The Maroon Part 53

"So you tink Cubina lub _her_?"

"I do."

"An' she 'ciprocate de fekshun?"

"Ah, surely! How could she help do that?"

The interrogatory betrayed the speaker's belief that the Maroon captain was irresistible.

"Wa, then--wha you want me do, gal? You want rebbenge on Cubina, 'cause he hab 'trayed you? You want me put de _death-pell_ on him?"

"Oh! no--no! not that, Chakra, for the love of Heaven!--not that!"

"Den you want de _lub-spell_?"

"Ah! if he could be make love me 'gain--he did once. That is--I thought he did. Is it possible, good Chakra, to make him love me again?"

"All ting possble to old Chakra; an' to prove dat," continued he, with a determined air, "he promise put de lub-spell on Cubina."

"Oh, thanks! thanks!" cried the woman, stretching out her hands, and speaking in a tone of fervent grat.i.tude. "What can I do for you, Chakra? I bring you everything you ask. I steal rum--I steal wine--I come every night with something you like eat."

"Wa, Cynthy--dat berry kind ob you; but you muss do more dan all dat."

"Anything you ask me--what more?"

"You must yourseff help in de spell. It take bof you an' me to bring dat 'bout."

"Only me tell what to do; and trust me, Chakra, I shall follow your advice."

"Wa, den--lissen--I tell you all 'bout it. But sit down on da bedsed dar. It take some time."

The woman, thus directed, took her seat upon the bamboo couch, and remained silent and attentive--watching every movement of her hideous companion, and not without some misgivings as to the compact which was about to be entered into between them.

Volume Two, Chapter XXII.

THE LOVE-SPELL.

The countenance of the myal-man had a.s.sumed an air of solemnity that betokened serious determination; and the mulatta felt a presentiment that, in return for his services, something was about to be demanded of her--something more than a payment in meat and drink.

His mysterious behaviour as he pa.s.sed around the hut; now stopping before one of the grotesque objects that adorned the wall,--now fumbling among the little bags and baskets, as if in search of some particular charm--his movements made in solemn silence only broken by the melancholy sighing of the cataract without; all this was producing on the mind of the mulatta an unpleasant impression; and, despite her natural courage, sustained as it was by the burning pa.s.sion that devoured her, she was fast giving way to an indefinable fear.

The priest of Obi, after appearing to have worshipped each _fetish_ in turn, at length transferred his devotions to the rum-bottle--perhaps the most potent G.o.d in his whole Pantheon. Taking another long-protracted potation, followed by the customary "Whugh!" he restored the bottle to its place; and then, seating himself upon a huge turtle-sh.e.l.l, that formed part of the plenishing of his temple, he commenced giving his devotee her lesson of instructions.

"Fuss, den," said he, "to put de lub-spell on anybody--eider a man or a woman--it am nessary, at de same time, to hab de _obeah_-spell go 'long wi' it."

"What!" exclaimed his listener, exhibiting a degree of alarm; "the _obeah_-spell?--on Cubina, do you mean?"

"No, not on _him_--dat's not a nessary consarquence. But 'fore Cubina be made lub you, someb'dy else muss be made _sick_."

"Who?" quickly inquired the mulatta, her mind at the moment reverting to one whom she might have wished to be the invalid.

"Who you tink fo'? who you greatest enemy you wish make sick?"

"Yola," answered the woman, in a low muttered voice, and with only a moment of hesitation.

"Woan do--woman woan do--muss he man; an' more dan dat, muss be free man. n.i.g.g.a slave woan do. Obi G.o.d tell me so jess now. Buckra man, too, it muss be. If buckra man hab de obeah-'pell, Cubina he take de lub-spell 'trong--he lub you hard as a ole mule can kick."

"Oh! if he would!" exclaimed the pa.s.sionate mulatta, in an ecstasy of delightful expectation; "I shall do anything for that--anything!"

"Den you muss help put de obeah-spell on some ob de white folk. You hab buckra enemy?--Chakra hab de same."

"Who?" inquired the woman, reflectingly.

"Who! No need tell who Chakra enemy--you enemy too. Who fooled you long time 'go? who 'bused you when you wa young gal? No need tell you dat, Cynthy Vagh'n?"

The mulatta turned her eyes upon the speaker with a significant expression. Some old memory seemed resuscitated by his words,-- evidently anything but a pleasant one.

"Ma.s.sa Loftus?" she said, in a half-whisper.

"Sartin shoo, Ma.s.sa Loftus--dat ere buckra you enemy an' mine boaf."

"And you would--?"

"Set de obeah fo' him," said the negro, finishing the interrogatory, which the other had hesitated to p.r.o.nounce.

The woman remained without making answer, and as if buried in reflection. The expression upon her features was not one of repentance.

"Muss be him!" continued the tempter, as if to win her more completely to his dark project; "no odder do so well. Obi G.o.d say so--muss be de planter ob Moun' Welc'm."

"If Cubina will but love me, I care not who," rejoined the mulatta, with an air of reckless determination.

"'Nuff sed," resumed the myal-man. "De obeah-spell sha' be set on de proud buckra, Loftus Vagh'n; an' you, Cynthy, muss 'sist in de workin'

ob de charm."

"How can I a.s.sist?" inquired the woman, in a voice whose trembling told of a slight irresolution. "How, Chakra?"

"Dat you be tole by'm-bye--not dis night. De 'pell take time. G.o.d Obi he no act all at once, not eben fo' ole Chakra. You come 'gain when I leab de signal fo' yon on de trumpet-tree. Till den you keep dark 'bout all dese ting. You one ob de few dat know ole Chakra still 'live.

Odders know ob de ole myal-man in de mask, but berry few ebber see um face, an' nebba suspeck who um be. Das all right. You tell who de myal-man am, den--"

"Oh, never, Chakra," interrupted his listener, "never!"

"No, berra not. You tell dat, Cynthy, you soon feel de obeah-spell on youseff.

"Now, gal," continued the negro, rising from his seat, and motioning the mulatta to do the same, "time fo' you go. I specks one odder soon: no do fo' you to be cotch hya when dat odder come. Take you basket, an'

folla me."

So saying, he emptied the basket of its heterogeneous contents; and, handing it to its owner, conducted her out of the hut.