"Yes, but dat was to please Masser. He made me fur to be a slave."
Now, how would the religious slave-holder answer that?
I strove, but with no success, to make her understand that over her soul, her temporal master had no control; but her ignorance could not see a difference between the body and soul. Whoever owned the former, she thought, was entitled to the latter. Finding I could make no impression upon her mind, I lay down and tried to sleep; but rest was an alien to me. I dreaded the breaking of the morn. Poor Amy slept, and I was glad that she did. Her overtaxed body yielded itself up to the most profound rest. In the morning, when I saw her sleeping so soundly on the pallet, I disliked to arouse her. I felt, as I fancied a human jailer must feel, whose business it is to awaken a criminal on the morning of his execution; yet I had it to do, for, if she had been tardy at her work, it would have enraged her tyrants the more, and been worse for her.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat upright on the pallet and murmured,
"Dis is de day. I's to be led to de post, and maybe kilt."
I dared not comfort her, and only bade her to make haste and attend to her work.
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PUNISHMENT—CRUELTY—ITS FATAL CONSEQUENCE—DEATH.