It was Saturday night again, and Adah, with heavy eyes and throbbing
head, sat bending over the dazzling silk, which 'Lina had coaxed her to
make.
'Lina could be very gracious when she chose, and as she saw a way by
which Adah might be useful to her, she chose to be so now, and treated
the unsuspecting girl so kindly, that Adah promised to undertake the
task, which proved a harder one than she had anticipated. Anxious to
gratify 'Lina, and keep what she was doing a secret from Hugh, who came
to the cottage often, she was obliged to work early and late, bending
over the dress by the dim candlelight until her head seemed bursting
with pain, and rings of fire danced before her eyes. She never would
have succeeded but for Uncle Sam, who proved a most efficient member of
the household, fitting in every niche and corner, until Aunt Eunice,
with all her New England aversion to negroes, wondered how she had ever
lived without him. Particularly did he attach himself to Willie,
relieving Adah from all care, and thus enabling her to devote every
spare moment to the party dress.
"You'se workin' yourself to death," he said to her, as late on Saturday
night she sat bending to the tallow candle, her hair brushed back from
her forehead and a purplish glow upon her cheek.
"I know I'm working too hard," she said. "I'm very tired, but Monday is
the party. Oh, I am so hot and feverish," and, as if even the slender
chain of gold about her neck were a burden, she undid the clasp, and
laid upon the stand the locket which had so interested Hugh.
Naturally inquisitive Sam took it in his hand, and touching the spring
held it to the light, uttering an exclamation of surprise.
"Dat's de bery one, and no mistake," he said, his old withered face
lighting up with eager joy.
"Who is she, Sam?" Adah asked, forgetting her work in her new interest.
"Miss Ellis. I done forgot de other name. Ellis they call her way down
thar whar Sam was sold, when dat man with the big splot on his forerd
like that is on your'n steal me away and sell me in Virginny. Miss, ever
hearn tell o' dat? We thinks he's takin' a bee line for Canada, when
fust we knows we's in ole Virginny, and de villain not freein' us at
all. He sell us. Me he most give away, 'case I was so old, and the mas'r
who buy some like Mas'r Hugh, he pity, he sorry for ole shaky nigger.
Sam tell him on his knees how he comed from Kaintuck, but Mas'r Sullivan
say he bought 'em far, and that the right mas'r sell 'em sneakin' like
to save rasin' a furse, and he show a bill of sale. They believe him
spite of dis chile, and so Sam 'long to anodder mas'r."