'
When Isabella had been at Mr. Van Wagener's a few months,
she saw in prospect one of the festivals approaching. She knows
it by none but the Dutch name, Pingster, as she calls it-but
I think it must have been Whitsuntide, in English. She says she
'looked back into Egypt,' and every thing looked 'so pleasant
there,' as she saw retrospectively all her former companions
enjoying their freedom for at least a little space, as well as their
wonted convivialities, and in her heart she longed to be with
them. With this picture before her mind's eye, she contrasted the
quiet, peaceful life she was living with the excellent people of
Wahkendall, and it seemed so dull and void of incident, that the
very contrast served but to heighten her desire to return, that, at
least, she might enjoy with them, once more, the coming festivities.
These feelings had occupied a secret corner of her breast for
some time, when, one morning, she told Mrs. Van Wagener that
her old master Dumont would come that day, and that she
should go home with him on his return. They expressed some
surprise, and asked her where she obtained her information. She
replied, that no one had told her, but she felt that he would
come.
It seemed to have been one of those 'events that cast their
shadows before'; for, before night, Mr. Dumont made his appearance.
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