“My dear Juba,
“I take this op-por-tu—” —nity he would have said; but the Jew, who had held his breath in to avoid discovery, till he could hold it no longer, now drew it so loud, that Juba started, looked round, and saw the feet of a man, which appeared beneath the bottom of the window curtain. Where fears of supernatural appearances were out of the question, our negro was a man of courage; he had no doubt that the man who was concealed behind the curtain was a robber, but the idea of a robber did not unnerve him like that of an Obeah woman. With presence of mind worthy of a greater danger, Juba took down his master’s pistol, which hung over the chimney-piece, and marching deliberately up to the enemy, he seized the Jew by the throat, exclaiming—
“You rob my massa?—You dead man, if you rob my massa.”
Terrified at the sight of the pistol, the Jew instantly explained who he was, and producing his large purse, assured Juba that he was come to lend money, and not to take it from his master; but this appeared highly improbable to Juba, who believed his master to be the richest man in the world; besides, the Jew’s language was scarcely intelligible to him, and he saw secret terror in Solomon’s countenance. Solomon had an antipathy to the sight of a black, and he shrunk from the negro with strong signs of aversion. Juba would not relinquish his hold; each went on talking in his own angry gibberish as loud as he could, till at last the negro fairly dragged the Jew into the presence of his master and Mr. Percival.
It is impossible to describe Mr. Vincent’s confusion, or Mr. Percival’s astonishment. The Jew’s explanation was perfectly intelligible to him; he saw at once all the truth. Vincent, overwhelmed with shame, stood the picture of despair, incapable of uttering a single syllable.
“There is no necessity to borrow this money on my account,” said Mr. Percival, calmly; “and if there were, we could probably have it on more reasonable terms than this gentleman proposes.”
“I care not on what terms I have it—I care not what becomes of me—I am undone!” cried Vincent.
Mr. Percival coolly dismissed the Jew, made a sign to Juba to leave the room, and then, addressing himself to Vincent, said, “I can borrow the money that I want elsewhere. Fear no reproaches from me—I foresaw all this—you have lost this sum at play: it is well that it was not your whole fortune. I have only one question to ask you, on which depends my esteem—have you informed Miss Portman of this affair?”
“I have not yet told her, but I was actually half down stairs in my way to tell her.”
“Then, Mr. Vincent, you are still my friend. I know the difficulty of such an avowal—but it is necessary.”