“Lor! so I can, Peek. Who’d have thought of it but you?” “Come, then! Be lively. Tumble the things into the trunks. We’ll give poor old Petticum the odds and ends we leave behind; and she’ll notify the landlord, and take care of the rooms.” In less than an hour’s time they had made all their preparations, and were all three in a coach with their luggage, rattling up Greenwich Street towards one of the Twenties. Here they went on board an old steamer, recently taken from the regular line for freighting purposes, and carrying only a few passengers. Having seen Flora and Sterling safely bestowed with the luggage, and given the former his watch and all his money, except a dollar in change, Peek said: “Now, Flora, I’ve got to go ashore on business. If I shouldn’t be here when the boat starts, do you keep straight on to Montreal without me. Go to the post-office regularly twice a week to see if there’s a letter for you.” “What is it, Peek? Tell me all about it,” said Flora, who painfully felt there was a secret which her husband did not choose to disclose. “Now, Flora, don’t be silly,” replied Peek, wiping the tears from her face with his handkerchief. “I tell you, I may be aboard again before you start,—haven’t made up my mind yet,—only, if you shouldn’t see me, never you mind, but just keep on. Find out your old customers in Montreal, and wait patiently till I join you. So don’t cry about it. The Lord will take care of it all. Here’s a handbill that tells you the best way to get to Montreal. Look out for pickpockets. I shouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to, Flora. I’ll tell you everything about it when we meet. So good by.” Having no suspicion of the actual cause of Peek’s leaving her, and confident, through faith in him, that it must be for a right purpose, Flora cheered up, and said: “Well, Peek, I ’spec you’ve got some little debts to pay; but do come back to-day if you can; and keep clar’ of the hounds, Peek,—keep clar’ of the hounds.” And so, kissing wife and child, with an overflowing heart Peek quitted the boat. He did not at once leave the vicinity. There was a pile of fresh lumber not far off. Dodging out of sight behind it, and then sitting down in a little enclosure formed by the boards, where he could see the boat and not be seen, he tried to orient his conscience as to his duty under the extraordinary circumstances in which he found himself. Go back to the life of a slave? Leave wife and child, and return to bondage, degradation, subordination to another’s will? He looked out on the beautiful river, flashing in the warm spring sunshine; to the opposite shore of Hoboken, where he and Flora used to stroll on Sundays last summer, dragging Sterling in his little carriage. Was there to be no more of that pleasant independent life?