But to stay safely
with her mammy and learn to read seemed a much happier plan to the
little darky. If she could read and write! Why, it would be almost as
wonderful as it would to be a little white girl, she thought.
Now Sylvia realized, as she stood alone in her safe, pleasant chamber,
that as soon as possible she must deliver the letter entrusted to her.
If it was to go to Washington it must be some message that was of
importance to the officers at Fort Moultrie and Fort Sumter, she
thought. Perhaps it might even be something that would help Carolinians
to give up slavery; and then Estralla and Aunt Connie, and all the black
people she knew and liked, could be safe and have homes of their own.
Sylvia went to the window and peered out. The street and garden lay dark
and shadowy. Now and then a dark figure went along the street. The house
seemed very quiet. She tiptoed to the closet and took out a brown cape.
It was one which she wore on stormy days, and nearly covered her. Then
from one of the bureau drawers she drew out a long blue silk scarf, and
twisted it about her head.
"I can pull the end over my face, and they'll think I'm a darky," she
thought, resolved if anyone spoke to her not to answer.
She whispered over the name and address on the letter. She knew that the
street led from King Street, and she was sure that she could find it.
But it was some distance from home; it would be late before she could
get back.
She blew out her candle, opened her chamber door and stood listening.
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