“Why not? Where will you find her equal?”
“But just think of it,—she was sold to me at public auction as a slave.”
“Yes, and the next day Mrs. Gentry wrote you that the coloring stuff had washed off from her skin, and she was whiter than any one in the school. You wrote not a word in reply. But did not the thought occur to you, the child has been kidnapped? Of course it did! In this great city of rogues and murderers, did you not consider there were plenty of men capable of such an act? Deny it if you can.”
“Josy, you’re enough to unsteady a man’s nerves. How did you discover there was such a being as Miss Murray? and how did you get out of my mind what I had thought about the kidnapping? and how, what I myself had hardly dreamed of, the idea, namely, of making her my wife?”
“When one loves,” replied Josephine, “one is quick to watch, and sharp to detect. At first, as I’ve told you, I was disposed to be jealous. But reflection soon convinced me ’ would be for your happiness to take this young person, now in the false position of a slave, and educate her for your wife. Even if the world should know her story, what would you care? You’re above all social criticism. Besides, would it not be comical for our swarthy Creole ladies to snuff at such a beautiful blonde, whose very presence would give the lie to all that malice could insinuate as to her birth?”
“O, I don’t care for what society may say. I’m out of the reach of its sneers. And what you urge, Josy, is reasonable,—very. Yes, she’s a remarkably fine girl, and I’ve certainly taken a strong fancy to her. Some of our first young men are already deep in love with her. Of course she’d be eternally grateful, if I were to emancipate her and make her my wife.”
Josephine could hardly repress a smile of triumph to see this thorough-bred tyrant, who knew no law but his own will, thus falling into the snare she was so delicately spreading for him. Something of the satisfaction Van Amburgh might have felt when his tiger succumbed, spread its glow over her cheeks. Never in his coarse calculations had Ratcliff thought of showing Clara any further mercy than he had shown to the humblest of his concubines. And yet Josephine, by her apt suggestions, had half persuaded him, little given as he was to introspective analysis, that the idea of making the girl his wife had originated in his own mind!
“Did he keep the whole story from her because he supposed Josy would be jealous?” asked the quadroon, with a caress.
“Why, yes, Josy; to tell the truth, I thought there’d have to be a scene sure, when you found out I’d been educating such a girl with a view to her taking your place some time. So I kept dark. But you’re a trump,—you are! I shouldn’t wonder if you could acquire the same influence over her that you now have over my wife.”
“Easily!” said Josephine. “I’ve seen her. I like her. I know we should agree. When she learns it was my wish you should emancipate and marry her, she will regard me as her friend. I can teach her not to be jealous of me.”