“I know all about it, mother,” she replied; “I am nothing to my father,
and he is nothing to me. All my love is for you. I was with him five
months in Washington, and he never cared for me. He never spoke to me
as he did to his little Fanny. I knew all the time he was my father,
for Fanny’s nurse told me so; but she said I must never tell any body,
and I never did. I used to wish he would take me in his arms and kiss
me, as he did Fanny; or that he would sometimes smile at me, as he did
at her. I thought if he was my own father, he ought to love me. I was a
little girl then, and didn’t know any better. But now I never think any
thing about my father. All my love is for you.” She hugged me closer as
she spoke, and I thanked God that the knowledge I had so much dreaded
to impart had not diminished the affection of my child. I had not the
slightest idea she knew that portion of my history. If I had, I should
have spoken to her long before; for my pent-up feelings had often
longed to pour themselves out to some one I could trust. But I loved
the dear girl better for the delicacy she had manifested towards her
unfortunate mother.
The next morning, she and her uncle started on their journey to the
village in New York, where she was to be placed at school. It seemed
as if all the sunshine had gone away. My little room was dreadfully
lonely. I was thankful when a message came from a lady, accustomed to
employ me, requesting me to come and sew in her family for several
weeks. On my return, I found a letter from brother William. He thought
of opening an anti-slavery reading room in Rochester, and combining
with it the sale of some books and stationery; and he wanted me to
unite with him. We tried it, but it was not successful. We found warm
anti-slavery friends there, but the feeling was not general enough to
support such an establishment. I passed nearly a year in the family of
Isaac and Amy Post, practical believers in the Christian doctrine of
human brotherhood. They measure a man’s worth by his character, not by
his complexion. The memory of those beloved and honored friends will
remain with me to my latest hour.