# Duty and Inclination/Chapter 64

CHAPTER XXI.
The General having arrived in London had the happiness of again embracing his daughter; but at the same time was made sensible of a mingled pain in beholding the change in her appearance.
Ever of a delicate temperament, it seemed that the last severe trial she had undergone had tended to undermine her general health, and the treatment recommended by her medical attendant was considered most efficacious to ensure her from decline. Oriana testified the greatest delight upon seeing her father, and consoled him with the hope of becoming perfectly recovered when she should experience the quiet and repose of home.
Having passed a couple of days in London, he would gladly have escaped its noise and bustle, and have flown to the shades again, had not an event occurred of a nature wholly unexpected and extraordinary.
Walking one day towards the Horse Guards, he ​was led to enter the War Office, when one of the clerks in attendance presented him with a letter. The handwriting was none of the best, and the letter was ill-folded. "My dear Massa!" were the first words that met his eye, and, in turning over the paper, he found it signed "Your faithful Robert."
What a delightful and agreeable surprise,—what pleasure awaited him; he was about hearing intelligence of his kind, devoted, and honest black,—to receive fresh testimony of his continued friendship! Running his eye over the scrawl, though he had some difficulty to understand it, he was, perhaps, even more gratified to trace those ingenuous sentiments and expressions of fidelity from his old servant, than if they had been traced by a minister of state, and conveyed the glad tidings of some distinguished preferment.
The passage more immediately elucidating the object of his writing was as follows: "If when dis comes to hand, Massa take de trouble of giving a call at No. 3, Gray's Inn Road, he will bestow great obligation on his old Robert, who is vexed about dis letter, hoping it will be received; has someting to say me cannot write, but will tell it when me sees goot Massa. So pray come as soon as convenient."
Less curious to learn the information Robert proposed giving him than desirous of again seeing him, the General on quitting the War Office called the first coach he met with, and, drove to the place appointed. No sooner did he alight than Robert flew ​to meet him. The poor fellow sobbed out his joy, insomuch that De Brooke was nearly himself melted to tears.
After many inquiries after "dear Misses and de young ladies. Miss Ory and Rosa," he conducted the General into a small but neatly furnished apartment, where, after seating him in a large elbow-chair, being in the presence of his former master, he stood respectfully before him, and could scarcely be prevailed upon to sit down.
"Your letter indicates," said the General, "that you have something of moment to communicate; but before talking of business, let me express my satisfaction, Robert, upon this our now fortunate meeting, and relieve my heart of what is at present nearest to it. To be brief, I live in Wales; I have a small establishment there, and am just at this moment in want of a person like yourself, to conduct my farm, and take the management of the arable land. 'Tis you, my good Robert, are my man; come then, my long lost friend, whom I have often regretted ever to have parted with; come and end your days amongst us, and confer upon me one of the greatest enjoyments I am at this time capable of knowing."
Robert smiled; and it was a smile of such simple candour that the General thought the point had met with his entire acquiescence. "My dear Robert," added he, "you are grown a spruce fellow; your coat is as good as mine, and your linen nearly as fine—with that brooch too,—I suspect you are courting!"
​ "No, no, Massa; Robert knows better at his age; no more wife for poor Robert; Robert live single now."
"I fear, my dear Robert, I have been too hasty in my remarks; forgive me; I would not injure your quick feelings for the world. Relate to me your adventures since parting, now, or at any other time; but promise me this, that you will come and end your days with me."
"How like dat is wat you said when young, Massa," rejoined Robert, composing himself; "me never forget it; you used to lob poor black boy very much, and used to say, when you grew a man, you would share your fortunes wit him. In right you were de natural heir of your father Sir Aubrey, but he cut off poor Massa; Robert was very grateful all de same, and loved Massa better than had he been rich man; and wat could he do, dan serve Massa in distress, dat would have shared all his fortune wit him, had he not been wheedled out of it? Massa deceived in his family, but not deceived in his servant. Massa again offers Robert to come and share his fortune wit him."
"Yes!" exclaimed the General, "it will confer upon me a happiness unspeakable; your servitude shall be light, and we will try and forget the past by never talking of it."
"Massa, Robert means to share his fortune wit you, but he cannot go and live wit you, he has concerns to take care of far away by sea; and dis brings ​me to wat me want to say to you. Robert is now wery rich; has earned great deal,—large wealth; but me cannot live in great house; me cannot drive fine coach. If Massa den will keep his word, and share wit Robert, his fortune now is all Massa's."
The ambiguity which Robert threw into his discourse prevented the General from thoroughly understanding him; but he was at no loss when Robert, upon unlocking a bureau, placed a parchment on a table before him, requesting him to sign it with his name.
Amazed, surprised at what struck upon his sense as an act of the most magnanimous and generous description, yet still doubting whether in his conjecture he was right or wrong, the General exclaimed with emotion, "What can this mean? You are too sudden in your operations, Robert; let me read before I sign, and I will tell you afterwards if my conscience can well acquit me of doing so."
"Read, Massa, read; but if you object to do as Robert would have you, it will not be to make Robert happy, and die in peace, as you would wish him."
Making himself quickly acquainted with the contents of the parchment, the General raised his eyes to fix them upon Robert, with an expression of the most unbounded admiration. From what he discovered, he found it to be regularly drawn up according to the rules of law; a property specified, amassed by the sale of lands, farm, tavern, at the Cape of Good ​Hope, together with the addition of a smaller sum in ready cash, made the amount of £14,000; the whole of which by legal and correct attestations was made over to himself, duly signed by Robert in the presence of witnesses, who had also put their oaths and seals, and which awaited only his own signature to receive confirmation*.
"My dear Robert," ejaculated the General, after a pause, during which he had been literally speechless from astonishment, "what in the world am I to conceive of this? you would beggar yourself to enrich me! One would imagine you wished to try whether I have strength of mind, honour, and probity sufficient to resist so great a temptation."
"No, goot Massa," returned the black in imploring accents; "but it has been for you dat me owe having got so much; my zeal to make amends for all your past gootness: me have made it over to you, and if you refuse it, me shall die miserable."
"Die miserable unless I consent to rob you—to deprive you, Robert, of all your honest and industrious earnings! But it is immense what you have acquired in the space of these last twelve or fourteen years that we have been separated; and it appears to me, in the noble donation you would bestow upon me, that you have not reserved even the smallest mite for yourself. The mists that surrounded me on ​the first aspect of this affair having cleared away, I will do as you would have me, and be proudly indebted to my Robert,—to my old trustworthy servant,—for this great accession of fortune to myself and family; but with this provision, that you allow a handsome settlement to be made out of it for yourself."
"Even the fourth part, Massa, would be more dan me would know what to do wit."
"Think you, noble friend, I could enjoy it under the consciousness that you had left yourself destitute for my sake!"
"Instead of making conditions wit Master, me wished to feel myself obliged to him for wat he might tink proper to pension me off wit upon its becoming his own. Me know wery well Massa, and how he would be glad to provide for Robert."
"Yes! that I will make a handsome provision for you, my confiding Robert, since you magnanimously entrust me with the charge of doing so, even, strange as it may appear, out of your own property. Give me the pen; I will sign, if it was with the view only of transmitting to posterity this deed of my Robert's—that it may be known to the honour of your race, the dark-coloured African, that a negro, once the servant of a master, himself a servant of royalty, owed to his fidelity and attachment a re-establishment of fortune; that it was through him, his former valet, earned by the labour and sweat of his brow, that he acquired ​that handsome sufficiency, of which the loss of his command, without an adequate indemnity, and his loss of hereditary rights, had alike deprived him."
Having taken the pen and put his signature, to the unbounded satisfaction of Robert, the General added, "The deed is done! you have now made over to me the whole of your property; and now, my worthy friend, satisfy my curiosity by explaining to me the means which enabled you to accumulate so large a sum."
"Upon leaving your service, Massa, my heart almost broke to quit you and dear Misses and young ladies; me grieved so, me believe it would have cost me my life, had not some lucky tought come into my head, and it was dat tought which gave me courage, and made me more hearty to say. Farewell, Massa! for it was while talking to you about going, dat it crossed me all at once to go back to Cape Town, and try and find old Massa, if he was alive; he who parted wit me to your kind mother, God bless her! De money you made me take of you in parting was de cause of great project succeeding, as me got on board a ship bound to New South Wales, and which de crew told me always stopped at Cape Town. Me arrived safe, and though almost forgot all about it, found at last de inn—large inn—where Massa's wife lived. She liked Robert when lilly negro boy, and was glad to see him come back a man. Her husband lived to return home, but fell sick again, and at last died,—all de affairs ​going to ruin whilst he lay long time sick; no proper goot person to look after tings. I told her how it was me came to come back, and said, me should be glad to serve her, and give her satisfaction; upon which she took me to act as under-waiter. By degrees I came to be head-waiter; she praised my diligence, told me I brought her goot luck; de profits came in scanty before, but now de earnings had never been so great. She showed me such confidence, dat she entrusted at last all her affairs to me; honoured me by saying such kind, civil things, Robert sometimes forgot himself, and showed his liking also. She had been too young for her late husband, and though a goot deal older dan me, I began to tink she might condescend to marry me. Me had laid by all my earnings and presents made me by travellers stopping wit us from all corners of de earth, out of which me purchased a little farm, which brought me in good stocks; my cattle and herds increased, togeter wit harvest produce. All as it came in and multiplied, me laid by, intending it all to bring over to England to goot Massa,—because being all my own, defrauded no one, did injustice to no man. Tawny negro man and white woman took deir meals togeder; oder servants tought me as goot as a massa; and when Misses found dey respected me, she began by praising my polite manners to strangers, my honesty and fidelity; it even gave her de tought to marry me. Me gave her no reason to repent of it. Me showed her gratitude to de last day of her life. ​Poor ting! she did not live long to bless Robert," wiping his eyes as he spoke; "and having no friend left, my toughts den turned upon goot last Massa in England. All my wife's property became mine. I raised a handsome stone over her grave, and after wept sorely for her. Me had no spirit to go on wit de business; me determined to sell all off at once, and wit all de produce of it, come back to England, and search for Massa, hoping goot Providence would bless and reward my design; and while coming over in de ship, de words dat Massa used to say, when a youth, was always running in my head: 'Robert, when I grow up, and become rich, you shall share my fortunes.' Me became quite joyful at tinking it was about to come to pass; and dere Massa now is found, and Robert quite happy."
His simple story finished, the General endeavoured to chase the tears that, in spite of himself bedewed his eyes; turning them next upon Robert, "What a soul of brightness," thought he, "does that sable form inclose!" To suppress the further emotions that were rising, he arose from his seat, and laid his hand upon the heart of the negro.
"Robert," exclaimed he, "your reward will be found there—in that heart, where the bliss of angels and heaven already dwell! The sons of Afric are surely blessed above us, possessing such superior warmth of affection, and perhaps capacities of no meaner order. Well, Robert," he added, "you will ​live with me henceforth, and share all that you have made me worth."
"No, dat cannot be," said he, wiping tears from his eyes; "I must refuse Massa dat, and return to de Cape, now my business is done dat brought me from it. De gratitude due to my wife says, Robert should never forsake de spot where her ashes lay."
Admiring a sentiment, which he found to be too strongly ingrafted to meet with opposition in one of such a decided firmness as Robert, the General, with the utmost persuasion of reasoning of which he was capable, could not prevail upon the self-devoted black to accept out of what had belonged to himself more than £2000, upon which he declared he should be rich, as it would bring him in about an income of £100 per annum, and much more than ample for his greatest wants. This being settled, the General opened his arms to embrace him who had manifested towards him an act so generous, great, and noble! He could scarcely believe but that it was a dream, to be so suddenly enriched through the instrumentality of his former servant—his faithful Robert.
Reflecting upon this singular adventure, he strolled on, and bent his steps to Grosvenor-square, to the residence of his sister—to that house containing for the most part the splendid furniture, portraits, plate, the property of the late Sir Aubrey, and to which, by legal right of primogeniture, he was heir; having, however, passed from him to his sister, ​through her they would go into the general mass belonging to the Ardens.
The parchment I have in my pocket, thought the General, will give me but half as many hundreds per annum, as Mr. Arden in his own right, independent of my sister, possesses thousands, and yet I would not exchange with him; a free gift from this noble-minded fellow contains within it that which is invaluable, above every consideration of self-interest; and more so accompanied by the conviction that Robert, in bestowing it upon me, experiences such happiness as, in accepting it from him, I can never feel."
This first ebullition of feeling subsiding, the General, more calmly and deeply reflecting on the property thus forced upon him, felt the strongest desire to restore it; but when he recalled to mind the looks, gestures, and supplicating accents of Robert, he felt sensibly aware that, in opposing his generous views, he should aggrieve and render him most truly miserable. Entering, therefore, upon a solemn covenant with himself, he resolved to consider the property thus made over to him as a sacred gift, a trust for which he was accountable to his God for every shilling he expended of it.
In his days of youth, unthinking as he had been, he accused himself with bitterness in having disbursed with profusion and even wantonness; now, on the contrary, with the experience and discretion he had gained, the property amassed by Robert could ​not have fallen into the hands of any more disposed to make a religious and proper use of it. He endeavoured to calm his mind, and to silence those ideas, which arose in spite of him, as to whether in honour he could accept this money of his past servant. Alas! thought he, high or low, are we not all brethren under one common Father, and in the sight of heaven who may stand superior to Robert?
Having no love of riches, and having become content with his solitude, the utmost poverty or affliction to which he could possibly have been reduced would have been esteemed light and easy to bear, rather than have raised himself from such condition at the expense of any individual whatever. Munificent as he was in his own disposition in the conferring of favours, his acceptance, under the circumstances we have described, of the fortune bestowed by Robert, he found upon reasoning with himself to be perfectly consistent with the most scrupulous principles of uprightness and probity: as he could not reproach himself in this instance, so neither did he indulge in an elation of mind on the occasion.
He dined at the Ardens', rejoiced at being with his child, but found in himself no disposition to make known his new acquisition. In seeking to dispel the affecting impressions prevailing over him, if, after intervals of slight abstraction, he seemed more than usually gay, Mr. and Mrs. Arden concluded it proceeded from the pleasure he felt in being put again in the possession of his daughter, as they well ​knew his paternal affection and pride for either child was such, that it had never been with his entire consent that he had renounced the society of Oriana, whose declining health made Mrs. Arden desirous to renounce her charge, considering also home to be the most appropriate place for invalids, being there more abundantly supplied with those attentions the nature of the indisposition might require.
Much, therefore, as the General's solicitude for his daughter led him to wish to settle her in the purer atmosphere of the country, yet he resolved not to leave town whilst his much-esteemed and attached Robert inhabited it; and he accordingly delayed his departure until the ship which had brought Robert again set sail on its return, bearing with its crew a noble passenger in the person of the high-principled and affectionate African. The last affecting adieu having been given, the General prolonged his stay to see the vessel under weigh: as it spread its sails, he viewed it glide down the Thames with feelings such as those alone experience who part from a much-loved relative, about to be divided by interminable waters.
"His sense of duty takes him," reflected the General; "it is that alone which severs us; and he bears with him a pure conscience, a soul in that sable form such as kings might envy! May Heaven bless thee, my noble friend, my noble Robert!" ejaculated he, deeply affected, as he turned from the banks of that extensive river to pursue his route ​back, to meet his daughter, who had shared with him also in the happiness and regret of seeing and parting from Robert, and whom he now conducted to the travelling carriage that was to convey her to the peaceful Bower.