“This is the way! always the way! I may prepare her the nicest little repast in the world, and she scarcely ever eats; I may make up the softest bed, and she hardly ever sleeps! and I—I wear out my life tending and watching her, to no purpose! I don’t know what she lives on, I am sure, unless it is on grief and obstinacy, and she is dreadfully obstinate! If ever again I tack my fortunes on to those of a runaway lady—may I——but the Lord bless her! and the Lord forsake me if ever I forsake her,” thought Susan, as she silently removed the service, and beckoned Amphy to follow her from the room. “Come into the kitchen and take a cup of tea with me, Mother Amphy. My heart is heavy, and I want somebody to talk to,” said Susan, when she had closed the parlor door behind her. “Thankee, honey, wid all de pleasure in life, since you’s so ’bliging. I should ’joy a rale good cup o’ tea; and I warrant de Madam keeps de werry best,” said the old woman, as she followed Susan into the kitchen. When they had drawn out the table, arranged it, and seated themselves, Amphy said— “De lors! ain’t she purty dough?” “Who?” “De child in dere—de Madam I mean—_wonderful_ purty!—but what’s de matter wid her, honey? she seems to be in a heap o’ trouble! Is de child a widder?” “Hem-m! Yes, she’s a widow (—_bewitched_—there’s another consequence of following a runaway lady! I shall have to lose my soul with lying, or, what is as bad, distorting the truth,)” thought Susan. “A widder! _poor_ thing! she take it wonderful hard! How long she bin a widder, honey?” “Some months.” “Dis _is_ wonderful good tea! Some mont’s! and she ain’t begin to git over it yet? And I spose dat what she come down to this lonesome place for?” “Yes.” “De Lors! Well ’tis ’stonishin’ how dey do take on at fust—dese young widders! but lors! it don’t las long, ’specially when dey’s young and handsome as _she_—and she’s _wonderful_ handsome! It ’minds me of a purty young widder as I know’d of; her husband done die of de fever. Lors! Lors! Lors! how she did take on at fust, to be sure! Nobody couldn’t hold her! nobody darsent come nigh her! Byme-by, she take and buy a lonesome country place, ’way off in a woody park, by itself.