n under the same persecutions that had blighted my own life.
After I was shut up in my dark cell, she stole away, whenever she could, to
bring me the news and say something cheering. How often did I kneel down to
listen to her words of consolation, whispered through a crack! "I am old,
and have not long to live," she used to say; "and I could die happy if I
could only see you and the children free. You must pray to God, Linda, as I
do for you, that he will lead you out of this darkness." I would beg her
not to worry herself on my account; that there was an end of all suffering
sooner or later, and that whether I lived in chains or in freedom, I should
always remember her as the good friend who had been the comfort of my life.
A word from her always strengthened me; and not me only. The whole family
relied upon her judgement, and were guided by her advice. I had been in my
cell six years when my grandmother was summoned to the bedside of this, her
last remaining daughter. She was very ill, and they said she would die.
Grandmother had not entered Dr. Flint's house for several years. They had
treated her cruelly, but she thought nothing of that now. She was grateful
for permission to watch by the death-bed of her child. They had always been
devoted to each other; and now they sat looking into each other's eyes,
longing to speak of the secret that had weighed so much on the hearts of
both. My aunt had been stricken with paralysis. She lived but two days, and
the last day she was speechless. Before she lost the power of utterance,
she told her mother not to grieve if she could not speak to her; that she
would try to hold up her hand; to let her know that all was well with her.
Even the hard-hearted doctor was a little softened when he saw the dying
woman try to smile on the aged mother, who was kneeling by her side. His
eyes moistened for a moment, as he said she had always been a faithful
servant, and they should never be able to supply her place. Mrs. Flint took
to her bed, quite overcome by the shock. While my grandmother sat alone
with the dead, the doctor came in, leading his youngest son, who had always
been a great pet with aunt Nancy, and was much attached to her. "Martha,"
said he, "aunt Nancy loved this child, and when he comes where you are, I
hope you will be kind to him, for her sake." She replied, "Your wife was my
foster-child, Dr. Flint, the foster-sister of my poor Nancy, and you little
know me if you think I ca