CHAPTER XLIII
Results part1
The rest of our storyis soon told. George Shelby, interested, as any other young man might be, bythe romance of the incident, no less than by feelings of humanity, was at thepains to send to Cassy the bill of sale of Eliza; whose date and name allcorresponded with her own knowledge of facts, and felt no doubt upon her mindas to the identity of her child. It remained now only for her to trace out thepath of the fugitives.
Madame de Thoux andshe, thus drawn together by the singular coincidence of their fortunes, proceededimmediately to Canada, and began a tour of inquiry among the stations, wherethe numerous fugitives from slavery are located. At Amherstberg they found themissionary with whom George and Eliza had taken shelter, on their first arrivalin Canada; and through him were enabled to trace the family to Montreal.
George and Elizahad now been five years free. George had found constant occupation in the shopof a worthy machinist, where he had been earning a competent support for hisfamily, which, in the mean time, had been increased by the addition of anotherdaughter.
Little Harry—a fine bright boy—had been put to a good school, and was making rapid proficiency inknowledge.
The worthy pastorof the station, in Amherstberg, where George had first landed, was so muchinterested in the statements of Madame de Thoux and Cassy, that he yielded tothe solicitations of the former, to accompany them to Montreal, in theirsearch,—shebearing all the expense of the expedition.
The scene nowchanges to a small, neat tenement, in the outskirts of Montreal; the time,evening. A cheerful fire blazes on the hearth; a tea-table, covered with asnowy cloth, stands prepared for the evening meal. In one corner of the roomwas a table covered with a green cloth, where was an open writing-desk, pens,paper, and over it a shelf of well-selected books.
This was George'sstudy. The same zeal for self-improvement, which led him to steal the muchcoveted arts of reading and writing, amid all the toil and discouragements of hisearly life, still led him to devote all his leisure time to self-cultivation.
At this presenttime, he is seated at the table, making notes from a volume of the familylibrary he has been reading.
"Come,George," says Eliza, "you've been gone all day. Do put down thatbook, and let's talk, while I'm getting tea,—do."
And little Elizaseconds the effort, by toddling up to her father, and trying to pull the bookout of his hand, and install herself on his knee as a substitute.
"O, you littlewitch!" says George, yielding, as, in such circumstances, man always must.
"That'sright," says Eliza, as she begins to cut a loaf of bread. A little oldershe looks; her form a little fuller; her air more matronly than of yore; butevidently contented and happy as woman need be.
"Harry, myboy, how did you come on in that sum, today?" says George, as he laid hishand on his son's head.
Harry has lost hislong curls; but he can never lose those eyes and eyelashes, and that fine, boldbrow, that flushes with triumph, as he answers, "I did it, every bit ofit, myself , father; and nobody helpedme!"
"That'sright," says his father; "depend on yourself, my son. You have abetter chance than ever your poor father had."
At this moment,there is a rap at the door; and Eliza goes and opens it. The delighted—"Why! thisyou?"—calls up her husband; and the good pastor ofAmherstberg is welcomed. There are two more women with him, and Eliza asks themto sit down.
Now, if the truthmust be told, the honest pastor had arranged a little programme, according towhich this affair was to develop itself; and, on the way up, all had verycautiously and prudently exhorted each other not to let things out, exceptaccording to previous arrangement.
What was the goodman's consternation, therefore, just as he had motioned to the ladies to beseated, and was taking out his pocket-handkerchief to wipe his mouth, so as toproceed to his introductory speech in good order, when Madame de Thoux upsetthe whole plan, by throwing her arms around George's neck, and letting all outat once, by saying, "O, George! don't you know me? I'm your sisterEmily."
Cassy had seatedherself more composedly, and would have carried on her part very well, had notlittle Eliza suddenly appeared before her in exact shape and form, everyoutline and curl, just as her daughter was when she saw her last. The littlething peered up in her face; and Cassy caught her up in her arms, pressed herto her bosom, saying, what, at the moment she really believed, "Darling,I'm your mother!"
In fact, it was atroublesome matter to do up exactly in proper order; but the good pastor, atlast, succeeded in getting everybody quiet, and delivering the speech withwhich he had intended to open the exercises; and in which, at last, hesucceeded so well, that his whole audience were sobbing about him in a mannerthat ought to satisfy any orator, ancient or modern.
They knelttogether, and the good man prayed,—for there are some feelings so agitated and tumultuous,that they can find rest only by being poured into the bosom of Almighty love,—and then, rising up, the new-found family embraced each other, witha holy trust in Him, who from such peril and dangers, and by such unknown ways,had brought them together.
The note-book of amissionary, among the Canadian fugitives, contains truth stranger than fiction.How can it be otherwise, when a system prevails which whirls families andscatters their members, as the wind whirls and scatters the leaves of autumn?These shores of refuge, like the eternal shore, often unite again, in gladcommunion, hearts that for long years have mourned each other as lost. Andaffecting beyond expression is the earnestness with which every new arrivalamong them is met, if, perchance, it may bring tidings of mother, sister, childor wife, still lost to view in the shadows of slavery.
Deeds of heroismare wrought here more than those of romance, when defying torture, and bravingdeath itself, the fugitive voluntarily threads his way back to the terrors andperils of that dark land, that he may bring out his sister, or mother, or wife.
One young man, ofwhom a missionary has told us, twice re-captured, and suffering shamefulstripes for his heroism, had escaped again; and, in a letter which we heardread, tells his friends that he is going back a third time, that he may, atlast, bring away his sister. My good sir, is this man a hero, or a criminal?Would not you do as much for your sister? And can you blame him?
But, to return toour friends, whom we left wiping their eyes, and recovering themselves from toogreat and sudden a joy. They are now seated around the social board, and aregetting decidedly companionable; only that Cassy, who keeps little Eliza on herlap, occasionally squeezes the little thing, in a manner that rather astonishesher, and obstinately refuses to have her mouth stuffed with cake to the extentthe little one desires,—alleging,what the child rather wonders at, that she has got something better than cake,and doesn't want it.
And, indeed, in twoor three days, such a change has passed over Cassy, that our readers wouldscarcely know her. The despairing, haggard expression of her face had given wayto one of gentle trust. She seemed to sink, at once, into the bosom of thefamily, and take the little ones into her heart, as something for which it longhad waited. Indeed, her love seemed to flow more naturally to the little Elizathan to her own daughter; for she was the exact image and body of the childwhom she had lost. The little one was a flowery bond between mother anddaughter, through whom grew up acquaintanceship and affection. Eliza's steady,consistent piety, regulated by the constant reading of the sacred word, madeher a proper guide for the shattered and wearied mind of her mother. Cassy yieldedat once, and with her whole soul, to every good influence, and became a devoutand tender Christian.
After a day or two,Madame de Thoux told her brother more particularly of her affairs. The death ofher husband had left her an ample fortune, which she generously offered toshare with the family. When she asked George what way she could best apply itfor him, he answered, "Give me an education, Emily; that has always beenmy heart's desire. Then, I can do all the rest."
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