London (England) -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'That is provided. Did not Lord Brockenhurst promise?'
'Lord Brockenhurst will do what he can. Of that I have no doubt. But as
to his power across the Atlantic, of that I have grave doubts.'
'Jenny,' I took her hand. 'Do you trust my word? Could I deceive you?
Could I ever hold out hopes unless I knew that they were well grounded?'
'Why, Will, whom should I trust if not you?'
'Then, Jenny, listen and believe. It is so arranged and provided that on
landing in America you will be provided with a house fit for your
station and with everything, so long as you may stay in the country,
that a gentlewoman can require. And all that you have or enjoy will be
yours--your own--and over all you shall be mistress.'
'Dear Will--this providing is your providing.'
'A manservant you must have to begin with. Negroes there are in plenty,
but an English manservant--an honest'--here I looked Jack in the face;
he reddened and was confused--'an honest, strong, capable, faithful
servant, that you want, Jenny; and that you must have, and here he is.'
I clapped the fellow on the shoulder as he still knelt before his
mistress.
'Get up, Jack,' she said. 'Since it must be so, it must. But you must
thank Mr. Halliday and not me.'
It was not a servant that she took out with her but a slave, one of
those willing slaves to whom their slavery is freedom, who have no
thoughts or desires of their own; none but the thought how best to
please their Lords or Ladies. Such servants are rare, except those who
have served in the army, where duty is taught to be the first virtue.
'At least,' said Jenny, 'I shall not be put ashore alone or among the
gang of poor creatures with whom I ought to stand as a companion.' And
indeed the prospect of this strong fellow to protect her at the outset
caused her, I was pleased to find, no slight consolation. Yet I dared
not tell her till it was too late to be altered, the resolution which we
had formed to go with her as well.
Despite the injurious treatment of my two cousins, I took it greatly to
heart that the unfortunate Alderman should, for no fault of his own, be
condemned to imprisonment for the short remainder of his days. He was
past understanding where he was. In imagination he rolled in his chariot
from Clapham Common to the Wharf and Counting House: he received the
Captains of the West Indiamen: he appeared on Change: he dined with his
Company: he sat on the Bench: he walked in his garden: he cut
pine-apples and grapes in his hothouses. He was quite happy. But there
was the shame of knowing that he was there and that he was supported by
the charity of his old friends.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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