e,
after all, the color, and not the sex, that weighed. That aroused her
indignation, aroused also a feeling of race: she would not have changed
color that moment with the fairest Circassian of a harem, could the
white slave have appeared in all the dazzle of her beauty.--Mas'r Henry
had called that man, of whom he read aloud to-day, her ancestor. She
knew what that was, for she had heard Miss Emma boast of her
progenitors. But he was free; then it followed that she was not a slave
by nature, only by vicious force of circumstance. Mas'r Henry had no
right to her whatever; instead of her stealing herself, he was the thief
who retained her against her will. What could be the name of the country
where that man had lived? It was somewhere a long way from this place,
down the river, perhaps beyond the sea;--there were others there, then,
still, most likely. Flor had an idea that among them she might be a
superior, possibly received with welcome, invested with honors;--she
lingered over the pleasant vision. But how was one ever to find the
spot? Ah, that book of Mas'r Henry's would tell, if she could but take
it away to those kind people Sarp had told of. So she meditated awhile
on the curious travels with Sordello for a guide-book, till old
affections smote her for having thought of taking the thing, when "Mas'r
Henry set so by it," and she put the vision aside, endeavoring to recall
in its place all that Sarp had told her of the North. She realized then,
personally, what a wide world it was. Why should she stay shut in this
one point upon it all: a hill and the fir wood behind her; marshes on
this side; woods again on the other; low hills far away before her; out
of them all, the dark torrent of the river showing the swift way to
freedom and the great sea? She drew in a full breath, as if close air
oppressed her.--A bird flew over her then, high above her head,
careering in fickle circles, and at length sailing down out of sight far
into other heavens. Flor watched him bitterly; she comprehended Zoe's
scorn of her past content;--if only she had wings to spread! But Sarp
had told her, that, if she went away, she would one day have wings. None
of Sarp's other arguments weighed a doit,--but wings to roam with over
this beautiful world! The liberty of vagabondage! She watched the clouds
chasing one another through the sunny heaven, watched their shadows
chasing along the fields and hills below; her heart burned that
everything i