ning a farm; and I was blessed with
excellent health. But meanwhile Zoe! It was not long before it was
certain that she was to bear a child; and it would not be many months or
even weeks when she could not walk out or go to town without betraying
her secret to the world. But then what should the explanation be? Should
I tell what I knew? Should I remain silent?

Except for engrossing duties, with time to think and brood, I should
have been thrown into tortures with the possibilities. There was always
the chance, too, that Zoe in the desperation of the moment might run
away from me. She had the English blood of my father in her veins,
venturesome, perhaps reckless. Perhaps it was well that she had no
control of the profits of the farm which had thus far been allotted to
her, nor her share of the ready money which my father had left. I had
had Reverdy appointed her guardian, making myself accountable to him. I
deemed this the fitting thing; and I was also brought to do it because I
might be absent at times in the future when she would need money. But if
Zoe should run away what would become of her? The chance of her being
kidnapped and sold into slavery filled me with terror. Yet the days went
on without change.

Except that Sarah's boy was born! What a father Reverdy was! So
wondering and gentle. And he guarded Sarah like a lover and father in
one. Zoe was wild to see Sarah's boy; but that was out of the question
now. She wanted to deed some of her land to the boy, or better perhaps,
to Sarah. But she would have to wait until she became of age to do this.

The birth of Sarah's boy affected Zoe profoundly. She was now about two
months advanced in her own pregnancy. She was beginning to think of the
ordeal herself, of the fate of the child, what it was being born to....
What, indeed? I noticed that Zoe had hours of deep depression. Would it
not be best for me to have a woman in the house with Zoe? Mrs. Engle
knew of a widow about fifty whose husband had been killed in the War of
1812. And I got her, a Mrs. Brown. Zoe was now free of the housework.
She had a companion when I was away on my work about the farm. And I
felt relieved. But my mind and heart were full of problems. There was
always Zoe! There was always Lamborn, skulking in the shadows of my
speculations. How would I unravel this tangle with him?

Then there was Dorothy. Some of the talk must reach her eventually. It
might come to her as a smudge upon me. Then