Theory of Slavery | Hamilton

VIII

"His excellency wants you to come see him tonight."

I dropped a kitchen sponge, looked back at Theodosia and stood motionless for a time, as though thunderstruck.

"Why?" I mumbled, turning cold.

But the cook, a simple-minded woman that she was, did not notice my sudden agitation.

"How do I know? Come and see."

Then she added:

"Why? You visited him yesterday, you must know."

There was a note of slyness in this inquiry. Weird thing: I haven't told anyone about what happened, had never laid stress on this. A chill went down my back.

"Another thing about His Excellency— that is, when he came out today, at two o-clock, he went straight to me and asked about you. You certainly ought to have something to talk about..."

"But... I didn't visit him..." I said slowly and weakly, twisting my lips into a sickly smile.

"What a wily person you are!" Theodosia tittered, "there's no catching you."

She waved her hand and continued washing the dishes. My legs felt suddenly weak, and my heart seemed to stand still for a moment. "Well, this is it. Of course he has not forgotten..."

I went cold.

Is it possible, is it possible, flashed through my mind, that he will ask for the same thing? The very thing?

I rejected that idea, feeling to what a degree of disgust and fear it might drive me.

"Miss Batrow," I said loudly and imperiously, to my own surprise. "I want to know, do you acknowledge me perfectly free from your previous suspicion or not?"

Theodosia glanced at me in great astonishment. The question was out of place here.

"What are you getting at?"

I became hot all over. "Right. What am I getting at?"

Everything froze. Theodosia stood silently, and then, after not getting an answer from me, turned back to the sink. In exhaustion I picked up the sponge, trying to keep my features quite motionless. The brief remarks that dropped from Theodosia between the washing of the dishes betrayed unmistakable and mutual discomfort.

"Where is Miss Smith, by the way?" I asked suddenly, interrupting her at the most uninteresting passage.

Theodosia shrugged.

"God knows where. She must be here with us, but..."

"I'll go find her, then."

"For what?"

"She might... Help."

"She's been helping the entire morning. Leave her be."

But I wasn't listening anymore; I turned away and left. I felt cursed like the Eternal Wanderer, so I ran on at random. But it was stupid. I could never flee from him .

I spent the rest of the day in unspeakable turmoil. All my movements, all my words felt heavy, and I could not focus on anything. My fancy fluttered and circled about the same quite obvious presentiment. By eight o'clock, after a big cleanup, I locked myself in the dressing room and, as my habit now was, fell into thinking.

"The worst of it is he doesn't disguise it; he doesn't care to stand on ceremony." I thought, biting my nails. "So he doesn't care to hide it... Come, strike me openly, don't play with me like a cat with a mouse. It's hardly civil, Mr. Hamilton! Perhaps I won't allow it! I shall get up and throw the whole truth in your face, and you'll see how I despise your filth..."