“‘That’s it,’ shouts Jim. ‘Why, he’s a coloured man hisself—he wouldn’t be likely to find fault wi’ the man for bein’ a nigger. You mustn’t ha’ no more to do wi’ him, my girl. ’Twas a mercy I met ye, and could warn ye in time.’
“‘Oh! but what can I do?’ cries the poor maid, a-sobbin’ fit to break her heart. ‘There’s not a bit o’ use in my goin’ back. None of ’em would believe the tale. My uncle would make me go all the same, I know.’
“‘E-es, to be sure,’ says Maria Robbins, looking at Jim very sour-like; ‘’tisn’t very likely as Mr. Meadway ’ud be put off by a chance tale from a stranger. There he’ve a-been at the expense o’ gettin’ everthin’ ready for the maid, and this ’ere gentleman what writes so straightforward an’ sends the money so handsome, may be some quite other Mr. Johnson. I mind,’ says Maria, ‘the time o’ the Crimee War, Miss Old went into deep black for some chap called John Old, what got killed out abroad, and what she reckoned was her brother, an’ ’twasn’t him at all.’
“‘Samuel Johnson, o’ Longwood, is a nigger,’ cries Jim, smacking his hands together. ‘His grandfather was a slave. He belonged to some queer old gentleman what gave ’en the name to start wi’, ’cause ’twas the name of some old ancient chap what wrote a book or some such thing; an’ this chap was named for him Samuel Johnson too. There ain’t no mistake, you bet,’ says he.
“Well, Tamsine was a-cryin’ and a-shakin’ all over like a aspen leaf all this time; and when Maria was advisin’ her to be sensible an’ not hearken to them sort of idle tales, I thought she’d ha’ had a fit. I could ha’ laughed any other time to hear wold Maria, as was so dead again’ the girl marryin’ when she thought ’twas a nice match, an’ now she was all for her doin’ it, though she seed how skeart the poor maid was. Mrs. Mayne had a softer heart.
“‘If this be really true, Jan,’ she says, lookin’ at I, ‘it do seem a pity for the maid to go any forrarder. Better for her to stay at home and go to sarvice,’ says she. ‘There, Tamsine, give over cryin’. Nobody can force ye to go to America or to take up wi’ this ’ere nigger against your will. Go back an’ tell your uncle what you’ve a-heard, an’ let him keep ye a bit longer till ye’ve a-got a situation.’
“‘Oh, I dursn’t go back,’ says poor Tamsine. An’ then Jim reaches towards her and takes her by the hand again.
“‘Look here, my dear,’ says he, ‘don’t go back. Ye can go out to America,’ says he, ‘but it needn’t be to marry that dirty nigger. I’m going back to the States now,’ says he, ‘and I thought to take a wife wi’ me, but the maid I was coortin’ drew back at the last. She didn’t think so much of her word seemingly as you do. Come,’ says he, ‘you’ve seen me an’ you haven’t seen Samuel Johnson. Look me in the face and tell me if you think you could put up wi’ me?’
“The poor maid she was that upset, and that surprised, she couldn’t for the life of her look at ’en, an’ he leaned over an’ took her by the chin, very gentle-like, an’ turned up her face.
“‘Look at me, my dear,’ says he, ‘an’ see if ye can trust me.’