One morning I was much startled by hearing somebody trying to get into my room.  Several keys were tried, but none fitted.  I instantly conjectured it was one of the housemaids; and I concluded she must either have heard some noise in the room, or have noticed the entrance of Betty.  When my friend came, at her usual time, I told her what had happened.  “I knows who it was,” said she.  “Tend upon it, ’twas dat Jenny.  Dat nigger allers got de debble in her.”  I suggested that she might have seen or heard something that excited her curiosity.

“Tut! tut! chile!” exclaimed Betty, “she ain’t seen notin’, nor hearn notin’.  She only ’spects something.  Dat’s all.  She wants to fine out who hab cut and make my gownd.  But she won’t nebber know.  Dat’s sartin.  I’ll git missis to fix her.”

I reflected a moment, and said, “Betty, I must leave here to-night.”

“Do as you tink best, poor chile,” she replied.  “I’se mighty ’fraid dat ’ere nigger vill pop on you some time.”

She reported the incident to her mistress, and received orders to keep Jenny busy in the kitchen till she could see my uncle Phillip.  He told her he would send a friend for me that very evening.  She told him she hoped I was going to the north, for it was very dangerous for me to remain any where in the vicinity.  Alas, it was not an easy thing, for one in my situation, to go to the north.  In order to leave the coast quite clear for me, she went into the country to spend the day with her brother, and took Jenny with her.  She was afraid to come and bid me good by, but she left a kind message with Betty.  I heard her carriage roll from the door, and I never again saw her who had so generously befriended the poor, trembling fugitive!  Though she was a slaveholder, to this day my heart blesses her!

I had not the slightest idea where I was going.  Betty brought me a suit of sailor’s clothes,—­jacket, trowsers, and tarpaulin hat.  She gave me a small bundle, saying I might need it where I was going.  In cheery tones, she exclaimed, “I’se so glad you is gwine to free parts!  Don’t forget ole Betty.  P’raps I’ll come ’long by and by.”

I tried to tell her how grateful I felt for all her kindness.  But she interrupted me.  “I don’t want no tanks, honey.  I’se glad I could help you, and I hope de good Lord vill open de path for you.  I’se gwine wid you to de lower gate.  Put your hands in your pockets, and walk ricketty, like de sailors.”

I performed to her satisfaction.  At the gate I found Peter, a young colored man, waiting for me.  I had known him for years.  He had been an apprentice to my father, and had always borne a good character.  I was not afraid to trust to him.  Betty bade me a hurried good by, and we walked off.  “Take courage, Linda,” said my friend Peter.  “I’ve got a dagger, and no man shall take you from me, unless he passes over my dead body.”