"Ah, Harland!" sighed Louise, "if you have any regard for my peace, resign all thoughts of revenge, in which perhaps yourself, not Ferrand, might become the victim!"
"In every other circumstance of my life," said Harland, "Louise shall be my monitor; but I cannot tamely pass by the injuries I have received. To Sir Henry I am indebted for your preservation—to yonder slave for my own!—Not two hours since he saved me from the assassin's hand!"
The countenance of Louise assumed a paler hue at this relation.—"Yonder slave!" she faintly repeated.—"It is the villain who forced me to the cottage of Ferrand."
The old slave, who had hitherto remained near the door, now advanced:—"I am, it is true, Madam," he said, "the man who, by the commands of an imperious master, took you from your friends: yet am I not deserving the name of villain! The slave—but not the man, was guilty of the action!—By preserving you from dishonour, I incurred the usage which drove me a naked fugitive from my ancient home. These Europeans saved me from a cruel death, and promised the richest reward a wretched slave could receive, if I would conduct them to you. I did more—and let the action prove a Negro's soul to be susceptible of gratitude!"
Louise blushed her recantation of the sentiments she had entertained respecting the slave. "You have raised my curiosity," said the Marchioness, "to the highest degree: but as I am certain my Louise, and you, my young friends, are greatly in need of repose; I will repress it till the morning, when I shall expect to have it gratified by an ample relation of every incident."
Louise thankfully acceded to the Marchioness's proposal of retiring, and again took possession of her former apartment; whither one of the Marchioness's daughters accompanied her, that no farther attempt might be made, without the knowledge of the family or the means of assistance. Harland likewise, after a surgeon had attended him, retired, as did Sir Henry, to the apartments which had been prepared for them, and where repose, the sweetest they had long experienced, rewarded them for the toils and anxieties of the day.
It was late in the morning when they assembled at the breakfast-table; where the Captain and Frederick, having been previously informed of the successful termination of Sir Henry and Harland's search, attended them. Mutual compliments and congratulations passed, and after breakfast the Marchioness reminded them of the last night's arrangement, and Louise began her relation, as follows:
"I had not, my dear Madam, retired many minutes to my apartment, on the night I was forced away, when Rachel, (who has chiefly attended on me since our arrival in St. Helena) after apologizing for the liberty she was going to take, with a well-counterfeited appearance of concern, began to relate a tale of a distressed family, highly deserving, she said, of compassion and relief, who wished to apply for your beneficence, but wanted a friend to speak for them: and, knowing my influence, she had given her word, she said, to ask my assistance.
"I inquired more particularly into the nature of their distress; and she so insensibly engaged my attention by her interesting but artful tale, that the time passed unheeded till long after the usual hour of repose. I was first recalled to a sense of my improper conduct, by a light footstep on the outside of my apartment. Unsuspicious of danger, I was hastening to see who it was, and to apologize, if by my heedlessness I had disturbed any part of the family; when two men entered the room, and before I could call for help, Rachel threw a handkerchief over my head, which she tied so securely across my mouth, that the power of speech was entirely prevented. My struggles were equally inefficacious: my hands and feet were bound, and I was then carried silently down the stairs, and conveyed to the cottage of Ferrand; where freeing me from my bonds, they left me to reflections painful in the highest degree. The idea that they designed to murder me, which had taken possession of my mind on our first entrance into the plantation, then gave place to fears far better founded, and I dreaded the moment which would bring Ferrand to my sight.
"An old female soon attended, to show me to a chamber: I endeavoured to interest her in my favour, and to prevail on her to aid me in returning to my friends. But she heard me with indifference, spoke in praise of Ferrand, who, she said, would visit me in the evening, and, advising me to seek repose, again left me. Thankful, and somewhat easier by hearing Ferrand was not under the same roof with me, I determined to take advantage of the respite allowed, and if possible effect my escape. I hastened to the window—it was secured by strong iron bars, and the door had been locked and bolted on the outside by my female gaoler. Disappointed in the faint hope I entertained of liberty, I yielded to a momentary despair, and, bursting into tears, threw myself on the bed. Reflection, however, soon showed me the inutility of my grief: many hours were to pass before Ferrand would come to the cottage; I therefore endeavoured to calm my agitation, that I might, if possible, meet him with firmness and resolution. Then again I dreaded the uncontrolled licence of his passions, or that Harland or my brother, learning who had taken me away, might be involved in a quarrel, which would terminate in the loss of their lives.