She throws her
arms about his neck, and clings to him, as he kisses, and kisses,
and kisses her olive brow.
"My sale, Harry, was of little consequence; but why did they sell
you? (Her emotions have swollen into tears). You must tell me all,
to-night! You must tell me of my child, my Nicholas,--if master
cares for him, and how he looks, grows, and acts. Oh, how my heart
beats to have him at my side;--when, when will that day come! I would
have him with me, even if sold for the purpose." Tears gush down her
cheeks, as Harry, encircling her with his arm, whispers words of
consolation in her ear.
"If we were always for this world, Ellen, our lot could not be
borne. But heaven has a recompense, which awaits us in the world to
come. Ellen!"-he holds her from him and looks intently in her
face-"masters are not to blame for our sufferings,--the law is the
sinner! Hope not, seek not for common justice, rights, privileges,
or anything else while we are merchandise among men who, to please
themselves, gamble with our souls and bodies. Take away that
injustice, Ellen, and men who now plead our unprofitableness would
hide their heads with shame. Make us men, and we will plead our own
cause; we will show to the world that we are men; black men, who can
be made men when they are not made merchandise." Ellen must tell him
what has brought her here, first! He notices sad changes in her
countenance, and feels anxious to listen to the recital of her
troubles.
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