Our World, or, the Slaveholder's Daughter

ortune Hangs Ov

guaranteed the holder against all loss. This, in the absence of Lorenzo, and under such stranger circumstances, impli

emper, he determined to carry out a design for her relief. He realised her silent suffering,--saw how her degraded condition wrangled with her noble feelings,--how the true character of a woman loathed at being the slave of one who claimed her as his property. And this, too, without the hope of redeeming herself, except by some desperate effort. And, too, he saw but little difference between the blood of Franconia and the blood of Clotilda; the same outline of person was there,--her delicate countenance, finely moulded bus

n her child; when she would clasp it to her bosom, weeping, until fro

t it is so, and we might as well submit, say as little of the hardship as possible, and think it's all as they tell us-according to God's will," she would say, pressing the child closer and closer to her bosom, the agitation of her feelings rising into convulsions as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Then she wou

e tenderest chord of his feelings-listened unmoved. A lovely woman, an affectionate mother, the offspring of a noble race,--herself forced by relentless injustice to become an instrument of licentiousness-stood before him in all that can make woman an ornament to her sex. What to Ellen Juvarna seemed the happiness of h

longer; he approached her, held out his hand, greeted her with a smile: "Clotild

onfidence?" she replied, as

secret; I am ready to serve

she took him by the hand, invited him to sit down at her side, and, looking imploringly in his face, continued,--"If you are a friend, you can be a friend in confidence, in purpose. I am a slave! yes, a slave; there is much in the word, more than most men are disposed to analyse. It may seem simple to you, but follow it to its degraded d

, into misery and woe. How oft she clasped my hand and whispered in my ear: 'If we could but have our rights.' And she, my mother,--as by that sacred name I called her-was fair; fairer than those who held h

he same touching chasteness, that characterises Franconia, assimilates in you. You are a slave, a menial-she is courted and caressed by persons of rank and station. Heavens! here is the curse confounding

eplied, quickly: "I rest my

in the words of a mother ready to sacrifice her own happiness for the freedom of her child. And yet an awful responsibility hung over him; should he attempt to gain their freedom, and fail in carrying out the project, notwithstanding he was in a free country, the act m

therners and Englishme

tudy our feelings, cast aside selfish motives, and sustain our rights!" Clotilda now commenced giving Maxwell a history of her mother,--which, however, we must reserve for another chapter. "And my mother gave me this!" she said, drawing from her pocket a paper written over in Greek characters, but so defaced as to be almost unintelligible. "Some day

e is your

ke a wreath decorating our past associations. Shrink not when I tell it, for few shrink at such things now,--I saw her chained; I didn't think much of it then, for I was too young. And she took me in her arms and kissed me, the tears rolled down her cheeks; and she said-'Clotilda, Clotilda,

hained?" inter

chain the innocent lest the wrong should break forth upon themselves." And she raised her h

he would have the world think noble? It is fear! The monster which the southerner sees by day, tolerates in his silence, protects as part and pa

ee, if it cost my

y power; they look upon us with suspicious eyes. They know we are negroes (white negroes, who are despicable in their eyes), and feeling that we are

, bidding her good night. On returning to the mansion he found Marston seated at the t

t!" was the su

em cast

olitical and moral wrongs! how it purges the understanding, and turns the good of our natures to thoughts of just

rld seems wagging pleasantly for you; everybody on the plantation is happy; Lorenzo has gone into the world to distinguish himself; grief should never lay its scalpel in your feelings. Remember the motto

im to atone is crushed by the very perplexity of the law that compels him to do wrong. "There's what goads me," he says: "it is the system, the forced condition making one man merchandise, and giving another power to continue him as such." He arises from the table, his face flushed with excitement, and in silence paces the room to and fro for several minutes. Every now and t

view slavery with the unprejudiced eye of a philosopher. Listen to what I am about to say: but a few months have passed since I thought myself a man of affluence, and now nothing but the inroads of penury are upon me. The cholera (that scourge of a southern plantation) is again sweeping the district:

ould he realise the impulse through which some sudden event was working a moral regeneration in his mind. There was something he struggled to keep from notice. The season had been unpropitious, bad crops had resulted; the cholera made its a

n, among the pines, rude camps are spread out, fires burn to absorb the malaria, to war against mosquitoes, to cook the evening meal; while, up lonely paths, ragged and forlorn-looking negroes are quietly wending their way to take possession. The stranger might view this forest bivouac as a picture of humble l

s valuable for its example, and if too late for present utility, seldom fails to have an ultimate influence. Thus it was with Marston; and now that all these ine

nave, will die thinking of the old plantation. As for Harry, I have made him a preacher,--his knowledge is wonderfully up on Scripture; he has demonstrated to me that niggers are more than mortal, or transitory things. My conscience was touched while listening to one of his sermons; and then, to think how I had leased him to preach upon a neighbouring plantation, j

upted Maxwell, "you have n

e curse of a system invulnerable. It is not that we cannot do good under a bad system, but that we cannot ameliorate it, lest we weaken the foundation. And yet all this seems as nothing when I recall a sin of greater magnitude-a sin that is upon me-a hideous blot, goading my very soul, rising u

great impediments-to render justice to those who have suffered from

wrong, perpetrated under the smiles of liberty, against which the vengeance of high Heaven would be invoked. I know the secret, and yet I dare not disclose it; the curse handed down from her forefathers has been perpetuated by me. She seems happy, and yet she is unhappy; the secret recesses of her soul are poisoned. And what more natural? for, by some unl

r!" again inte

make,--sad in the eyes of heaven and earth. My participation in wrong has proved sorrow to them: how can I look to the pains and struggles they must endure in life, when stung with the knowledge that I am the cause of it? I shall wither under the torture of my own conscience. And there is even an interest about them that makes my feelings bound jo

. Several times he was on the eve of proffering his services to relieve the burden working upon Marston's mind; but his sympathies were enlisted toward the two unfortunate women, for whom he was ready to render good service, to relieve them and their children. Again, he remembered how singularly sensitive Southerners were on matters concerning the peculiar institu

ming from another part of the room. They stopped at the moment, looked

urchase?" inquired

ates without a scruple, and think it no harm so long as they turned a dime. They know every justice of the peace from Texas to Fort M'Henry. Romescos is turned the desperado again, shoots, kills, and otherwise commits fell

do you assert that in the freest and happiest country-a country that boasts the observance of its statute laws-a man is priv

he killed very good-naturedly, and yet I have no proof to convict him. Even were I to seek r

he room, and drew from it a somewhat defaced bill of sale. There was something connected with that bit of paper, which, apart from anything else, seemed to harass him most. "But a minute before you entered I looked upon that paper," he spoke, throwing it upon the table, "and thought how

in the right way, to seek its retribution on the wrong!" Thus concluding, Marston covers his face in his hands, and for several minute

ittle use, however,--it is a terrible conflict,--the conflict of conscience awakeni

hed into the window, and quickly withdrew t

do justice to Clotilda and her child,--to Ellen and her child; I will free them, send

er the influence of liquor, which he hopes will excuse his extraordinary familiarity at such a late hour. Touching the hilt of his knife, he swaggers into the presence of Marston

eeable. That he should present himself at such an untimely hour was strange, beyond Marston's comprehension. It was, indeed, most inopportune; but knowing him, he feared him. He could not t

s,--the glorious freedom of a glorious land. Not heeding Dandy's attention, he fills another glass copiously, twirls

ut I ain't in the right fix just now; I can't make the marks straight so we can understand two and two. Ye take, don't ye? Somethin' touching a genteel business with your fast young nephew, Lorenzo. Caution to the wise." Ro