The day was fine, and riding a novel occupation for Tidy,
but so full was her trembling heart of anxiety and fear that she
could not enjoy it. She was afraid to look out of the window
lest she might be recognized by some one; and she dared not look
at the two pleasant-faced gentlemen who were in the coach with her,
lest they might question her, and find out her true condition.
So she cuddled back as closely as possible in the corner, and when
they kindly offered her cakes and fruit, she just ventured to say,
"No, thank you." Her own food, which the dear old nurse had
taken so much pains to put up for her, lay untouched in her lap,
for her heart was so absorbed she could not eat.

Night brought her to the hotel in Baltimore. The great city,
the large building, and busy servants running hither and thither quite
bewildered her, and she had to watch herself very closely lest she
should betray herself. The waiters looked at her rather suspiciously;
but she behaved with all propriety, called for her room and supper,
paid for what she had, and in the morning was ready to take her seat
in the northern stage, and no one ventured to molest or question her.
How her heart leaped when she found herself safely on her way
to Philadelphia. One day more, and she would be in a free city.
What she should do when she arrived there, how she was to support
herself in future, did not trouble her. That she might stand
on free soil, and lift up her eyes to the stars that shone on her
liberated body was all she thought of; and to-night this was to be.
With every step of the plodding horses, she grew bolder and more assured,
and her faith and hope and joyousness rose. But, alas! there was
a lion in the way of which she had not dreamed.