Chapter 8 - Page 2

interpose, in time to
break the charm.

When I left that little wood, it was to seek a larger cover, and fields
farther removed from the house. It was dark before I thought of returning;
all that time was passed in a species of mystical hallucination, in which
the mind was lost in scenes foreign to those actually present. I saw
Grace's sweet image everywhere; I heard her voice at every turn. Now she
was the infant I was permitted to drag in her little wagon, the earliest
of all my impressions of that beloved sister; then, she was following me
as I trundled my hoop; next came her little lessons in morals, and
warnings against doing wrong, or some grave but gentle reproof for errors
actually committed; after which, I saw her in the pride of young
womanhood, lovely and fitted to be loved, the sharer of my confidence, and
one capable of entering into all my plans of life. How often that day did
the murmuring of a brook or the humming of a bee become blended in my
imagination with the song, the laugh, the call, or the prayers of that
beloved sister whose spirit had ascended to heaven, and who was no more to
mingle in my concerns or those of life!

At one time I had determined to pass the night abroad, and commune with
the stars, each of which I fancied, in turn, as they began slowly to show
themselves in the vault above, might be the abiding-place of the departed
spirit. If I thought so much and so intensely of Grace, I thought also of
Lucy. Nor was good Mr. Hardinge entirely forgotten. I felt for their
uneasiness, and saw it was my duty to return. Neb, and two or three others
of the blacks, had been looking for me in all directions but that in which
I was; and I felt a melancholy pleasure as I occasionally saw these
simple-minded creatures meet and converse. Their gestures, their
earnestness, their tears, for I could see that they were often weeping,
indicated alike that they were speaking of their "young mistress;" _how_
they spoke, I wanted no other communications to understand.

Ours had ever been a family of love. My father, manly, affectionate, and
strongly attached to my mother, was admirably suited to sustain that
dominion of the heart which the last had established from her earliest
days at Clawbonny. This power of the feelings had insensibly extended
itself to the slaves, who seldom failed to manifest how keenly alive they
all were to the interests and happiness of their owners. Among the negroes
there was but one who was considered as fallen below his proper level, or
who was regarded as an outcast. This was an old fellow who bore the name
of Vulcan, and who worked as a blacksmith on the skirts of the farm,
having been named by my grandfather with the express intention of placing
him