four pair of stairs. When I entered Octavia's room, I found her bathed in tears, lying with her face downward on a chair, and Betsy standing in the middle of the room, in a state of consternation, with her eyes riveted on her mistress.
“It was here, in this very room,” whispered Betsy to me, “that she (casting a glance on Octavia) lived two years ago, with those two little girls, and here she dressed them for a children's ball!”
I raised gently the head of the weeping Octavia. She said mildly,
“Will you change rooms with me?”
“Most willingly!” replied I.
Betsy and I removed Octavia into my room, nor did I leave her until I saw her somewhat calmer.
Our rooms were nearly under the roof, and I could not prevent myself measuring, with my eye, the distance from my window down to the court below, thinking what sort of leap I should have to make in case of fire breaking out in the hotel during the night—for people must always keep themselves prepared for such emergencies in the great cities of America. I started with the conviction that such a leap as that would be—my very last.
The next morning I was glad and thankful to find myself calmly in my bed. I found my poor Octavia still sadly out of spirits, but I was so tender of her in her sorrow, that I succeeded in drawing her away from images of death and corruption.
I shall this afternoon leave this hotel and remove to a private family, to which I am invited by young Miss W., from Massachusetts, in the name of her cousin. There was something so agreeable to me in her whole person and manner, and even in her mode of inviting me, that I immediately felt an inclination to accept the invitation, and gave a half promise. I had done that before I came to Mobile, and now this forenoon Miss W. called on me, and said,
