He then proceeded to make a more minute examination of her person, inspecting her limbs, to see whether she were well-formed and sound.

Rosetta then underwent a similar examination, and the master and mistress both seeming satisfied, they were dismissed.

"See that you behave yourselves," said the master, as they went out,--"if you do well, you'll find that we shall be good to you."

Martha, the young girl before mentioned, accompanied them back to the kitchen. "Your coat is unfastened," said Rosetta, as they went out, "stop a minute till I b.u.t.ton it."

"O no," whispered Martha, "I can't have it fastened, my back's so sore."

"What's the matter with your back?"

"Why, whar missus cuts me up. She's allers a beatin' me. O I wish I's dead!"

The strangers exchanged mournful looks, but not another word was spoken.

After they went out, a consultation was held in "Missus'" room, concerning the most profitable disposition that could be made of the two girls. "Mr.Stout will not be on for his till some time in the summer," said the mistress; "there will be time enough before that to ascertain which will make the most valuable servant; but it isn't best to let them know that either of them is to go to Nashville. We will try them, and keep the one that we like best."

They were both unaccustomed to field labor, and after due consultation it was decided best to send Martha out, and to keep both of the new ones for the present in the house. Accordingly, the next morning, Martha was sent to the field. She was glad of the exchange, for she was not strong, and her mistress had taxed her powers of endurance to the utmost. To Vina was a.s.signed the post of housemaid and waiter; and Rosetta was installed as nurse of Bernard McKiernan, Junior, then but a few months old.

Mrs. McKiernan was much pleased with her two new maids, and with good reason, for they were quick and careful, and attentive to all her instructions. Poor Martha's bruised back had filled their hearts with terror; and from the conversations of their fellow-servants in the kitchen, they gained no impressions of their new mistress that tended to dispel their fears.

For three months the young girls quietly pursued their monotonous round of daily duties; and thus far, they had scarcely given occasion to their mistress for a reproof.

Rosetta had become quite happy and contented; but poor Vina's heart pined for her mother. All night she lay very still, wrapt in a blanket, on the floor of her mistress' room, and wondered if her mother and brothers had been sold, and wished she knew where they had been carried. When she fell asleep, her heart was wandering still through strange, lonely places, in search of those whose forms, alas! she might never more behold. But after all, they might be very near her--Oh! if she could only hear who had bought them!

This perpetual anxiety could not fail to impair her health. She lost all appet.i.te for food; and though she uttered no complaint, one could plainly see, by her wasted figure, and by the look of melancholy that never left her face, that she was wretched.

One morning in June, as Mrs. McKiernan, according to her custom, was making a tour of discovery through the house, to be sure that everything was in order, she chanced to spy a silver ladle in the kitchen, that must have remained there since dinner-time of the preceding day. It was the first instance of carelessness or neglect that had occurred in Vina's department since she had been in the house; and with quick anger, the mistress seized the cowhide.

Vina had never in her life been whipped, except when, for some childish fault, her mother had corrected her; and now, when her mistress called her in an angry tone, saying she could make her remember to take care of the silver, the thought of Martha's lacerated back sent a shudder through her frame. But she did not weep, nor beg for mercy.

With her own fair hands the delicate lady chastised her trembling slave. She did it very gently, for she was not half as angry as she oftentimes became at smaller provocations. Yet the blood oozed through the bruised skin that was swelled in ridges across poor Vina's back; and she imagined--ignorant creature that she was--that she had been severely punished. Ah! the day was coming, when she would designate such a whipping as "only a slight bresh."

From that morning, she determined, if possible, to escape from the immediate jurisdiction of her mistress; and soon after, seeing her master alone, she went to him, and asked him if she might go to the field.

"Why?" said he, "what the devil put that into your head? You don't know anything about field work, do you?"

"No, Sir, but I reckon I could learn and I mought as well take my chance in the field as to stay in the house. But, please Sir, don't let missus know I axed you."

"Yes, yes; well, I won't tell her. I'd like to have you in the field, any how, for Martha's sickly, and not much account. Go along now; I'll talk to your mistress about it."

"Look here," said he to his wife, soon after this conversation; "Martha don't do much in the field; she[']s sickly, you know, and she can't keep up with the others. I reckon we'd better bring her back into the house, and take Vina in her place. She seems to be well and willing to work."

"Well," replied the lady, in her characteristic asperity of tone, "I'd rather have Vina in the house; but if you can't manage Martha, send her in. I can make her work; she will never conquer me with her sickly complaining."

The next morning Vina went to the field, where, though at first all was strange, she soon learned to "round corn," that being then the work in season.

About midsummer, Mr. Stout came on from Nashville, to see the girl that had been bought for him, and to take her home.

Both the girls were shown him. He seemed to prefer Vina, but Mr.

and Mrs. McKiernan both a.s.sured him that as he wanted a house servant, it would be much better for him to take Rosetta; for she was a very bright girl, and was becoming every day more useful.

They could make Vina do very well in the field, but she was exceedingly ignorant, and withal quite deaf, so that it would be utterly impossible for her to learn the duties of a waiter or a nurse.

Mr. Stout, having been for many years a partner of Mr. McKiernan in a carriage factory in Nashville, understood his habits and principles of action. He had also some idea of the prevailing characteristics of his wife; and, suspecting that their advice was not entirely disinterested, he improved an opportunity to go alone to the field where the hands were all at work. He talked awhile with the head-man, Nelson, about the weather and the crops; and then, noticing Vina at her work, he carelessly asked the man what sort of a girl she was.

"Oh! she is a good hand, Sir, fus rate, Sir."

"Can she hear well?"

"Yes, Sir," replied Nelson, with a puzzled look.

"Your mistress told me she was right deaf."

"Well, call her, Sir, see if she can't hear. Yah! yah! Dat little gal deaf."

"O, Vina!" said Mr. Stout. She looked up from her work. "How do you get along, Vina? Would you like to go and live with me?"

"Whar you live, sir?"

"I live in Nashville. Would you like to go there?"

"Oh! I don't know, sir, I's fur enough from my mother now. I reckon I don't never want to go no furder."

Mr. Stout returned to the house. He saw the true state of the case, but it would be of no use to seem to understand it; so when a few days after, he left for home, he took Rosetta with him. She had no ties to bind her here, and was well pleased with the idea of living in Nashville; of which city she had heard glowing descriptions from the old servants. They were "raised" there, and still remembered the place with true home-love.

Towards the last of August, when the crop was laid by, Vina, who still pined for her mother, received from her master a "pa.s.s" to Courtland. She had some clothes there, which she wished to get; and even if her mother wore sold, she hoped at least to learn where she had gone.

She started on Thursday morning; and, as she rode alone on horseback over the road that a few months before had seemed so dark and lonely, the shadow that ever since that day had rested on her heart, was lifted. She was young; and Hope, though crushed and silent long, revived again; and whispered in her fainting spirit's ear, sweet promises of brighter days to come.

It was noon when she reached Courtland. How her heart beat as she rode up the familiar street!

Soon her eager eyes rested on an old acquaintance, and she inquired in trembling accents for her mother.

"La! honey," replied the old woman she had accosted, "whar you been all dis time, and never knowed yer mammy sol'? Mr. Peoples done bought her; dat Peoples whar live off yon' east o' town 'bout four mile. He got ole Moses and Jerry too; yer mammy's mighty lucky--got sol' 'long o' her ole man, and one o' her boys. Mr.

Peoples mighty good ma.s.sa too; leastways so all de folks say whar lives out dar. But yer mammy to Mr. Mosely's now. Mr. Peoples done hire 'em all out for de balance o' dis year."

Vina could listen no longer. Her heart was throbbing wildly; and tears, that despair had long forbid to flow, were standing in her eyes. She turned her horse in the direction of Mr. Mosely's;--he must not stop to rest till she should arrive at that goal of all her hopes--her mother's side.

Aunt Sally was at work in the field, at a short distance from the house, and little dreamed that she should that day behold the daughter for a sight of whose features she had so earnestly prayed.

Vina left her horse at the house, and walked to the field. She came very near the group of slaves at work before she was perceived.

Suddenly her mother raised her head:--"My, chile! my chile!" she cried, as with uplifted hands and streaming eyes she ran to meet her daughter, and pressed her closely to her breast.

Mrs. Mosely had bidden Vina to tell her mother that she might "have holiday" while she remained; and when the first gush of emotion had subsided, they walked together to the house.

"O Vina!" said her mother, "how I did mourn when I come to town dat Sunday, and you was gone. I reckon I skeered 'em all a screamin' and takin' on. I didn't know what to do, so I went right to ma.s.s'r. He felt mighty bad too; but he say he can't hope it; he's 'bliged, he say, sell every thing--and de Lord knowed he wouldn't part wid his servants if dar was any way for him to keep 'em. He cried a heap while I was dar. O 'pears like, gentlemen mought keep out o' debt when dey knows what trouble it 'll all come to at las'.

He couldn't tell me nuthin' 'bout de place whar you done gone; all he said, he done sol' you and Rosetta to Dr. T.; and he's gwine send one to a gentleman in Franklin, and t'other to Nashville. O Lord!

how my heart did ache! and 'pears like it never stop achin' 'till I see your blessed face. Is you got a good mas'r and missus, chile?"