The Bondwoman's Narrative (33 page)

“If these children are yours, as you say, take them up, get their clothes and prepare to leave this house instantly” she said
but in a manner calm and deliberate compared with her former violence.

“This roof” she continued “shall not shelter a minion of my husband, when I am beneath it, and if I know it.”

“But where shall I go?” inquired the mother taking up her babes. “Where shall I go? we shall perish along the road.”

“Anywhere, I care not” replied Mrs. Cosgrove. “I am not going to sell you, you can have liberty, freedom only go.”

“But my master.”

[“]Never mind your master, I am mistress of this house, and will be. No one, not even him, of whom you speak, shall thwart
or interfere with my will. Get yourself and your children ready and be off. Steer right for the North, and never stop short
of Canada. You will be safe then, and your infants will not inherit the curse of their mother’s slavery.”

And thus with an infant on each arm and a bundle of clothes at her back was this frail and delicate woman thrust from her
home, and so inconsistent is the human heart that Mrs Cosgrove actually congratulated herself on having done a good action,
and setting [sitting] in her sumptuous parlor and watching the poor creature toiling up the hill in the distance she observed
to Lilly who was in attendance “Well I shall have the consolation of having once performed my duty in giving freedom to a
poor slave. No one can say that I have not the English spirit and blood in me.”

Did it not occur to her that night when laying down on
her splendid bed
her splendid bed with snowy counterpanes and downy pillows that the poor freed slave with her tender infants had not where
to lay her head? Did she think waking up the next morning
that the one
and preparing to breakfast daintily on soft rich cakes and golden butter, with luscious honey, strawberries melting in cream
and the richest beverage that the one she had so unfeelingly dismissed had not a morsel wherewith to satisfy the cravings
of nature, or support her strength under the most onerous maternal duty—that of providing nourishment for her off-spring.
Did she remember when the dinner hour with its bright sun drew near that one whom she had driven out to be a wanderer
might
be fainting wearied and toil-worn beneath the roadside hedge? Far from it, she only thought, as she expressed it, that “the
coast was clear” and exulted over the idea of her husband’s surprise and indignation when he ascertained the fact. Mr Cosgrove
was absent, and had been for several days. On returning he went directly to the chamber of his
mistress
favorite. To his great astonishment it was deserted, and turned into a store-room. What could it mean? He ordered the overseer
of his household and estate into his presence immediately, and inquired what had become of Evelyn and her babes.

“I shouldn’t wonder” replied the man “if they had furnished food for the vultures before now.”

“What do you mean?” inquired the anxious lover and parent. “No one has killed them certainly.” And his mind reverted to the
threatening language employed by his wife.

“No one that I know of ” replied the overseer “but mistress, you must know, drove them away from here, and I don’t see how
such a frail and delicate creature as Evelyn could bear such heavy children far, or—”

The man paused. He had just that moment discovered that his conversation had become a monologue. Cosgrove, long before the
ending of the sentence, had sprung from the room and mounted hastily to the chamber of his wife. To seek, to upbraid her,
and even to inflict some summary punishment upon her was evidently his first thought conceived in a moment of fierce anger.
His fancy depicted Evelyn and her babes, those dear beautiful little boys, slowly dying through famine or exposure in some
lane or ditch, with the vultures hovering over them, eager to begin their horrible banquet.

“Madam” he cried bursting wildly into her presence. “By what authority do you presume to interfere in my absence with my
slaves?
Who gave you the power to dismiss them so unceremoniously from my dwelling?”

“Indeed, Mr Cosgrove” exclaimed the lady, with a
scornful
scornful expression disfiguring her countenance “you present the model of an affectionate husband after a long absence whose
first greetings of his wife is to demand by what authority she exercises her rights.”

“But you have no right to make away with my property, or conduct yourself contrary to my interests.”

“Pray, be seated, Mr Cosgrove” said the lady coolly who in her perfect self-satisfaction determined to keep down her temper.
“Pray be seated. You are rich enough yet, and have plenty of these human cattle. Of what possible use could Evelyn be mewed
up like a nun in that close chamber, and more than that Mr Cosgrove I tell you again as I told you before I will not suffer
these creatures about the house, and no woman with the least particle of pride, or honor, or womanly feeling would.”

[“]And so you talk of pride, and honor and womanly feeling, do you? Heaven knows you have enough of the first, but was it
womanly feeling that led you to thrust out a frail delicate female and her babes to certain exposure and famine, and almost
certain death?”

“I gave them freedom it is true. If freedom implies starvation or death, it is not my fault, but their misfortune.”

“Madam, it is your fault. Evelyn did not desire freedom, and least of all the freedom you gave her.”

“No matter” answered the Lady “it was my will that she should have it, and so she has got it, and what necessity is there
for your fuming and fretting about it. Did you really suppose that you could keep her here without my knowledge? that you
could have such a secret about the house without my ascertaining and resenting
its presence. If you did, Mr. Cosgrove, you
know little of woman.”

And thus they bickered and quarreled without any hope or prospect of reconciliation. Their happiness ruined, their domestic
peace a wreck.

Mr Cosgrove left the presence of his wife, and without speaking to any one, mounted a fleet charger, and rode away. He was
absent two days, and returned as he went, without giving any information of his business, or where he had been. The servants
said that he had been searching for Evelyn; they said, too, that he had found her; for he looked so pleased and gratified.
Mrs Cosgrove probably expected as much, and she received him with the most chilling indifference, seeking rather to awe than
win him to virtue. After that the absences of our master were many and prolonged. But he left disquietude at home in the heart
of his wife. Her days and nights were blackened with the foulest suspicion. She had cleared the house of his favorites it
is true, but she could not clear them from her imagination. They do come, they will come. She knows of a certainty that he
has a secret now. She sees it in his countenance, in his eyes, in every crease of his garments. Even his bearing is less frank
than formerly. His tread seems stealthy as if fearing to reveal something. She even thinks that he fears to meet her eye,
and those suspicions
and these various signs and tokens prompt her to dishonorable acts. She takes a strange fancy to nocturnal examinations of
his letters to private researches in all manner of places, to listening behind doors, and watching at windows, to questioning
slaves and even visitors. The haughty woman descends all at once from her high position, and condescends to converse with
any one, and every one, condescends to go to church, but the worshippers remark that she is restless and uneasy, and pays
much more attention to the congregation than to the minister.

But untiring vigilance had its reward, and a mere accident discovered the secret, when all her plans had failed. The overseer
mentioned to Mr Cosgrove in her hearing the name of “Rock Glen.” “Hush” replied her husband “never mention that place again,
as the very walls have ears.”

“Rock Glen” the name was romantic, the place was doubtless picturesque. Where could it be? And why should the walls have ears
especially to hear the mention of that? Too well her suspicions told her, but she summoned Lilly.

“Lilly do you think that I am your friend?”

“I hope so” said the beautiful girl.

“And do you perceive that I treat you differently from any one else?”

“You seem much gentler, and not so lofty.”

“It is my purpose, Lilly.”

“Your purpose.”

“I have a purpose for every thing I do. As a general thing I care little for kindness, but now I want a service, a small service
that must be won from affection and for which money will not pay. Can you love me Lilly? Can you do this thing for me?”

“I can try” said Lilly. “If you can trust me.”

“I can, and do trust you” replied the Lady.

“And what would you have me do?” inquired Lilly whose curiosity began to be awakened.

“Find out for me where is the place called Rock Glen.”

“Is that all?[”] inquired the child simply.

“Not quite. You must be very nice and cunning about it. You must not for the world let any one know that I have sent you,
or that I wish to know. Especially observe never to mention my name in connection with that, but find out and I will give
you this.”

So saying she held up a beautiful bracelet of turquoise and emerald.

“But how shall I find out?” inquired Lilly, charmed with the magnificence of the gift.

“You can ask the slaves, ask everybody. Some of them will know.”

“Think so?”

“I know it. The overseer knows, and he cannot be wiser than any one else.”

“But why?” began Lilly.

“Not a word” said the lady with a gesture kind yet imperious. [“]Ask me no questions. Don’t care to know my motive or purpose.
The knowledge could do you no good, and might be a snare. Only find out and come to me with the information.”

“Indeed, I will do my best.” And so she did.

We all wondered why the name of Rock Glen should be forever on her lips. True, the name was pleasant, and pretty, and interesting
yet nothing so very extraordinary after all. Why then should Lilly take such a fancy to tease and torment everybody with it?
What had we done that Rock Glen must be forever ringing in our ears?

“Who knows anything about Rock Glen?” she would exclaim bounding down the steps, gay and blithe as a butterfly. Some of the
slaves were ignorant, others had their commands, and the question was likely to remain unanswered when an old beggar woman
came to the house one day.

“Why, I do” she answered to Lilly’s playful sally.

“And where is it, good mother” inquired Lilly, with an earnestness we could not but notice.

“Why it isn’t far from here, I can’t tell just how far, though I can direct you how to go to get there.”

“That will do quite as well” said Lilly.

The old woman then directed her what road to follow, where to turn to the right, and where to the left, where there was a
brook
to
cross, a meadow to pass over
pass over, a meadow to cross, and a fence to leap, where there was a tavern and a store a blacksmith’s shop, and an undertaker,
where we might see negroes working in a field of tobacco, and just catch the glimpse of a habitation nestled beneath an overhanging
crag, that looked as if it would fall every moment, though the wear and tear of centuries had failed to displace it. “And
that crag” she continued [“] and that little habitation beneath it is called Rock Glen.”

Lilly hastened to Mrs Cosgrove with the information she had obtained.

“Well done Lilly” said the Lady “But bid this old woman into my presence, perhaps she can tell me more.”

And that old woman bent and decrepid with age, coarse, repulsive, clothed in rags, and hobbling along with the most awkward
unseemly gait, ascended the broad staircase, pressed the magnificent carpets, and half blinded and overwhelmed with the sumptuousness
of all she saw, was introduced to the presence of the Lady, who, robed in satins and glistening in jewelry was no happier
than herself.

Mrs Cosgrove would have shrunk from the embodiment of squalid poverty presented before her, but her strong purpose restrained
her and she received the old beggar almost courteously.

’Twas a strange contrast these two women. The one so elegant and refined, so lofty in manner and luxurious in appointment,
with such magnificent eyes, such splendid hair such a beautiful countenance; and the other a hedious old mummy, toothless,
with blear eyes, driveling lips. Nothing elegant or tasteful about her. And yet that one so adorned so accomplished, so enviable
in every worldly consideration, forgets herself, her aristocratic name, and high connexions, forgets that in exposing the
honor of her husband she compromises her own, forgets everything else in her anxiety to ascertain who is the inhabitant of
Rock Glen.

To her questioning on this point the old woman responded that for a long time it had been uninhabited, but that a gentleman
had recently purchased the estate and she believed had put somebody in the house, because going near there one day in her
wanderings to get berries, she heard a sweet voice singing a cradle song

“But you saw no one?”

“No one, the doors and windows were carefully shut.”

No further information of any importance could be elicited from the old woman, and Mrs Cosgrove dismissed her with a very
handsome present.

“Heaven help me” she exclaimed to Lilly when the old woman departed “I verily believe that sale was a sham after all. Who
knows. Ten chances to one he has them all there. Singing a cradle song. That was doubtless Evelyn, but I will know—that I
will. It’s plain enough now why he spends so much time from home. Go tell the servants to saddle our horses.[”]

“You are not going now” said Lilly in great surprise.

“Yes, now, immediately, but don’t tell them of my purpose.”

Lilly bowed, a “Yes Missus” and departed on her errand.

Mrs Cosgrove was an accomplished horsewoman, and her fine figure and rich complexion never showed to better advantage than
when she was engaged in this graceful and exhilerating exercise. Lilly usually rode by her side with a man servant following
in attendance. However his services were not required or admitted on the present occasion.