“Hold your tongue this instant,” cried Mrs. Dormer, in a violent passion; “call the overseer; let him see Dinah flogged for an hour, and let it be done immediately.”
“For mercy’s sake, Madam, I intreat you, and beg as the greatest favour, that you will not punish the poor creature,” said Miss Melville; “she meant no ill—she did not mean to offend—pray spare her, and let your anger fall upon me.”
“Upon you!” exclaimed Mrs. Dormer; “I cannot flog you; but I have her in my power; and she shall be beat till I have pieces of flesh from her back.”
Mrs. Dormer in this said no more than she saw executed. Poor Dinah was tied by her two hands to the whipping-post; and the brutal overseer, as unfeeling as his barbarous mistress, inflicted the punishment, till the poor slave, unable to endure more, sunk beneath the lash, without exhibiting any signs of life.
“You have killed her,” said Miss Melville, running to the assistance of the unfortunate girl, “you have killed her; and for what? for telling the truth?—Yes, shame on you, Clara! you know you took the box from my chamber, and carried it to your mamma’s; and yet you could see this unhappy girl beaten almost, if not quite to death, for declaring what she had seen—Where is your feeling? Where is your humanity?”
“A fig’s end for feeling and humanity too,” replied Mrs. Dormer; “what has feeling or humanity to do with slaves? We buy them for our use, we feed and clothe them, and we have a right to treat them as we please?”
“You have certainly no right to treat them with cruelty or injustice,” said Miss Melville.
“Cruelty and injustice!” exclaimed Mrs. Dormer; “I beg, Miss, you won’t put such nonsense into the creatures’ heads, or they will mutiny, and perhaps murder us.”
“They would do neither, I am persuaded, were they well treated,” said Miss Melville.