hen such scenes were repeated again and again, they should not
become known. And they were repeated so often and so dreadfully, that
only the feeling that I endured the just penalty of my own conduct,
enabled me to bear the perpetual suffering. At last, even Christian saw
that I could not live long if I had not some respite. Perhaps he had a
little pity for me; perhaps he only thought still of gain. At any rate,
he became less cruel, and my health returned. Again something like a
calm came over my life, and I began to feel hopeful once more. The next
spring you, Lucia, my light and comfort, were born, and from that time I
had double cause both for hope and fear. The birth of a daughter,
however, is no cause of joy to an Indian father; if you had been a boy
you would have been (or so I fancy) far less consolation to me, but to
Christian you would have been more welcome. He was with me when you were
born, but the very next day he left the island for three or four weeks,
and from the time of his next return all my former sufferings
recommenced. Often in terror for your life, I carried you to Mary Wanita
and implored her to keep you until your father was gone; and even in
his absence I scarcely dared to fall asleep with you in my arms, lest he
should come in unexpectedly and snatch you from me.

"When you were about a year old Mr. Strafford married. His wife, who had
already heard of me before her marriage, became the dearest of friends
to me; with her I could always leave you in safety, and with her I began
to feel again the solace of female society and sympathy. She is dead, as
you know, long ago, and her little daughter died at the same time, of a
fever which broke out on the island two or three years after we left it.

"Two years passed after your birth, and things had gone on in much the
same way. My husband never ceased to urge me to try to obtain money from
England, and in the meantime he continually took from me the little I
could earn by my work, for which Mrs. Strafford found me a sale in
different towns of the province.

"Do not misjudge me, Lucia. I tell you these things only to justify what
I did later, and my long concealment even from you of the truth of my
history.

"But when you were about two years old your father left the island, and
did not return. The longest stay he had ever made before was a month,
and when two passed, and I neither saw nor heard of him, I began to feel
uneasy. Mr. Strafford made m