Page:The White Slave, or Memoirs of a Fugitive.djvu/49

 But I knew that Cassy felt, rather than reasoned; and though born and bred a slave, she possessed great delicacy of feeling. Besides, she was a Methodist, and though as cheerful and gay hearted a girl as I ever knew, she was very devout in all the observances of her religion. I feared to put our mutual happiness in jeopardy; I was unwilling to harass Cassy, with what I esteemed unnecessary scruples. I had never told her the story of my parentage, and every day I grew less inclined to tell it. Accordingly I made no other answer to what she told me, except to say, that however little colonel Moore might like me, his dislike was not my fault.

A momentary pause followed; — I pressed Cassy's hand in os and in a faltering voice, I asked, what she intended to do.

"I am your wife; — I will never be any body's but hee was the answer. I clasped the dear girl to my heart. We knelt together, and with upraised hands invoked the Deity to witness and confirm our union. It was the only sanction in our power; and if twenty priests had said a benediction over us, would that have made our vows more binding, or our marriage-more complete?





was impossible for my wife to visit me except by stealth. She slept every night upon the carpet in her mistress's roony, — for a floor is esteemed in America, a good enough bed for a slave, even for a favorite and a woman. She was liable to be called upon in the night, at the caprice of a mistress, who was in fact, a mere spoiled child; and she could only visit me at the risk of a discovery, which might have been attended with very unpleasant consequences; for if these clandestine visits had been detected, i fear that not all Cassy's charms — whatever poets: may have fabled of the power of beauty — could have saved her from the lash.