THE NEW MISTRESS—HER KINDNESS OF DISPOSITION—A PRETTY HOME—AND LOVE-INTERVIEWS IN THE SUMMER DAYS.

At last I contrived to "screw my courage to the sticking-place," and go to Miss Nancy's room.

I paused at the closed door before knocking for admission. When I did knock, I heard a not unpleasant voice say—

"Come in."

The tone of that voice re-inspired me, and I boldly entered.

There, resting upon the bed, was one of the sweetest and most benign faces that I ever beheld. Age had touched it but to beautify. Serene and clear, from underneath the broad cap frill shone her mild gray eyes. The wide brow was calm and white as an ivory tablet, and the lip, like a faded rose-leaf, hinted the bright hue which it had worn in health. The cheek, like the lip, was blanched by the hand of disease. "Ah," she said, as with a slight cough she elevated herself upon the pillow, "it is you, Ann. You are a little tardy. I have been looking for you for the last half-hour."

"I have been in the house some time, Miss Nancy, but had not the courage to venture into your presence; and yet I have been watching for your arrival with the greatest anxiety."

"You must not be afraid of me, child, I am but a sorry invalid, who will, I fear, often weary and overtax your patience; but you must bear with me; and, if you are faithful, I will reward you for it. Henry has told me that you are pretty well educated, and have a pleasant voice for reading. This delights me much; for your principal occupation will be to read to me."

Certainly this pleased me greatly, for I saw at once that I was removed from the stultifying influences which had so long been exercised over my mind. Now I should find literary food to supply my craving. My eyes fairly sparkled, as I answered,

"This is what I have long desired, Miss Nancy; and you have assigned to me the position I most covet."

"I am glad I have pleased you, child. It is my pleasure to gratify others. Our lives are short, at best, and he or she only lives truly who does the most good."

This was a style and manner of talk that charmed me. Beautiful example and type of womankind! I felt like doing reverence to her.

She reached her thin hand out to help herself to a glass of water, that stood on a stand near by. I sprang forward to relieve her.

"Ah, thank you," she said, in a most bland tone; "I am very weak; the slightest movement convinces me of the failure of my strength."

I begged that she would not exert herself, but always call on me for everything that she needed.

"I came here to serve you, and I assure you, my dear Miss Nancy, I shall be most happy in doing it. Mine will, I believe, truly be a 'labor of love.'"

Another sweet smile, with the gilded light of a sunbeam, broke over her calm, sweet face! Bless her! she and all of her class should be held as "blessed among women;" for do they not walk with meek and reverent footsteps in the path of her, the great model and prototype of all the sex?

* * * * * * *

When I had been with her but a few days, she informed me that, as soon as her health permitted, she intended being removed to her house on Walnut street. I was not particularly anxious for this; for my sojourn at the G—— House was perfectly delightful. My frequent intercourse with Henry and Louise, was a source of intense pleasure to me. I was allowed to pass the evenings with them. Truly were those hours dear and bright. Henry played upon his banjo, and sang to us the most enrapturing songs, airs and glees; and Louise generally supplied us with cakes and lemonade! How exquisite was my happiness, as there we sat upon the little balcony gazing at the Indiana shore, and talking of the time when Henry and I should be free.

"How much remains to be paid to your master, Henry," asked Louise.

"I have paid all but three hundred and fifty; one hundred of which I already have; so, in point of fact, I lack only two hundred and fifty," said Henry.

"I am very anxious to leave here this fall. I wish to go to Montreal. Now, if you could make your arrangements to go on with me, I should be glad. I shall require the services and attentions of a man; and, if you have not realized the money by that time, I think I can lend it to you," returned Louise.

A bright light shone in Henry's eye, as he returned his thanks; but quickly the coming shadow banished that radiance of joy.

"But think of her," he said tenderly, laying his hand on my shoulder; "what can she do without us, or what should I be without her?"

"Oh, think not of me, dearest, I have a good home, and am well cared for. Go, and as soon as you can, make the money, and come back for me."

"Live years away from you? Oh, no, no!" and he wound his arm around my waist, and, most naturally, my head rested upon his shoulder. Loud and heavy was his breathing, and I knew that a fierce struggle was raging in his breast.

"I will never leave her, Louise," he at length replied. "That tyrant, the law, may part us; but, my free will and act—never."

"Ah, well," added she, as she looked upon us, "you will think better of this after you give it a little reflection. This is only love's delusion;" and, in her own quiet, sensible way, she turned the stream of conversation into another channel.

I think now, with pleasure, of the lovely scenes I enjoyed on those evenings, with the fire-flies playing in the air; and many times have I thought how beautifully and truly they typify the illusive glancings of hope darting here and there with their fire-lit wings; eluding our grasp, and sparkling e'en as they flit.

* * * * * * *

A few weeks after my installation in the new office, my mistress, whose health had been improving under my nursing, began to get ready to move to her sweet little cottage residence on Walnut street. I was not anxious for the change, notwithstanding it gave me many local advantages; for I should be removed from Henry, and though I knew that I could see him often, yet the same roof would not cover us. But my life, hitherto, had been too dark and oppressed for me to pause and mourn over the "crumpled rose-leaf;" and so, with right hearty good will I set to work "packing Miss Nancy's trunk," and gathering up her little articles that had lain scattered about the room.

An upholsterer had been sent out to get the house ready for us. When we were on the eve of starting, Henry came to carry the luggage, and Miss Nancy paid him seventy-five cents, at which he took off his hat, made a low bow, and said,

"Thank you, Missis."

Miss Nancy was seated on the most comfortable cushion, and I directly opposite, fanning her.

We drove up to the house, a neat little brick cottage, painted white, with green shutters, and a deep yard in front, thickly swarded, with a variety of flowers, and a few forest trees. Beautiful exotics, in rare plaster, and stone vases, stood about in the yard, and a fine cast-iron watch-dog slept upon the front steps. Passing through the broad hall, you had a fine view of the grounds beyond, which were handsomely decorated. The out-buildings were all neatly painted or white-washed. A thorough air of neatness presided over the place. On the right of the hall was the parlor, furnished in the very perfection of taste and simplicity.

The carpet was of blue, bespeckled with yellow; a sofa of blue brocatelle, chairs, and ottomans of the same material, were scattered about. A cabinet stood over in the left corner, filled with the collections and curiosities of many years' gathering, whilst the long blue curtains, with festoonings of lace, swept to the floor! Adjoining the parlor was the dining-room, with its oaken walls, and cane-colored floor-cloth. Opposite to the parlor, and fronting the street, was Miss Nancy's room, with its French bedstead, lounge, bureau, bookcase, table, and all the et ceteras of comfort. Opening out from her room was a small apartment, just large enough to contain a bed, chair, and wardrobe, with a cheap little mirror overhanging a tasteful dresser, whereon were laid a comb, brush, soap, basin, pitcher, &c. This room had been prepared for me by my kind mistress. Pointing it out, she said,

"That, Ann, is your castle." I could not restrain my tears.

"Heaven send me grace to prove my gratitude to you, kind Miss Nancy," I sobbed out.

"Why, my poor girl, I deserve no thanks for the performance of my duty. You are a human being, my good, attentive nurse, and I am bound to consider your comfort or prove unworthy of my avowed principles."

"This is so unlike what I have been used to, Miss Nancy, that it excites my wonder as well as gratitude."

"I fear, poor child, that you have served in a school of rough experience! You are so thoroughly disciplined, that, at times, you excite my keenest pity."

"Yes, ma'm, I have had all sorts of trouble. The only marvel is that I am not utterly brutalized."

"Some time you must tell me your history; but not now, my nerves are too unquiet to listen to an account so harrowing as I know your recital must be."

As I adjusted the pillow and arranged the beautiful silk spread (her own manufacture), I observed that her eyes were filled with tears. I said nothing, but the sight of those tears served to soften many a painful recollection of former years.

I am conscious, in writing these pages, that there will be few of my white readers who can enter fully into my feelings. It is impossible for them to know how deeply the slightest act of kindness impressed me—how even a word or tone gently spoken called up all my thankfulness! Those to whom kindness is common, a mere household article, whose ears are greeted morning, noon and night, with loving sounds and kind tones, will deem this strange and exaggerated; but, let them recollect that I was a slave—not a mere servant, but a perpetual slave, according to the abhorred code of Kentucky; and their wonder will cease.

The first night that I threw myself down on my bed to sleep (did I state that I had a bedstead—that I had actually what slaves deemed a great luxury—a high-post bedstead?) I felt as proud as a queen. Henry had been to see me. I entertained him in a nice, clean, carpeted kitchen, until a few minutes of ten o'clock, when he left me; for at that hour, by the city ordinance, he was obliged to be at home.

"What," I thought, "have I now to desire? Like the weary dove sent out from the ark, I have at last found land, peace and safety. Here I can rest contentedly beneath the waving of the olive branches that guard the sacred portal of home!" Home! home this truly was! A home where the heart would always love to lurk; and how blessed seemed the word to me, now that I comprehended its practical significance! No more was it a fable, an expression merely used to adorn a song or round a verse!

That first night that I spent at home was not given up to sleep. No, I was too happy for that! Through the long, mysterious hours, I lay wakeful on my soft and pleasant pillow, weaving fairest fancies from the dim chaos of happy hopes. Adown the sloping vista of the future I descried nought but shade and flowers!

With my new mistress, I was more like a companion than a servant. My duties were light—merely to read to her, nurse her, and do her sewing; and, as she had very little of the latter, I may as well set it down as the "extras" of my business, rather than the business itself.

I rose every morning, winter and summer, at five o'clock, and arranged Miss Nancy's room whilst she slept; and, so accustomed had she become to my light tread, that she slept as soundly as though no one had been stirring. After this was done, I placed the family Bible upon a stand beside her bed; then took my sewing and seated myself at the window, until she awoke. Then I assisted her in making her morning toilette, which was very simple; wheeled the easy chair near the bed, and helped her into it. After which she read a chapter from the holy book, followed by a beautiful, extemporaneous prayer, in which we were joined by Biddy, the Irish cook. After this, Miss Nancy's breakfast was brought in on a large silver tray,—a breakfast consisting of black tea, Graham bread, and mutton chop. In her appetite, as in her character, she was simple. After this was over, Biddy and I breakfasted in the kitchen. Our fare was scarcely so plain, for hearty constitutions made us averse to the abstemiousness of our mistress. We had hot coffee, steaming steaks, omelettes and warm biscuits.

"Ah, but she is a love of a lady!" exclaimed Biddy, as she ate away heartily at these luxuries. "Where in this city would we find such a mistress, that allows the servants better fare than she takes herself? And then she never kapes me from church. I can attend the holy mass, and even go to vespers every Sunday of my life. The Lord have her soul for it! But she is as good as a canonized saint, if she is a Protestant!"

Sometimes I used to repeat these conversations to Miss Nancy. They never failed to amuse her greatly.

"Poor Biddy," she would say, in a quiet way, with a sweet smile, "ought to know that true religion is the same in all. It is not the being a member of a particular church, or believing certain dogmas of faith, that make us religious, heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ. It is the living religion, not the simple believing of it, that constitutes us Christians. We must feel that all men are our brothers, and all women our sisters; for in the kingdom of heaven there will be no distinction of race or color, and I see no reason why we should live differently here. The Saviour of the world associated with the humblest. His chosen twelve were the fishermen of Galilee. I want to live in constant preparation for death; but, alas! my weak endeavor is but seldom crowned with success."

How reverently I looked upon her at such times! What a beautiful saint she was!

One evening in the leafy month of June, when the intensity of summer begins to make itself felt, I took my little basket, filled with some ruffling that I was embroidering for Miss Nancy's wrapper, and seated myself upon the little portico at the back of the house. I had been reading to her the greater portion of the day, and felt that it was pleasant to be left in an indolent, dreamy state of mind, that required no concentration of thought. As my fingers moved lazily along, I was humming an old air, that I had heard in far less happy days. Everything around me was so pleasant! The setting sun was flinging floods of glory over the earth, and the young moon was out upon her new wing, softening and beautifying the scene. Afar off, the lull of pleasant waters and the music-roar of the falls sounded dreamily in my ear! I laid my work down in the basket, and, with closed eyes, thought over the events and incidents of my past life of suffering; and, as the dreary picture of my troubles at Mr. Peterkin's returned to my mind, and my subsequent imprisonment in the city, my trials at "the pen," and then this my safe harbor and haven of rest, so strange the whole seemed, that I almost doubted the reality, and feared to open my eyes, lest the kindly, illusive dream should be broken forever. But no, it was no dream; for, upon turning my head, I spied through the unclosed door of the dining-room the careful arrangement of the tea-table. There it stood, with its snowy cover, upon which were placed the fresh loaf of Graham bread, the roll of sweet butter, some parings of cheese, the glass bowl of fruit and pitcher of cream, together with the friendly tea-urn of bright silver, from which I, even I, had often been supplied with the delightful beverage. And then, stepping through the door, with a calm smile on her face, was Miss Nancy herself! How beautifully she looked in her white, dimity wrapper, with the pretty blue girdle, and tiny lace cap! She gazed out upon the yard, with the blooming roses, French pinks, and Colombines that grew in luxuriance. Stepping upon the sward, she gathered a handful of flowers, clipping them nicely from the bush with a pair of scissors, that she wore suspended by a chain to her side. Seeing me on the portico, she said,

"Ann, bring me my basket and thread here, and wheel my arm-chair out; I wish to sit with you here."

I obeyed her with pleasure, for I always liked to have her near me. She was so much more the friend than the mistress, that I never felt any reserve in her presence. All was love. As she took her seat in the arm-chair, I threw a shawl over her shoulders to protect her from any injurious influence of the evening air. She busied herself tying up the flowers; and their arrangement of color, &c., with a view to effect, would have done credit to a florist. My admiration was so much excited, that I could not deny myself the pleasure of an expression of it.

"Ah, yes," she answered, "this was one of the amusements of my youth. Many a bouquet have I tied up in my dear old home."

I thought I detected a change in her color, and heard a sigh, as she said this.

"Of what State are you a native, Miss Nancy?"

"Dear old Massachusetts," she answered, with a glow of enthusiasm.

"It is the State, of all others in the Union, for which I have the most respect."

"Ah, well may you say that, poor girl," she replied, "for its people treat your unfortunate race with more humanity than any of the others."

"I have read a great deal of their liberality and cultivation, of both mind and heart, which has excited my admiring interest. Then, too, I have known those born and reared beneath the shadow of its wise and beneficent laws, and the better I knew them, the more did my admiration for the State increase. Now I feel that Massachusetts is doubly dear to me, since I have learned that it is your birth-place."

She did not say anything, but her mild eyes were suffused with tears.

Just as I was about to speak to her of Mr. Trueman, Biddy came to announce tea, and, after that, Miss Nancy desired to be left alone. As was his custom, with eight o'clock came Henry. We sat out on the portico, with the moonlight shining over us, and talked of the future! I told him what Miss Nancy said of Massachusetts, and, I believe, he was seized with the idea of going thither after purchasing himself.

He was unusually cheerful. He had made a great deal in the last few months; had grown to be quite a favorite with the keeper of the hotel, and was liberally paid for his Sunday and holiday labors, and, by errands for, and donations from, the boarders, had contrived to lay up a considerable sum.

"I hope, dearest, to be able soon to accomplish my freedom; then I shall be ready to buy you. How much does Miss Nancy ask for you?"

"Oh, Henry, I cannot leave her, even if I were able to pay down every cent that she demands for me. I should dislike to go away from her. She is so kind and good; has been such a friend to me that I could not desert her. Who would nurse her? Who would feel the same interest in her that I do? No, I will stay with her as long as she lives, and do all I can to prove my gratitude."

"What do you mean, Ann? Would you refuse to make me happy? Miss Nancy has other friends who would wait upon her."

"But, Henry, that does not release me from my obligation. When she was on the eve of starting upon a journey, you went to her with the story of my danger. She promptly consented to buy me without even seeing me. I was not purchased as an article of property; with the noble liberality of a philanthropist, she ransomed, at a heavy price, a suffering sister, and shall I be such an ingrate as to leave her? No, she and Mr. Trueman of Boston, are the two beings whom I would willingly serve forever."

Just then a deep sigh burst from the full heart of some one, and I thought I heard a retreating footstep.

"Who can that have been?" asked Henry.

We examined the hall, the dining-room, my apartment; and I knocked at Miss Nancy's door, but, receiving no answer, I judged she was asleep.

"It was but one of those peculiar voices of the night, which are the better heard from this intense silence," said Henry, and, finding that my alarm was quieted, he bade me an affectionate good-night, and so we parted.