Again silence fell upon them. In the direction of the square a crowd of slaves were enjoying the time of idleness. Men were dancing with men, and women with women, to the strange monotonous music of drums without tune, relics of the tom-tom in the wild African life which haunted them in dreamland. Still, there was pleasure for even a cultivated musical ear in the peculiar variation of the rhythm. The scanty raiment of gay-colored cotton stuffs set off the varied complexions—yellow, bronze, white—the flashing eyes, the gleaming teeth, and gave infinite variety to the scene. Over there, waterfalls fell in the sunlight in silvery waves; parti-colored butterflies of vivid coloring, and hummingbirds flashed through the air with electrical radiance; gay parakeets swung and chattered from the branches of the trees.
“Where, my son,” said the clergyman, indicating the landscape with a wave of his hand, “will you find a scene more beautiful than this? How can you leave it and those who love you and yours?”
“Beautiful, indeed; and I will confess that it grows dearer as the time for my departure draws near,” answered Montfort. “I will walk with you,” he continued, as the clergyman turned in the direction of the road. As they passed through the wide entrance gates a Negro woman was weeding her little garden; her pickaninny was astride her back, spurring his mother as a rider his horse. The woman and the child looked up and smiled at the master and his guest, and the woman put the child on the ground and stood upright to bob a queer little courtesy. They walked along in silence until they reached the plaza.
“My son, will you not be persuaded?”
“Father, I have made up my mind firmly, after due consideration. I believe it is for the best.”
They paused a moment at the square; then the holy man said solemnly, as he raised his hand in benediction: “If it then be for the best, which God grant it may be, I pray the good Father of us all to keep you in safety and in perfect peace.” He turned and disappeared in the crowd.
Charles Montfort was immediately surrounded by his friends, who greeted him joyously, for he was a genial man and had endeared himself greatly to his neighbors.
“Still determined to leave us, Charles?” inquired one.
“Yes, for the good of myself and family. How can we submit tamely to the loss of our patrimonies without an effort to reimburse ourselves when a friendly land invites us to share its hospitality?”
“There is truth in your argument for all who, like you, Charles, have a large venture in slaves. Thank heaven I am so poor that a change of laws will not affect me,” said one.
“Where a man’s treasure is, there also is his heart. It is nature. Almost you persuade me, Charles, to do likewise,” remarked another.
“As I have told you, I will retain my patrimony and free my slaves, too, by this venture in the United States under a more liberal government than ours.”
“Ah! Charles,” remarked another listener, “you forget the real difference between our government and that of the United States. And then the social laws are so different. You will never be able to accustom yourself to the habits of a republic. Do you not remember the planters from Georgia and Carolina who fought for good King George, and were stanch Royalists? They retired to the Bahamas when our cause was lost in the American colonies. My brother has just returned from a trip there. He tells strange tales of their surprise at many things we do here. I fear it is but a cold welcome you will receive from men of their class.”
“Certainly,” replied Montfort, “I shall try to be a good subject or citizen of whatever country I may be compelled to reside in for a long or short time.”
“But surely you will not expose your wife to the inconveniencies of life in that country,” said another.
“She has had her choice, but prefers hardships with me to life without me,” proudly returned Montfort.
“A willful man must have his way,” murmured one who had not yet spoken, “and I will give you three months to stay in the land of savages before you will be returning to us bag and baggage.”
“Well,” laughed Montfort, “we shall see.”
Twilight had fallen now, and Montfort bared his head to the refreshing sea breeze which fluttered every leaf. When he bade his friends good night, finally, and started on his homeward walk, the arguments of the good clergyman and of his friends were present in his harassed mind, and he wondered if he were doing wrong not to be prevailed upon to yield to the opinions of others. Once he almost determined that he would give it all up and remain in this land of love and beauty. To collect his scattered thoughts and calm his mind he turned toward the bay, and stood upon the beach, still allowing the breeze to play about his heated temples. Never before had he appreciated his home so much as now, when he contrasted it with the comparative barrenness of the new spot he had chosen. The water was alive with marine creatures; the sea aflame. The air was full of light-giving insects, incessantly moving, which illumined the darkness and gave life to every inanimate object. Over all the moon and stars were set in the cloudless deep-blue sky of coming night. Alas! his good angel fled with the darkness, and morning found him more determined than ever to go on with his project.
When it became generally known in Bermuda that Charles Montfort had decided to leave the place of his birth and establish himself in
