Hatchie, the Guardian Slave Part 49

Hope had not yet abandoned her. She had too much confidence in the omnipresent justice of an overruling Providence to doubt that all would yet end well.

Dido was her jailer, and she scarcely left the office, through which alone egress was had from the apartment of Emily. There she dozed away the day and night, freely indulging in the fas.h.i.+onable habit of "imbibing," to chase away the _ennui_ of the heavy hours. Her liberal perquisites enabled her to gratify her appet.i.te without stint or measure, though a sort of demi-consciousness of her responsibility deterred her from an entire abandonment to the pleasures of the cup.

The apartment in which Emily was confined was lighted by windows of stained gla.s.s, opening into the main office, so that there was no immediate connection with the open air. This fact rendered the room so secure that Dido rested perfectly easy from the fear of interruption, save from the front of the building.

The colored guardian, having imbibed rather inordinately one day, was disposed to court the favor of the sleepy G.o.d, and stretched herself at full length upon one of the easy lounges of the office. Her eyelids opened and closed languidly, as though she was about to sink away into dreamy unconsciousness, when she was startled by a loud knocking at the door.

"Who's dar?" shouted Dido, springing to her feet; for a visit to the office, at this season of the year, was of rare occurrence.

"Open the door, Max," responded a voice from the outside.

"Mr. Maxwell not here, sar," said the colored lady, partly opening the door.

"Not here!" returned the visitor, pus.h.i.+ng into the office in spite of the negress, who was disposed to prevent his entrance. "Isn't Max in town?"

"No sar; he went away to de Norf about a monf ago."

"Look here, you black imp," said the stranger, in a severe tone, "do you mean to say that Max is _not_ in town?"

"I do, for sartin, sar."

"And he has left you to practise law for him in his absence?" returned the visitor, with a grin.

"No sar, I takes care ob de buildin."

"Fudge! Maxwell always shuts up his room when he leaves town;" and the stranger walked round the room towards the private apartment, much to the consternation of Dido.

"No, Ma.s.sa, he tell me, monf ago, to keep de room in order."

"No doubt he did," returned the stranger, placing his hand on the handle of the door, and attempting to open it, which, by Dido's precaution, was ineffectual.

"Is there no one in this room?" asked the gentleman.

"No sar, de room is locked, and Ma.s.sa Maxwell hab carry off de key."

The stranger walked several times round the room, and thoroughly scrutinized everything; after which, to the entire satisfaction of the colored lady, he took his departure. Pa.s.sing out of the building, he crossed the street and entered a coffee-room, at the front window of which he seated himself, as if with the intention of watching Maxwell's office.

This person was the reader's old acquaintance, Vernon,--or, more properly, Jerome Vaudelier, whose intervening history we are now called upon to relate. It will be remembered that, at the request of his father, and at the earnest desire of Henry Carroll, as well as by the promptings of his own wish to do justice to the heiress, he had gone to Vicksburg, for the purpose of keeping an eye on the movements of Maxwell. On his arrival at the hotel, he found the attorney, and dined With him; but after dinner he suddenly and mysteriously disappeared.

All Vernon's inquiries were of no avail. The landlord said he had paid his bill, and that was the last he had seen of him. Vernon was perplexed, and on learning that no boat had left since dinner, he was at a loss which way to proceed. Late in the afternoon he obtained, as he thought, some clue to him; and he departed, without loss of time, to Jackson, whither the attorney was supposed to have gone. His search, however, was futile, and he returned to Vicksburg by the morning train.

Much disheartened, he was compelled to go to Cottage Island with the intelligence that his efforts had been foiled. On his arrival, he learned, to his astonishment, that Emily had just gone to Bellevue in company with De Guy--a person of whom he had no knowledge.

Though Dr. Vaudelier and Henry Carroll had been satisfied with the evidences brought by De Guy, Vernon was not. He knew better than they the character of Maxwell, and it was determined that he should proceed immediately to New Orleans, to guard against the possibility of any evil to which Emily might be subjected.

On the morning after De Guy's departure, he proceeded down the river, and landed in the vicinity of Bellevue, to which he immediately made his way. Without a direct application to any one, he learned that Emily had not yet arrived. He waited in the vicinity another day, but obtained no tidings of her. His worst fears were now confirmed. De Guy had deceived them.

This De Guy, then, was an emissary of Maxwell. To his mind, now animated by a high purpose, the reflection was annoying. To the fate of Emily his new destiny seemed to be attached. His greatest error--at least, the one most troublesome to his awakened conscience--was the act of oppressing Emily. He felt that the was.h.i.+ng of the stains from his character depended upon securing her rights.

The _ci devant_ desperado, as we have before indicated, was radically changed at heart, and he now felt more interest in the welfare of Emily than he had ever before harbored for any human being.

His position was full of embarra.s.sments. He learned, while at Bellevue, that Jaspar was not, and had not been, sick. This information decided his future course. The mission of De Guy had only been a decoy, to lure her into the hands of Maxwell.

Hatchie was with her; but, alas! what could a slave do against the powerful machinations of such a villain as Maxwell?

After obtaining the information which satisfied him of the imposture, he proceeded to New Orleans. Knowing the name of the steamer in which De Guy had taken pa.s.sage from Vicksburg, he hastened to the levee, to gain what tidings he might from the officers of the Montezuma. He found that a lady and gentleman answering to his description had taken a carriage on the morning of their arrival, and this was all they knew. In answer to his inquiries for Hatchie, he learned that a servant had been handed over to the police, to be imprisoned in the calaboose till called for.

This was scanty information upon which to continue his search. His first step was to go to the calaboose, where he managed to obtain an interview with Hatchie. The poor fellow was in an agony of grief,--not on his own account, but on that of his mistress, for he well understood the reason of this imprisonment.

Hatchie, of course, could give him no information of the whereabouts of Emily, nor offer any suggestion; and Vernon was compelled to leave the disheartened mulatto, with only a promise of speedily effecting his deliverance.

Vernon's next step was to ascertain the present abiding place of Maxwell, if, indeed, he was in the city; and for this purpose he had gone to his office. The open room did not verify the statements of the negress. He knew that Maxwell always closed up his rooms when he left the city, and the fact of their being open now tended to fix suspicion upon him, or rather to confirm the suspicions before entertained. He had made the visit to the attorney's rooms to gain information; and, being partly convinced, by the manner of the negress, that the rear chamber was occupied, he retired to the coffee-room to digest the knowledge, and, if possible, arrive at some conclusion through it, as well as at the same time to keep watch of the movements at the office.

Who was this De Guy, who had been the agent of Maxwell?--for such he determined to believe him, until convinced to the contrary. He canva.s.sed their mutual acquaintances, but could remember no such person. Intimate as he had been with all the a.s.sociates of Maxwell, he could not identify this bold and cunning confederate.

He had not long deliberated, when, to his surprise,--albeit it was not an event at all remarkable,--Maxwell entered the coffee-room.

Before Vernon had time to decide whether or not he should charge the lawyer with the abduction of Emily, that worthy approached his chair, and, with much cordiality,--more than he had formerly bestowed upon him,--extended his hand, and expressed his happiness at again meeting him in the city.

Undecided as yet how to proceed, Vernon returned his salutations with an appearance of equal cordiality.

"My dear fellow," said Maxwell, "I am rejoiced to see you in town again.

I was afraid you would quite desert us."

This language was new and strange to Vernon. It sounded like the days in which he had been respectable--before his vices had found him out.

"Indeed! why did you think so?" replied Vernon.

"Why, Vernon, there was some kind of a ridiculous story current at Vicksburg, to the effect that you had joined the church, or something of that sort."

"Ha, ha! funny!" said Vernon, adopting the free and easy style, which had formerly distinguished his colloquial efforts. "Where did you pick up the story?"

"O, it was quite current when I left Vicksburg."

"A good joke, hey?" said Vernon, musing.

When Maxwell left Vicksburg, it was impossible that any such story could have been extant. Of his reformation no one but the people of Cottage Island could have known anything. It seemed a little mysterious that Maxwell should know of it; but the fact of De Guy's visit to the house of his father came to his a.s.sistance, and the mystery was solved. De Guy had communicated this information to Maxwell, and thus he was enabled to establish conclusively the connection between them.

Vernon's plan for the future was adopted; and manifesting no surprise, he denied the fact of his reformation, however strong the circ.u.mstances might be against him. He had often been implicated in fouler deceptions than this in a worse cause, and, in spite of his great resolves, he did not hesitate in this instance.

"Quite a sell, wasn't it, this reformation? The old gentleman has a fine place up there,--money in the bank,--hey, boy? I saw through the whole of it, as soon as I heard the absurd story," said Maxwell, who, to do him justice, did not believe the tale. It was too much for his credulity, that a thing like Vernon could be animated by a good motive,--could, by any possibility, abandon the error of his ways.

"Just so, Max. The fact is, I found the old fellow had plenty of money, and no one but me to leave it to; so I thought it would be a devilish pity to have it all go to found a hospital, an orthodox college, or some such absurdity, and I could not resist the temptation to become a little saintly, just for a few days."

"Bravo, Vernon! You will yet be a rich man. You did it well. The old fellow swallowed it all, didn't he?"

"As an alderman does turtle-soup. But, Max, where did you slip to from Vicksburg?"

"To tell you the truth, I was a little afraid of your penitence, and thought it was not safe to be in the same coach with you; so I gave you the slip, by going down the river by land a few miles, and then taking the boat."

"But you didn't know I had reformed then,--ha, ha, ha!"