The Bondwoman's Narrative (27 page)

The bell had just chimed the midnight hour when I was startled one night by a slight noise in an adjoining apartment. Very
slight, indeed, and had there been nothing unusual in the sound, scarcely sufficient to have attracted attention. Night is
certainly the time for mysterious noises. Window shutters will rattle, when apparently there is no wind. Sounds like heavy
objects falling to the floor will break your slumbers, and then the rats and mice in their antics and gambols will create
a thousand startling echoes, but this was not like either. It resembled, in fact a suppressed human cough. I listened. There
was certainly the sound of muffled footsteps, and then the suppressed creaking of a door stealthily opened. My heart beat
audi[b]ly. Should I rise, open my own door, and attempt to penetrate the mystery. There might be a robber in the house, or
some one bent on an evil purpose. But instantaneously, and before I had time to decide old Jo, a negro, who loved above all
things to indulge in strong potations of brandy, burst into my apartment in the most ludicrous state of terror conceivable.
His eyes, large and glaring, seemed actually starting from their sockets, his teeth chattered and his whole frame trembled
as with the ague. Before I could rebuke his very unceremonious ingress, he cried out

“Oh: Missus, de ghost, de ghost, sabe me from de ghost.”

“The ghost” I replied “where is it?”

The old fellow, however was to[o] badly frightened to give anything
like a coherent statement, but putting this and that together
as the adage runs I was enabled to make out that Jo as usual was drunk and asleep in one of the entries leading to Charlotte’s
room. That he was suddenly awakened by the gleam of light, and a sensation of pain, for the ghost, to employ his own expression
tread on his toes, and was plaguey heavy.

“And, Missus” continued Joe, “he looked so orful.”

“How did he look, Jo?”

[“]I cant ’scribe it, but orful, so orful, that I jumped up quicker dan dese old bones hab moved afore dis menny a day. He
guv fist [gave first] one spring arter [after] me as I shot by, and den he vanished.”

“I am not so sure of that, Jo.”

Waiting till Jo partly recovered from his fright I persuaded the old fellow to leave me, and go to bed, as I wished to be
alone.

We had that day heard that Charlotte’s husband,
having
after being severely, and as he thought unjustly punished by his master had run away,
and that he had been
that he had been gone several days, and that all efforts to discover his place of concealment had signally failed. It occurred
to me at once that some connection existed between his elopement and the appearance of this ghost, or was the man and the
ghost identical? The conjecture was wild, though not beyond the bounds of probability. I determined at once to fathom the
mystery without reflecting whether honor or justice strictly considered required such exertion on my part. Neither did I pause
to ask myself by what right I presumed to interfere with the secrets of a house where I was myself admitted only by tolerance,
but settling in my mind the best manner of proceeding I drew on my cloak and bonnet, and passed without noise from my room,
and thence by a narrow entry reached the outer door. This I opened and shut silently, and passing around the house in its
broad shadow paused immediately beneath the windows of Charlotte’s
room. These were usually shaded by white curtains so delicate
and thin, that the light could be readily discerned shining through them, but it seemed to me that in order to court security,
if her runaway husband were really concealed within, some deeper and darker drapery would probably be considered necessary.
Neither was I disappointed. Paper hangings were suspended over the white curtains, though at the bottom of one, which slightly
rolled up, the gleam of a lamp within could be distinctly seen. This rather stimulated than gratified my curiosity. For what
purpose was he there; did Mr Henry know of it; would he approve of Charlotte’s concealing him, and
were
would not serious consequences ensue if the matter became known. Such and similar questions arose to my mind at once, and
I determined to acquaint Mr Henry of my suspicions in the morning.

Then I recollected that I had no certain proof; that it [was] mere belief, founded on impressions I could scarcely analyze,
and certainly could not transmit to any one else, and that silence after all would probably be the wisest course.

From my post of observation I could discover nothing more, but I knew very well that her room had only one door, and that
her visitor must make his exit as he had entered; for certain detection would follow any attempt to remain in that apartment
during the day, it being one of those appropriated to the children. Re-entering the house without noise I was just in time
to discover two persons softly gliding out by another door. I felt certain that they had not discovered me, and I quickly
perceived that one was a man, the other a woman, and it was no difficult matter to decide their identity. I hesitated a moment,
and then decided to follow them though not sufficiently near to excite observation.

Gliding directly down the graveled walks, they paused for an instant only before the small gate that communicated with a narrow
lane, or bye-road shaded on either side by forest and fruit
trees. The gate opened and shut mechanically, and I lost sight
of them in the broad deep shadows. The night had been beautifully bright and starlight [sic], but a cloud was rising and the
heavens became blacker and darker every moment. The wind soughed wildly among the branches, and the gleam of lightning accompanied
at intervals by the low distant mutter of thunder betokened an approaching shower. I felt my resolution giving way, not that
night, or darkness, or tempest were the occasion of terror. I could have braved them all in a good cause, but I began to question
the use, or necessity, or even the expediency of my instituting an espionage on the actions of one every way my equal, perhaps
my superior. Wherefore should I attempt to unravel a mystery that did not concern me, or to interfere in affairs, of which
I should only be an observer. Then would not ignorance be more consistent with my own peace? How could I acquit my conscience
of cruelty and wrong if through discoveries made and information given by me the happiness of Charlotte and her husband should
be destroyed, by his subjection for the second time into servitude.

Full of these thoughts I retreated into the house, and to my room, half ashamed that I had suffered my curiosity to overstep
the bounds of strict propriety.

It was near morning when Charlotte returned, though I had not yet been asleep.

The next morning the old house-keeper sought Mrs Henry with a great complaint. The rats, she said, had devoured her pies,
and made sad havoc with the cakes. Charlotte was present, and her cheeks burned, and her eyes fell beneath the gaze of mine.
Jo declared that the ghost had doubtless eaten them, but several others well versed in such matters assured him that ghosts
did not eat. From this difference a quarrel arose, that finally terminated in heavy blows, and Mr Henry was oblidged to settle
the difficulty by refusing any further allusion to the subject.

Sometime that day Charlotte contrived to slip a note privately into my hands. I thrust it into my pocket and made an excuse
for retiring that I might read it. It ran thus

“Will you have the goodness to favor an unfortunate woman with a private interview to[-]night in the bower at the bottom of
the garden; the hour of meeting midnight.”

Charlotte

With a penetrating glance of inquiry she looked towards me, when I came again into her presence. I slightly nodded when her
countenance brightened up with pleasure, and she soon after left the apartment.

I spent the time in vain conjectures of what could be the purport of Charlotte’s errand with me. That it was something connected
with her husband I doubted not, but if she required assistance why not make a confidant of Mrs Henry, or of some one less
helpless than myself. Of what use could I be to them, or why should they burden me with a secret that I began to think must
be onerous? At last it occurred to me that I was attaching to[o] much importance to the whole affair, that it might be nothing
of
importance
consequence, and that it would be much the wisest course to dismiss the subject from my mind.

It was the Sabbath, and Mr Henry was accustomed to instruct his servants in the great truths of the Gospel on that day. His
labors, however, occupied only the morning hours, and were confined to catechetical instruction, while during the afternoon
they held
prayer meetings among themselve
meetings for prayer and exhortation in which any one who wished to was permitted to hold forth.

In attending these religious exercises I found an agre[e]able diversion for my thoughts. The appeals to heaven though not
characterised
by much grace or elegance of diction were nevertheless earnest and fervid, and I doubt not that they found a
place in the vial of odours which the angel in the apocalypse offered before the Throne of God.

After the evening repast I attended Mrs Henry in a very pleasant walk among the
various
negro lodges, and in looking over their little truck patches and gardens, all of which gave evidence of being neatly attended
in the absence of weeds and the appearances of thrifty growth in the various plants, vegetables, and flowers, designed for
use and ornament. Various groups of persons, young and old, all of whom seemed impressed with a
feeling of reverence of the day
reverential feeling of the sanctity of the day, and of regard for their mistress, were seated on little low benches at their
doors, quiet[l]y enjoying the beauty of the evening. They all rose with courteous reverence to salute us as we passed, and
invited us to walk over their grounds, and gather such flowers as we liked. I shall not soon forget the pleasing intimation
of a devotional character impressed on each little party, by some perhaps formally assumed, but sincerely characterising the
greater number, hushing the cheerful gayety of the young into a more quiet, though no less interesting exchange of sentiments,
and suppressing the vehement arguments of those in more advanced age.

Sauntering along by one of the lodges, which stood a little apart from the others in a picturesque spot beneath the shade
of some trees we were surprised to hear the sharp and unmusical voice of Jo detailing to a group of wondering listeners an
account of his
last
night’s ghostly visitant. Of course the story lost nothing of the strange or marvellous by the recital, and the ludicrous
countenances of the auditors, as they were variously excited by fear, wonder and apprehension were enough to have provoked
a smile on the lip of Heraclitus. Their remarks were no less comical, as no one thought of attributing the appearance to natural
causes.

“Lord help de poor gose” said one old woman, with a withered smoke-dried face, black as ebony. “Doh say somebody hab been
kilt, though I don’t see no use of haunting ebery body ’cause dat.”

Others delivered themselves with equal effect; while an expression of deep concern and anxiety was manifested in the countenance
of Mrs Henry.

“It is really strange,” she remarked, as we returned towards the house. “My servants were never indulged in superstitious
tendencies,
I am not aware that previous to this time there was cherished any such fears and apprehensions
I have always striven to instruct them better than to put any confidence in such wild and unfounded reports. Jo was certainly
drunk, and as all the servants are acquainted with his peculiar failing how absurd it is in them to encourage him to tell
such stories.[”]
by listen

“And yet, Mrs Henry, there may be something in it after all” I answered.

“Why, Hannah, superstitious, too” she said looking into my face with peculiar archness.

“Not a particle of it, Madam” I replied. “And yet I know of a certainty that this house is visited.”

“By whom—a spirit?”

“Not a spirit seperated from the flesh,” and then I told her in as brief and concise a manner as possible of all that I had
observed and witnessed.

With a painful expression of curiosity she heard me to the end without saying a word. When I ceased to speak she remarked
that admitting all I supposed it was a very delicate case, and something that neither of us had better meddle with. In fact
that having eyes we had better not see, and having ears we should not hear. That she hoped and trusted Charlotte’s good sense
would prevent her taking any rash or precipitate step likely to embarrass either, and
that she should make it in her way to
give the former a few words of caution and advice.

“Now” I asked.

[“]No: not immediately. It is only natural that she should wish to protect and assist her husband. She can do so, and not
be cognisant as breaking the law of the land. The same action by us would be construed to infringe it. Therefore he must not
come here. I must and do pity them both, but I cannot harbor him.”

We had music and family prayers at bed-time. All the servants, those, I mean, belonging to the house, were present with the
exception of Charlotte. She excused herself on a plea that I thought trivial at the time but as it was optional with the servants
to attend these services or not, her absence elicited no remarks. Mr Henry’s family were distinguished for early hours and
the bell was just chiming twelve, though a dead silence had reigned for some time in the house, when putting on my bonnet
and drawing a small shawl over my shoulders as a protection from the dew, I passed hastily from the house, descended the garden
alley, and paused beside the bower that had been specified in the letter as the meeting place.

Perfect silence reigned, but passing round to the entrance I
discerned through the thick gloom that the form of
perceived that some one was within. My approach was not unnoticed. A low voice whispered “Hannah.”