The curse of Clifton : $b or, the widowed brideSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
The curse of Clifton : $b or, the widowed bride
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
American fiction -- 19th century; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
“’Deed he is, honey—gwine to ride body-servant long o’ marster, to wait
on him in camp; likewise in field o’ battle, to hold his t’other horse,
in case his whichest one should be shot unnerneaf of him—Oh, Lord
Marster Jesus! what a thing that is to think of! Likewise in soldier’s
newniform, on the bay horse Billy, which brother Jack would sell his
mortal soul any time, for the sake o’ dressing fine, an’ ridin’ a
horseback—cussed, infunnelly fool!—I axes your pardon, Miss Kate; don’t
look so ’noyed, honey; I won’t use bad words again—’deed, ’fore my
blessed, Hebbenly Marster won’t I, honey; but it is so aggravoking, when
I comes to think o’ what a slave I’ve made o’ myself to brother Jack,
ever since mother died, and the ’turn he makes me for it, wantin’ to go
gallivauntin’ off to the wars in soldier’s clothes, an’ a long tailed
horse! Here has I been ’jecting some o’ the most illegible colored men
in the neighborhood, an’ bein’ of an old maid, sake o’ takin’ care o’
him, ’cause he’s delicy in his health, an’ he to be wantin’ to go leave
me! An’ he, with a ’sumption in his breas’, to want to go; ’sposing of
hisself gettin’ his feet wet sogerin’! An’ he ’blige to wear a tar
plaster on his ches’, to be campin’ out an’ layin’ on the naked yeth!
An’ knows he can’t congest nothin’ but rabbits an’ partridges, an’ wants
to go where he’ll have to live offen roas’ tators, like Gin’al Marion
an’ his men, in the Resolutionary War! It mos’—mos’—mos’—breaks my
heart!”
And with that Henny set down the salver and began to cry, while her
mistress opened the plate closet.
“Put them in, Henny, and I will see what can be done for you
afterwards,” said Catherine.
Henny obeyed, and then said, as they left the room—
“If you could ’suade Marse Archy to leave poor Jack, poor sickly fellow,
at home, an’ take some o’ the other young niggers. Der ain’t one o’ them
but ’ould be ’joyed to go. Der’s Dandy now, ’ould be willin’ to go to
his everlastin’ ruination, ’sake o’ ridin’ body-sarvant long o’
marster—”
“I will speak to Major Clifton, Henny. You know him to be kind and
considerate. And I am sure, he is not aware of Jack’s pulmonary
affection.”
“Yes he is, Miss Kate, honey! ’Deed he knows all about Jack’s ’fection
for him! High, honey! ain’t Jack been own man to Marse Archy ever since
they was boys together? An’ didn’t Jack wait on him when he wur at
college, and ole Mist pay extra for him? ’Deed she did, honey! ’Fore my
blessed Hebbenly Lord, did she! An’ he knows all ’bout Jack’s ’fection
for him, and he knows Jack ’ould follow him to the ind o’ the world, an’
jump off arter him! Lord love your heart, Miss Kate, ther ain’t no dog
marster’s got, loves him more faithful ’an brother Jack does.”
Kate sighed very deeply, with a preoccupied air, but answered—
“I will speak to Major Clifton in your behalf, Henny—now go and ask Mrs.
Mercer to come to me in my own chamber.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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