‘I say “You jes’ stop dat, you bad man. I knows all about you; and you’ll nebber get me down to cotton fields agen, for if you tries it, I’ll blow de roof ob de Oleander Bungalow off your head, and tell de ole master eberyting!”’
‘An’ what is der to tell?’ cried Jerusha, with sudden interest.
‘Sakes, gal, more than you guess! But I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you, now my missy safe, and goin’ to marry de Governor. ’Sides, my missy not behave berry grateful to me. ’Tis de way wid de white folk. Why, Jerusha, dat oberseer Missy Quita’s lover for ober a year, and she go out night after night to meet him in de bungalow, as I’m a livin’ woman—’
‘She—go—meet—Massa Courcelles?’ gasped Jerusha.
‘Sure! And more, dat baby down at Doctor’s bungalow no more Miss Lizzie’s child than it is yours. Dat baby ’long to Missy Quita and Massa Courcelles. I knows! but I never tell till my missy so ungrateful as to leave me behind, and dat man swear and call me “d—d hag!” But you nebber tell nobody else, Jerusha! You keep dat secret like your life, till de wedding’s ober—and then, what matter?’
‘Dat baby is his? Oh, de false man!’ cried the coolie, with flashing eyes, as she sprang to her feet, and held little Henri at arm’s length. ‘And dis chile ob mine, dis white-skinned boy, who you think he ’long to, Aunty Jessica? Why, to that villain too! Dat’s his fader! Your fine Massa Courcelles, what ruin your missy and me same time!’
‘What you say, Jerusha? Your baby’s fader de oberseer?’
‘Sure! Didn’t he favour me ober all de other coolie girls on de plantation? Didn’t he give me my earrings and bangles and my Sunday shawl, and tell me I de prettiest girl he ebber see? And I fool enough to believe him, Aunty; I thinkin’ he lub me allays, and be good to me, for little Henri’s sake. But when he found I should hab a baby, he sent me back to de fields, and I work dere till I nearly drop. And he beat me—yes, Aunty!’ shrieked Jerusha in her rage, as she turned her flaming eyes up to the skies; ‘he whipped me and my poor baby, and laughed when I dared him to strike us! And I vowed to hab my revenge on him, and I will hab it yet. Massa Courcelles shall live to wish he nebber deceived a poor coolie girl, or struck her baby! That’s so!’
‘And I’ll help you, Jerusha, for I hate dat man, and I swore once to give him obeah water for deceiving my poor missy. And now he serve you de same—dat’s twice bad; and I know anudder heart what he’s broken, though she as good and pure as de white May lilies in de garden—and dat’s Miss Lizzie.’
‘Nebber Miss Lizzie!’ cried Jerusha incredulously. ‘Miss Lizzie do wicked ting? Why, she’s de best woman I ebber see!’