sion; my grief was put away for the future, when there would come to
me the time to indulge it.
So I lay quiet during that morning, looking sometimes through my little
window at the passing shore, listening sometimes to the loud talking in
the cabin, sometimes to the noises on the boat, wondering if all those
strange creakings and shakings could be right, but finding a sense of
security in my very ignorance. Dinner came, and in the course of it I
found courage to ask the captain, at whose right hand I was placed, what
time we should reach Cincinnati. "Not till after breakfast," was his
welcome answer; for I had been haunted by a dread of being set adrift in
a great city in the middle of the night, when I might perhaps fall into
some den of thieves. I had read of such things in my books. This gave me
still the afternoon before it would be necessary to think, some hours
more in which to rest mind and body.
The night came at last, and I must decide what step to take next, that,
my mind made up, I might perhaps get some sleep. I turned restlessly in
my narrow bed, got up, and stood at the window, tried first the upper
shelf, and then the lower, but no possible plan presented itself. I
still saw before me that terrible city where I should be ten times
lonelier than in the midst of our forests, where I should make mistakes
at every turn, where I should not know one face out of the many
thousands that crowded upon my nervous fancy. I seemed to be afraid of
nothing but human beings, and, at the thought of encountering them, my
woman's heart gave way. In vain I reasoned with myself, "I shall not see
all Cincinnati at once,--not more at one time, perhaps, than I saw
to-day at dinner." Still came up those endless streets, all filled with
strange faces; still I saw myself pushed, jostled, by a succession of
men and women who cared nothing for me. Suddenly came the thought, "Tom
Salyers is in Cincinnati. There is one person there that I know. If I
could only find him, he would take care of me till I knew how to take
care of myself."
There came no remembrance of our last conversation to check my eager
joy. Indeed, it had never made much impression upon me, followed as it
had been by so much of nearer interest. I set myself to reflect on the
means of finding him. He had gone down in the employ of the coal
company. The captain could tell me where to look for him, and, satisfied
with that, I laid my weary head on my pillow.
The
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