e me, and in the midst of it appeared
the forms of my two children. They vanished; but I had seen them
distinctly. Some will call it a dream, others a vision. I know not how to
account for it, but it made a strong impression on my mind, and I felt
certain something had happened to my little ones.

I had not seen Betty since morning. Now I heard her softly turning the key.
As soon as she entered, I clung to her, and begged her to let me know
whether my children were dead, or whether they were sold; for I had seen
their spirits in my room, and I was sure something had happened to them.
"Lor, chile," said she, putting her arms round me, "you's got de
high-sterics. I'll sleep wid you to-night, 'cause you'll make a noise, and
ruin missis. Something has stirred you up mightily. When you is done cryin,
I'll talk wid you. De chillern is well, and mighty happy. I seed 'em
myself. Does dat satisfy you? Dar, chile, be still! Somebody vill hear
you." I tried to obey her. She lay down, and was soon sound asleep; but no
sleep would come to my eyelids.

At dawn, Betty was up and off to the kitchen. The hours passed on, and the
vision of the night kept constantly recurring to my thoughts. After a while
I heard the voices of two women in the entry. In one of them I recognized
the housemaid. The other said to her, "Did you know Linda Brent's children
was sold to the speculator yesterday. They say ole massa Flint was mighty
glad to see 'em drove out of town; but they say they've come back agin. I
'spect it's all their daddy's doings. They say he's bought William too.
Lor! how it will take hold of ole massa Flint! I'm going roun' to aunt
Marthy's to see 'bout it."

I bit my lips till the blood came to keep from crying out. Were my children
with their grandmother, or had the speculator carried them off? The
suspense was dreadful. Would Betty _never_ come, and tell me the truth
about it? At last she came, and I eagerly repeated what I had overheard.
Her face was one broad, bright smile. "Lor, you foolish ting!" said she.
"I'se gwine to tell you all 'bout it. De gals is eating thar breakfast, and
missus tole me to let her tell you; but, poor creeter! t'aint right to keep
you waitin', and I'se gwine to tell you. Brudder, chillern, all is bought
by de daddy! I'se laugh more dan nuff, tinking 'bout ole massa Flint. Lor,
how he _vill_ swar! He's got ketched dis time, any how; but I must be
getting out o' dis, or dem gals vill come and ketch _me_