At length the day of my departure arrived; and plainly attired, I set
off for the port of Great Yarmouth, attended by my two faithful
servants.
Juan and Alice were both slaves on part of our American property; but
they were born on the estate of a French proprietor, therefore French
was their native tongue, which was a fortunate circumstance. As soon as
my father was their master he made them free, and they became man and
wife. They had lived with my mother ever since. She, as I before said,
had desired they should be made independent for life. It is no wonder,
therefore, the faithful creatures were devoted to the daughter of their
benefactress, and I had the most cheering confidence in the tried
sagacity as well as integrity of both. Their colour, you know, was what
is called mulatto, and their appearance was less distinguished by
ugliness than is usually the case with such persons.
I thought it necessary to give this little history of two beings whom I
learnt to love even in childhood, and who in the season of my affliction
added to that love the feeling of interminable gratitude.
Well, behold us landed at Altona, and designated in our passports as
Mrs. Helen Pendarves, and Juan and Alice Duval, Americans. After a
tedious journey in the carts of the country, and sometimes in its
horrible waggons, behold me also arrived in the metropolis of blood,
passports examined and approved, and all my greatest difficulties at an
end. So relieved was my mind, when every thing was arranged and I had
hitherto gotten on so well, that my affectionate companions observed
with delighted wonder, that my cheek glowed and my eyes sparkled once
more: but cautious Juan advised me to hide my face as much as possible,
for there were no such faces in Paris, he believed.
When however I found myself in Paris, when I knew that the being I
loved best was there, and yet I dared not seek him, sorrow destroyed my
recovered bloom again, and tears dimmed my eyes. Yet still I felt a
strange overpowering satisfaction in knowing that I was near him; and
when we had found out his abode, I thought that I could perhaps contrive
to see him, myself unseen. But I found a letter addressed to me _poste
restante_, which not only dimmed the brightness of my prospects, but
damped much of my enthusiastic ardour in the task which I had
undertaken, and even abated some of my tenderness for Pendarves: for I
could no longer shut my eyes to the nature of his attachment to Annette
Beauvais.
My uncle told me in his letter that Lord Martindale was returned to
London, but could not stay there, and was on his way to America; that he
had met him in a shop, that on hearing his name, Lord Martindale had the
effrontery to introduce himself and thanked him for having enabled him
so easily to get rid of a mistress of whom he was tired.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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