And here
was Dorothy by my side, scarcely speaking, her beautiful head at times,
as we drove in secluded places, resting delicately upon my shoulder, her
eyes closed in the beatitude of the hour.
Mrs. Clayton's position came into my mind. What was this visit to a
sister? Was it not a pure makeshift, an expedient in the breaking up of
her life, the first step in an accommodation to Dorothy's loss? I had
such ample means. Why should she not come with me? Why separate Dorothy
from her? Why leave Mammy and Jenny behind, who had served nearly the
whole of their lives in this household? I had learned to like the
colored people. What heart could withhold itself from Mammy and Jenny?
These humble devoted souls whose lives and thoughts had no concern but
to make Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy happy, and who had taken me into the
circle of their interest! What were the colored people but the shadows
of the white people, following them and imitating them in a childlike,
humorous, innocent way? How difficult for selfishness, seeking its own
happiness, to understand Mammy and Jenny, whose whole happiness and
undivided heart were in giving happiness to Mrs. Clayton and Dorothy!
I spoke my plan to Dorothy, "Come, let's take mother, Mammy, and Jenny
with us. Close the house for good. I want all of you. We can transfer
all this happiness to Chicago.
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