remain stationary in order to hear what this new obstacle might be. The
voice of the negress was music itself; almost as sweet as Lucy's; and I
was struck with a slight tremor that pervaded it, as she so suddenly put
an end to all her own affectation of sentiment, and nipped her airs and
graces, as it might be, in the bud.

"Nebber talk to me of mattermony, Neb," Chloe continued, almost sobbing as
she spoke, "while Miss Grace be in dis berry bad way! It hard enough to
see her look so pale and melercholy, widout t'inking of becomin' a wife."

"Miss Grace will grow better, now Masser Mile carry her on de water. If he
only take her to sea, she get so fat and hearty, no libbin' wid her!"

Chloe did not acquiesce in this opinion; she rather insisted that "Miss
Grace" was altogether too delicate and refined a person to live in a ship.
But the circumstance that struck me with the greatest force, in this
characteristic dialogue, was the fact that Chloe betrayed to me the
consciousness of the cause of my sister's indisposition; while true to her
sex's instincts, and faithful to her duty, the girl completely concealed
it from her lover. I was also oppressively struck with the melancholy
forebodings that appeared in Chloe's manner, rather than in her words, and
which made it apparent that she doubted of her young mistress's recovery.
She concluded the conversation by saying--

"No, no, Neb--don't talk to me of mattermony while Miss Grace so ill; and
if any t'ing _should_ happen, you need nebber talk to me of it, at _all_.
I could nebber t'ink of any uner (union) should anyt'ing happen to Miss
Grace. Lub (love) will die forebber in de family, when Miss Grace die!"

I turned away, at this speech, the tears starting to my eyes, and saw Lucy