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Authors: Sonja Heisinger
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soul.”
“I’m curious how you learned her name if she does not speak?”
“Oh,” Adele smiled, “she did not write, either; at least, not when she came to us. The children named her. One of the girls thought of Josephine, and the others took to it immediately, for they thought it very pretty in comparison to the many Annes, Marys, and Elizabeths we had running about.”
“How fortunate it was for her to be taken in by a loving family such as yours,” Evelyn said musingly. “It is a dreadful course of fate that one should lose her family, as well as her home.”
Adele tilted her head to one side.
“You speak as if from experience, my dear Miss Brennan.”
There was a question in the statement that Evelyn felt no desire to answer. She smiled through the little lump in her throat and dropped her eyes to the floor. From where she sat with Bartholomew, Josephine gazed at her with an expression full of empathy.
Silence replaced their conversation, and sensing her new friend’s distress, Adele changed the subject.
“If I may be so bold as to inquire,” she began, “are you an abolitionist, Miss Brennan?”
Evelyn started.
“I don’t believe I have given the idea much thought,” she replied. “Slavery was abolished from the British Empire when I was an infant and New York has been a free state for fifty years. I have had little exposure to the system. It is foreign to me, as our servants have always been paid and treated with respect. I wonder at the origin of your curiosity?”
“It originated from a selfish desire to become your intimate friend, in whom you feel free to confide,” Adele smiled. “I am not blind to the way my people have disdainfully treated yours, and when I mentioned that my husband’s father was a landowner, I was rather afraid of what you might think. The elder Mr. Whitfield, you see, owned properties on English soil only. He had none in Ireland.”
“You need not worry, Mrs. Whitfield. My father was lord of his own land. The Brennans have no quarrel with England.”
“I am glad to hear it. The nobility of my country have treated the common people of Ireland as far less than respectable, hard-working tenants. As slaves , if I may speak candidly. I believe it is important for those of my people who recognize the injustice done to yours to apologize on behalf of our country, just as it will one day be incumbent upon the American people to apologize for the injustices done to those whom they have enslaved.”
“Then on behalf of Ireland, I forgive you.”
Adele placed her hand over her heart.
“And on behalf of England, Miss Brennan, I thank you.”
“Please, call me Evelyn.”
Just then the door opened, and Stephen Whitfield entered the room. He was a tall, fine-looking man, with spectacles and a kind face. The women stood to greet him, and Adele rushed to introduce her new friend.
“Is Mr. Flynn not with you?” she inquired as her husband bowed to Evelyn. “We thought he had gone to find you.”
Stephen looked puzzled.
“No, indeed. I have not seen him.”
Adele turned to her friend.
“Shall we compose ourselves into a search party, Evelyn?” she asked.
Evelyn recalled Lucius’ initial opinion of Mr. Whitfield as Puritanical. She should have known he would have no real interest in keeping company with a minister. There were plenty other ‘male counterparts’ to befriend on this ship, the most amusing of which were most likely located
“I’m curious how you learned her name if she does not speak?”
“Oh,” Adele smiled, “she did not write, either; at least, not when she came to us. The children named her. One of the girls thought of Josephine, and the others took to it immediately, for they thought it very pretty in comparison to the many Annes, Marys, and Elizabeths we had running about.”
“How fortunate it was for her to be taken in by a loving family such as yours,” Evelyn said musingly. “It is a dreadful course of fate that one should lose her family, as well as her home.”
Adele tilted her head to one side.
“You speak as if from experience, my dear Miss Brennan.”
There was a question in the statement that Evelyn felt no desire to answer. She smiled through the little lump in her throat and dropped her eyes to the floor. From where she sat with Bartholomew, Josephine gazed at her with an expression full of empathy.
Silence replaced their conversation, and sensing her new friend’s distress, Adele changed the subject.
“If I may be so bold as to inquire,” she began, “are you an abolitionist, Miss Brennan?”
Evelyn started.
“I don’t believe I have given the idea much thought,” she replied. “Slavery was abolished from the British Empire when I was an infant and New York has been a free state for fifty years. I have had little exposure to the system. It is foreign to me, as our servants have always been paid and treated with respect. I wonder at the origin of your curiosity?”
“It originated from a selfish desire to become your intimate friend, in whom you feel free to confide,” Adele smiled. “I am not blind to the way my people have disdainfully treated yours, and when I mentioned that my husband’s father was a landowner, I was rather afraid of what you might think. The elder Mr. Whitfield, you see, owned properties on English soil only. He had none in Ireland.”
“You need not worry, Mrs. Whitfield. My father was lord of his own land. The Brennans have no quarrel with England.”
“I am glad to hear it. The nobility of my country have treated the common people of Ireland as far less than respectable, hard-working tenants. As slaves , if I may speak candidly. I believe it is important for those of my people who recognize the injustice done to yours to apologize on behalf of our country, just as it will one day be incumbent upon the American people to apologize for the injustices done to those whom they have enslaved.”
“Then on behalf of Ireland, I forgive you.”
Adele placed her hand over her heart.
“And on behalf of England, Miss Brennan, I thank you.”
“Please, call me Evelyn.”
Just then the door opened, and Stephen Whitfield entered the room. He was a tall, fine-looking man, with spectacles and a kind face. The women stood to greet him, and Adele rushed to introduce her new friend.
“Is Mr. Flynn not with you?” she inquired as her husband bowed to Evelyn. “We thought he had gone to find you.”
Stephen looked puzzled.
“No, indeed. I have not seen him.”
Adele turned to her friend.
“Shall we compose ourselves into a search party, Evelyn?” she asked.
Evelyn recalled Lucius’ initial opinion of Mr. Whitfield as Puritanical. She should have known he would have no real interest in keeping company with a minister. There were plenty other ‘male counterparts’ to befriend on this ship, the most amusing of which were most likely located
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