She hesitated
to reproach Marston with the bad effect of his life, but resolved on
endeavouring to enlist Clotilda's confidence, and learn how far her
degraded condition affected her feelings. She saw her with the same
proud spirit that burned in her own bosom; the same tenderness, the
same affection for her child, the same hopes and expectations for
the future, and its rewards. The question was, what could be done
for Clotilda? Was it better to reason with her,-to, if possible,
make her happy in her condition? Custom had sanctioned many
unrighteous inconsistencies: they were southern, nothing more! She
would intercede with her Uncle, she would have him sign free papers
for Clotilda and her child; she saw a relationship which the law
could not disguise, though it might crush out the natural
affections. With these thoughts passing in her mind, her imagination
wandered until she dropped into the sleep we have described.
There she slept, the blushes suffusing her cheeks, until old Aunt
Rachel, puffing and blowing like an exhausting engine, entered the
room. Aunty is the pink of a plantation mother: she is as black as
the blackest, has a face embodying all the good-nature of the
plantation, boasts of her dimensions, which she says are six feet,
well as anybody proportioned. Her head is done up in a flashy
bandana, the points nicely crosslain, and extending an elaborate
distance beyond her ears, nearly covering the immense circular rings
that hang from them.
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