Lady Maclairn, the victim of villany : A novel, volume 4 (of 4)Hunter, Mrs. (Rachel)
General
Lady Maclairn, the victim of villany : A novel, volume 4 (of 4)
Hunter, Mrs. (Rachel)
English fiction
On the evening of our fourth day’s tedious journey we reached the abode
of our new master. He was a man of about forty, could speak a few words
of English, and as many of Spanish. He examined me with attention. My
youth and appearance pleased him, but unfortunately the people who had
conducted us from the ship, had received an impression which they gave
to him, and poor Simons was judged to be my domestic. You know that his
person is not conciliating, and it was in vain that I discovered the
interest I took in his fate. We were separated; my master taking me with
him the next morning to a house and garden, several leagues from the
town, in which he was ruler. Here my philosophy was checked. I was
seized by an ardent fever, and for many days they thought me dying.
Nature resisted the attack, I was treated humanely, and till I had
strength to crawl into the garden, and to seek the shade, they
assiduously carried me to the fountain, which they perceived I liked.
But my grief was beyond their kind offices; I had lost my mother’s
picture, and I understood that my patron had it. He at length
condescended to visit me; for I believe he thought me a man above the
common sort. My tears and intreaties produced nothing. He replied, that
the lady pleased him, “it was pretty,” and by Mohammed he would keep the
painting. To soften this obduracy he sent me my books and linen; and I
was given to understand that I was to teach him English when I was well.
I next implored him to send my friend to me. He evaded my request; and I
conceived from the signs made me, that he was removed too far from me to
render it easy to accomplish. The gentleness of my bondage in the mean
time kept hope alive; for although I had the habit, and the badge of
slavery, I had no cause for complaint. As my strength recruited, I was
employed in light labour in the garden, and my mind was engaged by
assiduously learning the Moorish language. Again, and again, I pleaded
for the society of my friend, but in vain. At length I was told that he
was dead; and the first use I made of my more familiar knowledge of the
language, gave me the detailed circumstances of his miserable end. His
grief and impatience on being separated from me was shown in a manner
which the people about him neither understood, nor pitied. He refused
food, and they chastised his obstinacy. He became more determined, and
he was left to himself and time for the remedy. Nature at length
conquered; he asked for food by signs expressive of his wants and
submission; and they incautiously placed before him some boiled rice and
water, of which he ate and drank so voraciously, that he died in great
agonies, a few hours after.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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