was a statesman, and of course could not be expected to cry, like other
mortals; and so he turned his back to the company, and looked out of the
window, and seemed particularly busy in clearing his throat and wiping
his spectacle-glasses, occasionally blowing his nose in a manner that
was calculated to excite suspicion, had any one been in a state to
observe critically.

"How came you to tell me you had a kind master?" he suddenly exclaimed,
gulping down very resolutely some kind of rising in his throat, and
turning suddenly round upon the woman.

"Because he _was_ a kind master; I'll say that of him, any way;--and my
mistress was kind; but they couldn't help themselves. They were owing
money; and there was some way, I can't tell how, that a man had a hold
on them, and they were obliged to give him his will. I listened, and
heard him telling mistress that, and she begging and pleading for
me,--and he told her he couldn't help himself, and that the papers were
all drawn;--and then it was I took him and left my home, and came away.
I knew 't was no use of my trying to live, if they did it; for 't 'pears
like this child is all I have."

"Have you no husband?"

"Yes, but he belongs to another man. His master is real hard to him,
and won't let him come to see me, hardly ever; and he's grown harder and
harder upon us, and he threatens to sell him down south;--it's like I'll
never see _him_ again!"

The quiet tone in which the woman pronounced these words might have led
a superficial observer to think that she was entirely apathetic; but