Detecting the trap, the wife at once replied: “Thank you, dear husband. This generosity is so like you! Can she be freed?”
“No. There are recent State laws against emancipation. It was found there were too many weak-minded persons, who, in their last moments, beginning to have scruples about slave-holding, would think to purchase heaven by emancipating their slaves. The example was bad, and productive of discontent among those left in bondage.”
“Well, then, Ratcliff, there’s one little form you must consent to. The title-deed must be vested in Mr. Winslow.”
Ratcliff started as if recoiling from a pitfall. The remark brought home to his mind the disagreeable consideration that there was nearly half a million of dollars which ought to come to his wife, but which was absolutely in the keeping and under the control of Simon Winslow. It happened in this wise: The father of Mrs. Ratcliff, old Kittler, not having that entire faith in his son-in-law which so distinguished a member of the chivalry as the South Carolinian ought to have commanded, gave into the hands of Winslow a large sum of money, relying solely upon his honor to use it in loco parentis for the benefit of the lady. But there were no legal restrictions imposed upon Simon as to the disposition of the property, and if he had chosen to give or throw it away, or keep it himself, he might have done it with impunity.
Winslow acted much as he would have done if Mrs. Ratcliff had been his own daughter. He invested the money solely for her ultimate benefit and disposal, seeing that her husband already had millions which she had brought him. Ratcliff, however, regarded as virtually his the money in Winslow’s hands, and had several angry discussions with him on the subject. But Simon was impracticable. The only concession he would make was to say, that, in the event of Mrs. Ratcliff’s death, he should respect any requests she might have made. There had consequently been an informal will, if will it could be called, made by her a year before, in Ratcliff’s favor.
Wanting money now to carry out his speculations in slaves, Ratcliff had again applied to Winslow for this half a million,—had tried wheedlings and threats, both in vain. He had even threatened to denounce Simon before the Committee of Safety,—to denounce him as a “damned Yankee and Abolitionist.” To which Simon had replied by taking a pinch of snuff.
Simon, though born somewhere in the vicinity of Plymouth Rock, was one of the oldest residents of New Orleans. He had helped General Jackson beat off Packenham. He had stood by him in his rough handling of the habeas corpus act. Simon had been a slaveholder, though rather as an experiment than for profit; for, finding that the State Legislature were going to pass a law against emancipation, he took time by the forelock, and not only made all his slaves free, but placed them where they could earn their living.
The invalid wife’s proposal to vest the title to the white slave in Winslow caused in Ratcliff a visible embarrassment.
“You know, my dear,” he replied, “I would do anything for your gratification; but there are particular reasons why—”
“Why what, husband?”