Rumour recounted his character with mystery and
suspicion; friends remonstrated, but in vain; they were united
despite all opposition, all appeals. For a time he seemed a better
man, the business he had followed harassed his mind, seeming to
haunt him, and poison his progress. He purchased a plantation on the
banks of the Santee; for once resolved to pursue an honest course,
to be a respectable citizen, and enjoy the quiet of home.
A year passed: he might have enjoyed the felicity of domestic life,
the affections of a beautiful bride; but the change was too sudden
for his restless spirit. He was not made to enjoy the quiet of life,
the task stood before him like a mountain without a pass, he could
not wean himself from the vices of a marauder. He had abused the
free offerings of a free country, had set law at defiance; he had
dealt in human flesh, and the task of resistance was more than the
moral element in his nature could effect. Violations of human laws
were mere speculations to him; they had beguiled him, body and soul.
He had no apology for violating personal feeling; what cared he for
that small consideration, when the bodies of men, women, and
children could be sacrificed for that gold which would give him
position among the men of the south. If he carried off poor whites,
and sold them into slavery, he saw no enormity in the performance;
the law invested him with power he made absolute. Society was
chargeable with all his wrongs, with all his crimes, all his
enormities.
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