Jerome had beheld some of these scenes.
The wife who, after years of separation, had escaped from her
prison-house and followed her husband had told her story to him.
He had seen the newly-arrived wife rush into the arms of the husband,
whose dark face she had not looked upon for long, weary years.
Some told of how a sister had been ill-used by the overseer; others of a
husband's being whipped to death for having attempted to protect his wife.
He had sat in the little log-hut, by the fireside, and heard tales that
caused his heart to bleed; and his bosom swelled with just indignation
when he though that there was no remedy for such atrocious acts.
It was with such feelings that he informed his employer that he should
leave him at the expiration of a month.
In vain did Mr. Streeter try to persuade Jerome to remain with him; and late
in the month of February, the latter found himself on board a small vessel
loaded with pine-lumber, descending the St. Lawrence, bound for Liverpool.
The bark, though an old one, was, nevertheless, considered seaworthy,
and the fugitive was working his way out.
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