about a bad bill he had given him. When he told his errand, the captain
replied, "Why, the woman's here already; and I've put her where you or the
devil would have a tough job to find her."

"But it is another woman I want to bring," said Peter. "_She_ is in great
distress, too, and you shall be paid any thing within reason, if you'll
stop and take her."

"What's her name?" inquired the captain. "Linda," he replied.

"That's the name of the woman already here," rejoined the captain. "By
George! I believe you mean to betray me."

"O!" exclaimed Peter, "God knows I wouldn't harm a hair of your head. I am
too grateful to you. But there really _is_ another woman in great danger.
Do have the humanity to stop and take her!"

After a while they came to an understanding. Fanny, not dreaming I was any
where about in that region, had assumed my name, though she called herself
Johnson. "Linda is a common name," said Peter, "and the woman I want to
bring is Linda Brent."

The captain agreed to wait at a certain place till evening, being
handsomely paid for his detention.

Of course, the day was an anxious one for us all. But we concluded that if
Jenny had seen me, she would be too wise to let her mistress know of it;
and that she probably would not get a chance to see Dr. Flint's family till
evening, for I knew very well what were the rules in that household. I
afterwards believed that she did not see me; for nothing ever came of it,
and she was one of those base characters that would have jumped to betray a
suffering fellow being for the sake of thirty pieces of silver.

I made all my arrangements to go on board as soon as it was dusk. The
intervening time I resolved to spend with my son. I had not spoken to him
for seven years, though I had been under the same roof, and seen him every
day, when I was well enough to sit at the loophole. I did not dare to
venture beyond the storeroom; so they brought him there, and locked us up
together, in a place concealed from the piazza door. It was an agitating
interview for both of us. After we had talked and wept together for a
little while, he said, "Mother, I'm glad you're going away. I wish I could
go with you. I knew you was here; and I have been _so_ afraid they would
come and catch you!" I was greatly surprised, and asked him how he had
found it out.

He replied, "I was standing under the eaves, one day, before Ellen went
away, and I heard somebody cough up over the wood shed.