The Bondwoman's Narrative (15 page)

I need hardly say that our mistress in her great goodness and kindness of heart treated us rather as companions than servants.
She seldom went out, or received company, but remained nearly all the time in her own apartments. Yet she could not bear the
companionship of her thoughts, and would request us to sit with her, and divert her mind by conversation. Sometimes she asks
to hear the legend connected with Sir Clifford’s portrait, which has been restored to its usual place on the drawing-room’s
wall, or speaks gloomily of the linden and its dreary creak.

But she shuns Mrs Bry, and that good lady is not over fond of her. Perhaps she fears that Mr Trappe has taken her into his
confidence, or perhaps it is something else. Who can tell?

It was now spring, and Mr Trappe had been living in the family all winter. Generally in his room, but sometimes descending
to the library, and making himself at home among the books and papers. It is seldom that he speaks, or is spoken to; all feel
his un-communicative irresponsive air.

Our master was an easy good sort of man, fond of his wife, but not given to habits of observation. It never occurred to him
that the burden of a great misfortune was on her mind, or that other causes than ill health occasioned her lowness of spirits,
her avoidance of society, and long detention in her rooms. He never suspected—how could he? that the figure of that old man,
with his dark clothes, and darker eyes was incessantly haunting and pursuing—that a voice was forever crying in her ears “I’m
in the secret, I know all about it, more perhaps than you do. I could tell if I chose, and shall tell when it suits me, which
will be whenever I
can turn it to profit and advantage.” He never dreamed of the dread, the doubt, the uncertainty that clouded
her whole existence. He knew that she occupied a brilliant position, but he did not know that she had no assurance of holding
it for another day.

One day the postman brought a bundle of letters. There was nothing singular in that. I received them on a silver salver and
presented them to her. They bore the superscription of master, of herself, and of Mr Trappe. At the last she looked narrowly
as if examining the hand writing, looked eagerly, and then remarked impulsively “Well, I would give half my fortune to know
the contents of that letter.”

“I presume Mr Trappe would gratify your curiousity for much less” answered Lizzy.

Mistress shook her head, and turned her eyes to the floor with a cold vacant stare.

“Or perhaps your letters may throw some light on the subject, you have scarcely looked at them” continued Lizzy.

Thus reminded she took the missives, broke the seals, and soon seemed lost in their perusal.

“Take that letter to Mr Trappe” she directed
on
ceasing to read, “and much good may it do him.”

Yet the calmness of her voice was strange and unnatural, and her countenance wore an expression of indefinable dread as if
she knew that the worst was coming, and was not prepared to meet it.

My mistress was very kind, and unknown to Master she indulged me in reading whenever I desired. The next morning I descended
to the parlor, and seated myself with a book behind the heavy damask curtains that shaded the window. In this situation I
was entirely concealed. In a few moments the echo of a light footsteps [sic] was heard on the stair; then the door opened,
and mistress entered. She looked thin, and weak, and ill. A night of utter irretrievable misery had wrought the effect of
years on her frame,
and in her appearance. She was bent as if with age, her eyes were sunken and heavy with midnight watchings,
and the pallor of her countenance was like that of death.

Gliding in after her, and so close behind her that he might have touched her robe came Mr Trappe. Dressed in seedy black as
usual, his keen eyes gleamed with an expression of unwonted satisfaction as taking a chair at a little distance from the sofa
on which she sat, and regarding her with a steady gaze, he observed “You desired this interview I think.”

“I did.”

“I am very much surprised that you should” he answered “because you must be aware that I could not approve of the course you
have taken.”

“What course?”

“That is a singular question, indeed” he replied. “What was my agreement and your promise before your marriage transpired.
Were you not to maintain an equal impassive serenity, and not betray by look, or word or deed the least discomposure in my
presence. Were you not to treat me on all occasions with due deference and respect, and was I not to receive a monthly stipend
from your income, and knowing as you do that this stipend has not been paid, I am surprised that you can have the face to
meet me, much surprised that under the circumstances you can ask or expect a favor.[”]

“I have neither asked nor expected any.”

“There is no use for equivocation or denial” he continued, not noticing her last remark, and slightly raising his voice. “You
well know and I know that our agreement being broken, the engagement terminated. That we are placed in a new position, and
that you can have no further claim to forbearance on my part.[”]

“
And
But I have a claim, never had a greater. It was not my fault that the bank
broke
which contained my property broke, and
that consequently I became unable to pay your monthly allowance, but have you not
been well supplied and cared for in my husband’s family? I think you have.”

“Yet even that—my staying here, and being cared for, as you have expressed it, was a violation of our agreement. You was [sic]
to have provided me with a house and servants in the City.”

“Well”

[“]And then after the loss of your property, and when you invited me to become one of your family I consented simply because
I had a part to play and a prize at stake.”

“I do not understand you.”

“Very likely, and yet I have spoken plainly.”

“You say” observed my mistress “that you do not approve of the course I have taken, and it is a clear case that I do not comprehend
the motive of yours. Why have you kept my secret so long only to reveal it now—and why did you wish me to marry only to break
my husband’s heart?”

[“]Why bless my heart, madam” he replied. “You are simple as a child. Why did I do these things?—and your secret How ridiculous.
It is not your secret, but mine, and may be your husband’s before another day, as any former reason that I might have, and
did have for keeping it have [sic] ceased to exist.]

“That scarcely explains your inconsistency.”

“I am very consistent, madam” he replied, placing an ironical emphasis on the last word. “Very consistent in view of the plan
marked out for myself. I wished of course to turn my knowledge of your birth to my own advantage. Had I betrayed what you
really were I should have gained nothing by it. Had I opposed your marriage it would have been a barren speculation, but as
you offered me a snug little sum to keep the first safe I consented to do so under certain stipulations; and as I was confident
that your husband, if you had one, would give still more to preserve himself and
his family from so horrible a disgrace, and
misfortune
I favored your marriage
as would inevitably result from your exposure. I favored the marriage of yourself and now as the heirs and creditors of your
father still continue pushing their claims, and since they anxiously desire to ascertain whether he had not other property
than that given up, while I know that such property, and valuable property, too, really exists, who shall prevent my making
such use of the knowledge as the occasion demands. It would be very different were you in a situation to fulfill your first
engagements, or were your husband in affluence, but I have found out that his property is mortgaged to its fullest extent,
and that notwithstanding his position he is in fact a poor man.”

During all this long speech my
speech
mistress had remained silent and passive, shading her face with her hand. Once or twice she had lifted her eyes to look at
him, but dropped them again beneath his gaze. He regards her as he did at first eagerly, but without pity. My own situation
was becoming each moment more awkward and embarrassing. Unintentionally I had been made the witness of a private interview,
and overheard conversation designed to be entirely confidential. It seemed that without intending it I had acted a dishonorable
part, but I could not recede without exposure, and I was not prepared for that.

Finding that she remains silent, and is likely to remain so Mr Trappe proceeds, and again with reference to the past.

“You recollect my first overtures.”

She remembers them perfectly well.

[“]And how scornfully you rejected them—how you taunted me with being an old man, and said that you would rather be the veriest
slave in existence than wed a man you could not love, you remember all this?”

She gives a slight motion of assent with her eyes rather than with her head.

“And as you would not spare the old man, can you expect the old man to spare you?”

“I do not wish you to spare me from mere personal considerations, but my husband and his family. Oh: that I had never married.”

“Why yes” he answered, in his cold imperturbable manner. “Of course that is something to be thought of, but since he cannot
redeem you it is a mere secondary consideration that cannot in the least affect the regular details of business. Pecuniary
interests are to[o] valuable to be set aside because somebody’s honor may be compromised. Don’t you see it so.”

She spoke not, but sighed or rather gasped like the gasp of death.

“You must, you do see it so” he continued. “Had you treated me—”

She made a slight gesture of impatience.

An ineffable shade of scorn, hate, or passion, or all three combined passed over his face, and he resumed. “Had you treated
me in a different manner, your fate would have been different—remember that I have seen the time when I could have stooped
to kiss the hem of your garment.”

She looked at him, her eyes actually blazing, but the fires momentarily died out.

“Yes,” he continued, rising and promenading the room. “Yes, once you were the leading star of my destiny, the light of my
life, and I may yet possess you on my own terms.”

She said nothing, she seemed even incapable of speech and both remained silent for a time.

At length she spoke. “I think this interview were better ended. I have no more to say.”

“But a little more to hear” he replied.

“Say on, then” she answered, something of her old defiant manner coming over her.

“Last night I received a message” he said “a message on business connected with yourself.”

“Will you explain its purport?” she inquired, an apparent tremor in her voice.

“I cannot, madam” he answered “besides it is quite unnecessary. Anything I could reveal would not mend the matter in the least,
though it might increase the difficulties of your position. I say it might though I am not certain even of that.”

He pauses, and she inquires “Have you done torturing me? if so—”

He interrupts her coolly and calmly. “I have not. By that message I am summoned away. I shall go this day, this very hour,
perhaps, how soon I may return, or how long I may be gone it is impossible to say. I shall not inform your husband of the
complicated circumstances in which we are placed, because it would not answer my policy to do so. When I return it may be
necessary.”

She breathes quickly and heavily, but answers not.

“There is one thing more that I have to say” he resumes [“]and then I have done. I have to caution, to entreat, if entreaty
is a proper word, to command you to restrain and compose yourself during my absence. Why woman you are losing all your beauty,
you look older by ten years than you did a month ago. There is no occasion for so much moping and pining, no occasion at all
for anything of the like. Be to your husband what you were during the time of courtship. Avoid doing or saying anything to
attract observation or excite suspicion. These are my commands do you promise to obey them?”

“Why should I promise?”

“Because matters are not yet ripe for a full denóument that will
come soon enough at all events. Do you promise?” he inquires
again.

“I will not bind myself ” she replied, glancing mechanically at the bell-wire. I read in an instant the association of ideas
in her mind. She was thinking of a certain resting place “where the wicked cease from troubling.” The eyes of Mr Trappe followed
the direction of hers. For a moment his countenance changed. Goading her on to despair and madness he was not prepared for
that contingency. He stood for a few moments steadily contemplating her, and probably debating in his mind whether or not
to allude to her secret thoughts and deciding in the
negative
affirmative he resumed. “Neither will you lay violent hands on yourself.” She started as if surprised that he should know
of what she was thinking. “Why should you?” he proceeded. “Life should have charms for a beautiful woman, and then the avenging
Deity.”

She repulses his advice with a disdainful wave of the hand.

“Do we part as friends or enemies?” he inquired.

“Either, it matters not.”

Was he surprised at the frozen coldness of her despair? did he fear that to escape him she would rush into the cold embrace
of death, or was it possible that he was touched with something of pity or remorse, but a softening expression came over his
face, and melted in his voice. “If the difference is nothing to you, it is something to me” he said. “Let us part as friends,”
and he extended his open hand. With an apparent effort she laid her small fingers in his palm. He held them a moment, lifted
them to his lips, and breathing rather than speaking “farewell” left the apartment.

The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children.