I have told you that Dr. Flint’s persecutions and his wife’s jealousy had given rise to some gossip in the neighborhood.  Among others, it chanced that a white unmarried gentleman had obtained some knowledge of the circumstances in which I was placed.  He knew my grandmother, and often spoke to me in the street.  He became interested for me, and asked questions about my master, which I answered in part.  He expressed a great deal of sympathy, and a wish to aid me.  He constantly sought opportunities to see me, and wrote to me frequently.  I was a poor slave girl, only fifteen years old.

So much attention from a superior person was, of course, flattering; for human nature is the same in all.  I also felt grateful for his sympathy, and encouraged by his kind words.  It seemed to me a great thing to have such a friend.  By degrees, a more tender feeling crept into my heart.  He was an educated and eloquent gentleman; too eloquent, alas, for the poor slave girl who trusted in him.  Of course I saw whither all this was tending.  I knew the impassable gulf between us; but to be an object of interest to a man who is not married, and who is not her master, is agreeable to the pride and feelings of a slave, if her miserable situation has left her any pride or sentiment.  It seems less degrading to give one’s self, than to submit to compulsion.  There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment.  A master may treat you as rudely as he pleases, and you dare not speak; moreover, the wrong does not seem so great with an unmarried man, as with one who has a wife to be made unhappy.  There may be sophistry in all this; but the condition of a slave confuses all principles of morality, and, in fact, renders the practice of them impossible.

When I found that my master had actually begun to build the lonely cottage, other feelings mixed with those I have described.  Revenge, and calculations of interest, were added to flattered vanity and sincere gratitude for kindness.  I knew nothing would enrage Dr. Flint so much as to know that I favored another, and it was something to triumph over my tyrant even in that small way.  I thought he would revenge himself by selling me, and I was sure my friend, Mr. Sands, would buy me.  He was a man of more generosity and feeling than my master, and I thought my freedom could be easily obtained from him.  The crisis of my fate now came so near that I was desperate.  I shuddered to think of being the mother of children that should be owned by my old tyrant.  I knew that as soon as a new fancy took him, his victims were sold far off to get rid of them; especially if they had children.  I had seen several women sold, with babies at the breast.  He never allowed his offspring by slaves to remain long in sight of himself and his wife.  Of a man who was not my master I could ask to have my children well supported; and in this case, I felt confident I should obtain the