Never having been called to endure any kind of
abusive treatment, Isabella was not fitted to sustain herself
against the brutality of Mrs. Miller, much less the combined
ferociousness of the old woman and the overseer too. Suffice it to
say, that instead of whipping Isabella, Mrs. Miller transferred
her to the negro-speculator, who took her immediately to his
slave-pen. The unfeeling old woman would not permit Isabella to
take more than a single change of her clothing, remarking to
Jennings,--
"I sold you the wench, you know,--not her clothes."
The injured, friendless, and unprotected Isabella fainted as she
saw her child struggling to release herself from the arms of old
Mrs. Miller, and as the wretch boxed the poor child's ears.
After leaving directions as to how Isabella's furniture and other
effects should be disposed of, Mrs. Miller took Clotelle into her
carriage and drove home. There was not even color enough about the
child to make it appear that a single drop of African blood flowed
through its blue veins.
Considerable sensation was created in the kitchen among the
servants when the carriage drove up, and Clotelle entered the
house.
"Jes' like Massa Henry fur all de worl," said Dinah, as she caught
a glimpse of the child through the window.
"Wondah whose brat dat ar' dat missis bringin' home wid her?" said
Jane, as she put the ice in the pitchers for dinner." I warrant
it's some poor white nigger somebody bin givin' her."
The child was white.
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