Н. Самуэльян - Лучшие романы Томаса Майна Рида / The Best of Thomas Mayne Reid

“Blesh my soul! – I never knew that Mishter Vochan had a nephew! You are from England, young man? Hash your uncle any more English nephews?”

“Not that I am aware of,” replied Herbert, frankly. “I believe I am his only relative of that kind – in England, at least.”

The proviso in this reply betrayed a significant fact: that the young man was not very well acquainted with the family affairs of his colonial kinsman.

The astute Justice did not fail to notice this deficiency in the nephew’s knowledge.

“How long hash you been in Shamaica?” asked he, as if endeavouring to arrive at an explanation of some point that was puzzling him.

“A night, and part of two days – in all, about twenty-four hours,” replied Herbert, with scrupulous exactness.

“Blesh my soul!” again exclaimed the Justice; “only twenty-four hours! It’sh a wonder you’re not at your uncle’s house? You hash been there?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Herbert, carelessly.

“You come to shtay at Mount Welcome, I supposhe?”

Herbert made no reply to this interrogatory. “You shleep there lash night? Excushe me young man, for ashking the question, but ash a magistrate – ”

“You are perfectly welcome to the answer, your worship ,” said Herbert, laying a satirical emphasis on the titular phrase; “I did not sleep there last night.”

“Where did you shleep then?”

“In the woods,” answered Herbert.

“Moshesh!” exclaimed the Jew-justice, raising his spectacles in surprise. “In the woods, you shay?”

“In the woods,” re-affirmed the young man; “under a tree; and a very good bed I found it,” he added, jocosely.

“And did your uncle know of thish?”

“I suppose my uncle knew nothing about it, and as little did he care,” replied Herbert, with a reckless indifference as to what answer he gave.

The bitter emphasis on the last words, with the tone in which they were delivered, did not escape the observation of Jessuron. A suspicion had arisen in his mind, that there was something amiss in the relationship between the young man and his uncle; to the comprehension of which the answer of the former, aided by a knowledge of the character and affairs of the latter, was gradually giving him a clue. A secret joy sparkled in his sunken eyes, as he listened to the last answer given.

All at once he discontinued the direct examination of the prisoner; and, signing to Ravener and the constable to come near, he became engaged with these two worthies in a whispering conversation.

What passed between the trio, the young Englishman could not tell – nor indeed any one else who chanced to be present. The result, however, was to Herbert as pleasant as unexpected.

When Jessuron again returned to address him, a complete change appeared to have taken place in his manner; and, instead of the frowning Justice, Herbert now saw before him a man who appeared more in the character of a friendly protector – bland, smiling, almost obsequious!

“Mashter Vochan,” said he – rising from his magisterial seat, and extending his hand to the prisoner – “you will excushe the rough treatment you hash had from theshe people. It ish a great crime in thish country – helping a runaway shlave to eshcape; but as you hash joosh landed, and cannot be ekshpected to know our shtatutes, the law deals mershifully with a firsht offence. Besides, in thish instance, the runaway – who ish one of my own shlaves – did not eshcape. He ish in the hands of the Maroons, and will soon be brought in. The punishment I inflict upon you – and I shall inshist upon its being carried out – ish, that you eats your dinner with me, and – I think that ish punishment enough. Mishter Ravener,” added he, calling to his overseer, and at the same time, pointing to Quaco, “take that good fellow and see that he ish cared for. Now, Mashter Vochan! pleashe to step inside, and allow me to introshuce you to my daughter Shoodith.”

It would have been contrary to all human nature had Herbert Vaughan not felt gratified at the pleasant turn which this disagreeable affair had taken; and perhaps this gratification was enhanced at the prospect of the proposed introduction. Indeed, no man, however cold his nature, could have looked upon those lovely eyes – so long wistfully watching him from the window – without wishing a nearer acquaintance with their owner.

The angry glance had been evanescent. It was gone long before the conclusion of the trial scene; and as the young Englishman – in obedience to the invitation of his ci-devant judge – stepped across the verandah, the fair face, retreating from the window, was suffused with the sweetest and most sympathetic of smiles.

Chapter 31

An Unexpected Patron

Thus had the chapter of accidents that conducted Herbert Vaughan to the penn of Jacob Jessuron been brought to a very unexpected termination.

But the end was not yet. There was more to come – much more.

Herbert was surprised at the turn things had taken. The only explanation he could think of was, that it was to his uncle’s name he was indebted for the honours that were being done to him – a mere neighbourly feeling of the penn-keeper for the great sugar-planter.

“They are friends,” thought Herbert, “and this kindness to me is the offspring of that friendship.”

The reflection did not give him pleasure, but the contrary. He felt himself in an awkward position – the recipient of a hospitality not meant for himself, but rather for one who had injured him; and who, although his own relative, he now regarded as his enemy.

His uncle would hear of it – no doubt, soon – and would be able to accuse him of taking advantage of his name. The thought caused Herbert a feeling of uneasiness.

Perhaps he would have cared less had there been no one but his uncle to be cognisant of the false position. But there was. His short and troubled visit to Mount Welcome had made Herbert Vaughan acquainted with one whose remembrance was likely for a long time to exert an influence over his thoughts – even though lips as red, and eyes, perhaps, as brilliant as hers, were now smiling courteously upon him.

The memory of his cousin Kate was still mellow. He could fancy her soft, sweet voice yet ringing in his ears; the warm glow of her virgin presence seemed hanging like a halo around him: all urging him to preserve the heroism of his character, if only for the sake of standing well in her estimation.

Influenced by these considerations, he resolved to throw off the mask with which circumstances had momentarily invested him, and declare the true position in which he stood to his haughty relative.

It was not until the conclusion of the dinner – after the daughter of his host had retired smilingly from the table – that the young Englishman unburdened himself. Then – perhaps a little prompted by the wine – he made a full confession of the disagreeable circumstances existing between himself and the master of Mount Welcome.

Was it the wine – somewhat freely pressed upon him – that hindered him from perceiving the displeasure which his communication had produced upon his hearer? Was there any show of displeasure?

If there was, Herbert did not perceive it.

On the contrary, had the young man been closely observant, he might have noticed an effect of altogether an opposite character. Behind the green goggles, he might have seen those deep dark Israelitish eyes sparkling with joy at the revelation he had made.

“I’m exsheedingly sorry, young Mashter Vochan,” said the Jew, after his surprise at Herbert’s revelations had apparently subsided – “exsheedingly sorry I ish – to hear that you and your uncle are not on good terms. Ah! well; we mush hope for the besht; and ash I am one of Mishter Vochan’s humble friendsh, possibly I might do somethingsh to reconshile your little quarrel. Doosh you not intend going back to Mount Welcome?”