Page:Orange Grove.djvu/287

 "May God forgive me the wrong I have done you, and done myself!"

Walter extended his hand, and requested an explanation.

She was very weak, and the effort that exclamation cost her had nearly wasted the little strength she had. Desiring to be raised in the bed, she looked round the chamber, and fully conscious of what had taken place, and where she was, spoke in substance as follows:

"Here I am within the walls of a prison, awaiting the penalty of the law, instead of sharing its protection, if God should see fit to spare me; and yet I speak the truth when I say that never before since my mother left me, have I been so comfortably provided for, or kindly cared for. For four years your face has haunted me; yes, you have been the evil genius that has driven me to desperation. Nay, do not start, it was all my fault, I see now how wicked it was in me, but I did not know any better, and there was nobody to teach me."

She stopped, and closed her eyes as if to shut out some bitter memory, then rallied again and proceeded. Her voice was fainter now, and Walter would have had her rest, but he feared it was the last opportunity, and his curiosity was greatly excited to know what strange connection he had with her.

"My mother," said she, and she lowered her voice to a whisper, as if afraid even to speak it now, "was a slave. She ran away before I was born and came north, where she lived until I was ten years old.