I was in
a drunkard's hell already."
Mr. Mayhew requested that supper should be served in his own room,
for neither he nor his daughter was in a mood to meet strangers
that evening. Ida called her mother, and tried to explain to her
why they did not wish to go down, but the poor woman was not able
to grasp very much of the truth, and was decidedly mystified by the
domestic changes which she had very limited power to appreciate,
and in which she had so little part. She was not a coarse woman,
but matter of fact, superficial, and worldly to the last degree.
Van Berg could scarcely believe his eyes when Mr. Mayhew came down to
breakfast with his family Sunday morning. The bondman had become
free; the slave of a degrading vice had been transformed into
a quiet, dignified gentleman. His form was erect, and while his
bearing was singularly modest and retiring, there was nothing of
the old cowering, shrinking manner which suggested defeat, loss of
self-respect, and hopeless dejection. All who knew him instinctively
felt that the prostrate man had risen to his feet, and there was
something in his manner that made them believe he would hold his
footing among other men hereafter.
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