Hatchie, the Guardian Slave Part 26

"I will disclose the particulars only on the condition that you pledge yourself never to reveal my agency in the matter; for it would compromise my character."

"Very well. I pledge you my honor," replied Jaspar, impatiently. "You took it from the corpse of the lady in black."

"I did, and you must be aware that such an act would subject me to inconvenience, if known."

"Don't be alarmed; your secret is safe."

"But are you sure this is the ring worn by your niece?"

"It looks like it;" but Jaspar was perplexed with a doubt. He bethought himself that it was only in a casual glance he had observed Emily's ring. He had never examined it, and, after all, this might not be the one. There was certainly nothing strange in any lady dressed in black wearing a mourning ring. Again he turned the ring over and over, and scrutinized it closely. His finger touched a spring, and the plate flew up, disclosing a small lock of gray hair, twined around the single letter D.

"I will swear to it now," exclaimed Jaspar, in a tone which betrayed the malicious joy he felt at the discovery. He was perfectly satisfied now of the ident.i.ty of the ring. It never occurred to him that D stood for any other name than Dumont.

"This appears to be decisive evidence," replied Dalhousie. "Your _niece_, then, must be the person brought down by the Dragon."

"Without doubt."

"As this matter, then, is settled to your satisfaction--"

"Sir!" exclaimed Jaspar.

"I beg your pardon," resumed Dalhousie, with a supercilious air; "I only meant that your mind was satisfied--relieved from a painful anxiety."

"A very painful anxiety," replied Jaspar.

"I understand, sir, you own a large plantation."

"Well."

"Perhaps you need an overseer?"

Jaspar acknowledged that he did need an overseer.

"I should be happy to make an engagement with you," said the other, in complaisant tones.

"I don't think you would suit me. You are too genteel, by half,"

returned Jaspar, bluntly.

"I have been in a better position, it is true. I was born in France, but I understand the business."

"Did you ever manage a gang of n.i.g.g.e.rs?"

After a little hesitation, Dalhousie replied that he had.

"We will talk of it some other time," said Jaspar, satisfied, from the air and manner of the other, that his statement was false.

Dalhousie put on his hat, and, taking the mourning ring from the table, was about to enfold it in a bit of paper.

"What are you about, sir?" exclaimed Jaspar, as he witnessed the act.

"The ring is my property, is it not?" said Dalhousie.

"Put it down, or, by heavens, I will expose your rascality in taking it!"

"Do not be hasty, sir. I have not studied your looks, the last hour, without profiting by them."

"What do you mean by that?" said Jaspar, a little startled.

"I mean that the death of your niece does not seem to be received with that degree of sorrow which an uncle would naturally feel."

"_Fool_! she was not my niece!"

"Why are you so anxious to establish her decease?"

"Was I anxious?" said Jaspar, not knowing how far he might have betrayed himself.

"Quite enough so to convince even the most indifferent observer that you were extremely rejoiced at the event," replied Dalhousie, willing to make out a strong case.

Jaspar did not reply, and it was plain Dalhousie's remarks had had their effect.

"But, Mr. Dumont, I flatter myself I am a man of discretion. As you were saying, you need an overseer," said Dalhousie, with a glance at Jaspar, which conveyed more meaning than his words.

The glance was irresistible, and Jaspar engaged him at a liberal salary, as well as his wife, who was to be the housekeeper at Bellevue.

Dalhousie was a needy man. His fortunes were on the descending scale.

Born in France, he had emigrated to this country, with the chimerical hope of speedily making a fortune. He could not build up the coveted temple stone by stone, but wished it to rise like a fairy castle. With such views, he had wandered about the country with his wife (whom he had married since his arrival), in search of the philosopher's stone. He had several times engaged in subordinate capacities, but his impatient hopes would not brook the distance between him and the goal. He had been to New Orleans, but the city was almost deserted. On his arrival at Vicksburg, Jaspar had been pointed out to him as a person who could probably favor his wishes, and he had obtained an introduction to him.

Jaspar's thoughts and feelings he read. He discovered the nature of the relations between the uncle and niece,--which required but little sagacity, under the circ.u.mstances. Determined to profit by the knowledge he had obtained, his first step was to satisfy Jaspar of the death of Emily, of whom, in reality, he knew nothing. The initial letter of his wife's name in the ring had suggested the means, and he had convinced Jaspar as related. How Dalhousie's sense of moral rect.i.tude would allow him to use the deception, we will not say; but he seemed to tolerate the idea that the great purpose he had in view would justify any little peccadilloes he might commit in obtaining it.

He had gained his end, and taken the first step in the great road to fortune; and he doubted not his future relations with Jaspar would suggest a second.

The body of the deceased lady was claimed by Dalhousie, in behalf of Jaspar, and interred in Vicksburg.

In company with the new overseer and his wife, Jaspar returned the next day to Bellevue.

CHAPTER XVII.

"Say quick! quoth he; I bid thee say, What manner of man art thou?

"Forthwith, this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; And then it left me free." ANCIENT MARINER.

The morning advanced, and Henry Carroll, under the influence of the powerful opiate, still slept. By his side sat the misanthropic physician, who seemed to have learned a lesson of the dealing of the Creator with the creature such as he had never before acquired. He had rescued a fellow-creature from sure death, and the act seemed a part of the great duties of life which he had so long neglected. He reflected upon the numerous opportunities of doing good to his fellow-men from which his hermit-life debarred him. Again he thought of his daughter.

Her image rose before him in the darkened chamber of the sick man, and seemed to reproach him for his want of faithfulness to her. The incident and reflections of the previous night had strangely influenced his mind, and changed the whole current of his impulses and hopes. The solitude of his lonely island no longer seemed desirable. The world, with all its vanities and vexations, was the true sphere of life.

The arrival of Jim now summoned him to the relief of Mrs. Swinger.