“No, no, Emily; I love America too much to ever think of living anywhere else.  I am much too thorough a democrat ever to swear allegiance to a king.  No, no—­that would never do—­give me a free country.”

“That is just what I say,” rejoined Mrs. Garie; “that is exactly what I want; that is why I should like to get away from here, because this is not a free country—­God knows it is not!”

“Oh, you little traitor!  How severely you talk, abusing your native land in such shocking style, it’s really painful to hear you,” said Mr. Garie in a jocular tone.

“Oh, love,” rejoined she, “don’t joke, it’s not a subject for jesting.  It is heavier upon my heart than you dream of.  Wouldn’t you like to live in the free States?  There is nothing particular to keep you here, and only think how much better it would be for the children:  and Garie,” she continued in a lower tone, nestling close to him as she spoke, and drawing his head towards her, “I think I am going to—­” and she whispered some words in his ear, and as she finished she shook her head, and her long curls fell down in clusters over her face.

Mr. Garie put the curls aside, and kissing her fondly, asked, “How long have you known it, dear?”

“Not long, not very long,” she replied.  “And I have such a yearning that it should be born a free child.  I do want that the first air it breathes should be that of freedom.  It will kill me to have another child born here! its infant smiles would only be a reproach to me.  Oh,” continued she, in a tone of deep feeling, “it is a fearful thing to give birth to an inheritor of chains;” and she shuddered as she laid her head on her husband’s bosom.

Mr. Garie’s brow grew thoughtful, and a pause in the conversation ensued.  The sun had long since gone down, and here and there the stars were beginning to show their twinkling light.  The moon, which had meanwhile been creeping higher and higher in the blue expanse above, now began to shed her pale, misty beams on the river below, the tiny waves of which broke in little circlets of silver on the shore almost at their feet.

Mr. Garie was revolving in his mind the conversation he had so recently held with Mr. Winston respecting the free States.  It had been suggested by him that the children should be sent to the North to be educated, but he had dismissed the notion, well knowing that the mother would be heart-broken at the idea of parting with her darlings.  Until now, the thought of going to reside in the North had never been presented for his consideration.  He was a Southerner in almost all his feelings, and had never had a scruple respecting the ownership of slaves.  But now the fact that he was the master as well as the father of his children, and that whilst he resided where he did it was out of his power to manumit them; that in the event of his death they might be seized and sold by his heirs, whoever they might be, sent a thrill of horror through him.  He had known all this before, but it had never stood out in such bold relief until now.