. I shall go on board. When my creditor finds outthat I have taken my departure, which may take weeks--or it may takemonths--that honest attorney will be pained no doubt, for he is of arevengeful spirit. He will then do exactly what he pleases. But Ibelieve he will not venture out to Virginia. If he should dare thatattempt I will give him to friendly Indians in order to be--carbonadoed,as I believe you Americans call it. That attorney, Will, shall becarbonadoed over a slow fire.'

  Tom, then, was to come with us. So with Jenny, her maid, and her man:Tom Shirley and his wife: Alice, the boy and myself we should make upas pleasant a family party as ever sailed across the Atlantic.

  The time approached when we were to go on board. The ship was to dropdown with the ebb on Saturday morning at nine with the turn of the tide.Everything was on board; on the forecastle on deck my live stock wasgathered: sheep, pigs, turkeys (all of which died in the Channel) geeseand poultry: our furniture, books and music were stowed away in thehold: our wine and liquors were laid in bunks around the cabin: theCaptain and the mate were to take meals with us: they were also soobliging as to drink up our rum and our wine. We had no leavetakings: onFriday afternoon Alice and her sister-in-law went on board. Tom joinedthem after sundown. At ei
ght o'clock or thereabouts I was to bring Jennyand her party on board. Lord Brockenhurst had expressed his desire tosay farewell to her on the quarterdeck.

  A little after seven I repaired to the Gaol. At the gates I saw waitingthree large waggons which the people were filling with boxes and bundlestied up in sacking and canvas. I thought nothing of these waggons at themoment: they did not concern me, and I entered the Lodge. There waswaiting for me Jenny herself, dressed in splendour as if for a wedding.Surely no prisoner sentenced to transportation ever went on board shipin such a guise. She was taking an affectionate leave of the Governor,who was moved almost to tears by her departure.

  'Indeed, Sir,' she said, 'I am grieved to have put you to so muchtrouble.' So she shook hands, smiling sweetly: then she turned to theturnkeys. 'I am also very much in your debt, my friends,' and walkedalong the whole line distributing guineas. 'God bless your Ladyship!'they uttered fervently. 'We shall never see the likes of your Ladyshiphere again.'

  Indeed I am sure that they never will.

  She mounted the steps of the coach which waited outside, she wasfollowed by the girl, by myself, and by the lad called Jack.

  'I am glad,' she said, 'that this child goes out with me to Virginia.'The child--she looked little more--took Jenny's hand and kissed it. 'Sheis an affectionate little fool,' said Jenny, 'and loves me much. And tothink what they were going to do with her! Oh! Fools! Fools!' shecried. 'Oh! monstrous Fools!'

  We were now rolling slowly along Ludgate Hill. There was a rumblingafter us which continued. I looked out. They were the three waggons Ihad observed at the Gate.

  'What are those waggons?' I asked.

  'They contain my baggage. Did you think I was going abroad withnothing?'

  'But in those waggons you must have the whole wardrobe of Drury Lane.'

  She laughed. 'Will, you understand nothing. Did I not tell you that Iwould have all those turnkeys at my feet in a day or two? Well, Isucceeded.'

  'But what has that got to do with your baggage?'

  'Why, you see, the officers that went to search my house for stolenproperty began with the garrets. And there they stopped. Now when mymother agreed to give evidence it was on conditions as I told you. Igave her money for compensation and I bought the whole of her stock ofstolen property. It had been stored in the stone vaults under the BlackJack. They carried it over to the cellars of my house, and when therewas no room left there, they used the garrets.'

  'Oh! They took the garrets first.'

  'Where there was very little to see. Now you understand why there wassuch a paltry show. Could a woman in my position brave such a fate forthings so miserable?'

  'Jenny! Jenny! You are wonderful.'

  'No, Will, only I have my wits about me.'

  'You have actually converted Newgate--Newgate Prison--into a ReceivingHouse for stolen property.'

  'Five guineas apiece for the turnkeys was what it cost. I thought it thesafest and the simplest plan, Will.'

  'Safest and simplest!'

  Before I recovered the surprise of this information we reached thestairs. On the Quarter deck was Alice with the boy.

  'You dear good woman,' Jenny cried. 'You are come to see the last of thetransported convict: the end of the Orange Girl!'

  Yet beside my wife in her homely dress, Jenny looked like a Countess.Alice kissed her. 'We are not going to leave you, Jenny. We are goingwith you, your servants as long as we live.'

  CHAPTER XXVI

  THE LAST TEMPTATION

  'We are waiting,' said the Captain, 'for our passengers.'

  While he spoke there came alongside the ship a dozen boats or more ladenwith the passengers for whose sake the good ship was about to cross theAtlantic. There were, I remember--it is not possible for me to forgetanything that happened on this voyage--one hundred and eight of them whocame on board, men and women. They were brought down from BlackfriarsStairs in a closed lighter.

  'Jenny,' I said, 'go into the cabin. Do not look at them.'

  'Why, Will, I ought to be among them. I am one of them. Suffer me tolook at my brothers and sisters in misfortune.'

  Of these poor wretches we had seen the greater part already in Newgate.Within those walls: in the bad air; among those companions; whereeverything was sordid and wretched; they did not present an appearanceso horrible as they did in the open air; on the bright river; in thesunshine; under the flying clouds; among the sailors; where everythingspoke of freedom. The pallor of their faces; their wretched rags blowingabout in the breeze; their pinched faces; the unnatural brightness oftheir eyes; their tottering limbs; their meek submissiveness to order;proclaimed their long detention in prison while they were waiting forthe ship. As they climbed up the companion painfully; as they steppeddown upon the deck; as they stood huddled together like sheep, my heartsank within me for thinking that Jenny, too, was reckoned as one ofthese. I glanced at her; she was thinking the same thing; her cheek wasaflame; her eyes, glowed; her lips trembled.

  'Will,' said she; 'we are a proper company. Virginia will welcome us.'

  They brought with them--faugh! the prison reek and stench. But we sawthem for a few moments only. Then they were bundled down below to theirown quarters and we saw the poor creatures no more.

  It has been said that these poor convicts are cruelly ill-used on boardthe transport ships. I can speak only of what I saw; I know that ourCaptain was a humane man. I can testify to the fact that there wereseldom more than two or three floggings a day, and of the women not somany; I know that our convicts were a gang of hardened wretches whomnothing but the fear of the lash kept in order; I know that when theycame on board they were for the most part in a wretched condition; oflow habits from long confinement, poor food, and bad drink; that many ofthem lay down directly the ship got into open water and, what withsea-sickness, fever, and weakness, never got up again. The truth is thatthe contractors, who receive L5 a head for a voyage which takes abouttwo months, do honestly provide the convicts the rations prescribed bythe Government. These rations are sufficient but not luxurious; theyconsist of beef, pork, biscuits and cheese once a week; to keep up theirspirits they are served a ration of gin. The beef may have been toughand the pork rusty, but such as it was the Captain served it out amongthem. Yet, on the voyage of seven weeks we buried forty-seven, or nearlyone every day. It seems a large number; those who died were nearly allmen; very few of them were women. They were unfit to face the fatiguesof the voyage and the rolling of the ship; some of them were evenconsumptive; some were asthmatic; some were in fevers; some had otherdiseases; they died; perhaps they would have died at home in prison. AtNewgate scarce a day passes that some poor wretch does not succumb toprivation and bad air. If so many of them died on board the ship that isno proof of inhumanity.

  Let us forget these poor sinners. It is easy to say that they deservedall they got. No doubt they did. And what do we deserve? And when a manlike myself has gone through that gate and mouth of Hell called Newgate,he looks on the poor creatures who go there to be flogged and brandedand pilloried and hanged and transported with some compassion because heknows that such as they are, such they have been made. Mr. Merridew isalways with them: the landlady of the Black Jack is always ready to buywhat they offer her for sale: no respectable person will employ them;they have never been taught anything. The Divine and the schoolmasterdare not venture within their streets, which are the very Sanctuary ofWickedness; our charities are all for the deserving; we have no bowels,no compassion, for those we call the undeserving. Let us forget them.Better to lie at the bottom of the ocean, where at least it is peaceful,than to face the cruel whip of the overseer, and the burning fields ofthe American Plantations.

  Our voyage lasted, I say, little more than seven weeks; we were waftedacross a smooth sea by favouring breezes. After leaving the Channel wegot into a warmer air; we began to sit on the quarterdeck. Tom and I gotout our violins and played. We played for our party; we played for thesailors; we sang those part-songs which he made so well. Jenny, fo
r herpart, was silent. Now and then she spoke to me about herself.

  'Will,' she said, 'if I receive that permission to return which my Lordpromises, what will you do? Will you come home with me?'

  'I do not know,' I told her. 'If the place pleases us, why should we gohome again? My memories of home will be full of wrongs for many a yearto come. I can never get back to my old friends in the City. Although,thanks to you, I was fully acquitted, I am a Newgate bird and a bird ofthe King's Bench. People look askance upon such a man. I must think ofAlice, too, and of the boy. We must not let these memories haunt themother and make the boy ashamed.'

  'To go back,' she answered without heeding me, 'to stand on the stage atDrury Lane once more. Have they forgotten me already, do you think? TheOrange Girls will remember, I am sure, and the natives of St. Giles's,'she laughed, 'I don't think they will bear malice.'

  'You must not go back to Drury Lane, Jenny.'

  'I can do better than Drury Lane, Will,' she said. 'I have but toconsent and I shall be--a Countess. And oh! how proud will my childrenbe of their mother, proud indeed of their mother. Oh! Will, to think howone's birth clings round and hampers us all our lives. I might be happy;I might make a good and faithful man happy; but the time would come whenthe children would grow up and would ask who and what was their motherand where she was born. Could I take them to the ruins of the BlackJack? Could I take them to the Tyburn Tree of Glory and tell them howhow their grandfather died?' Then she relapsed into silence and soremained for awhile.

  She had none of the common accomplishments of women; she could not sewor embroider or make things as women used. She could do nothing; shecould not cook or make cordials; she understood no household work of anykind: she could read, but she had read nothing beyond the plays in whichshe had acted; she knew no history or geography or politics; she knewnothing but what she had learned for her own purposes; the scaffolding,so to speak, on which the actor builds his playing; the art of finedress; and how to wear it; the art of dancing with an admirable grace ofmanner and of carriage; the art of courtesy and graciousness, in whichshe was a Princess; the art of making herself even more beautiful thanNature intended; and the art of bringing all men to her feet. Before wehad been a day at sea, the Captain was her servant to command; by thesecond day, the mate was her slave; by the third day the sailorsworshipped her. She brought good luck to the ship; every sailor willtell you that passengers may, and often do, resemble Jonah, who waspursued by a tempest; Jenny brought fair weather and a balmy breezealways from the right quarter.

  She did not forget our fellow-passengers. When she heard that they weredying fast she would have gone below to visit them but the Captainrefused his leave; the noisome quarters where they herded together, dayand night, was not a proper place for any decent woman to visit. Let hersend down what she pleased, and they should have it. She sent down fromour stores daily drams of cordial and of rum; if she did not save manylives she made death less terrible.

  The voyage came to an end all too quickly. On a certain day at thebeginning of April we put into port and presently landed on the shoresof the New World. There are certain forms. The bodies of Jenny Hallidayand Pamela St. Giles's--I called the girl Pamela for obviousreasons--were duly delivered to the officer representing the Governorand as duly handed over to me as their master for five years. Thisproceeding was performed without Jenny's presence or knowledge. I thenfound a lodging not far from the Port and sought the merchants to whom Ihad letters of introduction and credit.

  My tale draws to an end. Let it not grow tedious in its last pages. Inone word, in a week or so after our landing we started on a shortjourney of thirty miles or so over a somewhat rough road. Our journeytook us five hours. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon when wearrived. First there was a large wooden house of two storeys paintedwhite; in the front a long and deep veranda--meaning a place coveredover and protected from the sun by the roof and hangings at the side andin the front. Before the house was a flower-garden; at the back was akitchen garden and orchard; the house was well and solidly furnished;all round the house lay fields of tobacco on which black people wereworking; on the steps of the veranda; in the garden; under the treesplayed in the warm sun the little naked negro children.

  'Where are we?' asked Jenny, looking round her.

  I assisted her to get out of the waggon--it was little better--in whichwe had made our journey.

  I led her into the house. In the principal room there was a long tablelaid as if for dinner. At the head was an armchair carved, I shouldthink, in the sixteenth century, or earlier; it was a kind of thronewith a coat of arms carved, gilded, and coloured upon it; the shield ofthe late occupant of the estate, recently dead.

  I led Jenny to the head of the table. I placed her in the throne.

  'Madame,' I said, 'this house is yours; these gardens are yours; thisestate is yours; and we, if you please, are your most humble servants tocommand.' So I bent one knee and kissed her hand.

  'Your most humble, obedient and grateful servants,' said Alice,following my example.

  So we all did homage, but our Queen and mistress hid her face in herhandkerchief and for a while she could not speak.

  Thus began our new life, in which we all vied with each other in makingJenny feel that she was our mistress. We called her Madame; we made wayfor her; we flew to obey her; the overseers were instructed to report toher, personally, as to the condition of the field and the conduct of theslaves--there were no white servants on the estate; the slavesthemselves looked to Madame as their owner, their mistress, and theirfriend.

  For a time Jenny's mind remained still with the events of the past: thethought of Lord Brockenhurst; of the danger and the horrors which shehad escaped; indeed she could never forget these things. Little bylittle, as I hoped, the sense of power and authority returned. She neverasked how this lovely property came to her, or if it truly belonged toher; she began quietly, as she had done in the Assembly Rooms at SohoSquare, to direct, administrate, and improve. She mitigated thefloggings; she improved the slaves' rations; she gave them days ofrejoicing; she made the poor ignorant blacks who for the most partunderstand little but the whip and the stick and the cuff, feel thatthey were in kindly hands; their children rolled about at her feettaking their childish liberties; she learned the business oftobacco-growing in all the stages; she walked about the fields in themorning before the sun was high, and noted how the plants were lookingand whether the weeds were kept down.

  Our neighbours--we had neighbours in all directions at two or threemiles' distance--for some time hesitated to call. Things were variouslyreported; that Madame had come out for the help of her cousin, aconvict; that Madame had brought out a large fortune; that the cousinhad certainly letters of credit for a very large amount; that Madame washerself a convict; that we were all convicts--political prisoners--sentout for some kind of treason--Jacobite conspirators; friends of theYoung Pretender; there was no end to the rumours and reports which werespread abroad concerning us. Nor was it until Lord Brockenhurst himselfcame all the way from England to visit us and stay with us, as you shallhear, that the neighbours made up their minds that we could be visited.I believe people think that Colonial society is open to all comerswithout question--perhaps they think it is composed of convicts. On theother hand the Colonials are more careful than the English at home whomthey admit into their houses on friendly or intimate terms.

  Our method of life was simple and uniform. We assembled on the verandaat seven, when I read prayers and a chapter. This done we tookbreakfast, not the petty meal of thin bread and butter and tea whichsatisfies the man about town, but a plentiful repast with many dishescontaining vegetables and fruits unknown in London. After breakfast camethe duties of the day. My own part was the keeping of the accounts. Icalled myself the steward. Alice directed the household; Jack wasbutler in command over the negroes of the house; and Pamela St. Giles'swas in charge of the stillroom. Outside, the blacks were busy in thefields. At twelve a bell rang which brou
ght them all back to camp wherethey took their dinner. At half past twelve we dined. For our eating Ideclare that we had the choicest birds; the finest mutton; the bestbeef; the most excellent fish that you can imagine; all things cheap;all plentiful; and for drink our cellars were full of such Canary,Madeira and Port as few gentlemen could show at home. In the evening wehad supper at six; after supper I read prayers and another chapter. Thenwe played cards; or we had in the violins; or Tom played on theharpischord; or we sang glees and Madrigals. And every night all to bedby nine.

  On Sundays we had morning service, which I read. The overseers werepresent and after the blacks grew to like the music they sat about thedoor while we chanted the Psalms and sang our Hymns. In the evening Iread a sermon or a discourse on some godly subject.

  At these religious exercises Madame would always be present; sitting inher carved armchair, her head resting on her hand, expressing in herface neither interest nor weariness. Remember that never had anyonetaught her a word of religion. She looked on and listened; sometimes shedid not listen; her eyes were fixed and far away; she was back on thestage of Drury Lane.

  Who can tell how they all loved and worshipped her? Even the overseers,commonly the most brutal of men, some of whom pride themselves at beingable to cut a lump of flesh from a negro's leg at a distance of ten feetand more, were softened by the gracious presence. The worst crueltieswere abandoned on our estate; as for floggings; of course there must beflogging so long as there are slaves; and of course there must be slavesso long as there are negroes. The clergy of Virginia are united in thisopinion; I wish they were also united in the opinion that even a slaveshould be protected by the law from inhuman treatment.

  This our quiet mode of life was broken into one day when there appearedunexpectedly Lord Brockenhurst himself. It was about six months afterour arrival. He dismounted; he threw his reins to his servant andmounted the steps of the veranda.

  It was late in the afternoon--about six; the autumn sun was gettinglow; Jenny was sitting with Alice and Tom's wife talking of householdaffairs. She rose quietly with a pretty blush and stepped forward.

  'Good Heavens, Jenny!' his Lordship cried, 'you are more beautiful thanever, I swear.'

  'Welcome, my Lord, to Virginia. You are come, I trust, to accept thehospitality of this poor house?'

  'Madame, you honour me. It is a lovely house with a view the mostcharming in the world. I knew not that Virginia was half so fine acountry.'

  'Indeed, if English people did know--they would all come over. I prayyour Lordship not to speak too well of us. There are some people in theold country that we would not willingly welcome in the New.'

  So she led him into the inner room and sent for Madeira to refresh him.

  'Your Lordship has something to tell me,' she said, beginning to shiverand shake. 'You did not come all the way from England only to wish meGood-morning.'

  'I bring you, Jenny, what I promised, your full pardon and release. Itis in the hands of the Governor. You can return, now, whenever youplease.'

  'I was beginning to forget, my Lord, that I am but a prisoner still anda convict. These people with whom I live, the best people, I verybelieve, in the whole world, have almost made me forget that fact. But Ithank your Lordship all the same. I thank you most humbly and mostgratefully. Except my Cousin Will--my husband's cousin--there is no moreloyal and faithful gentleman than my Lord Brockenhurst.'

  'I have done what I can. I could do no more.'

  'My lord, you have ridden thirty miles. You are tired? No? Then--let meask you one more favour. Tell me about this matter to-morrow. Sleepfirst upon it,' for she saw his purpose in his eyes. 'Think, I pray you,partly of what I am and of what you are; partly of your own dignity;partly of how one such as I am should behave towards one such as you.'

  She rose.

  'I will now,' she said, 'if you are not tired, show you our gardens andour tobacco-fields.'

  His Lordship took supper with us. I saw that he was pleased at thelittle state and ceremony with which we surrounded Jenny. I saw, aswell, the love in his eyes, which he could not tear away from her face.

  After supper, we had a little concert Tom took the harpsichord, and Itook the violin. First we played a piece, as a duet; then Tom playedwhile Alice sang; then we all, with Jack our Butler, who had anexcellent bass, while Tom sang alto and I the tenor, sang four-partsongs, and I saw how his Lordship watched the negroes sitting aboutoutside and crowding up the doorway. I am sure he took home the beliefthat we were a happy household, blacks and all; and that Jenny was themistress over all.

  After breakfast in the morning Jenny bade Alice and me come with herwhile she received his Lordship.

  She took her place at the window, sitting in her high chair. LordBrockenhurst entered, bearing certain papers in his hand.

  'My lord,' she said, 'you can speak with perfect freedom. I entreat youto use perfect freedom before my cousins. I have no secrets from them;they can tell you perhaps more about myself than I ever will speak--formyself.'

  Lord Brockenhurst coloured and was confused, but only for a little.'Dear Madame,' he said, 'since you will not give an interview alone Imust make the best of the presence of others.'

  'They know everything,' said Madame.

  He bowed. 'I have told you,' he said, 'that I have brought out anddelivered over to the Governor your full pardon and release. Thesepapers are a copy.'

  Jenny pushed them aside. 'I do not want to see them,' she said, 'let menever be reminded of their existence. Take them, Will, and lock themup.'

  I received them and placed them in my pocket.

  'That done, Madame,' he went on, 'I have only to invite your remembranceof a certain proposal that--I believe you have not forgotten it. Sinceyour worthy cousins know what that proposal was I have only to say thatonce more, most divine woman, I offer myself--my name and rank--myfortune and possessions--at your feet.' He fell on his knees and tookher hand.

  Jenny turned away her face. 'Answer him, Alice--tell him what I have sooften told you. Rise, my Lord. Do not pain me by kneeling at my unworthyfeet.'

  'My Lord,' said Alice solemnly, 'there is no one in the world--believeme--whom Jenny regards with greater respect and gratitude thanyourself.'

  'Respect and gratitude are but cold words,' he said.

  'Let me add with greater love. Your Lordship is the only man in theworld whom she has ever loved or could love. That also, believe me, ismost true.'

  'Why, then----' He held out his hand.

  'Nay, my Lord. Jenny loves you so well that nothing would induce her toaccept the honour of your proposal.'

  'How? Loves me so well?'

  'Jenny bids me tell you that the time would come when your childrenwould ask who was their mother, and who were her mother's friends. Theywould learn her history, I need not remind you of her history. You knowit all. Jenny loves you too well to bring shame and discredit on a nobleHouse. Your children, she says, must have a mother worthy of yourself.'

  'There is no more worthy woman in the world than Jenny!'

  'Their mother must have an unblemished name, my Lord, worthy of yourown. She knows you to be so good and loyal that you could never reproachher with the past. But it belongs to her. And, my Lord, it must notbelong to you.'

  'It must not; it shall not,' Jenny repeated through her tears.

  'Is this your answer, Jenny? Oh! Jenny, will you cast me off for such ascruple?'

  'I must--I must. Go, my Lord. Think of me no more. Why'--she sprang toher feet--'what could I expect? I--the Orange Girl--the daughter of theBlack Jack--the friend of thieves; the Newgate Prisoner; the transportedconvict? A coronet? For me? the hand of a noble gentleman? the name of anoble house? For me? Fie upon you, my Lord, for thinking of such athing! Remember what is due to a gentleman. And I thank you--oh! I thankyou--you can never know how much--for thinking--you the only one--ofnothing less or lower. Go, my Lord. Tempt me no more. I know what I mustdo. Farewell.'

  He seized her in his arms; he kissed
her--forehead and cheek and lipsand hands. He ceased to urge his suit. He saw that she was fixed, and inhis heart he knew that she was right. 'I obey,' he said. 'Oh! noblestof women, I obey.'

  So he rushed away, and Jenny fell into Alice's arms.

  * * * * *

  I sit on my own estate in the pleasant land of Virginia; outside theveranda the hot sun ripens the corn and fruit: I did my duty in thegreat and glorious war which set our country free: my sons will dotheirs if the occasion should again arise: we have taught our cousinsacross the seas that we can fight for freedom: but there will be no morefighting for that. It is won, once for all--I am now old, but as I sitalone, my eyes resting on as fair a landscape of river and forest andorchard and garden as the world can show, I suddenly wander away andgaze beyond the ocean, beyond the years, upon that abode of despair andwretchedness, where Jenny sits like a flower in a pigsty, talking ofwhat she should do when she came out of prison, but unable to read inthe future any return to the world at all. As for fear or doubt, or anyanxiety about the future, the poor soul had none. She was going tocontinue for ever beautiful, to win that worship of men which she lovedso much. I have now lost all the friends of my youth: they pass beforeme sometimes in a long procession. It is the consolation of age to livein the past: but in all the array of ghosts there is none that bringstears except the figure of Jenny in her wondrous beauty and her soft andlovely eyes.

  She lived with us for more than thirty years. She grew gray--but she wasas lovely in her age as in her youth. She was mistress unquestioned tothe end and never more than in her old age. But always with the samekindness: the same grace: the same sweetness of look, and the samesoftness of eye.

  She died at last of some fever caught of a young negress whom shevisited in the infirmary. She was ill for three days only, and she diedlying in the veranda, looking out upon the woods and mountains on thegolden sunshine that she loved.

  'Alice, dear,' she said, 'you have told me, often, that we are led, weknow not how, to things that are best for us, though by ways that wewould not choose. I have not forgotten what you said. I never forget, mydear, what you say.'

  Alice kissed her fingers.

  'I understand now what you mean. I have been led. I have been led----Mydear, I am going to die. Bury me as one of yourselves--not in a ditchlike my own people--who, perhaps, are not led. Bury me in theburial-ground where your baby lies. Put no stone upon my grave, butplant white flowers over it. Let my abode, at least, look lovely afterdeath. I have been led, Alice--I have been led--I understand it now.'

  After a little. 'Alice, I have been proud of what men called myloveliness. It makes every woman happy when men call her lovely. My Lordcalled me lovely. Send him, Alice, a lock of my hair. Tell him that Ihave never loved any other man.'

  She died. We buried her in the little burial-ground where lay the childwe lost. We put up no headstone, but we planted the grave with whiteflowers.

  There is now another grave beside hers with more white flowers. It bearsthe name of Alice.

  To me it has been given to love two women at the same time, and thatwith equal love and equal respect and without blame or sin.