hat concern," he said,
pointing with his thumb backward over his shoulder. "Any mind that
is capable of a _real sorrow_ is capable of good. You must try and do
something with her."

"The child has improved greatly," said Miss Ophelia. "I have great hopes
of her; but, Augustine," she said, laying her hand on his arm, "one
thing I want to ask; whose is this child to be?--yours or mine?"

"Why, I gave her to you," said Augustine.

"But not legally;--I want her to be mine legally," said Miss Ophelia.

"Whew! cousin," said Augustine. "What will the Abolition Society think?
They'll have a day of fasting appointed for this backsliding, if you
become a slaveholder!"

"O, nonsense! I want her mine, that I may have a right to take her to
the free States, and give her her liberty, that all I am trying to do be
not undone."

"O, cousin, what an awful 'doing evil that good may come'! I can't
encourage it."

"I don't want you to joke, but to reason," said Miss Ophelia. "There is
no use in my trying to make this child a Christian child, unless I save
her from all the chances and reverses of slavery; and, if you really are
willing I should have her, I want you to give me a deed of gift, or some
legal paper."

"Well, well," said St. Clare, "I will;" and he sat down, and unfolded a
newspaper to read.

"But I want it done now," said Miss Ophelia.

"What's your hurry?"

"Because now is the only time there ever is to do a thing in," said Miss
Ophelia. "Come, now, here's paper, pen, and ink; just write a paper."

St. Clare, like most men of his class of mind, cordially hated the
present tense of action, generally; and, therefore, he was considerably
annoyed by Miss Ophelia's downrightness.

"Why, what's the matter?" said he. "Can't you take my word? One would
think you had taken lessons of the Jews, coming at a fellow so!"

"I want to make sure of it," said Miss Ophelia. "You may die, or fail,
and then Topsy be hustled off to auction, spite of all I can do."

"Really, you are quite provident. Well, seeing I'm in the hands of a
Yankee, there is nothing for it but to concede;" and St. Clare rapidly
wrote off a deed of gift, which, as he was well versed in the forms
of law, he could easily do, and signed his name to it in sprawling
capitals, concluding by a tremendous flourish.

"There, isn't that black and white, now, Miss Vermont?" he said, as he
handed it to her.

"Good boy," said Miss Ophelia, smiling. "But must it not