I believed that John was sitting by Rachel, but I did not see the dinner-table, nor the people sitting at it.

They thought I was shy or proud, and did not trouble me with conversation.

A sound was in my ears, which I thought was like the rushing of a storm in an Indian forest.

All my life lay before me like a blot of ink on a bright page.

Why must I give trouble, and carry a sore heart?
Why was I left behind to come to Hillsbro'?
Why did not my father and mother take me with them that I might have died of their fever and been buried in their Indian grave?
But how Rachel laughed.