The Brother Clerks; A Tale of New-Orleans.

by Мэри Эшли Таунсенд Xariffa

  "They are, sir; placed there for safe keeping."

  "Bring me them instantly!" said Mr. Delancey, stamping his foot heavily upon the floor.

  "No," said the girl, calmly folding her hands on her bosom; "whatever questions my master has to ask, I am ready to answer; but I can do no more."

  "What do you mean?" cried the merchant, rising, and laying his hands upon her shoulders. "Go and do my bidding instantly. What did you confess you had them for, if you didn't expect me to get them? Any other of my negroes would have lied."

  Minny's face flushed crimson.

  "Your other negroes, sir, might act differently, under many circumstances, to what I would do-but," she continued, more calmly, "Miss Della taught me never to tell a falsehood, and these lips have never lied."

  The merchant looked keenly at Minny for a moment, then said:-

  "Do you know that if you disobey me I will use the lash? You are but a slave, if you have a paler skin. Do you hear? Either tell me where these papers can be found, or bring them to me yourself, or I will lash you till your back runs pools of blood."

  "And I will bear it, sir, though you should make it run rivers. My mistress's confidence is more sacred to me than any drop of blood that circles round my heart, and I will shed it all sooner than betray her."

  Mr. Delancey paused a moment, with a glance of something like admiration lighting up his cold eyes; perhaps he saw something of his own indomitable spirit in the girl's firm demeanor, and, perhaps, the thought that nature gave her a right to the possession of that spirit never entered his mind. With his anger every moment growing more intense, the merchant again laid his hand upon her arm.

  "No more parleying, girl-bring me the letters."

  "Never, sir."

  "Dare you speak thus to me? I will have them."

  "Not while it is in my power to prevent you, sir."

  "Fool! Minny, slave, out of my way!"

  Minny moved not a muscle.

  "Do as I command you, or, by Heaven, I'll make you. Was ever such disobedience shown a master?"

  Minny stood firm, but silent, her back against the door. Mr. Delancey laid his hand upon the bell-rope, and pulled it violently.

  "Voltaire," said he, to the servant who answered it, "bring me the heavy whip, with the braided lash."

  It was not often that Mr. Delancey punished a slave, but when he did he was very severe. In this case, pride, anger, and a feeling something like revenge, for what he deemed Minny's obstinacy, spurred him on. The refusal of the letters had made him determined to possess them, and nothing could now have turned him from his course. Reader, he was a father; and his daughter was his idol!

  The servant brought the whip, laid it on the table, glanced pityingly at Minny, and went out with a shudder.

  Mr. Delancey seized Minny by the arm, and pushed her on before him, until he reached an upper balcony, near the sleeping apartments of the domestics.

  "Now, girl, down with you."

  "No, sir; if you lash me, let me stand and bear it like a human being, not like a dog, with my face to the dust."

  "Down with you, or I will knock you down! You shall take it, as would any other slave."

  Minny threw back her curls, and knelt before her master.

  "On your face, girl, down!"

  He raised his foot, and pushed her forward on her face. She lay there, with her heavy curls falling round her like a mantle, entirely concealing the tearless, livid face.

  Delancey raised his arm, and the heavy lash descended, whirring through the air, telling how fierce the hand that dealt the blow.

  The tender flesh could almost be seen to quiver through the thin, light dress; but Minny moved not, uttered no moan, nor raised her head.

  "How now, girl, does your spirit hold out? Will you give up the letters?"

  "Never!"

  Again the lash came down, and this time, across one fair, polished shoulder, gleaming out from among the curls, in her low-necked dress, was marked a braided cut, from which the blood oozed in small round drops, staining also the waist of the dress, where the lash had fallen.

  "How now?"

  There came no answer: Minny lay still and quiet. Again the enraged master raised the whip, and this time the strokes were a trifle lighter, but more frequent, with no power for questioning.

  Della sat in her room waiting for Minny's return. Suddenly a strange sound struck upon her ear. She started, bent forward, and listened eagerly. It came again and again. She sprang to her feet, and darted like lightning down the stairs. She ran hither and thither, scarce knowing whence to trace the sound, when suddenly she met one of the servants.

  "Voltaire, in Heaven's name, where are papa and Minny?"

  "On the back gallery, Miss," returned the man.

  With the speed of thought, Della sped through the long passages, up the stairs, and out upon the balcony. She gained the spot just as the strong arm was upraised to give another blow.

  "Papa! papa! for the love of mercy, stop!"

  At that sound Minny slightly raised her head, but dropped it again, and the blow came down.

  Della sprang wildly forward.

  "Papa! papa! what has turned you into such a demon!"

  With an almost superhuman strength, she caught the whip, as it was again descending, in her own jeweled and delicate hands, wrested it from her father's grasp, and flung it over the railing into the court below.

  Dropping upon her knees, she lifted the quadroon's head upon her lap. The eyes were closed, and the pallid face wore the appearance of death.

  Minny had fainted.

  Springing to a water-pipe, Della filled a basin, and drawing the girl tenderly upon her breast, rocked her gently, back and forth, as she bathed the blue-veined temples with the cooling fluid.

  Still pale with anger, Mr. Delancey stood looking on.

  "Poor child, poor Minny!" sobbed Della, as the tears rained down her cheeks; "all this you have suffered for me-poor thing, poor thing!"

  Suddenly lifting her eyes, Della confronted her father.

  "Not another night!" she exclaimed bitterly, "shall Minny stay beneath your roof. She is your own flesh and blood, papa; you know she is. You might as well have whipped me as to whip her. Oh! papa, that you should use your own child thus!"

  Mr. Delancey started forward.

  "Who has dared to tell you such a tale as this!-who has presumed to whisper such a falsehood in your ear?"

  "It is no falsehood, papa; it is truth, all truth-would it were not! It requires no talking to see it. Has she not your look, your spirit, much of your pride? But none of your cruelty. No, no, poor Minny, you have indeed been a sister to me. Look, papa, at this poor bleeding back, see how this dress is dyed with blood; blood which you cursed her with, blood which you have drawn forth again with the lash! The lash-think of it; and she your own daughter!"

  Untouched by his child's words, Delancey turned away, every vein swelling with the wrath which he could not conceal.

  "I'll teach you both to carry on your private dealings with dastardly clerks. Back to your room, and leave this heap of bloody flesh and rags for the negroes to care for."

  "Shame on you, papa. No! I shall not leave her for a moment. With regard to this poor child, your authority is as naught to me."

  "That remains to be seen," returned Mr. Delancey, in his cold, deep tones; and, stepping to the stairhead, he called Voltaire to his presence.

  At this moment Minny drew a long, shivering sigh, looked up, and met her mistress's tearful gaze with a smile.

  "They are safe, Miss-all safe; he could not get them," she whispered, faintly.

  "Hush, Minny, darling. Oh, you have suffered so terribly for my sake! This is dreadful, dreadful!"

  "Anything for you, Miss Della, anything."

  Della's only answer was a closer pressure of that young form to her heart.

  "Now," said Mr. Delancey, approaching them, with Voltaire walking behind them: "now, Minny, up with you, and get yourself
out of my sight; and, mark me! you may get your back ready for another scourging unless you give me those papers before to-morrow."

  "Papa, you know Minny isn't able to walk. Let Voltaire carry her."

  "Well, up with her, then. Take her to some of the negroes' rooms, and let her lie there till she repents of her obstinacy."

  "Voltaire," said Della, stepping forward, "take her to my room, and put her upon my bed. Go!"

  The negro obeyed, and Mr. Delancey offered no opposition. There was a look in his daughter's eye which he had never seen there before, an imperative manner which enforced command, and he allowed the man to pass him, bearing the bleeding and exhausted Minny in his arms.

  "Now, Della," said he, turning to his child, "follow her. Until I can get this vile piece of romance out of your head, you shall remain a prisoner in your own room. Shame on you for your want of pride!"

  "Thank Heaven, papa, that I have no more."

  They parted-father and daughter there-both turning their heads, as they passed, to look back upon each other; then went from sight, silently and coldly.

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  "All the world's a stage."

  "Oh, Massa Gulian," said Jeff, one day, following Guly, who had entirely recovered from his illness, to his room, "what shall I ever do, Massa Gulian, I'se so berry mis'ble?"

  "And what has occurred, my poor fellow, to make you so unhappy?"

  "Why, it's 'bout dis robb'ry, young massa. Don' you see dat old Master s'picions me? Tudder day, he said he bleeb'd I know'd suthin' 'bout it, 'cause he found dat knife of mine dar in de winder; and the Lord knows I'se innocent as a lamb, ob eben tinking such a ting."

  "Mr. Wilkins, I think, convinced him of your innocence, Jeff. He told him every fact, concerning you, that he could think of, to prove you guiltless."

  "Yes, but-but I heerd Master mutter to hisself dat he couldn't clar me in his own mind till somebody else was cotched, and proved guilty; and nobody has been cotched, and I'se berry wretched, 'deed, sah, I is."

  Jeff looked all he expressed, and Guly pitied him in his heart.

  "Be of good cheer, and trust in God; all will yet be well. It were impossible for any one to think you guilty, Jeff, of this."

  "Seems to me dat de Lord has deserted me 'tirely. What makes my heart ache most, is Massa's manner; you see he allus used to be berry kind to me; fact is, he neber whipped me in the world, and he used to trust me with so many of his private affairs, and wus allus so kind of confidential like, long o' me, and sometimes sent me wid money to de bank, and all dat. Don't do it now; scowl on his face de minit he cum near me, and look so like a tunder cloud, I 'spects to be struck wid lightnin' ebery minit. If he'd tie me up, and whip me, and den be hisself agin, I wouldn't care; but de Lord knows I lub my Massa dearly, and can't bar' to hab him turn de cold shoulder to me, and show he hab no more confidence in his nigger, 'tall."

  Guly tried to say something encouraging; but, though Jeff listened respectfully, it was very sadly; and several times he wiped the tears from his cheeks, while his young master was speaking.

  "Massa Guly," said he, taking a small parcel from his pocket, "here's suthin' I found in de winder, de morning after de robb'ry, when dey was cleaning up. I 'spect it b'longs to de tiefs, but I don't want you to open it till some one's cotched, and then if it finds an owner, well and good; but if it don't, I want you to keep it to 'member me. It's a purty thing, an' it's mine if it don't get an owner, 'cause I found it; and, as I said, I want you to hab it."

  "You are not going away, are you, Jeff?"

  "Yes, young massa, berry fur."

  "Why, how so?" said Guly, in surprise, "I had heard nothing of it."

  "Well, please not to say nothin' 'bout it, massa; 'twouldn't do no good, an' I don't want it talked of. Ole Massa's plantation's a good way up de river, an' he sends all his bad niggers dar. Mebbe I won't see you 'gin, Massa Gulian, so good bye."

  Gulian gave him his hand, and the negro took it in both of his, and bending over it, burst into a loud fit of weeping.

  "Oh, Massa Guly, if I'se ever hurt your feelin', or done anyting berry wrong, I hopes you will forgive me. De Lord bress you, Massa Guly; you'se been de light ob mine eyes, an' de joy ob my soul, eber sin' you fuss cum here. De Lord bress you, foreber an' eber."

  With a despairing, broken-hearted gesture, Jeff dropped the hand, and hurried from the room; and, at that moment Wilkins, who still retained his place as head clerk, called Guly a moment to his side.

  "Guly," said he, laying his hands upon his shoulders, "do you remember the time you promised me, if ever I needed a friend, you would be that one?"

  "Yes, Wilkins; and will fulfill my promise any moment!"

  "Will you be at the Old Cathedral, with Blanche, at midnight?"

  "Blanche! midnight! the Old Cathedral? I don't understand your meaning."

  "I want you to meet me at that hour, with Blanche, at the Cathedral."

  "Would she go?"

  "Oh, yes; I have it all arranged with her; Old Elise will stay with her grandfather till she returns. You will be there?"

  "Since you wish it-yes, without fail. You will explain matters when we meet there?"

  "They will explain themselves. Don't forget."

  The day wore on, and everything went on in its usual manner, until just before Mr. Delancey's dinner hour, when, to the surprise of all, the loud report of a pistol was heard, coming from the little court, just at the back part of the store. As its echo died away, all those clerks not at the moment engaged, rushed to the long windows, and sprang through into the court, to learn what the matter was. Guly was the first on the spot, and to his horror and amazement, found Jeff lying on the ground, weltering in his blood, but still showing signs of life.

  "Jeff!" he exclaimed, bending over him, "what have you done!"

  "Oh-Massa-Guly"-gasped the negro, turning his dimming eyes to the boy's face, "you'se come with your blue eyes to light me to Heaven. Couldn't lib longer, and hab de master dat I lubbed tink me a robber. I'se tried allus to be a good nigger, an' hope's I'll go to de good place."

  "God grant it."

  "Young Massa, is dis death?"

  "'Tis coming, Jeff."

  "Let me pray; I only knows one prayer, an' it's so short."

  "Say it."

  "'Now I lay me'-oh, I'se goin' fast, young massa."

  "Go on."

  "'Down to sleep'-Massa Guly dis long sleep."

  Guly took his hand.

  "'I pray de Lord my-soul-to keep; an'-should-I die'-Oh, dis is de wrong prayer-Bressed Lord, forgive my sins, and take me to dat Heaven where de white folks go, dat I may see Massa Guly, wid his white wings on. Good-bye, young massa. Last at my side in death, I'll be fust at yours in Heaven."

  With a convulsive effort, the dying man turned upon his side, the limbs grew rigid, the death-rattle shook an instant in his throat, and poor Jeff was dead.

  Guly left the negro's side, to acquaint Mr. Delancey, who had remained sitting stiffly in his chair, of the facts. The merchant listened unmoved, but ordered the body to be sent to his house, and a longer or better ordered funeral never passed through the streets of New-Orleans, than that which next day bore poor Jeff to his last resting-place. Whether or not that Master felt he had wronged a true and faithful slave, could not be told; but all he could do to show he honored his memory, was done; and as much expense and pomp were displayed in those last rites, as ever were lavished over a white man's bones.[A]

  [Footnote A: A fact.]

  "Everything ready now, Minny?" said Della, glancing tearfully around her sumptuous apartments.

  "Everything is prepared, Miss. Shall we go?"

  "Sure you are able to walk to the carriage, Minny?"

  "Oh, yes, Miss; certain of it."

  Once more Della turned to look upon those objects, which use and long association had endeared to her. There were her books, her birds, her flowers, the bed, where she had dreamed so many happy dreams, and the cushioned chair, where she ha
d so often sat listless and happy. With a sigh, which she could not repress, she waved them a fond adieu, and, taking Minny's arm, crept out upon the balcony, down the stairs, and through the secret garden-door. Here was an outlet Mr. Delancey had never thought of; and while the guard, he had placed at her door, stood vigilant and wakeful, the bird flew through the window.

  Once in the street, at night, and in darkness, Della grew timid, and clutched convulsively her attendant's arm; but they went on steadily, until arriving at an adjacent corner, a third person joined them, and helped them into the carriage, which stood waiting near by.

  "Oh, Bernard!" cried Della, laying her trembling hand upon his arm, as he sat beside her in the carriage, with Minny, and they were being whirled through the almost deserted streets, "no hand can ever come between us again. I am yours at last."

  "Nothing shall ever part us more," returned Bernard, drawing her fondly towards him. "You have given up much for me, but the aim of my life shall be to make you happy."

  "I have lost nothing, Bernard, compared to the love I have gained. Only never let that swerve or falter, and I shall be the happiest wife that ever God looked down upon and blessed."

  The carriage stopped at the door of the cathedral, and the party entered the church, where a priest was already in waiting. Blanche and Guly made their appearance from a side aisle, and Wilkins introduced them to Della, telling her he had engaged them, as dear friends of his, to officiate in the approaching ceremony. Della expressed her pleasure, and half-crying, half-smiling, kissed Blanche affectionately, telling her she hoped, since she was one of Wilkins' friends, that she would henceforth be a sister to her, and that they would all be very happy. Then Wilkins drew that fluttering hand in his, and led Della to the altar. Guly and Blanche stepped to their places, and the ceremony began.

  Leaning against a pillar, a little in the shadow, behind the marriage-group, stood Minny, the quadroon; with face blanched to an almost unearthly pallor, she listened to the vows which fell from Bernard's lips. With chilled heart, again came back the memory of the hour when those same lips, in this very spot, had thus sworn to love and cherish her. But what of this? her heart had been legally broken, and she had no right to complain!