" Perhaps you
would have killed him in that moment of desperation, even with the
certainty of being burnt to cinders for the deed, but you are too
horribly wounded by the lash to be able to spring upon him. In that
helpless condition, you are manacled and carried off by the
slave-trader. Never again will Amy's gentle eyes look into yours.
What she suffers you will never know. She is suddenly wrenched from
your youth, as your mother was from your childhood. The pall of
silence falls over all her future. She cannot read or write; and the
post-office was not instituted for slaves.
Looking back on that dark period of desolation and despair, you
marvel how you lived through it. But the nature of youth is elastic.
You have learned that law offers colored men nothing but its
_penalties_; that white men engross all its _protection_; still you
are tempted to make another bargain for your freedom. Your new
master seems easy and good-natured, and you trust he will prove more
honorable than your brother has been.
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