Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Her own avoidance of all discussion on the subject with her neighbours, had been followed by the same sort of discretion on their parts, and it was now several years since the old lady had heard the subject alluded to in general conversation at all.

  Great wealth, for which there is no certain heir, generally produces great consideration to the possessor, and Mrs. Whitlaw had profited by this, more than she was herself aware of; she would otherwise, perhaps, have been less shocked and surprised by the vehemence with which, for the purpose of enlightening Mrs. Allen Barnaby, the increase of severity in discipline was insisted upon by some of the party present as the only mode of averting the mischief which some speculators had threatened, from the rapid increase of the negro population. The old lady got fidgety, and was debating in her own mind whether she should not say that she thought the dinner had made the room rather over-hot, and that she did not feel over-well, when the project of escape was put out of her head by a glance and a smile which she saw hastily and furtively exchanged between two of the sable attendants.

  It is so universally the custom, wherever slaves make part of an establishment, to treat them as if they were literally stocks and stones, incapable of hearing or of seeing anything said or done — before them, that in this case, as in many others, the subject of their own condition was as freely discussed while they were serving at table, as if no such animals had been in the room.

  Old Mrs. Whitlaw was too much used to this mode of proceeding for the uncomfortable feelings she experienced to have been produced or even increased by their presence, and it was purely by accident that her eyes had been directed towards the men between whom the above-mentioned look and smile had been exchanged.

  But the moment she saw it, a strong feeling of suspicion arose in her mind, that one of those movements of resistance which occasionally startle slave-holders, and which act with the frightful but useless energy of a limb convulsed by intolerable pain, was approaching among the slaves of Colonel Beauchamp, and the old lady would have given pretty considerably many dollars, could she at that very moment have transported herself into the midst of her own slaves, for the purpose of having a little confidential conversation with them. But as this was impossible, she resolved to sit still and quietly look on.

  Another individual to whom the splendid banquet, and the popular theme discussed around it, produced a degree of suffering that it required some philosophy to endure, was Annie. No opportunity during the whole of that long morning had occurred for anything to pass between Frederic Egerton and herself which could persuade her that the conclusion to which she had come the evening before respecting him was erroneous.

  It was not that she doubted his admiration of her — that would certainly have been difficult, inasmuch as every glance of his eyes betrayed it; for the fascination of her beauty rendered the not looking at her a task, which, however often resolved upon, he found it impossible to perform. Annie was not wholly unconscious of this; but a profound conviction that his having seen her surrounded by slaves, and an agent, however innocently, in the degradation of the race whom, she well knew, he considered in all respects as the equal children of the same Almighty Father, had taken possession of her mind; she considered herself as one stigmatised in his eyes by a blot that could never be removed; and all her energy of mind was now tinned to the task of avoiding him as much as possible at present, and fogetting him wholly when he was no longer near. But it was impossible, even for the furtherance of this very desirable object, for Annie to leave the room while the dinner lasted; she too, therefore, submitted to endure its heat and its noise, giving no other indication that she was ill at ease, than the somewhat more than common paleness of her cheek betrayed.

  So the party went on with every appearance of universal satisfaction; Mrs. Allen Barnaby’s health was drunk, and prosperity to planters and plantations toasted with three times three. And then the ladies retired, they having remained thus long solely in compliment to the heroine of the fête; a compliment which was acknowledged by Mrs. Allen Barnaby’s drawing forth from her bag her little note-book, and very evidently employing herself by inscribing therein some of the wise and very sublime maxims which had been uttered by the gentlemen present.

  On re-entering the drawing-room, the most consequential ladies of the party immediately crowded around her, beseeching that she would favour them with her autograph, or, if it were possible, with a few words written in their albums. This was the first time that such a request had ever been made to our heroine, except in her dreams; and the graceful manner in which she bowed and smiled her acquiescence, was really admirable. This very gracious and ready compliance with her wishes was no sooner made known, than nearly, every lady present flew to the secret corner in which on entering she had deposited her receptacle for wit; which, in fact, every lady who arrived that day had done, with the exception of Mrs. Whitlaw (who had, as she candidly confessed, no taste whatever for learning); and having drawn it thence, speedily surrounded the illustrious authoress with a perfect galaxy of brilliant volumes, red, green, blue, and yellow, each in succession eagerly spread open before her to receive the valued ornament of her name.

  On the first page offered to her, Mrs. Allen Barnaby modestly inscribed that name and nothing more; but perceiving a look of disappointed hope in the countenance of the fair lady who had presented it, she (not manfully, but womanfully) called upon her genius to help her, and resolutely determined, notwithstanding the multitude of the rainbow volumes around her, that every one of them should bear witness of her extraordinary talents.

  With a charming smile, she drew again towards her the book in which she had written her name, and wrote above it,

  Immortal country, hail!

  Finding by the universal “My!” which broke in various notes of admiration from the fair petitioners, that this was exactly the sort of thing they wanted, she continued in the same strain till her task was accomplished. She found no difficulty whatever in producing the slight degree of Variety which she deemed necessary, and one lady carried away with her the novel phrase —

  Success to the Stripes and the Stars! another —

  The extinguisher of the Old World and the candle of the New! — THE UNION.

  This concetto brought down another shower of the same eloquent monosyllables, and “Oh my!” resounded through the room. It is not necessary to indite every tour de force by which Mrs. Allen Barnaby proved her powers of extemporary composition, for though all admirable, they were, it must be confessed, exceedingly alike in sentiment, if not in expression; but in the last, she seemed indeed to surpass herself, and greater than ever was the delight manifested when the happy owner of the last album presented, read aloud these words —

  May lawful slavery survive, as long as the sun and moon endureth!

  It may easily be imagined that, upon the gentlemen making their appearance, they were immediately made to share in the pleasure which these various inscriptions were so well calculated to produce, and once again Mrs. Allen Barnaby found herself the object of admiration which amounted to enthusiasm.

  As soon as the expression of their feelings had in some degree subsided, Colonel Beauchamp observed, that their having met with the most admirable lady in Europe, was no good cause why his sporting neighbours should not be indulged with their usual game at whist, or Boston; a hint which immediately led to the summoning sundry negroes, and setting forth sundry card-tables.

  While these arrangements were making, Major Allen Barnaby wandered about the room making conversation, of which a jocose sort of sketch respecting his own caprices about playing at cards formed the principal theme. He laughed heartily, as he declared that it often and often happened to him, that he could not make up his mind to think of any single rule of playing, and hardly to know one card from another; while at another time, if the humour seized him, he could go on at it four and twenty hours together, and never feel tired a bit.

  “Well, sir,” was the reply from one grandee to whom these
little personal peculiarities were revealed, “we must hope that the humour may be on you this evening, for there are two or three here that never find themselves in company without choosing to have a go against the four aces.”

  Two tables were speedily made up, at one of which two ladies took their places, and the stakes were fixed at a moderate sum; at the other, four gentlemen were to play, and at this table, the fixing the stakes was left to themselves.

  “Which party will you join, Major Allen Barnaby?” demanded Colonel Beauchamp, adding very politely— “In course, sir, as a stranger, we should one and all be happy, I expect, to leave the fix to your own choice, putting out of sight our complaisance to your excellent lady.”

  Out of the four other gentlemen about to sit down, two appeared rather anxious that the whimsical major, to whose account of himself they had been listening, should take his place with the ladies, and one of them said bluntly —

  “It would hardly be fair, Major Allen Barnaby, sir, to let you, with the careless ways you talk about, sit down at this table; because I, for one, always play a pretty considerable brisk stake.”

  “That’s the only way to keep me awake, sir,” replied the major, laughing. “Men in our profession, as I dare say you know, have generally a few thousands of loose cash floating on purpose to give them a little excitement now and then, when they get a trifle sleepy in their quarters. I have run up and down, for my part, from about ten thousand to nothing, and back again, above a score of times since I began; and I find it has come so even in the long run, that I care very little how high I play. But I never,” he added, in a low voice, “I never play with ladies, it puts me out altogether.”

  This decided the matter, and Major Allen Barnaby, Colonel Beauchamp, and two other gentlemen settled themselves round a table in a quiet corner, as gentlemen do settle themselves when they are going to amuse themselves in earnest.

  Had Annie Beauchamp remained in the room, it is likely enough that the hours of that long evening might have offered opportunities to Egerton too favourable to be neglected, for the making her comprehend a little better than she did at present what were his wishes, his hopes, his intentions concerning her; but, with the blindness of a perverse little mortal, she saw nothing of what was passing in his head or his heart, and she thought of nothing but the silence that had come over him on the preceding evening, when, as she confessed to herself with shame that amounted to agony, she was waiting for every word which might fall from his lips, as if her fate hung upon it. The recollection of these past feelings, together with the blank disappointment which had succeeded them, was more than she could bear any longer en plein salon, and begging her mother to apologise to the ladies for her absence, by telling them that she had so bad a headache as to oblige her to go to bed, she stole away, taking with her, as it seemed to Frederic Egerton, all that portion of light which could make it worth while for him to keep his eyes open, and for a few moments after he had watched her retreat, and listened to her mother’s explanation of it, he meditated the commission of a similar act of self-indulgence. But he luckily recollected that his doing so would neither be particularly polite nor particularly discreet; and he therefore abandoned the project; the more readily, perhaps, because he happened to observe Don Tornorino move quietly away from the place he occupied beside his lady, and station himself at no great distance from his respected father-inlaw, about whom he revolved with the same graceful air of nonchalance which had once before attracted his attention.

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  “MY dear,” said Major Allen Barnaby, on waking, the morning after Colonel Beauchamp’s dinner-party, “I am afraid I won rather too much last night.”

  “Won too much? What can you mean, good man?” replied his wife, rousing herself from sleep that had produced many delightful dreams. “Does your tender conscience reproach you, my Donny? If so, make over your winnings to me, and the generosity shall atone for — for whatever you reproach yourself with, my dear.”

  “I don’t think it would answer,” he returned, in a tone rather too grave for jesting. “The thirst which gets hold of one in this hateful climate forces a man to drink, whether he will or no, and I have a sort of confused recollection of having got rather excited last night, and going it, may be, a trifle too fast.”

  “Mercy on me! I hope you did no such thing!” she replied looking a good deal alarmed. “Just think of the horror of having our beautiful smooth-sailing here spoilt by such a piece of folly as that!”

  “Think of it? I can’t bear to think of it,” said he. “Our only hope is that the others were in the same condition as myself, and will recollect nothing very clearly. But tell me,” he added, “wasn’t that stiff young Egerton buzzing about me all the time? He looks like one that might be as dry as Etna before he’d ever think of recruiting himself by a dram. Wasn’t he hanging about the table, wife? I have a confused sort of notion of having been bothered by it.”

  “He did nothing the whole evening but watch the players,” she replied, looking considerably alarmed. “If this is to be the Curzon-street business over again, what is to become of us?”

  “Don’t lose your courage, my dear,” said he, with a degree of composure that he thought was well calculated to re-assure, “if things don’t prosper here, we must go ahead, as the natives say.”

  “It may be easier to say than to do, Major Allen,” she replied, not a little provoked by the indifference with which he appeared ready to sacrifice all the advantages which she had obtained with so much ability. “You may go ahead, as you call it, with such a stone thrown after you as may pretty speedily bring you to a stand still.”

  “Very likely, my dear; especially if you get a fancy to forget the name I ought to go by. I must beg you won’t take to calling me Major Allen, Mrs. Barnaby, or mischief will be sure to come of it. But don’t let you and I quarrel, wife. It is too late in the day for either of us to profit by that now. I think we had better change our quarters, I won’t deny that; but I dare say that your cleverness will find out some excuse for doing it, that will set all right again. That is to say, if we once fairly get off; for I won’t stay, mind that, if you please, so don’t waste your wit in trying to contrive it.”

  “Good heaven! have you really brought matters to such a pass as that, major?” said the unfortunate lady, her eyes flashing and her cheeks becoming redder than ever rouge made them. “What a return for all my enormous exertions for you! And such unequalled success, too! It is enough to drive one mad!”

  “Not enough to drive such a woman as you are, mad, my charming Barnaby,” said he, with a coaxing smile. “Besides, my dear, you have never yet asked how much this rather bold winning may amount to. If we get clear off with it, that may make some considerable difference, I promise you.”

  “What difference,” said she, “can it make to me, sir, I should like to know? You have taken care to keep your winnings pretty snugly to yourself, you will please to remember; whereas I have been labouring, as you well know, to make the great and honourable celebrity I have obtained as advantageous to you as myself, and this is the return I get for it.”

  To do my heroine justice, she was not a weeping lady; but at this moment, and especially as she pronounced the word honourable, which not only set off with great effect the indiscreet proceedings of her spouse, but brought fresh upon her memory the delightful feelings with which she had listened to the demands for her autograph, at this moment tears certainly started to her eyes, and she seemed determined to make the most of them, blowing her nose a good deal, and even producing at intervals something very like a sob.

  Major Allen Barnaby had left his bed when this conversation began, and had been employing himself from the moment he had thrown on his dressing-gown in the necessary operation of shaving, but upon observing the condition of his wife, and at the same time feeling the force of the words she had spoken, he laid aside the instrument which he was employing upon his chin, walked across the room to the spot where he had deposite
d the garments he had worn the night Before, and extracting his pocket-book from the receptacle in which it was lodged, walked back again to the bed, and laid it unopened on her pillow.

  “There, my dear,” he said, as he quietly renewed his shaving; “there! you never had that little book in your hands before, to the best of my knowledge and belief; and now I recommend you to dry your handsome eyes, and look at it. It is just the first packet you will come to that you will find the most worthy of observation.”

  The mind of my admirable heroine was not formed to dissolve in watery woe at such a moment as this. She instantly sat up in bed, opened the pocket-book, and obeying exactly the instructions she had received, came upon a packet of exceedingly dirty papers, among which, however, was one little scrap newly written upon, and looking like a bit of first-rate letter paper. The dirty papers were, as the lady well knew, uncleanly thumbed bank-notes, and their whole amount was seven hundred and eighty dollars, but the scrap of letter-paper was worth them all put together, and a pretty considerable bit of money besides; being an order, payable at sight, upon a bank at Washington, and signed “Themistocles Joseph John Hapford,” a name already well known to the attentive ears of Mrs. Allen Barnaby as that of a senator of first-rate standing, a very wealthy planter, and lastly, as one of the brilliant company who had been invited to meet them on the preceding day. The paper thus satisfactorily inscribed might, therefore, be fairly estimated at the value indicated by the figures it bore, which amounted to the pleasant sum of one thousand five hundred and fifty dollars. For a moment the countenance of Mrs. Allen Barnaby became radiant, but in the next it faded again, and she exclaimed, with a deep sigh —