CHAPTER I.EVANGELINE THE slanting light of the setting sun quivered on the sea-like expanse of the Mississippi; the shivery canes, and the tall, dark cypress, hung with wreaths of dark, funereal moss, glowed in the golden ray, as the heavily laden steamboat marched onward. Piled with cotton-bales, from many a plantation, up over deck and sides, till she seemed in the distance a square, massive block of gray, she moved heavily onward to the nearing mart. Among the passengers on the boat was a young gentleman of fortune and family, resident
in New Orleans, who bore the name of St. Clare. He had with him a daughter be-
tween five and six years of age, together with a lady who seemed to claim relationship to both, and to have the child especially under her charge. The little girl was one of those busy, tripping creatures, that can be no more contained in one place than a sunbeam or a summer breeze,—nor was she one that, once seen, could be easily forgotten. Her form was the perfection of childish beauty, without its usual chubbiness and squareness
of outline. There was about it an undulating and aerial grace, such as one might dream of for
some mythic and allegorical being. Her face was remarkable, less for its perfect beauty of
feature than for a singular and dreamy earnestness of expression, which made the ideal start
when they looked at her, and by which the dullest and most literal were impressed, without
exactly knowing why. The shape of her head and the turn of her neck and bust were peculiarly
noble, and the long golden-brown hair that floated like a cloud around it, the deep spiritual
gravity of her violet blue eyes, shaded by heavy fringes of golden brown,—all marked
her out from other children, and made every one turn and look after her, as she glided hither and thither on the boat. Nevertheless, the little one was not what you would have called either a grave child or a sad one. On the contrary, an airy and innocent playfulness seemed to flicker like the shadow of summer leaves over her childish face, and around her buoyant figure. She was always in motion, always with a half-smile on her rosy mouth, flying hither and thither, with an undulating and cloud-like tread, singing to herself as she moved, as in a happy dream. Her father and female guardian were incessantly busy in pursuit of her, but, when caught, she melted from them again like a summer cloud; and as no word of chiding or reproof ever fell on her ear for whatever she chose to do, she pursued her own way all over the boat. Always dressed in white, she seemed to move like a shadow through all sorts of places, without contracting spot or stain; and there was not a corner or nook, above or below, where those fairy footsteps had not glided, and that visionary, golden head, with its deep blue eyes, fleeted along. The fireman, as he looked up from his sweaty toil, sometimes found those eyes looking wonderingly into the raging depths of the furnace, and fearfully and pityingly at him, as if she thought him in some dreadful danger. Anon the steersman at the wheel paused and smiled, as the picture-like head gleamed through the window of the round-house, and in a moment was gone again. A thousand times a day rough voices blessed her, and smiles of unwonted softness stole over hard faces as she passed; and, when she tripped fearlessly over dangerous places, rough, sooty hands were stretched involuntarily out to save her, and smooth her path. The passenger on the boat who formed, perhaps, the most striking contrast to this pure-hearted,
sunny child, was one Haley, a slave-trader, who was taking a gang of negroes to the Southern markets
to be sold. Among the unfortunates in his care was a negro named Tom,—a large, broad-shouldered,
powerfully-made man of a full glossy black, and a face whose truly African features were
characterized by an expression of grave and steady good sense, united with much kindliness and
benevolence.
There was something about his whole air self-respecting and dignified, yet united with a confiding and humble simplicity. The look of serenity on his face, however, struggled for mastery with an expression of manly grief, for the poor fellow had left wife and children in his Kentucky home, whence he had been sold as a matter of pressing necessity by his master, Mr. Shelby, who had experienced the misfortune to fall deeply into Haley's debt. Tom, who had the soft, impressible nature of his kindly race, ever yearning toward the simple and childlike, watched little Eva with daily increasing interest. To him she seemed something almost divine; and, whenever her golden head and deep blue eyes peered out upon him from behind some dusky cotton-bale, or looked down upon him over some ridge of packages, he half believed that he saw one of the angels stepped out of his New Testament. Often and often she walked mournfully round the place where Haley's gang of men and women sat in
their chains. She would glide in among them, and look at them with an air of perplexed and sorrowful
earnestness; and
sometimes she would lift their chains with her slender hands, and then sigh wofully as she glided away. Several times she appeared suddenly among them, with her hands full of candy, nuts, and oranges, which she would distribute joyfully to them, and then be gone again. Tom watched the little lady a great deal before he ventured on any steps toward acquaintanceship. He knew an abundance of simple acts to propitiate and invite the approaches of the little people, and he resolved to play his part right skilfully. He could cut cunning little baskets out of cherry-stones, could make grotesque faces on hickory-nuts, or odd-jumping figures out of elder-pith, and he was a very Pan in the manufacture of whistles of all sizes and sorts. His pockets were full of miscellaneous articles of attraction, which he had hoarded in days of old for his master's children, and which he now produced, with commendable prudence and economy, one by one, as overtures for acquaintance and friendship. The little one was shy, for all her busy inter-
est in everything going on, and it was not easy to tame her. For awhile she would perch like a canary-bird on some box or package near Tom, while busy in the little arts aforenamed, and take from him, with a kind of grave bashfulness, the little articles he offered. But at last they got on quite confidential terms. "What's little missy's name?" said Tom, at last, when he thought matters were ripe to push such an inquiry. "Evangeline St. Clare," said the little one, "though papa and everybody else call me Eva. Now, what's your name?" "My name's Tom; the little chil'en used to call me Uncle Tom, way back thar in Kentuck." "Then I mean to call you Uncle Tom, because, you see, I like you," said Eva. "So, Uncle Tom, where are you going?" "I don't know, Miss Eva." "Don't know?" said Eva. "No. I am going to be sold to somebody. I don't know who." "My papa can buy you," said Eva, quickly; "and if he buys you, you will have good times. I mean to ask him to, this very day." "Thank you, my little lady," said Tom. The boat here stopped at a small landing to take in wood, and Eva, hearing her father's voice, bounded nimbly away. Tom rose up, and went forward to offer his service in wooding, and soon was busy among the hands. Eva and her father were standing together by the railings to see the boat start from the landing-place, the wheel had made two or three revolutions in the water, when, by some sudden movement, the little one suddenly lost her balance, and fell sheer over the side of the boat into the water. Her father, scarce knowing what he did, was plunging in after her, but was held back by some behind him, who saw that more efficient aid had followed his child. Tom was standing just under her on the lower deck, as she fell. He saw her strike the water, and sink,
and was after her in a moment. A broad-chested, strong-armed fellow, it was nothing for him to keep
afloat in the water, till, in a moment or two, the child rose to the surface, and he caught her in his
arms, and, swimming with her to the boat-side, handed her up, all dripping, to the grasp of hundreds of
hands,
which, as if they had all belonged to one man, were stretched eagerly out to receive her. A few moments more, and her father bore her, dripping and senseless, to the ladies' cabin. It was a sultry, close day when the steamer drew near to New Orleans. A general bustle of expectation and preparation was spread through the boat; in the cabin, one and another were gathering their things together, and arranging them, preparatory to going ashore. The steward and chambermaid, and all, were busily engaged in cleaning, furbishing, and arranging the splendid boat, preparatory to a grand entrée. On the lower deck sat our friend Tom, with his arms folded, and anxiously, from time to time, turning his eyes toward a group on the other side of the boat. There stood the fair Evangeline, a little paler than the day before, but otherwise exhibiting no
traces of the accident which had befallen her. A graceful, elegantly formed young man stood by her,
carelessly leaning one elbow on a bale of cotton, while a large pocket-book lay
open before him. It was quite evident, at a glance, that the gentleman was Eva's father. There was the same noble cast of head, the same large blue eyes, the same golden-brown hair; yet the expression was wholly different. In the large, clear, blue eyes, though in form and color exactly similar, there was wanting that misty, dreamy depth of expression; all was clear, bold, and bright, but with a light wholly of this world; the beautifully cut mouth had a proud and somewhat sarcastic expression, while an air of free-and-easy superiority sat not ungracefully in every turn and movement of his fine form. He was listening, with a good-humored, negligent air, half comic, half contemptuous, to Haley, who was very volubly expatiating on the quality of the article for which they were bargaining. "All the moral and Christian virtues bound in black morocco, complete!" he said, when Haley had finished. "Well, now, my good fellow, what's the damage, as they say in Kentucky; in short, what's to be paid out for this business? How much are you going to cheat me, now? Out with it!" "Wal," said Haley, "if I should say thirteen hundred dollars for that ar fellow, I shouldn't but just save myself; I shouldn't, now, re'ly." "Poor fellow!" said the young man, fixing his keen, mocking, blue eye on him; "but I suppose you'd let me have him for that, out of a particular regard for me." "Wal, the young lady here seems to be sot on him, and nat'lly enough." "Oh, certainly, there's a call on your benevolence, my friend. Now, as a matter of Christian charity, how cheap could you afford to let him go, to oblige a young lady that's particular sot on him?" "Wal, now, just think on't," said the trader; "just look at them limbs,—broad-chested, strong as
a horse. Look at his head; them high forrads allays shows calculatin' niggers, that'll do any kind
o' thing. I've marked that ar. Now, a nigger of that ar heft and build is worth considerable, just,
as you may say, for his body, supposin' he's stupid; but come to put in his calculatin' faculties,
and them which I can show he has oncommon, why, of course, it makes him come higher. Why, that ar
fellow managed his master's whole farm. He has a strornary talent for business." "Papa, do buy him! it's no matter what you pay," whispered Eva, softly, getting up on a package, and putting her arm around her father's neck. "You have money enough, I know. I want him." "What for, pussy? Are you going to use him for a rattle-box, or a rocking-horse, or what?" "I want to make him happy." "An original reason, certainly." Here the trader handed up a certificate, signed by Mr. Shelby, which the young man took with the tips of his long fingers, and glanced over carelessly. Meanwhile St. Clare had been making out a roll of bills. "There, count your money, old boy!" he added, as he handed the roll to the trader. "All right," said Haley, his face beaming with delight; and pulling out an old inkhorn, he proceeded to fill out a bill of sale, which, in a few moments, he handed to the young man. "I wonder, now, if I was divided up and
inventoried," said the latter, as he ran over the paper, "how much I might bring. Say so much for the shape of my head, so much for a high forehead, so much for arms, and hands, and legs, and then so much for education, learning, talent, honesty, religion! Bless me! there would be small charge on that last, I'm thinking. But come, Eva," he said; and taking the hand of his daughter, he stepped across the boat, and carelessly putting the tip of his finger under Tom's chin, said, good-humoredly, "Look up, Tom, and see how you like your new master." Tom looked up. It was not in nature to look into that gay, young, handsome face, without a feeling of pleasure; and Tom felt the tears start in his eyes as he said, heartily, "God bless you, Mas'r!" |