Open, frank, free, and generous to a fault, she always thought of others, never of her own welfare.
The long stay of Clotelle caused some uneasiness to Miss Wilson; yet she dared not tell her father, for he had forbidden the slave-girl's going to the prison to see her lover.

While the clock on the church near by was striking eleven, Georgiana called Sam, and sent him to the prison in search of Clotelle.
"The girl went away from here at eight o'clock," was the jailer's answer to the servant's inquiries.
The return of Sam without having found the girl saddened the heart of the young mistress.

"Sure, then," said she, "the poor heart-broken thing has made way with herself." Still, she waited till morning before breaking the news of Clotelle's absence to her father.
The jailer discovered, the next morning, to his utter astonishment, that his prisoner was white instead of black, and his first impression was that the change of complexion had taken place during the night, through fear of death.

But this conjecture was soon dissipated; for the dark, glowing eyes, the sable curls upon the lofty brow, and the mild, sweet voice that answered his questions, informed him that the prisoner before him was another being.
On learning, in the morning, that Clotelle was in jail dressed in male attire, Miss Wilson immediately sent clothes to her to make a change in her attire.

News of the heroic and daring act of the slave-girl spread through the city with electric speed.
"I will sell every nigger on the place," said the parson, at the break-fast-table,--"I will sell them all, and get a new lot, and whip them every day." Poor Georgiana wept for the safety of Clotelle, while she felt glad that Jerome had escaped.