She had seen the world and paid dearly for the
sight, for, go where she might, she saw always one face, one form;
heard always one voice murmuring in her ear, "Could you endure to
share my burden?"
No, she could not, she said, and so she had taken upon herself a
burden ten-fold heavier to bear--a burden which crushed her
spirits, robbed her cheek of its youthful bloom, after which she
sent no regret when at last it disappeared, leaving her free to
think again of Richard Harrington. It was a terrible blow to her
that he was blind, and talk as she might about the faintness of
the morning, old Rachel knew the real cause of her distress, and
when alone with her, said, by way of comfort,
"Law, now, Miss Grace, 'taint worth a while to take on so. Like
'nough he'll be cured--mebby it's nothin' but them fetch-ed water-
falls--CAT-A-RATS, that's it--and he can have 'em cut out. I
wouldn't go to actin' like I was love-sick for a man I 'scarded
oncet."
Grace was far too proud to suffer even her faithful Rachel thus to
address her, and turning her flashing eyes upon the old woman, she
said haughtily,
"How dare you talk to me in this way--don't you know I won't allow
it? Besides, what reason have you for asserting what you have?"
"What reason has I? Plenty reason--dis chile ain't a fool if she
is a nigger, raised in Georgy, and a born slave till she was
turned of thirty.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38