It was not now difficult for Kizzie to leave her old home; and as she journeyed northward astonished by new scenes, she learned from Joe his history since their painful separation.
He had grieved so for his mother that his new master thought it best to part with him in a neighboring State. He had fallen into good hands; he had learned to read and write. At the breaking out of the war he had deserted his master and escaped North. Here he had enlisted as a soldier, and after much active service had been raised to rank of Lieutenant in his company. He had found time to marry a runaway slave-girl, whom he sent North. He and she were both prudent and industrious, and when the war was over had means to purchase them a comfortable home. He had always been determined to revisit his mother. The visit had been doubly pleasant, since he had fought for her liberty and his own.
When Kizzie arrived at her son's home, and was introduced to his wife and the unsuspected baby, she was again speechless. But her silent prayer was that her years might be lengthened out to the number of Methuseleh's, in order long to enjoy this unaccustomed happiness.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE ST. LEGERS.
John Temple had been a three month's volunteer at the commencement of the war. But his business so much suffered, and his absence so distracted his wife, that he considered it his duty, after his term of service had expired, to remain at home. John Temple, for the son of an Irishman, was a man of a great deal of equanimity. He could face a body of soldiers without flinching, and he could meet daily the frivolousness and folly, the bagatelles and boutades of his pretty wife without losing patience. That he could do the one was not strange or uncommon; but to do the other without seeking the satisfaction of slamming a door, kicking a footstool across the floor, or boxing the children's ears, was truly remarkable.
It was well for Juliet that she had married a man whose disposition and temperament was so the reverse of her own. She was one of those who delight in fancying her own life to be filled with more trials and troubles than any other person's can be. And why? She had a beautiful home, rich and fashionable in its appointments, plenty of servants at her command, horses, carriage and driver at her disposal, a niece of remarkable loveliness and beauty, a son and daughter somewhat spoiled, who inherited fortunately their mother's beauty and their father's good sense; a kind and indulgent husband—what more could she wish?
Ah, Juliet Temple! the hand of sorrow had never touched thee. The sacred form of grief had passed thee by. Death had flitted around thee, taking others, leaving thee and thine. Father and mother, brother and sisters, husband and children all remained to thee! Yet did'st thou never raise thy heart in thanksgiving unto God, but suffered it to be depressed and fretted at the nameless trifles that came vexingly.