he knowledge that some one near and dear to him
still languished in the hell from which he had escaped. My heart quite
warmed to him at that idea; I wanted to know and comfort him; and,
following the impulse of the moment, I went in and touched him on the
shoulder.

In an instant the man vanished and the slave appeared. Freedom was too
new a boon to have wrought its blessed changes yet, and as he started
up, with his hand at his temple and an obsequious "Yes, Ma'am," any
romance that had gathered round him fled away, leaving the saddest of
all sad facts in living guise before me. Not only did the manhood seem
to die out of him, but the comeliness that first attracted me; for, as
he turned, I saw the ghastly wound that had laid open cheek and
forehead. Being partly healed, it was no longer bandaged, but held
together with strips of that transparent plaster which I never see
without a shiver and swift recollections of the scenes with which it is
associated in my mind. Part of his black hair had been shorn away, and
one eye was nearly closed; pain so distorted, and the cruel sabre-cut so
marred that portion of his face, that, when I saw it, I felt as if a
fine medal had been suddenly reversed, showing me a far more striking
type of human suffering and wrong than Michel Angelo's bronze prisoner.
By one of those inexplicable processes that often teach us how little we
understand ourselves, my purpose was suddenly changed, and though I went
in to offer comfort as a friend, I merely gave an order as a mistress.

"Will you open these windows? this man needs more air."

He obeyed at once, and, as he slowly urged up the unruly sash, the
handsome profile was again turned toward me, and again I was possessed
by my first impression so strongly that I involuntarily said,--

"Thank you, Sir."

Perhaps it was fancy, but I thought that in the look of mingled surprise
and something like reproach which he gave me there was also a trace of
grateful pleasure. But he said, in that tone of spiritless humility
these poor souls learn so soon,--

"I a'n't a white man, Ma'am, I'm a contraband."

"Yes, I know it; but a contraband is a free man, and I heartily
congratulate you."

He liked that; his face shone, he squared his shoulders, lifted his
head, and looked me full in the eye with a brisk--

"Thank ye, Ma'am; anything more to do fer yer?"

"Doctor Franck thought you would help me with this man, as there are
many patients and few n