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Show 88 In6,dents jn the Life of a SJa ve Girl. gers my 1nother, · wedding ring and her ·ilver thitnble. " Go away! ,., , he cxclain1ed, " and never con1e to n1y 1l OUSe agu'1"1, 'tll ·" •l ler rer)l'oacbes fell .'0 hot a. nd heavy, that they left n1o no chance to an '\VCr. B1tLcr tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, ·were n:y only :an wer. I ]·o.s e fr~om n1y seat, but fell back aga1n, sob-bino ·. She <lid not peak to me; but the tears were l'Ul~lillg UOWll her fnrrowecl checks, anU they 'COrchcd 1110 )ike lire. She had always been so kincl to 1ne! So J;;::j nd! IIow I longed to thro\V 1ny ·elf at her feet, and ;tell her all the truth! But she ha<l ordered n1e to go, .and never to cotne there again. After a fc\v 1ninutcs, I 111n ·tercel ·trcngth, and started to obey her. \Vith what feeling· clid I now clo ·c that little gate, ·which I u eel to open with such an eager hand in 1ny childhoou! It closed. upon tnc with a sounJ I never heard before. \Vhcrc could I go? I was afraid to return to n1y n1as-t er' ·. I walked on rccklc · ·1y, not caring \vherc l ·went, or what would l>ccotne of tnc. \Vhcn I had gone four or five 1nilcs, fatigue cotnpelled n1c to .top. I sat down on the sttunp of an old tree. The star: were shiniug through the boughs above 1nc. llow they 1nockcd 1nc, with their bright, cahn light! The hours pa · cd by, and as I sat there alone a chillinc aud deadly sickne ·s can1e over tne. I ·ank on the ground. ~lj n1in<l was full of horrid thonghtti. I prayed. to die; but the prayer was not answered. ..t~t la t, \vith great effort I rouscu lnysclf, and walked. SOlne distance further, to the hou ·o of a wornan who had been a fricuu of n1y 1nothcr. \Vhcn I told her why I ·was there, she spoke soothingly to n1e ; but I could not Lc co1nfortcd. I A perilous Paifage in the Slave Girl's Life. 8g thought I could bear my shame if I conlu only be reconciled to n1y grand1nother. I longed to open my heart to her. I thought if she could kuo\v the real state of the case, and all I had been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge 1nc less h arshly. ~ly friend advised me to send for her. I did o ; but clays of agonizing sus pen c passcu before . ·he cmne. II ad she utterly forsaken me ? No. She can1c at la. t. I knelt before her, and tolu h er the thing· that had poisoned n1y life ; ho'v long I had been persecuted; that I sa\v no way of escape; and in an hour of extrcn1ity I had become desperate. She li toned in silence. I told her I would bear any thing and do any thing, if in ti1nc I had hopes of obtaining her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead n1othcr's sake. And she did pity 1ne. She did not say, "I forgive you; " but she looked at me lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laiu her old hand gently on 1ny head, anll munnured, " Poor child ! Poor child! '' 8* |