h. Even in my
room she would not speak the name out loud.

The end of it was, that I wrote up to Washington to Dr. Sandford to
ask if I might take the girl with me; and his answer came back, that
if it were any pleasure to me I certainly might. So that matter was
settled. But the parting with the rest was hard. I do not know
whether it was hardest for them or for me. Darry blessed me and prayed
for me. Maria wept over me. Theresa mourned and lamented. Tears and
wailings came from all the poor women who knew me best and used to
come to the Sunday readings: and Pete took occasion to make private
request, that when I was grown, or when at any time I should want a
manservant, I would remember and send for him. He could do anything,
he said; he could drive horses or milk cows or take care of a garden,
or _cook_. It was said in a subdued voice, and though with a gleam of
his white circle of teeth at the last-mentioned accomplishment, it was
said with a depth of grave earnestness which troubled me. I promised
as well as I could; but my heart was very sore for my poor people,
left now without anybody, even so much as a child, to look after their
comfort and give them any hopes for one world or the other.

Those heavy days were done at last. Margaret was speedy with my
packing; a week from the time of Dr. Sandford's coming, I had said my
last lesson to Miss Pinshon, read my last reading to my poor people,
shaken the last hand-shakings; and we were on the little steamer
plying down the Sands river.

I think I was wearied out, for I remember no excitement or interest
about the journey, which ought to have had so much for me. In a
passive state of mind I followed Miss Pinshon from steamer to station;
from one train of cars to another; and saw the familiar landscape flit
before me as the cars whirled us on. At Baytown we had been joined by
a gentleman who went with us all the rest of the way; and I began by
degrees to comprehend that my governess had changed her vocation, and
instead of taking care, as heretofore, was going to be taken care of.
It did not interest me. I saw it, that was all. I saw Margaret's
delight, too, shown by every quick and thoughtful movement that could
be of any service to me, and by a certain inexpressible air of
deliverance which sat on her, I cannot tell how, from her bonnet down
to her shoes. But her delight reminded me of those that were not
delivered.

I think of all the crushing griefs that a you