Read Online The Wedding Gift by Marlen Suyapa Bodden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marlen Suyapa Bodden
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English wax into the grain of the wood. My thoughts always were of Belle. Why Belle? Why not me? I was the one who always wanted to flee. I was the one who barely hid an escalating rage against Mr. Allen. I wish I knew where they had taken my sister. Even if I did know where they had taken her, what could I do? I could not do anything to rescue her.
Belle and my mother had warned me not to run. If you run, they will hunt you. They will find you and bring you back. Everyone who runs is caught. When they bring you back, they beat you. If you run again, they cut you before they sell you. What of my mother? She now had just one child. If I ran away to find Belle, it was unlikely that I could find her, but my dear mother would be alone. I had to have faith in Mama that she would get back Belle. After all, these many years she had managed to keep the three of us together. These were my thoughts all my waking hours and in my sleep.
My mother went back to Mr. Allen after Belle was sold, which meant that I could read in our cabin. One night I was reading Mr. Wordsworth’s poetry and came across a sonnet unlike his other works. It was about a man named Toussaint L’Ouverture. This poem sang to me about my life.
TO TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon’s earless den; O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There’s not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man’s unconquerable mind.
Who was this Toussaint L’Ouverture? How could I learn more about him? Why was he “in some deep dungeon’s earless den”? I would have to search for answers the next day when I was laboring in the library. I returned to the first pages of the book where I read that certain sonnets in this collection, including the one about Toussaint L’Ouverture, were published in London’s Morning Post in 1803.
The next morning, I looked in the library but could find no reference to Toussaint L’Ouverture or the Morning Post. I realized that there were never newspapers in the library, although I sometimes saw Mr. and Mrs. Allen reading them in the parlor. I did not know where they put them after reading them. That night, before she left, I asked my mother what happened to the newspapers after the Allens read them.
“What did I tell you? Don’t ask me or no one about books or newspapers or nothing like that. And the overseer complained that you spend too much time cleaning that library. I have my suspicions why that is, and I don’t even want to know what happened when you sat with Miss Clarissa in those lessons. Sarah, please. You’re scaring me. I already got enough worries with Belle and don’t need to worry about you.”
The next day, after my mother made tea, I asked her if she wanted me to take it to the Allens on the verandah. When I finished serving, Mrs. Allen complimented me.
“Sarah, you set such a lovely tea service. Tell your mother that the pastries were delicious.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll be back to clear everything. Is there anything else that I can bring, ma’am?”
“Not for me. Mr. Allen? Clarissa?”
“Tell her to bring me a glass of brandy, this tea business is for ladies,” Mr. Allen said from behind his newspaper.
I curtsied. “Yes, sir. Yes, ma’am.”
When I got to the kitchen, my mother sent me to get the overseer to unlock the liquor cabinet. When he did, she poured some in a glass and I took it on a tray to Mr. Allen. I cleared the table and hovered until they were done with tea. When they went to the parlor, I cleaned the verandah and put
Belle and my mother had warned me not to run. If you run, they will hunt you. They will find you and bring you back. Everyone who runs is caught. When they bring you back, they beat you. If you run again, they cut you before they sell you. What of my mother? She now had just one child. If I ran away to find Belle, it was unlikely that I could find her, but my dear mother would be alone. I had to have faith in Mama that she would get back Belle. After all, these many years she had managed to keep the three of us together. These were my thoughts all my waking hours and in my sleep.
My mother went back to Mr. Allen after Belle was sold, which meant that I could read in our cabin. One night I was reading Mr. Wordsworth’s poetry and came across a sonnet unlike his other works. It was about a man named Toussaint L’Ouverture. This poem sang to me about my life.
TO TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy of men! Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough Within thy hearing, or thy head be now Pillowed in some deep dungeon’s earless den; O miserable Chieftain! where and when Wilt thou find patience? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There’s not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man’s unconquerable mind.
Who was this Toussaint L’Ouverture? How could I learn more about him? Why was he “in some deep dungeon’s earless den”? I would have to search for answers the next day when I was laboring in the library. I returned to the first pages of the book where I read that certain sonnets in this collection, including the one about Toussaint L’Ouverture, were published in London’s Morning Post in 1803.
The next morning, I looked in the library but could find no reference to Toussaint L’Ouverture or the Morning Post. I realized that there were never newspapers in the library, although I sometimes saw Mr. and Mrs. Allen reading them in the parlor. I did not know where they put them after reading them. That night, before she left, I asked my mother what happened to the newspapers after the Allens read them.
“What did I tell you? Don’t ask me or no one about books or newspapers or nothing like that. And the overseer complained that you spend too much time cleaning that library. I have my suspicions why that is, and I don’t even want to know what happened when you sat with Miss Clarissa in those lessons. Sarah, please. You’re scaring me. I already got enough worries with Belle and don’t need to worry about you.”
The next day, after my mother made tea, I asked her if she wanted me to take it to the Allens on the verandah. When I finished serving, Mrs. Allen complimented me.
“Sarah, you set such a lovely tea service. Tell your mother that the pastries were delicious.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll be back to clear everything. Is there anything else that I can bring, ma’am?”
“Not for me. Mr. Allen? Clarissa?”
“Tell her to bring me a glass of brandy, this tea business is for ladies,” Mr. Allen said from behind his newspaper.
I curtsied. “Yes, sir. Yes, ma’am.”
When I got to the kitchen, my mother sent me to get the overseer to unlock the liquor cabinet. When he did, she poured some in a glass and I took it on a tray to Mr. Allen. I cleared the table and hovered until they were done with tea. When they went to the parlor, I cleaned the verandah and put
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