A large hotel stood nearly opposite the house, and across the narrow street she watched the mingling, busy crowd of black and white, young and old, coming and going, each intent on his own interests, each holding in his heart the secret of his own history. Who are they all? thought Tidy, what business are they all about? I wonder if they are all happy? not one of them knows or cares for poor, unhappy me,--when lo! there suddenly loomed up before her a familiar face. She watched it eagerly as it moved up and down in the throng, for she felt that she had seen it before. But it was some minutes before she could tell exactly where. At last it all came to her. It was Arthur Carroll, the son of the man who had owned her when a baby. She had often seen and played with him in her visits to her mother. Many years had passed since she last beheld him, and he had grown to be a young gentleman; but she was sure it was he. He stepped out of the hotel and came towards the house. She uttered a little, quick cry, "Why, Mass Arthur!" He turned and recognized her, and at once stopped to inquire into her condition and circumstances. It was almost like a visit to old Virginia to see young Carroll; and as cold water to a thirsty soul was the news he brought her from that far country. Tidy drank in eagerly every word he could tell her of the Lees, and others whom she knew, and they were enjoying an animated conversation when Tidy's master passed that way. He saw his slave engaged in familiar talk with a stranger, and remembering the remark of the trader of whom he had bought her, that she had tried "the running-away game" once, and must be watched lest she should repeat the attempt, without waiting to inquire into the circumstances of the case, he resolved to administer a proper chastisement. Coming up behind, he struck her a violent blow on the side of the head that sent the frail girl reeling to the ground. For a few minutes Tidy lay stunned upon the earth. When she came to herself, her head was smarting with pain and her heart burned like fire with indignation, and in a perfect frenzy of distress and mortification she rushed out of the gate and flew down the street. Up and down, through the streets and lanes of the city, she ran for hours, not knowing or caring whither she went, until finally, exhausted and bewildered, she dropped down upon the ground. Some one raised the panting girl and took her to the guard-house. There she lay until morning before she could give any distinct thought to what she had done, and what course she was now to pursue.