I tightened my grasp upon it; it was round, and as I discovered by
laying my other hand upon its top, hollow. Struck by a sudden
thought I bent my face down, and whispered again into the hole,
"Who is there?" afterwards turning my ear upon it.
"Massa Bold, lill Missy sends a letter."
The words came clearly up the tube.
"Me poke it up," said the voice again.
I withdrew my ear, and waited in a tense breathlessness of
amazement. Then I heard a slight rustling, and placing my hand on
the tube, I felt a small piece of paper thrust against it. Grasping
this, all my frame thrilling with excitement, I whispered again:
"Who are you?"
"Me Uncle Moses," said the voice. "Good night, sah; come again
tomorrow."
And then all was silent.
Picture if you can my state of mind as I crept back into my bed and
lay down again, the precious note in my hand. I was trembling with
happiness: Lucy knew of my presence, and had written to me. And yet
I was doomed to lie in a tantalizing impatience until the dawn
should give me leave to read her message. I had no more sleep that
night, wonderment, conjecture, pleasure, hope, setting up a whirl
in my brain.
As soon as there was the faintest tremor in the darkness I sat up
and, unfolding the paper, sought vainly to decipher it. Never had
time seemed so long to me as I waited for the oncoming of the
beneficent light of day. And at last, lifting the paper almost to
my eyes, I was able to make out the words.
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