Chapter: After my lover went away, Dr. Flint contrived a new plan. He seemed to have
an idea that my fear of my mistress was his greatest obstacle. In the
blandest tones, he told me that he was going to build a small house for me,
         in a secluded place, four miles away from the town. I shuddered; but I was
         constrained to listen, while he talked of his intention to give me a home
         of my own, and to make a lady of me. Hitherto, I had escaped my dreaded
         fate, by being in the midst of people. My grandmother had already had high
         words with my master about me. She had told him pretty plainly what she
         thought of his character, and there was considerable gossip in the
         neighborhood about our affairs, to which the open-mouthed jealousy of Mrs.
         Flint contributed not a little. When my master said he was going to build a
         house for me, and that he could do it with little trouble and expense, I
         was in hopes something would happen to frustrate his scheme; but I soon
         heard that the house was actually begun. I vowed before my Maker that I
         would never enter it: I had rather toil on the plantation from dawn till
         dark; I had rather live and die in jail, than drag on, from day to day,
         through such a living death. I was determined that the master, whom I so
         hated and loathed, who had blighted the prospects of my youth, and made my
         life a desert, should not, after my long struggle with him, succeed at last
         in trampling his victim under his feet. I would do any thing, every thing,
         for the sake of defeating him. What _could_ I do? I thought and thought,
         till I became desperate, and made a plunge into the abyss.

         And now, reader, I come to a period in my unhappy life, which I would
         gladly forget if I could. The remembrance fills me with sorrow and shame.
         It pains me to tell you of it; but I have promised to tell you the truth,
         and I will do it honestly, let it cost me what it may. I will not try to
         screen myself behind the plea of compulsion from a master; for it was not
         so. Neither can I plead ignorance or thoughtlessness. For years, my master
         had done his utmost to pollute my mind with foul images, and to destroy the
         pure principles inculcated by my grandmother, and the good mistress of my
         childhood. The influences of slavery had had the same effect on me that
         they had on other young girls; they had made me prematurely knowing,
         concerning the evil ways of the world. I knew what I did, and I did it with
         deliberate calculation.

         But, O, ye happy women, whose purity has been sheltered from childhood, who
         have been free to choose the objects of your affection, whose homes are
         protected by law, do not judge the poor desolate slave girl too severely!
         If slavery had been abolished, I, also, could have married the man of my
         choice; I could have had a home shielded by the laws; and I should have
         been spared the painful task of confessing what I am now about to relate;
         but all my prospects had been blighted by slavery. I wanted to keep myself
         pure; and, under the most adverse circumstances, I tried hard to preserve
         my self-respect; but I was struggling alone in the powerful grasp of the
         demon Slavery; and the monster proved too strong for me. I felt as if I was
         forsaken by God and man; as if all my efforts must be frustrated; and I
         became reckless in my despair.

         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 boon. I also felt quite sure that they would be made free. With all
         these thoughts revolving in my mind, and seeing no other way of escaping
         the doom I so much dreaded, I made a headlong plunge. Pity me, and pardon
         me, O virtuous reader! You never knew what it is to be a slave; to be
         entirely unprotected by law or custom; to have the laws reduce you to the
         condition of a chattel, entirely subject to the will of another. You never
         exhausted your ingenuity in avoiding the snares, and eluding the power of a
         hated tyrant; you never shuddered at the sound of his footsteps, and
         trembled within hearing of his voice. I know I did wrong. No one can feel
         it more sensibly than I do. The painful and humiliating memory will haunt
         me to my dying day. Still, in looking back, calmly, on the events of my
         life, I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same
         standard as others.

         The months passed on. I had many unhappy hours. I secretly mourned over the
         sorrow I was bringing on my grandmother, who had so tried to shield me from
         harm. I knew that I was the greatest comfort of her old age, and that it
         was a source of pride to her that I had not degraded myself, like most of
         the slaves. I wanted to confess to her that I was no longer worthy of her
         love; but I could not utter the dreaded words.

         As for Dr. Flint, I had a feeling of satisfaction and triumph in the
         thought of telling _him_. From time to time he told me of his intended
         arrangements, and I was silent. At last, he came and told me the cottage
         was completed, and ordered me to go to it. I told him I would never enter
         it. He said, "I have heard enough of such talk as that. You shall go, if
         you are carried by force; and you shall remain there."

         I replied, "I will never go there. In a few months I shall be a mother."

         He stood and looked at me in dumb amazement, and left the house without a
         word. I thought I should be happy in my triumph over him. But now that the
         truth was out, and my relatives would hear of it, I felt wretched. Humble
         as were their circumstances, they had pride in my good character. Now, how
         could I look at them in the face? My self-respect was gone! I had resolved
         that I would be virtuous, though I was a slave. I had said, "Let the storm
         beat! I will brave it till I die." And now, how humiliated I felt!

         I went to my grandmother. My lips moved to make confession, but the words
         stuck in my throat. I sat down in the shade of a tree at her door and began
         to sew. I think she saw something unusual was the matter with me. The
         mother of slaves is very watchful. She knows there is no security for her
         children. After they have entered their teens she lives in daily
         expectation of trouble. This leads to many questions. If the girl is of a
         sensitive nature, timidity keeps her from answering truthfully, and this
         well-meant course has a tendency to drive her from maternal counsels.
         Presently, in came my mistress, like a mad woman, and accused me concerning
         her husband. My grandmother, whose suspicions had been previously awakened,
         believed what she said. She exclaimed, "O Linda! Has it come to this? I had
         rather see you dead than to see you as you now are. You are a disgrace to
         your dead mother." She tore from my fingers my mother's wedding ring and
         her silver thimble. "Go away!" she exclaimed, "and never come to my house,
         again." Her reproaches fell so hot and heavy, that they left me no chance
         to answer. Bitter tears, such as the eyes never shed but once, were my only
         answer. I rose from my seat, but fell back again, sobbing. She did not
         speak to me; but the tears were running down her furrowed cheeks, and they
         scorched me like fire. She had always been so kind to me! _So_ kind! How I
         longed to throw myself at her feet, and tell her all the truth! But she had
         ordered me to go, and never to come there again. After a few minutes, I
         mustered strength, and started to obey her. With what feelings did I now
         close that little gate, which I used to open with such an eager hand in my
         childhood! It closed upon me with a sound I never heard before.

         Where could I go? I was afraid to return to my master's. I walked on
         recklessly, not caring where I went, or what would become of me. When I had
         gone four or five miles, fatigue compelled me to stop. I sat down on the
         stump of an old tree. The stars were shining through the boughs above me.
         How they mocked me, with their bright, calm light! The hours passed by, and
         as I sat there alone a chilliness and deadly sickness came over me. I sank
         on the ground. My mind was full of horrid thoughts. I prayed to die; but
         the prayer was not answered. At last, with great effort I roused myself,
         and walked some distance further, to the house of a woman who had been a
         friend of my mother. When I told her why I was there, she spoke soothingly
         to me; but I could not be comforted. I thought I could bear my shame if I
         could only be reconciled to my grandmother. I longed to open my heart to
         her. I thought if she could know the real state of the case, and all I had
         been bearing for years, she would perhaps judge me less harshly. My friend
         advised me to send for her. I did so; but days of agonizing suspense passed
         before she came. Had she utterly forsaken me? No. She came at last. I knelt
         before her, and told her the things that had poisoned my life; how long I
         had been persecuted; that I saw no way of escape; and in an hour of
         extremity I had become desperate. She listened in silence. I told her I
         would bear any thing and do any thing, if in time I had hopes of obtaining
         her forgiveness. I begged of her to pity me, for my dead mother's sake. And
         she did pity me. She did not say, "I forgive you;" but she looked at me
         lovingly, with her eyes full of tears. She laid her old hand gently on my
         head, and murmured, "Poor child! Poor child!"

 A Perilous Passage In The Slave Girl's Life Dr. Flint concocts a plan to build Harriet a small house in a secluded place outside of town so he could continue to pursue her. Harriet was determined that this should not happen. She alludes to moral failing, and explains that the memory of this experience made her ashamed and sorrowful. But she tells the reader that she had promised to tell the truth. She laments that there were happy women who never had to deal with these offensive things, and were sheltered and could choose their own lovers. After this disclaimer, she writes of a white man in town who was kind to her. He was unmarried and expressed a desire to help her. She soon grew to have feelings for him. His name was Mr. Sands. Harriet knew that Dr. Flint would be irate if he learned that she favored another, and, learning that the Dr. was actually building the house in the woods, decided to take the "headlong plunge" by sleeping with Mr. Sands. This is hard for her to relate to the reader, but she comments "I feel that the slave woman ought not to be judged by the same standard as others. One day Dr. Flint told her that the house was almost ready, and she responded by saying she would never go there because she would be a mother in a few months' time. He was filled with "dumb amazement. Harriet went to Aunt Marthy's house for solace, but her grandmother could barely look at her in her disgrace. She ordered Harriet out and told her she never wanted to see her again. Harriet had nowhere else to go and wandered around for some time in the woods. She prayed for death but it did not come. She finally went to the home of a woman who had been a friend of her mother's. The woman sheltered her, but Harriet longed only for her grandmother. The latter finally came; Harriet told her everything about Dr. Flint's persecutions and her plan, and her grandmother forgave her

