Tea over, Miss Ada insisted that he should lie down upon the sofa again,
whilst she, sat by and bathed his head. "Have you seen your sister lately?"
she asked.
"No, Aunt Ada," he answered, hesitatingly, whilst a look of annoyance
darkened his face for a moment; "I have not been to visit her since last
fall--almost a year."
"Oh! Clarence, how can you remain so long away?" said she, reproachfully.
"Well, I can't go there with any comfort or pleasure," he answered,
apologetically; "I can't go there; each year as I visit the place, their
ways seem more strange and irksome to me. Whilst enjoying her company, I
must of course come in familiar contact with those by whom she is
surrounded. Sustaining the position that I do--passing as I am for a white
man--I am obliged to be very circumspect, and have often been compelled to
give her pain by avoiding many of her dearest friends when I have
encountered them in public places, because of their complexion. I feel mean
and cowardly whilst I'm doing it; but it is necessary--I can't be white and
coloured at the same time; the two don't mingle, and I must consequently be
one or the other. My education, habits, and ideas, all unfit me for
associating with the latter; and I live in constant dread that something
may occur to bring me out with the former.
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