I immediately went to him, and was struck
with the coarseness of his manners, and his vulgar importance. I bowed,
and asked his business.

"You have a woman in this house," said he, "called Mary De Lyle, I
guess."

"I do not understand the purport of your question," said I. "What do you
mean?"

"My meaning is pretty clear," said he. "Mary De Lyle is in this house,
and she is my property. If you offer to carry her out of the State, I
will have her sent to jail, and you fined. That is right ahead, I
guess."

"Wretch," said I, in a voice hoarse with rage, "get out of my house, or
I will crush you to death. Begone!"

I believe I would have done him some fearful injury, had he not
precipitately made his escape. In a frame of mind I want words to
express, I hurried to Mary, and sank upon a seat, with my face buried in
my hands. She, poor thing, came trembling to my side, and implored me to
tell her what was the matter. I could only answer by my groans. At
length, I looked imploringly in her face:--

"Mary, is it possible that you are a slave?" said I.

She uttered a piercing shriek, and sank inanimate at my feet. I lifted
her upon the sofa; but it was long before she gave symptoms of returning
life.

As soon as I could leave her, I went to a friend to ask his advice and
assistance. Through him, I learned that what I feared was but too true.
By the usages and laws of the State, she was still a slave, and liable
to be hurried from me and sold to the highest bidder, or doomed to any
drudgery her master might put her to, and even flogged at will. There
was only one remedy that could be applied; and the specific was dollars.
My friend was so kind as to negotiate with the ruffian. One thousand was
demanded, and cheerfully paid. I carried the manumission home to my
sorrowing Mary. From her I learned, as she lay in bed--her beautiful
face buried in the clothes, and her voice choked by sobs--that the
wretch who had called on me was her own father, whose avarice could not
let slip this opportunity of extorting money. With an inconsistency
often found in man, he had given Mary one of the best of educations,
and for long treated her as a favoured child, during the life of her
mother, who was one of his slaves, a woman of colour, and with some
accomplishments, which she had acquired in a genteel family. At her
death, Mary had gone as governess to my landlady; but, until the day of
her father's claim, she had never dreamed of b