mercy. But I’d sooner have death nor mercy, by long odds. Yon man out there says mercy means Botany Bay. It ’ud be like killing me by inches, that would. It would. I’d liefer go straight to Heaven, than live on among the black folk.”
He began to shake again: this idea of transportation, from its very mysteriousness, was more terrifying to him than death. He kept on saying plaintively, “Missy, you’ll never let ’em send me to Botany Bay; I couldn’t stand that.”
“No, no!” said she. “You shall come out of this prison, and go home with me to East Chester; I promise you you shall. I promise you. I don’t yet quite know how, but trust in my promise. Don’t fret about Botany Bay. If you go there, I go too. I am so sure you will not go. And you know if you have done anything against the law in concealing that fatal night’s work, I did too, and if you are to be punished, I will be punished too. But I feel sure it will be right; I mean, as right as anything can be, with the recollection of that time present to us, as it must always be.” She almost spoke these last words to herself. They sat on, hand in hand for a few minutes more in silence.
“I thought you’d come to me. I knowed you were far away in foreign parts. But I used to pray to God. ‘Dear Lord God!’ I used to say, ‘let me
