Page:The White Slave, or Memoirs of a Fugitive.djvu/192

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
178
MEMOIRS OF

of scripture, and what seemed a sort of prayer. But all would not do; and carried away at last, by a sudden gust of passion, forgetful of his religious scruples, he cursed the brutal overseer with all the energy of a husband's vengeance. Presently he recovered his self-command, and began to take fault to himself, ascribing all the blame to his own foolish interference. The thought that what his affection for his wife had prompted him to do, had only served to aggravate her sufferings, seemed to agitate him almost to distraction. Again, the tide of passion swept all before it. His countenance grew convulsed; his bosom heaved; and he only found relief in half-uttered threats and muttered execrations.

He consulted with me as to what he had better do. I knew that the overseer was terribly incensed against him. I had heard him say, that if such a daring act of insolence was not most signally punished, it would be enough to corrupt and disorder the whole neighborhood. I was aware that Mr Martin would not dare absolutely to put him to death. But this prohibition to commit murder is the sole and single limit to an overseer's authority; and I knew that he had both the right and the will to inflict a torture compared to which the agonies of an ordinary death-struggle would be but trifling. I therefore advised Thomas to fly; since even if he were caught at last, no severer punishment could be inflicted upon him than he would be certain of, upon a voluntary surrender.

For a moment, this advice seemed to please him; and an expression of daring determination appeared in his face, such as I had never seen there before. But it disappeared in an instant. "There is Ann," he said, "I cannot leave her, and she, poor timid thing, even if she were well, I could never persuade her to fly with me. It will not do, Archy; I cannot leave my wife!"

What could I answer?

I understood him well, and knew how to sympathize with him. I could not but admit the force of his objectian. Such feelings I knew it would be in vain to combat with arguments; indeed I could not make up my mind to attempt it; and as I had no other advice to give, I remained silent.