They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Then, if you are bad to me, I can more easily blow off your head. Even after this woman had gone, it seemed to Ruth that the room was kindlier than it had ever been. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief.
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