"Where is your mother now, Ann?"
"I don't know, young Master, I've never heard from her since I came here."
Again he sighed, and now he passed his thin white hand across his eyes, as if to dissipate the mist.
"You think she was sold when you were, don't you?"
"I expect she was. I'm almost sure she was, for I don't think either my young Masters or Mistresses wished or expected to retain the servants."
"I wish I could find out something about her for you; but, at present, it is out of my power. You must do the best you can. You are a good girl, Ann; I have noticed how patiently you bear hard trouble. Do you pray?"
"Oh, yes, young Master, and that is all the pleasure I have. What would be my situation without prayer? Thanks to God, the slave has this privilege!"
"Yes, Ann, and in God's eyes you are equal to a white person. He makes no distinction; your soul is as precious and dear to Him as is that of the fine lady clad in silk and gems."
I opened my eyes to gaze upon him, as he stood there, with his beautiful face beaming with good feeling and love for the humblest and lowest of God's creatures. This was religion! This was the spirit which Christ commended. This was the love which He daily preached and practiced.
"But how is Aunt Polly? I heard that she was suffering much."