Part 4

Charlie no sooner caught sight of his enemy than he leaped furiously upon him. The strong sailor received him in his muscular arms, and there held him, a most unwilling prisoner, while he watched the proceedings going on about poor Daph, and rendered assistance where he could.

Dr. Bates ordered her clothes to be instantly loosened, and then commanded Mrs. Ray to lay her flat on the floor, while he proceeded to apply his lancet to her arm.

While this process was going on, the clock on a neighboring steeple struck twelve. Captain Jones looked hastily at his great silver watch, and saw that it was indeed midday, and he had not a moment to spare, as the Martha Jane was by this time quite ready to set sail, and only waiting for her captain.

He hurriedly placed a little parcel on the mantel-piece, and with one long, sorrowful look at poor Daph, and a hasty farewell to Mrs. Ray and the children, he left the house.

It was long before Daph returned to consciousness, and when her eyes once more opened they were wild with fever and anguish. She declared, however, that she was quite well, and would have no one about her; she longed to be alone, to struggle with her great sorrow. The children would not leave her, but it was in vain they tried their little expressions of tenderness, and begged her look once more like their “own dear Daffy.”

The sight of the unconscious orphans redoubled the grief of the poor negro, and she burst into a flood of tears. The poor children, overcome at this unwonted sight, sank down beside her, and mingled their tears with hers.

Mrs. Ray and the young doctor were sorely puzzled by the strange scenes they had witnessed. They had both seen the rich chains about Daph’s neck, which had been disclosed while she was unconscious, and not a little wonder was excited by the sight of that expensive jewelry in such a place. Dr. Bates had not failed to observe the refined appearance of the fair Louise and the noble bearing of little Charlie, contrasting as they did so strangely, with the plainness of their humble home, and the unmistakable African face of the woman, of whom they seemed so fond.

The wild agitation of Daph, the disappearance of the sun-browned stranger, the necklaces, the children, all tended to fill the mind of Dr. Bates with dark suspicion. He lingered about Daph as long as he could make any excuse for doing so, and when he reluctantly turned from the room, he did not leave the house without thoroughly questioning Mrs. Ray as to what she knew of her lodgers. Mrs. Ray had but little to tell, excepting, that they had been commended to her, three years before, by the same tall sailor, whose appearance that day had created such a commotion. Of Captain Jones she could only say, that he had been a mess-mate of her husband, years before, and had always been reckoned an honest, kind-hearted man.

The questions put by Dr. Bates roused all the curiosity of Mrs. Ray, and revived the suspicions, with regard to Daph, which had been much in her mind during the early days of their acquaintance. Such thoughts had long since been banished, by the honest, upright life of the kind-hearted, industrious negro, but now they rose with new strength.

She recalled the richly embroidered dresses in which the children sometimes appeared, the first summer after their arrival, and she dwelt on the reluctance which Daph always exhibited to answering any questions as to her past life, or the circumstances attending her departure from her southern home.

These remembrances and suspicions she detailed to the willing ear of Dr. Bates, who was satisfied that he was on the eve of unraveling some tangled web of iniquity, and with slow and thoughtful steps he walked away from the humble home, so wrapped in mystery.

Once more left to herself, Mrs. Ray felt ashamed of having doubted poor Daph, and was half inclined to go to her, and frankly own the misgivings the late occurrences had excited; but the thought of those strange circumstances again set her curiously at work, and all right feeling was soon lost, in an eager anxiety to find out the dark secret, which hung like a cloud over the poor negro.

IX.

A Ministering Spirit.

Daph had been smitten by a blow too sudden and violent, to rally immediately from its effects. Her strength and energy seemed forever gone. The hope which had upheld her had been stricken from her, and she knew not where to go for comfort.

“De great Lord has gib poor Daph up!” she said, disconsolately; and, prostrate in mind and body, she lay on her low bed, her eyes shut, and her soul all dark within.

It was now that Mary Ray had an opportunity of showing her deep gratitude, for the unwearied kindness of her humble friend. She assumed the care of the children, and tried to keep them happy out of Daph’s sight, and thoughtfully volunteered to go round herself to Daph’s customers, to tell them that sickness had prevented her from preparing her usual supply.

All that Mary offered, Daph quietly accepted, almost without opening her eyes.

Daph seemed to have no wants, and it was in vain that Mrs. Ray came in and out, and bustled about putting the room in order, opening and closing the shutters, and making herself very busy, to no possible advantage; Daph did not notice her; her thoughts were far, far away.

In one of these visits, Mrs. Ray chanced to find the gold chain the captain had laid on the mantel-piece. This added fuel to her suspicions, and she felt justified in secreting it, and showing it to Dr. Bates, as a further proof of the mystery clinging to Daph.

Mrs. Ray’s mind was in a most agitated state. Sometimes she was haunted with vague notions of some most awful crime committed by Daph, and then again the kind, truthful face of the negro would rise up before her, and change her suspicions into shame and self-reproach.

At such times, she could not help feeling, that only virtue and honesty could be at home in a heart capable of such generous forgiveness, and patient return of good for evil, as she had received from the now sorrow-stricken negro. These moments of relenting, to soon alas! were gone.

Daph was lying sad and alone in the silent room, a few days after the visit of Captain Jones, when she heard a low tap at the door, followed by Mrs. Ray’s loud voice, saying, “Walk right in, Miss. She aint much sick, to my notion, but she don’t take no notice of anybody.”

Daph did notice the stranger who entered, and she even smiled sorrowfully as she looked up into the face of Rose Stuyvesant.

“We missed your nice cakes on the table, Daph,” said a soft voice, “and when I heard you were sick, I determined to come and see you myself.”

These words of kindness from a refined and gentle woman, melted the heart of the suffering negro. She burst into tears as she exclaimed, “O, my sweet young lady! You speaks to poor Daph like her own dear missus used to!”

Rose Stuyvesant sat down beside the low bed that Mary had spread for Daph on the floor. “Are you very sick, Daph?” she asked, tenderly.

“Daph is all dead here, and all dizzy here,” said the poor creature, laying her hand first on her heart, and then on her head. “De great Lord has sent Daph a big trouble, and den gib her right up;” and the tears again flowed fast.

Rose bent over the unhappy negro, and said, gently, “The great Lord loves you too well, Daph, to give you up in your trouble. Perhaps he has sent me to comfort you!”

Daph looked up with a gleam of hope in her eye, and murmured, “No reason why Daph should n’t jus tell all de truth now. Perhaps, if de sweet young lady knows all, she may comfort Daph up.”

“The Lord Jesus can comfort us in any trouble,” said Rose, softly. “What makes you so unhappy? Cannot you tell me?”

Daph looked long into the sweet face turned lovingly towards her, and then said, “De great Lord has sent a-most an angel to poor Daph, and she shall hear it all.”

The secret that had so long burdened the lonely negro, was now poured out with all the unconscious eloquence of a true, warm, single-heart. The tears flowed fast down the cheeks of Rose Stuyvesant, as she heard the simple story of devoted, heroic affection, and long, patient self-sacrifice.

She understood the hope that had cheered Daph through years of labor and anxiety,--the hope of placing the children of her mistress again on the bosom that had nursed them, and of seeing the happy father again embrace his long lost ones. That hope was now forever gone, and Rose Stuyvesant mingled her tears with those of poor Daph, as she concluded her story.

Those real tears made Daph feel that she had found a true friend, who sympathised with her in her distress, and this in itself was a whisper of comfort.

As soon as Rose could command herself, she said, as she took the black hand in her own, “Daph, the mother who loved to teach her little ones of Jesus, has gone to be with Him. Your master, too, is now with the Heavenly King. You will still be able to give them back their children, in that better land, where there is no parting, where no sorrow ever comes.”

The negro looked earnestly in the face of the speaker, as she went on; “You must teach the little ones to love the Lord Jesus, and lead them to his home in heaven. Daph, you have that now to do, and that is worth living and striving for.”

“How shall poor Daph show the way to heaven; she don’t know it jus zactly herself,” said the poor creature, and the momentary gleam of hope faded from her face as she spoke.

“Jesus Christ has opened the door of heaven wide, for all that love Him and trust Him,” said Rose, eagerly; “His blood, shed on the cross, can wash away the sins of the whole world. The great Lord will forgive you all that is past, and receive you into heaven, for Jesus’ sake, if you really wish it.”

“What else Daph want now in dis world, but jus know de way to heaven herself, and lead de childen dere?” was the earnest reply.

Poor Daph had been entrusted with but little religious knowledge, but to that she had clung in simple faith through all her trials. She had improved the few talents that had been given her, and now came her reward in the fulness of the light of the gospel.

Again, and again her young teacher explained the way of forgiveness and eternal peace through the blood of Christ.

At last the beauty, freedom, and matchless love of the plan of redemption burst upon her, and there was joy in heaven, when the poor negro in the midst of her tears, welcomed Christ as her Saviour, and knew “the great Lord,” as her reconciled Father in heaven.

While the long conversation, so full of moment to Daph, was taking place, Mary Ray had kept the children happy in the little garden. Their patience at last gave way, and they pleaded so hard “Just to look at dear Daffy,” that their young nurse could resist them no longer.

Charlie burst impetuously into the room, unmindful of the stranger, while Louise more timidly followed. Warm tears filled the eyes of Rose Stuyvesant as she looked, for the first time, on the orphans. Charlie saw immediately the happy change that had passed over Daph’s face, and walking straight up to her, he said exultingly “Daffy’s better! Daffy’s better! Good Daffy!” and he laid his curly head on her dark arm which told how dearly she was beloved.

A peculiar attraction seemed to draw Louise to the side of the stranger, and when she was tenderly kissed, and that sweet, soft, face bent down to hers, with loving interest, the child put her head on the bosom of Rose Stuyvesant, clung to her neck and sobbed as if her heart would break.

“It is not mamma!” murmured the child; and then more and more fondly embraced one, who had brought back from the dim recesses of memory, the image of her long-lost mother.

Rose was but little less moved than the child, and in her heart she prayed that she might give to the little one such lessons in holiness, as would win an approving smile, were they heard by that mother in heaven.

By degrees, the agitation of little Louise subsided, but she quietly kept her seat on the lap of her new friend, and seemed to find a new pleasure in looking into her kind face and smoothing her fair, soft hand.

Meanwhile, Daph drew from her pocket a parcel, which she had ever carried about her, perhaps with the vague idea that it had some talismanic charm to keep her from evil. Wrapper after wrapper was taken off, until at last the little book with golden clasps appeared.

“That was all about Him, I know,” said Daph, “about that good Saviour, but Daph can’t read the blessed book.”

Rose took the Bible that was handed to her and read on the fly-leaf, “Elize Latourette, from her devoted husband. One Lord, one faith, one baptism!”

The sight of that book in the hands of Rose, again awoke the dim memories of the child on her knee, and Louise, through fresh tears, was doubly drawn towards her new friend.

“Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,” read the sweet voice of Rose. “All are the children of Jesus, who put their trust in Him, and truly love Him.”

A thrill passed over the frame of little Louise at the sound of these words, and she kissed the lips of the speaker, with strange joy in her eyes. “I cannot stay any longer now,” said Rose, attempting to rise.

“Don’t go! don’t go!” said Louise, almost wildly, “I cannot let you go!”

“But I must, my sweet Louise,” said Rose, as she gently disengaged the child: “I must go now, but I will come every day and read to you, and your ‘Daffy,’ out of this dear book.”

“When? When? What time will you come?” asked the child, anxiously, while Daph listened eagerly for the answer.

“Tomorrow, at eleven o’clock, you must stand at the window and watch for me, I will not keep you waiting long.”

With this promise again repeated, Rose kissed the children, and with a murmured word of comfort to Daph, passed from the room.

Not so soon passed away the influence of that visit prompted by Christian kindness, rich in blessings to the humble negro; most precious to that young disciple of Christ, who had learned to love to be “about her Master’s business.”

X.

Strange Proceedings.

Day after day Rose Stuyvesant continued her ministry of love to Daph and the little ones. The hour of her morning visit was watched for, and hailed with joy, and well it might be, for she brought with her the sweet influence of a loving heart and an earnest devoted spirit.

The children were, as usual, eagerly looking out for her one morning, about a week after her first appearance in their humble home. Daph, who was once more on her feet, was moving about with a step a little more languid than usual, trying, as she said, “to make the place look a bit more fitsome for the sweet young lady to sit down in.” Charlie, who was perched on a chair beside his sister, and had had his nose pressed from time to time flat against the window, and had drawn all sorts of strange characters, with his fat fingers, in the dampness left by his breath on the pane, at length had his attention suddenly arrested. “O, Lou!” he shouted, “look this way, on the steps! there’s that ugly, old, bad doctor, that cut dear Daffy’s arm, and two big men with him.”

“Good doctor, Charlie!” said Daph, “he wanted to make Daffy well, but he didn’t jus know how. It took Miss Rose wid her sweet holy words to do Daph good.”

“He’s an old, bad doctor, I say, and shan’t come in!” said Charlie, springing towards the door, as the voice of the doctor sounded in the hall, and his hand touched the latch. The sturdy little figure of the boy, resolutely backed up against the door was but a small obstacle, in the way of the strong hands that forced it instantly open.

“For shame, Mass’ Charlie! Let the young gemman in!” said Daph, as she came forward, dropping a curtsy. “Ise quite well sir to day,” she continued, “and Ise mighty tankful for you being so uncommon willing to do somewhat for to cure Daph, for by her arm do be a little stiff for de cuttin you gib it de oder day.”

“He’s an old, bad man to hurt Daffy, and I aint glad to see him a bit,” said Charlie, with an angry look.

“Do your work! This is the woman!” said the slender young doctor, turning to the stout men he had brought with him.

A strong hand was laid on each shoulder of the astonished Daph, and a rough voice said, “Come with us, old woman!”

“I isn’t goin to do no such thing,” said she, with an indignant glance. “What for is I goin to waste my time goin with them as I has no business wid? Perhaps you doesn’t know what manners is, to be layin hands on a poor nigger dis way. Take your big hands off! Ise my misses’ childen to look after, and we’s would be glad to hab dis bit of a room to ourselves!”

Daph had not spoken very rapidly, but even as the indignant words forced themselves out of her mouth, she was hurried towards the door.

“You’d better do your talking now,” said one of the men coarsely, “for before half an hour’s over you’ll be locked up where nobody’ll hear you if you holler till you are hoarse.”

Daph began to struggle violently, and the sinewy men who held her were well nigh compelled to relinquish their grasp.

“Is you a gemman, doctor?” she said desperately, at last, “Is you a gemman, and stand still to see a poor woman treated dis way?”

“You are only getting your deserts,” said little Dr. Bates, drawing himself up, and trying to look dignified. “You are to be tried for stealing, and for the other awful crimes which your own conscience can best count over to you, and be sure the severest punishment of the law awaits you!”

“Is that all?” said Daph, her spirit rising, “Carry me to any real gemman, and it would take more liars than ever grew to prove any such like things against poor Daph. Ise not a bit afeared to go wid you, for sartain Ise be back soon ’nough.”

The children, who had been at first struck with silent astonishment, now began to realize that Daph was actually going from them. Louise burst into a violent fit of weeping, and clung to the unfortunate negro, while Charlie, with an uplifted wash-basin, made a sudden attack upon the slender legs of Dr. Bates, which broke up his dignified composure, and made him give a skip that would have done honor to a bear dancing on a hot iron plate.

“Now, Mass’ Charley, Ise do be shamed,” said Daph, subduing the grin that had suddenly overspread her face. “De young gemman don’t know no better! ’Tain’t likely he ever had body to teach him! You jus let him be, Mass’ Charlie, and tend to your own sister, Miss Lou, here. Don’t cry, pretty dear, Daph will be back soon! De Lord won’t let em hurt Daph! You be jus good childen, and dat sweet Miss Rose will comfort you till Daph comes home.”

The last words were hardly uttered, when the negro was forced into a long covered wagon and rapidly borne away from the door.

At this moment Mary Ray ran breathlessly up the steps, exclaiming, “Where have they taken Daph, mother? Mother, what is the matter?”

“Matter enough!” said Mrs. Ray, vehemently; “who could have told it would have ended that way! I am sure I never meant any such thing. Daph’s gone to prison; and just as likely I shall never hear the end of it, and have the children upon my hands, into the bargain. Well, well; I wish I’d never set eyes on that little spinky, Dr. Bates!”

The bitter reproaches that rose to Mary’s lips, were hushed at the mention of the children; and she hastened to comfort them, as well as she could, while Mrs. Ray went back to her kitchen, in no very enviable frame of mind.

XI.

Another Friend.

“Dis don’t be de cleanest place in de world!” said Daph to herself, as she looked round the small, bare room into which she had been thrust. “Well,” she continued, “de Lord Jesus, do be everywhere; and Daph no reason to be above stayin where such as he do set foot. But den de childen! what’s to become of de childen?”

Here Daph’s resolution gave way, and she took a hearty cry. “Daph, you do be a wicked creter,” she said to herself, at length. “Jus as if de Lord Jesus didn’t love little childen ebber so much better dan you can! He’s jus able hisself to take care ob de dears; and Daph needn’t go for to fret hersef bout dem.”

Thus consoled, Daph was prepared calmly to wait whatever should befall her. The stream of sunlight that poured through the small window, slowly crept along the floor, and the weary hours passed away.

The new and beautiful truths, that had of late been brought home to the soul of Daph, were much in her thoughts and full of comfort.

“I do be afraid,” she said to herself, “Ise did not act so bery Christianable, when dose big men did catch Daph by de shoulter. Dere’s somewhat in Daph mighty strong, dat don’t like folks puttin hands on widout tellin what’s de matter. Well, well; I spose Daph will get like a lamb, sometime, if de Lord helps her. Ise do wonder what the dears is a doin, jus now. Maybe that sweet Miss Rose is just speakin to dem beautiful words out ob de blessed book. How Daph would like to hear dose same words, her own self!”

Daph’s meditations were interrupted by the sudden turning of the key in the lock, and then the door of the small room was thrown open to admit the entrance of a stranger.

The new-comer was a short, stout, elderly man, with a dignified bearing, and a calm, kindly expression in his round unfurrowed face.

Daph looked at him from his powdered head, to his white-topped boots, with entire satisfaction. “He do be a _real gemman_, and dat ’s a comfort,” she said to herself, as she dropped a curtsy, and waited to be addressed by the stranger.

Daph’s favorable impressions were increased by the mild manner and clear voice in which she was addressed. She soon felt sufficiently at ease to comply with the request made by the gentleman, that she would tell him, frankly, all that she could remember of her life for the last few years, and explain how she, a poor negro, came in possession of jewelry fit for a duchess to wear.

Daph began in her own simple way, and described those pleasant home scenes on that far Southern island. Her heart grew light at the thought of the happy family circle in those good old times. It was with difficulty she brought herself to speak of the sudden destruction with which that home was threatened. She touched but lightly on her own efforts to save the little ones, when there was no earthly friend, but herself, between them and a bloody death.

From time to time her listener questioned her suddenly; but she answered him with such apparent frankness and simplicity, that he felt ashamed of the momentary suspicions that had crossed his mind.

When Daph came, in the progress of her story, to the captain’s late visit, and to the day of dark, hopeless despair that followed it, the eyes that were fixed upon her, slowly filled with tears.

Those tears suddenly gushed forth, as with the eloquence of a grateful heart Daph described the face, like that of an angel, that bent over her in her distress, and told of the Saviour, who is the friend of the sinner, and the comfort of all that mourn.

“God bless my sweet Rose!” murmured the stranger. “This was an errand of mercy, indeed!” After a moment’s pause, he added aloud, “You need say no more, Daph;” and, as he spoke, he put out his hand to take that of the humble negro.

She did not notice the movement; for she had lowered her eyes as she dropped her modest curtsy, and relapsed into silence.

Diedrich Stuyvesant loved his daughter Rose, as the apple of his eye; but he thought her a little too enthusiastic in her desire to do good; and he trembled, lest her warm feelings should lead her judgment astray.