The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1856-03-13
dignant sense Of outraged manhood. Sti

Fannie soothed him.
"Govern your temper, dear Valley. and God
will bless you. Never mind me and Coralie,
we shall get along well enough; and we can
see each other Sunday at church, and Thurs
day at prayer-meeting, anyhow" she would
say, cheerfully.
True, Fannie had her baby always with her,
and that was great comfort to the youthful
wife and mother for the absence of her hus-
band. They might have looked for some aid
from the intercession of Mrs. Waring; but, alasl
tor far and false hopes her romantic interest in
little Fannie had been but frail spring blossom
OF her own happy bridehood, soon withered;
and, added to that her influence with her hus
band had waned with her honeymoon. So, be.
tween her indifference aud her inability, to-
gether with her ignorance of the facts-for
Valentine seldom had sight or speech alone
with his mistress, or, when he had, was too
proud and reserved to complain; and Fannie
from native modesty, would rather endure than
plead-litte aid was to be expected from Mrs.
Warnings interference in behalf of the Young
couple.
The gathering clouds of fate darkened and
deepened over the head of the doomed boy. His
little home in the city was visited with sickness.
First, his little Coralie was taken i'll. No
father in this world, whatever his nature or de-
gree might be, ever loved his infant with more
passionate attachment than poor Valentine felt
towards his little Coralie; she was the darling
of his heart and eyes, the light and Joy of his
present, and the hope of his future. 1t was for
her sake that he wished to save money-to edu-
cate her. Daily he thanked God that she was
born free.
Now, his bright beautiful Coralie was pining
away under a complication of infant disorders
A sick and suffering child is one of the most
distressing objects in nature, especially when
that child is but a babe, and cannot, as the
nurses say, tell where its trouble u.s." and can
only look at you with its pleading eyes, as if
imporing the relief you cannot give. You who
have ever had an i'll and suffering infant, always
pining and moaning with its aching head, too
heavy for the slender attenuated neck, always
dropped upon It's nurses or it's mothers shoulder
yet still often looking up with faint little smile
to greet you when you come to take it, or pite-
ously holding out its emaciated arms to coax
you back when you are called to leave it-you
can estimate the distress of the poor young
father, living three miles distant from the sick
child, that might at any hour grow suddenly
worse, and die; and only permitted to visit it
occasionally, at the pleasure or caprice of Others
Fannie's health, never strong, began to fail !;
loss of rest night after night, with the sick child
III,
which she was still obliged to retain as means
of support, exhausted her strength. The poor
infant, bereft all day Of both parents, and left
in charge of an old free negress that lived near
the shop, had the sad unnatural grief of home
sickness added to its other suffering, and so
pinned and failed day by day. This state of
things lasted for some weeks. After a night
of suffering to the child and sleeplessness to
herself, Fannie would rise in the morning, and.
though nearly blind, giddy, and fainting from
habitual loss of rest, she would set her room in
order, eat morsel of breakfast, battle and dress
the little one, collect all the articles it would
need, and prepare its food and medicine for the
day; and, lastly, dress herself with neatness and
taste, for 1t was very necessary that the shop
girl should look as well as possible; take her
sick babe in one arm, and its basket of Deces-
saries in the other lock her door, and set out for
the shop, stopping on her way to leave the child
and its basket at Z mt Peggy's hut, where there
was no cradle or rocking chair, but, what was
perhaps as well, pallet laid in the coolest part
of the room. Here Fannie would sit and rest
uhn unnln ,ns at,,,,I ,,,o tl-iI..' -
it. thankful if the little creature hap asn ssave
be sleeping peacefully, wretched if It CHANGED
to be wakeful and to be wailing after its mother.
One morning, when Fannie had fingered be,
yond her hour for going to the store, trying to
put to sleep or to pacify the suffering child, she
finally laid it down upon the pallet, and, with
many kisses and soothing words and promises
to come back soon, tore herself away; but, Just
as she reached the door, the little one struggled
upon its feeble limbs, staggered towards her,
and fell, with its weak hand clasping her skirts.
Fannie burst into tears, took the babe up in
her arms, sat down upon a chair, and, pressing
To hor
soothed it, and promised never to leave it again.
and, speaking to the old woman, said !.
Please go over to Leroux's, Aunt Peggy;
and tell Monsieur that can't core to-day, on
account of poor little Coralie; and don't know
when l can come-so he may, if he chooses;
look out for somebody else to fill my place"
The prudent old woman expostulated, asked
Fannie what she would do for living if she
gave up her situation at Leroux's, and advised
her to hold fast, saying that the child might
die, and then there! she couldn't get the place
again 30 easy 40 she had lost it.
But Fannie was firm. Pressing the infant
closer to her bosom, she replied: Yes; that
little Coralie might die, and then the thought
of how often she had left the poor baby griev.
ing for her mother, you'd break her heart;
that it was no use for any one to talk; come
what might, she never would leave the sick child
again.
Aunt Peggy carried the message, and brought
back the reply that Madame Leroux had always
expected this trouble to come upon Fannie;
that she had always said so; and that Fannie
would find her words true, that this was only
the beginning of the troubles she would meet,
for having been 80 lost to her own interest as
to marry handsome slave man, whose very
hands were not his own, to help her.
Fannie said that she would trust in God, unto
death and beyond death; for that often she
thought the best way in which He could right
his children's wrongs, and comfort their afflic-
tons, was by taking them from this sad world
to His own heaven. III
Truly, the poor young creature needed all
this faith, to enable her to bear the troubles
that were, and those that we're to come. She
carried little Coralie back to her own poor room
She sought out what plain sewing and clear
starching she could get to do in her own homes
but this was very little, now that 30 many of the
ladies and gentlemen among whom she hoped to
get employment had left the city for the North
ern watering-places. 1t brought her a very
scanty income; and as, out of this, room rent.
fuel light, food, clothing, medicine and other
incidental expenses, had to be paid, and as, be.
sides, she would not suffer little Coralie to want
any comfort, or even any luxury, that she could
procure for her by her own exertions and self
denial, it followed, of course, that she herself
went without suf1iciency of the real necessa.
ries of life; and so, privation being added to
her other ills, accelerated the decline Of her
health. Il
Valentine could only come to see then, once
a week. He would come Sunday morning.
spend the day in nursing his darling, tear hims
self from her clinging, baby arms, and return,
almost broken-hearted, at night.
This was the condition of things when the
yellow fever made its appearance at MI
This uvan rofhino The II