“A new inmate of the family, Esha. I’ve taken her to bring up.”
“Some rich man’s lub-child, I reckon, missis. But ain’t she a little darlin’?” And Esha took her up from the floor, and kissed her. The child, feeling she had at last found a friend, threw its arms about the woman’s neck, and broke into a low, plaintive sobbing, as if her little heart were overfull of long-suppressed grief.
“Thar! thar!” said Esha, soothing her; “she mustn’t greeb nebber no more. Ole Esha will lub her dearly!”
Mrs. Gentry opened the bundle, and was surprised to see several articles of clothing of a rich and fine texture, all neatly marked, though somewhat soiled.
“There, Esha,” she said, “take the poor little thing and her bundle up-stairs, and dress her. To-morrow I’ll get her some new clothes.”
Esha obeyed, and the child thenceforth clung to her as to a mother. To the servant’s surprise, when she came to wash away the little one’s tears, the skin parted with its tawny hue, and showed white and fair. On examining the child’s hair, too, it was found to be dyed. What could be the object of this? It never occurred to Esha that the little waif might be a slave, and that a white slave was not so salable as a colored.
Mrs. Gentry communicated the phenomenon at once to Mr. Ratcliff, but he never alluded to it in any subsequent letter or conversation.
CHAPTER XVII.
SHALL THERE BE A WEDDING?
“Ah! spare your idol; think him human still;
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too!