Never having been called to endure any kind of abusive treatment, Isabella was not fitted to sustain herself against the brutality of Mrs.Miller, much less the combined ferociousness of the old woman and the overseer too.

Suffice it to say, that instead of whipping Isabella, Mrs.Miller transferred her to the negro-speculator, who took her immediately to his slave-pen.

The unfeeling old woman would not permit Isabella to take more than a single change of her clothing, remarking to Jennings,-- "I sold you the wench, you know,--not her clothes." The injured, friendless, and unprotected Isabella fainted as she saw her child struggling to release herself from the arms of old Mrs.Miller, and as the wretch boxed the poor child's ears.
After leaving directions as to how Isabella's furniture and other effects should be disposed of, Mrs.Miller took Clotelle into her carriage and drove home.

There was not even color enough about the child to make it appear that a single drop of African blood flowed through its blue veins.
Considerable sensation was created in the kitchen among the servants when the carriage drove up, and Clotelle entered the house.
"Jes' like Massa Henry fur all de worl'," said Dinah, as she caught a glimpse of the child through the window.
"Wondah whose brat dat ar' dat missis bringin' home wid her ?" said Jane, as she put the ice in the pitchers for dinner.

"I warrant it's some poor white nigger somebody bin givin' her." The child was white.