. Clayton, not to say Dorothy. No one was astir but
the colored butler and the maids. Yes, slavery was very well for them. I
could see that all that was said in favor of the benevolence of the
institution had verification in them and perhaps in all slaves doing
like service. But what of the field hands, the heavier workers? I was
thinking of these things, but mostly of the desperate situation I was in
and of this day ahead of me. Would Dorothy see me again? Would I be the
honored guest of yesterday? This silence of the mansion made me feel
that its hospitality had cooled toward me. But in a little while Mrs.
Clayton appeared on the stair and descended to find me rather restlessly
pacing the room.

I could not specify any change in her manner. Perhaps as a matter of
breeding I was to be bowed out with all possible courtesy. She smiled me
a "Good morning," said that Dorothy would not be down until later. We
two went in to breakfast.

I began to feel embarrassed. I could not be at ease. Mrs. Clayton sensed
my diffidence. We managed the conversation in broken sentences and
forced remarks. My pride asserted itself. I had done nothing myself for
which I could be blamed. For the rest, if I was not wanted I should go
my way. I asked Mrs. Clayton when I could get a boat to St. Louis. She
did not know, but one ran almost every day either directly, or I could
change boats at a place called Freesland on the Ohio River. Accordingly,
after breakfast, I went to the steamboat landing to make inquiries ...
and without seeing Dorothy.

A kind of rebellion and resentment were rising in me. Dorothy was
Reverdy's sister; but surely she was of a different spirit if she
disapproved of me for what I had done. Perhaps it would be well to be
free of my love for Dorothy, to be once more without any feeling that my
life needed completion by uniting it with a woman's life. I had offered
myself. I was not accepted. My dignity, and place in the world, as I
saw them, were dishonored.

When I returned to the house Dorothy had appeared. She smiled gently in
recognition of me. I broke the silence by telling her that I could get a
boat the next day, and that I must be off. She made no reply.

Later we went to the yard, under one of the great trees. Dorothy was
evidently tortured in her mind and did not know what to say to me. She
looked worn and as if she had not slept. I searched her face. A tear
stole down her cheek. She averted her eyes and claspe