This modesty had favored Jaspar's plans. No one could now gainsay the will he had invented; and he felt strong in his position, especially after the witnesses had assented to their signatures.
Among the persona who had been present in the library was Mr. Faxon, an aged and worthy clergyman. He had for many years been an intimate friend of Colonel Dumont, and was a legatee in his will to a liberal amount. A constant visitor in the family, its spiritual adviser and comforter, he had possessed the unlimited confidence of the late planter and his daughter. To him the whole clause relating to Emily seemed like a falsehood. Pure and holy in his own character, it was beyond his conception that a man of Colonel Dumont's lofty and Christian views could have lived so many years in the practice of this deception. He had no means of disproving the illegitimacy of Emily. The family had been unknown to him at the period of her birth. The house-servants, with the exception of Hatchie, were all younger than Emily. Then, the statement was made in the will, and was, therefore, the statement of Colonel Dumont himself,—for the genuineness of the will he did not call in question. In accordance with his general character, her father had manumitted her, and left her a competence. From this clause he inferred that her father intended to place her beyond the reach of harm, and beyond the possibility of ever being reduced to the degraded condition so often the lot of the quadroon at the South. He had not only given her freedom, but had provided for her conveyance beyond the pale of slavery. With these intentions, if she were in reality a slave, Mr. Faxon could find no fault. They were liberal in the extreme. But why had he, at this late period, mentioned the stain upon her birth? Why not let her live as he had educated her? These queries were so easily answered that the good clergyman could not condemn the dead on account of them. If the daughter, then she was the heiress; if not, legitimately, it would be injustice to the brother.
Mr. Faxon reasoned in this manner. He could not believe, even with all the evidence before him. There was a reasonable answer, apparently, to every objection he could think of, and he resolved to apply to Jaspar and Hatchie for more information. All that Jaspar could say, or would say, in answer to his interrogatories, was that his brother's wife had died in giving birth to a dead child; and that Emily, who was the child of a house-servant by him, had so engaged his attention by her singular beauty that he had substituted her for his own child. This story, Jaspar said, his brother had told him in the strictest confidence, many years before. Mr. Faxon, appreciating the disappointment of a father with such a sensitive nature as Colonel Dumont, was willing to believe that Emily had been substituted to supply in his affections the place of the lost child; but that he should educate her as his own child, and then cast her out from the pale of society, was incredible!
The evidence was so strong, he could see no escape from the terrible conclusion that the gentle being, to whom he had ministered in joy and in sorrow, was a slave! It required a hard struggle in his mind before he could reconcile himself to the revolting truth. Her beautiful character, built up mostly under his own supervision, he regarded with peculiar pride. He was not so bigoted, however, as to believe his labors lost, or even less worthy, because bestowed, as it now appeared, upon a slave. In heaven his labors would be just as apparent in the quadroon as in the noble-born lady.
After the departure of the friends who had been summoned to the reading of the will, and whose stay had been prolonged by the melancholy interest they felt in the unfortunate Emily, Mr. Faxon requested to see her, and was shown to her room. She had just been restored to consciousness, by the assiduous efforts of her maids, as the good man entered.
"O, Mr. Faxon!" sobbed Emily, but she could articulate no more. The terrible reality of her situation had entirely overcome her.
"Be comforted, my dear child," said Mr. Faxon, affectionately, taking her hand. "The ways of Providence are mysterious, and we must bend humbly to our lot."
"I will try to be resigned to my fate, terrible as it is," replied Emily, looking at the minister with a subdued expression, while hot tears poured down her cheeks. "You will not forsake me, if all others do!"
"No, no, my dear child; it is my duty to wrestle with sorrow. I have come to direct your thoughts to that better world, where the distinctions of caste do not exist."
"O, that I could die!" murmured Emily, as a feeling of despair crept to her mind.