NEW MISTRESS AT KENNONS.
| "When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, |
| When she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't." |
Mrs. Jerusha Thornton Rush, from the time of Ellice's death, had firmly resolved on marrying Duncan Lisle. He, on the other hand, had firmly resolved never to allow that scheming widow to supplant his lost wife.
Whether her will was stronger than his, or whether he changed his mind, it matters not; at the end of three years Mrs. Rush had carried her point and become Mrs. Lisle—one of the incomprehensibilities which may be left without comment.
She had struggled so long and doubtfully for the prize, that, by the time she had won it, she was disposed to undervalue and despise it.
"I will make him feel in his turn, when in my power, how charming the sensation of being spitted or speared!" she had threatened, and she kept her word.
"I jist knowed it from de fust," declared Aunt Amy, sorrow and anger in her tones, and the Indian expression assuming mastery in her face. "Somehow I jist felt it all over me dat dat woman would come aroun' massa and jes make him marry her. She's 'witched him; she's gin him love-potions, I make no doubt; and I 'spec's"—here she lowered her voice to a whisper—"I 'spec's she's sold herself to de debil to make him help her. Nuthin' else could ever 'duced Massa Duncan to marry such a—such a crocodile. He'll never be sorry but onc't, and 'dats all his life."
"Der's an end to all our 'joyment," sighed Chloe, grown more weighty in flesh; "de Lord knows what's going to become of us—an' all her host o' bad niggers mixin' in wid our'n, and she domineerin' ober eberyting. O, it's an orful bad day for us, sure! An', then, that hateful boy o' her'n—he's worse 'an pizen, notstan'ing his slick, ile-y ways—'tween him an' her we'll stan' mighty slim chance. She bad's bad can be, an' he worse."
China shed tears silently over her needle, giving now and then a groan. She, too, was haunted by a presentiment that her happy days were over. For her, Miss Rusha, as all the servants called her, had ever evinced unconcealed dislike, for the very reason, it would seem, that it irked her to behold any person in peace and contentment. She especially hated meek, gentle, uncomplaining people, and loved to render them uncomfortable. And China, Ellice's favorite house-servant, was so good, gentle, and obedient, that her former mistress had seldom found fault with her.
Mr. Lisle, immediately after his marriage, had taken his bride North on a visit to the principal cities, intending to call upon the Temples, to make acquaintance with his loved sister's child.
His stay at this latter place was short indeed, for Miss Rusha, presuming to find fault with Juliet's mode of training, or rather of indulging Althea, had provoked the latter lady's ire to such a degree as to render any further tarrying out of the question. For some reason or other, Mrs. Lisle would have persuaded her husband to make an effort for gaining the guardianship of his niece. This, however, he peremptorily refused to do, although he became greatly attached to the child, who was lovely and winning to a remarkable degree.
Upon the return to Kennons of the newly-married people, a tutor was secured for the two boys, Thornton and Hubert. It was soon found, however, that Kennons was not large enough for them both; that they could not study peaceably in the same room, nor, without a quarrel, at least in words, exercise upon the same grounds. The tutor was overwearied with incessant struggles to keep the two from variance. He advised that one should be sent away, or, if both should be sent, they should go to different points of the compass. Mrs. Lisle would not consent for her only child to go away from her; as to Thornton, he declared he would not be sent away to school. Hubert was more willing, at home his life was a misery on account of Thornton and his mother; any other place would be preferable, thought this motherless boy of eleven years. He was accordingly sent to a Northern school, where, with intervals of vacation, he spent the next eight years of his life.
The servants at Kennons had not been mistaken in their calculations. The new mistress sowed divisions and discord with a lavish hand. Duncan was annoyed with complaints against this and that one, until his patience gave way, and he plainly told his wife that he would not listen to them; that his servants were uncommonly good until she had come in the midst of them. Greatly exasperated at this, she treated them still more harshly. She placed over them her own servants, not out of love for them, but to humiliate those who had been the faithful servants and friends of her hated rival, Ellice.
China was the first victim. She was too ladylike in her deportment, too quiet and silent in her ways. She was ousted from her low rocker and favorite window, deprived of her needle, which had in some sort become a life-companion, and made to do all sorts of drudgery; no settled work, but hurried from that, this, and the other; never knowing what was coming next—the hardest kind of work—slavery, indeed.
China endeavored to do faithfully all that she was bidden; sewing, however, was her trade; she knew how to do naught else well; she was consequently chidden and scolded from morning until night.
Mrs. Lisle's antipathy toward her grew every day more strong. She sought a cause for having her degraded from the rank of house-servant to field-hand. She had employed more than one fruitless stratagem.
China was very fond of oranges. Probably this taste had been cultivated by her former mistress, who, also, being very partial to the same fruit, often shared her stores with her favorite servant. Mrs. Lisle became aware of this. She placed some oranges in the drawer of her bureau, and, contrary to custom, ordered China to "set the room to rights."
Morning after morning the fault-finding mistress counted her oranges, and, to her disappointment, found not one missing.
On the fourth morning the fatal drawer was left slightly drawn. As China passed it with her duster the perfume caught her attention; she peeped within, and the gleam of the oranges tempted her vision; she gazed at them as did Eve at the apples; she took one in her hands, and thrust it to her nose; she said to herself, "My dear Miss Ellice would have given me some of these; Miss Rusha is too mean for human; perhaps she would never miss one; if she did, how was she to know who took it?" and thrusting the orange in her pocket, she finished hastily her work, went out of sight and sound, and feasted upon the coveted dainty. No sooner was it devoured than she repented heartily. The serpent had tempted her; she had yielded; now, when the mischief was done, he called her a fool, and promised her she should be discovered; he did not tell her how soon; and though China was filled with fears, she little dreamed that that very moment her relentless enemy was triumphing over her success.
"An orange has been stolen from my drawer," exclaimed Miss Rusha, severely, to the knot of servants summoned together by her order; "stolen without leave or license," reiterated the angry mistress, though, in truth, more secretly pleased than angry, "and I am bound to know who is the offender. A thief shall not remain in this house; and I here warn you all that she who proves to be the culprit shall be condemned to the fields."
The women and girls sidled about, grinning, ogling each other with swimming eyes. China, however, was an exception; she looked neither to the right nor left, but trembled, and was downcast. It flashed over her quick mind instantly that for her a trap had been deliberately laid, and she had stepped straight into it.
China had heretofore prided herself upon her truthfulness and honesty; to this she had been trained by the best of mistresses; and if there was aught on earth she despised it was a deceitful, thieving servant. O, how had she fallen!
Buried in her own painful emotions, China had not noticed that the question put to and denied by the others was now addressed to her.
"Do you not hear? Are you deaf and dumb, China, that you do not answer me? Speak, now! Did you, or did you not, steal this orange?"
Thus suddenly aroused from this painful reverie to confront the angered eyes of the mistress she both feared and hated, she hesitated, then said, in a low tone, but defiantly:
"I did not."
At that moment China hated herself more than her mistress, and glanced helplessly around, as if for some fig-leaf beneath which to hide.
"You did not!" repeated the mistress slowly and with emphasis, fastening upon the poor girl her merciless eyes. "You say you did not; all the servants say they did not. We will see."
Mrs. Lisle produced a tiny paper from her pocket, and emptied its powdered contents into half a wine-glass of water; stirring the mixture, she gave a spoonful to each suspected person, and then ordered them to stand in a row in the back-yard.
This cruel woman watched to see the sable faces turned to a deathly yellow; ipecacuanha was a successful rack and torture. To all, however, but to China, did the consciousness of innocence afford alleviation. Fresh pieces of peel ejected from her stomach gave ample witness as to who had purloined the orange. All her companions were surprised, some grieved, some rejoiced; for
| "Base Envy withers at another's joy, |
| And hates that excellence it cannot reach." |
"It is well for pride to have a fall," said one.
"She thought herself so much better'n all the rest on us," quoth another.
"I allus thought she wa'nt no better'n she should be, for all her puttin' on such airs," spoke a third contemptuously.
"She won't find no rocking-chair, nor no time to sing love-songs, nor make herself bows and fine lady fixins out in de corn and 'bacco patch. Heigho!" crowed Dinah.
Amy's Indian eyes swam in tears, and she and the mighty Chloe cast pitiful glances at their disgraced companion.
"She never did it of her own 'cord," thought the shrewd Amy; "Miss Rusha jes threw on her her spell; she 'witched her as she did Massa; she made her go do it; she jes did now, so!"
"You will not enter the house again," said Mrs. Lisle to the proved culprit. "My Jane will bring your things from Aunt Amy's cabin, which she has allowed you to occupy—you are never to let me see you about the place again—never—or you will rue the day. I will see Mr. Fuller, the overseer, who will assign you a place. Now go, deceitful thief and liar—your punishment is but too mild."
China, in going out from the home of her master, would fain have gone around by the grave of Ellice. But, besides thinking she might be watched, she felt in her disgrace too unworthy to kneel upon that sacred soil.
So, scarcely able to hold herself upright, which she must needs do, in order to support her bundle upon her head, she walked wearily onward, from the fair white house of Kennons, down the well-worn path that led to the rude, unsightly cabins of the field-hands, still more rude.
She was still weak, and suffering from effects of the harsh emetic, and this, with her shame and sorrow at her crime, more than her banishment, rendered her hopeless and wretched.
Duncan Lisle was riding slowly homeward from a consultation with his overseer. Whose was that reeling, swaying figure in the path before him? Not China of pleasant face, of quiet speech and mien? No, and yes. What could it mean? What mortal sickness of mind or body had wrought such ghastly woe in the face but yesterday so placid?
"Are you China, or China's ghost?" questioned he, drawing rein as he came up to this favorite house-servant.
"You have said it, master Duncan; I am but the ghost of poor China," and the ponderous bundle dropped first to the horse's nose and then at his forefeet, while her face fell into her trembling hands, her tears flowing down through her fingers, the first that she had shed.
"Tell me all about it, China—but the sun is hot, come under the shade of this tree," and the master led the way to an umbrageous beech close by. There, still resting upon his horse, while China leaned against the enormous trunk, the story was told of the day's doings without exaggeration or extenuation.
Though it was a clear story of theft and falsehood, Duncan Lisle naturally took the same view of it as had the humble Amy. The master of Kennons had not been ignorant of his wife's systematic persecution of this inoffensive servant. He had more than once spoken to her on the subject—but finding he had but made the matter worse, ceased to interfere. Now, he suspected China to be the victim of a successful plot. His wife had made a bold move, and without his sanction. A more fiery man, yielding to indignation and to a sense of the injustice wrought, would have taken China home again, saying to his wife both by word and action, that he was still master in his own house, and of his own servants. But Duncan Lisle knew that life for China at the house was over. She had been long enough suffering incessant martyrdom under the heavy sway of the new mistress. Yes, it would be better for her to go away. He regarded her pityingly; then that emotion was quickly reflected from her to himself.
"She can go away—she can find happiness elsewhere. O, is there not somewhere in the wide world a place of beautiful peace?" groaned the unhappy man to himself, while his eyes wandered involuntarily toward the white column that gleamed in the sunlight nearly a mile distant. By an effort the master recovered himself.
"So she has sent you down to be with Bet, and Nan, and Kizzie, and Sam, Jake, Jim, and all those fellows? You can't live there a month. Would you like your freedom, China? Would you like to go to Richmond—you could get plenty of places, either as nurse or seamstress?"
"O, master Duncan, I should die if I had to leave Kennons"—for this first thought of complete separation from all she had known and loved was intolerable.
"You can try it then down yonder. I will ride down to-night or to-morrow, and speak to Mr. Fuller. You can be thinking it over. You have been a good girl—I owe you something. If you can't stand it there—and I know you can't—I will give you papers of manumission and money to take you to Richmond. You have a close mouth—do not speak of this. Well, keep up heart and God bless you."
The master and servant parted—the one to ride wearily to his unpeaceful home, the other to journey along more hopefully to the shadeless cabins in the fields.