balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always met
us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She spoke
so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. There
was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things for the
town, and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us.

But, alas! Even the charms of the old oven failed to reconcile us to our
hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully
made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave. My brother
William, now twelve years old, had the same aversion to the word master
that he had when he was an urchin of seven years. I was his confidant. He
came to me with all his troubles. I remember one instance in particular. It
was on a lovely spring morning, and when I marked the sunlight dancing here
and there, its beauty seemed to mock my sadness. For my master, whose
restless, craving, vicious nature roved about day and night, seeking whom
to devour, had just left me, with stinging, scorching words; words that
scathed ear and brain like fire. O, how I despised him! I thought how glad
I should be, if some day when he walked the earth, it would open and
swallow him up, and disencumber the world of a plague.

When he told me that I was made for his use, made to obey his command in
_every_ thing; that I was nothing but a slave, whose will must and should
surrender to his, never before had my puny arm felt half so strong.

So deeply was I absorbed in painful reflections afterwards, that I neither
saw nor heard the entrance of any one, till the voice of William sounded
close beside me. "Linda," said he, "what makes you look so sad? I love you.
O, Linda, isn't this a bad world? Every body seems so cross and unhappy. I
wish I had died when poor father did."