“Often, sir. Be seated,” said the lady, charmed at the idea of having a visit from the lord of a thousand slaves.
“I have in my barouche, madam, a little girl I wish to leave with you. She is my property, and I want her well taken care of. Can you receive her?”
Mrs. Gentry looked significantly at the gentleman, and he, as if anticipating her interrogatory, replied: “The child came into my possession only within this hour. I bought her quite accidentally at auction. She has none of my blood in her veins, I assure you.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes”; and, walking to the window, Ratcliff motioned to one of his negroes to bring the child in. This was done; and the infant was placed on the floor with her little bundle by her side, and nude as she was when exposed on the auction-block.
“A quadroon, I should think,” said Mrs. Gentry.
“I really don’t know what she is,” replied Ratcliff. “I want you, however, to take her into your family, and raise her as carefully as if you knew her to be my daughter. You shall be liberally paid for your trouble.”
“Is she to know that she is a slave?”
“As to that I can instruct you hereafter. Meanwhile keep the fact a secret, and mention my name to no one in connection with her. You can occasionally send me a daguerrotype, that I may see if her looks fulfil her promise. I wish you to be particular about her music and French, also her dancing. Let her understand all about dress too. You can draw upon me as often as you choose for the amount we fix upon; and the probability is, I shall not wish to see her till she reaches her fifteenth or sixteenth year. I rely upon you to keep her strictly, and, as she grows older, to guard her against making acquaintances with any of the other sex. Will seven hundred dollars a year pay you for your trouble?”
“Amply, sir,” said the gratified lady. “I will do my best to carry out your wishes.”