y to their views of duty, I honor
them. It is a grief to me to grieve them, but I have no
alternative. Very unpleasant it will be to be disowned, but
misery to be self-disowned.

S.--I have presented these considerations, that you might
carefully traverse the whole question and count all the costs. I
dare not say a word against your decision. I see that it is
final, and that you can make no other. To me, it is sacred. While
we have been talking, I, too, have made my decision. It is this:
where you go, I will go; what you do, I will to my utmost help
you in doing. We have always thought and wept and prayed
together over this horrible wrong, and now we will go and work
together. There will be a deal to be done in private also; that I
can help you about, and thus you will have the more strength to
give to the meetings.

So Miss Grimke wrote at once to the committee, accepting their
invitation, thanking them for the salary offered, but declining
to receive any; informing them that her sister would accompany
her, and that they should both go exclusively at their own
expense.

In 1864, Mr. and Mrs. Weld removed to Hyde Park, where the sisters
spent the rest of their days. No one who met Angelina there would have
any suspicion of the great work which she had done: she was interested
in her household duties, and the little charities of the neighborhood.
Once, during the war, she was persuaded to go out of her daily
routine, and to attend a small meeting called for the purpose of
assisting the Southern people--freedmen, and those who had formerly
held them in slavery. Very simply and modestly, but very clearly and
impressively, she spoke of the condition of things at the South, of
her friends there, and how we could best help them--all in the most
loving and tender spirit, as if she had only grateful memories of what
they had been, and as if no thought of herself mingled with the
thought of them. The simplicity, directness, and practical good sense
of her speech then, its kindliness toward those who had done her the
greatest wrong, and the entire absence of self-consciousness, made
those who heard her feel that a woman might speak in public without
violating any of the proprieties or prejudices of social traditions
and customs. There was a refinement and dignity about her, an
atmosphere of gentleness and sweetness and strength, whi