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“The child has improved greatly,” said Miss Ophelia. “I have great hopes of her; but, Augustine,” she said, laying her hand on his arm, “one thing I want to ask, whose is this child to be?- yours or mine? “Why, I gave her to you,” said Augustine. “But not legally;- I want her to be mine legally,” said Miss Ophelia. “Whew! Cousin,” said Augustine. “What will the Abolition Society think? They’ll have a day of fasting appointed for this backsliding, if you become a slaveholder!” “O, nosense! I want her mine, that I may have a right to take her to the free States, and give her her liberty, that all I am trying to do be not undone.” “O, cousin, what an awful ‘doing evil that good may come’! I can’t encourage it.” “I don’t want you to joke, but to reason,” said Miss Ophelia. “There is no use in my trying to make this child a Christian child, unless I save her from all the chances and reverses of slavery; and, if you really are willing I should have her, I want you to give me a deed of gift, or some legal paper.” “Well, well,” said St. Clare, “I will;” and he sat down, and unfolded a newspa- per to read. “But I want it done now,” said Miss Ophelia. “What’s your hurry?” |