Still, however, she persisted in urging Berrendale to go to Jamaica:
but, at the same time, she earnestly begged him to remember, that
temperance could alone preserve his health in such a climate:--'or the
use of pepper in great quantities,' replied he, 'to counteract the
effects of good living?'--and Adeline, though convinced temperance was
the _best_ preservation, was forced to give up the point, especially as
Berrendale began to enumerate the number of delicious things for the
table which Jamaica afforded.
To be brief: Berrendale, after taking a most affectionate leave of his
wife and child, a leave which almost made the mulatto his friend, and
promising to allow them £200, a-year till he should be able to send
over for them, set sail for Jamaica; while Adeline, the night of his
departure, endeavoured, by conjuring up all the horrors of a tempest at
sea on his passage, and of a hurricane and an earthquake on shore when
he arrived, to force herself to feel such sorrow as the tenderness which
he had expressed at the moment of parting seemed to make it her duty to
feel.
But morning came, and with it a feeling of liberty and independence so
delightful, that she no longer tried to grieve on speculation as it
were; but giving up her whole soul to the joys of maternal fondness, she
looked forward with pious gratitude to days of tranquil repose, save
when she thought with bitter regret of the obdurate anger of her mother,
and with tender regret of the lost and ever lamented Glenmurray.
Berrendale had been arrived at Jamaica some months, when Adeline
observed a most alarming change in Savanna. She became thin, her
appetite entirely failed, and she looked the image of despondence. In
vain did Adeline ask the reason of a change so apparent: the only answer
she could obtain was, 'Me better soon;' and, continuing every day to
give this answer, she in a short time became so languid as to be obliged
to lie down half the day.
Adeline then found that it was necessary to be more serious in her
interrogatories; but the mulatto at first only answered, 'No, me die,
but me never break my duty vow to you: no, me die, but never leave you.'
These words implying a wish to leave her, with a resolution not to
do so how much soever it might cost her, alarmed in a moment the ever
disinterested sensibility of Adeline; and she at length wrung from her a
confession that her dear William, who was gone to Jamaica as a servant
to a gentleman, was, she was credibly informed, very ill and like to
die.
'You therefore wish to go and nurse him, I suppose, Savanna?'
'Oh! me no wish; me only tink dat me like to go to Jamaica, see if be
true dat he be so bad; and if he die, I den return and die wid you.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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