and I had the feeling that I should soon die.  I loved the helpless little thing; and every time I looked at him, it gave me a pang to think that he was born a slave.  I sent again and again for papers of manumission, but they never came.  I don’t know whether it was mere negligence on the part of Mr. Fitzgerald, or whether he meant to punish me for my coldness toward him after I discovered how he had deceived me.  I was weak in body, and much humbled in spirit, after that long illness.  I felt no resentment toward him.  I forgave him, and pitied his young wife.  The only thing that bound me to life was my child.  I wanted to recover my strength, that I might carry him to some part of the world where slavery could not reach him.  I was in that state, when Madame sent Mr. Duroy to tell me Mr. Fitzgerald was in debt, and had sold me to that odious Mr. Bruteman, whom he had always represented to me as the filthiest soul alive.  I think that incredible cruelty and that horrible danger made me insane.  My soul was in a terrible tempest of hatred and revenge.  If Mr. Fitzgerald had appeared before me, I should have stabbed him.  I never had such feelings before nor since.  Unfortunately Chloe had come to the cottage that day, with Mrs. Fitzgerald’s babe, and he was lying asleep by the side of mine.  I had wild thoughts of killing both the babies, and then killing myself.  I had actually risen in search of a weapon, but I heard my faithful Tulee coming to look upon me, to see that all was well, and I lay down again and pretended to be asleep.  While I waited for her to cease watching over me, that frightful mood passed away.  Thank God, I was saved from committing such horrible deeds.  But I was still half frantic with misery and fear.  A wild, dark storm was raging in my soul.  I looked at the two babes, and thought how one was born to be indulged and honored, while the other was born a slave, liable to be sold by his unfeeling father or by his father’s creditors.  Mine was only a week the oldest, and was no larger than his brother.  They were so exactly alike that I could distinguish them only by their dress.  I exchanged the dresses, Alfred; and while I did it, I laughed to think that, if Mr. Fitzgerald should capture me and the little one, and make us over to Mr. Bruteman, he would sell the child of his Lily Bell.  It was not like me to have such feelings.  I hope I was insane.  Do you think I was?”

He pressed her to his heart as he replied, “You surely had suffering enough to drive you wild, dearest; and I do suppose your reason was unsettled by intensity of anguish.”

She looked at him anxiously, as she asked, “Then it does not make you love me less?”

“No, darling,” he replied; “for I am sure it was not my own gentle Rosa who had such feelings.”