“My dear child,” he cried, clasping me in his arms, “excuse a man who might be your father! This is the best news I ever had since I was born; for that hag of a mulatto was no less a person than my wife.” He sat down upon a tar-barrel, as if unmanned by joy. “Dear me,” said he, “I declare this tempts me to believe in Providence. And what,” he added, “can I do for you?”
“Sir George,” said I, “I am already rich: all that I ask is your protection.”
“Understand one thing,” he said, with great energy: “I will never marry.”
“I had not ventured to propose it,” I exclaimed, unable to restrain my mirth; “I only seek to be conveyed to England, the natural home of the escaped slave.”
“Well,” returned Sir George, “frankly I owe you something for this exhilarating news; besides, your father was of use to me. Now, I have made a small competence in business—a jewel mine, a sort of naval agency, et cætera, and I am on the point of breaking up my company, and retiring to my place in Devonshire to pass a plain old age, unmarried. One good turn deserves another: if you swear to hold your tongue about this island, these little bonfire arrangements, and the whole episode of my unfortunate marriage, why, I’ll carry you home aboard the Nemorosa.”
I eagerly accepted his conditions.
“One thing more,” said he. “My late wife was some sort of a sorceress among the blacks; and they are all persuaded she has come alive again in your agreeable person. Now, you will have the goodness to keep up that fancy, if you please; and to swear to them, on the authority of Hoodoo or whatever his name may be, that I am from this moment quite a sacred character.”
“I swear it,” said I, “by my father’s memory; and that is a vow that I will never break.”
“I have considerably better hold on you than any oath,” returned Sir George, with a chuckle; “for you are not only an escaped slave, but have, by your own account, a considerable amount of stolen property.”
I was struck dumb; I saw it was too true; in a glance, I recognised that these jewels were no longer mine; with similar quickness, I decided they should be restored, ay, if it cost me the liberty that I had just regained. Forgetful of all else, forgetful of Sir George, who sat and watched me with a smile, I drew out Mr. Caulder’s pocket-book and turned to the page on which the dying man had scrawled his testament. How shall I describe the agony of happiness and remorse with which I read it! for my victim had not only set me free, but bequeathed to me the bag of jewels.