herself against the brutality of Mrs. Miller, much less
the combined ferociousness of the old woman and the overseer too.
Suffice it to say, that instead of whipping Isabella, Mrs. Miller
transferred her to the negro-speculator, who took her immediately
to his slave-pen. The unfeeling old woman would not permit
Isabella to take more than a single change of her clothing,
remarking to Jennings,--

"I sold you the wench, you know,--not her clothes."

The injured, friendless, and unprotected Isabella fainted as she saw
her child struggling to release herself from the arms of old Mrs. Miller,
and as the wretch boxed the poor child's ears.

After leaving directions as to how Isabella's furniture and
other effects should be disposed of, Mrs. Miller took Clotelle
into her carriage and drove home. There was not even color
enough about the child to make it appear that a single drop
of African blood flowed through its blue veins.

Considerable sensation was created in the kitchen among the servants
when the carriage drove up, and Clotelle entered the house.

"Jes' like Massa Henry fur all de worl'," said Dinah, as she
caught a glimpse of the child through the window.

"Wondah whose brat dat ar' dat missis bringin' home wid her?"
said Jane, as she put the ice in the pitchers for dinner.
"I warrant it's some poor white nigger somebody bin givin' her."