mother once more; but fearing the wrath
of his mother-in-law, he did not dare to gratify his inclination. He had
not the slightest idea of what would become of them; but he well knew
that the old woman would have no mercy on them.

CHAPTER XIII. A HARD-HEARTED WOMAN

WITH no one but her dear little Clotelle, Isabella passed her weary
hours without partaking of either food or drink, hoping that Henry would
soon return, and that the strange meeting with the old woman would be
cleared up.

While seated in her neat little bedroom with her fevered face buried in
her handkerchief, the child ran in and told its mother that a carriage
had stopped in front of the house. With a palpitating heart she arose
from her seat and went to the door, hoping that it was Henry; but,
to her great consternation, the old lady who had paid her such an
unceremonious visit on the evening that she had last seen Henry, stepped
out of the carriage, accompanied by the slave-trader, Jennings.

Isabella had seen the trader when he purchased her mother and sister,
and immediately recognized him. What could these persons want there?
thought she. Without any parleying or word of explanation, the two
entered the house, leaving the carriage in charge of a servant.

Clotelle ran to her mother, and clung to her dress as if frightened by
the strangers.

"She's a fine-looking wench," said the speculator, as he seated himself,
unasked, in the rocking-chair; "yet I don't think she is worth the money
you ask for her."

"What do you want here?" inquired Isabella, with a quivering voice.

"None of your insolence to me," bawled out the old woman, at the top
of her voice; "if you do, I will give you what you deserve so much, my
lady,--a good whipping."

In an agony of grief, pale, trembling, and ready to sink to the floor,
Isabella was only sustained by the hope that she would be able to save
her child. At last, regaining her self-possession, she ordered them both
to leave the house. Feeling herself insulted, the old woman seized
the tongs that stood by the fire-place, and raised them to strike the
quadroon down; but the slave-trader immediately jumped between the
women, exclaiming,--

"I won't buy her, Mrs. Miller, if you injure her."

Poor little Clotelle screamed as she saw the strange woman raise the
tongs at her mother. With the exception of old Aunt Nancy, a free
colored woman, whom Isabella sometimes employed to work for her, the
child had