luxury of my surroundings, the very exemption they gave me from all care, all responsibility, all endeavor, seemed to drive me almost insane with impatience. I had nothing to do. I was surrounded by skilled servants who provokingly anticipated every wish I could form. If I wanted even to rinse my fingers after eating a peach, I was not permitted to do it in any ordinary way. There was always a maid standing ready with a bowl and napkin for my use. My bed was prepared for me before I went to it, and the maid waited to put out the candle after I had gone to rest. Your father worshipped me, and surrounded me with attentions on his own part and on that of others, which were intolerable in the perfection of their service. I knew that I was not worthy of his worship and I often told him so, to no effect. He only worshipped me the more. The only time I ever saw him angry was once soon after you were born. I loved you as I had never dreamed of loving anybody or anything before in my life--even better ten thousand times than I had ever loved music itself. I wanted to do something for you with my own hands. I wanted to feel that I was your mother and you altogether my own child. “‘So, just as old mammy was preparing to give you your bath, I pretended to be faint and sent her below stairs to bring me a cup of coffee. When she had gone I seized you and in ecstatic triumph, set to work to make your little baby toilet with my own hands. Just as I began, your father came stalking up the stairs and entered the nursery. For mammy had told him I was faint, and he had hurried to my relief. When he found me bathing you he rang violently for all the servants within call and as they came one after another upon the scene he challenged each to know why their mistress was thus left to do servile offices for herself. But for my pleading I think he would have taken the whole company of them out to the barn and chastised them with his own hand, though I had never known him to strike a servant. “‘I know now that I ought to have explained the matter to him. I ought to have told him how the mother love in me longed to do something for you. I know he would have understood even in his rage over what he regarded as neglect of me, and he would have sympathized with my feeling. But I was enraged at the baffling of my purpose, and I hastily put on a riding habit, mounted my horse, which, your father, seeing my purpose, promptly ordered brought to the block, and rode away, unattended except by a negro groom. For when your father offered his escort I declined it, begging him to let me ride alone.