“Perhaps ’ tis vague even in your own mind as yet. But I’ll tell you what I mean. Your wife is not likely to live many weeks longer. You’ll inherit from her a large estate. You’ll wish to marry again, and this time with a view to offspring. Both taste and policy will lead you to choose a young and accomplished woman. Who more suitable than Miss Murray?”
“Why, Josephine, she’s a slave!”
“A slave, is she? Look me in the face and tell me, if you can, you believe she has a drop of African blood in her veins. No! That child must have been kidnapped. And you have often suspected as much.”
“Where the Devil—Confound the woman!” muttered Ratcliff, half frightened at what looked like clairvoyance.
“Yes,” she continued, “her parents must have been of gentle blood. Look at her hands and feet. Hear her speak.”
“What is there you don’t find out, Josy?” exclaimed Ratcliff. “Here you tell me things that have been working in my mind, which I was hardly aware of myself till you mentioned them!”
“O, I’ve known all about your search for the girl. ’T was not till after a struggle I could reconcile it to my mind to lend you my aid. But this was what I thought: He will soon be a widower. He will desire to marry; not that he does not love his Josy—”
“Yes, Josy, you’re right there; you’re a jewel of a woman. Such devilish good common sense! Go on.”
“He would marry, not that he does not love his Josy, but because he wants a legitimate child of his own. That’s but natural and proper. Why should I oppose it, and thus give him cause to cast me out from his affections? Why not give him new reason for attachment, by showing him I am capable of a sacrifice for his sake? Yes, he will love me none the less for letting him see that without one jealous pang I can help him to a young and beautiful wife.”
“But, Josy, would you really recommend my marrying this girl?”