Having said goodbye to Floyd, Roman had been with Sarah privately for the last hour, during which they had not talked of the past but of Roman’s future in the North. He promised her that he would write frequently, and she said, although neither of them really believed it, that one day she’d come to Philadelphia, and that he and Mr. Proctor would show her the city. He said he was worried about his school, but she assured him that she would keep it going and that furthermore she had decided to—no ask—but insist that Selma become its principal teacher. It was precisely what Selma needed to stop her from further wasting her life.

Roman said, “And Pauline can keep order with a peach-tree switch.” They smiled at the picture the two companions thus would make.

It was at that point Lovey came to say the wagon was waiting at the front of the house. The three went out and found that Sugar had loaded Roman’s cases and trunk. Lovey stayed on the porch, her presence enough compliment to the occasion; but Sarah went down the steps to the wagon and greeted Proctor. Then suddenly, and at the same moment, Sarah and Roman knew this was farewell and turned to each other in panic and grief. Sarah threw her arms around Roman, and they held each other, their bodies quaking with tears. When they broke apart, she kissed him. He turned blindly to the wagon, set his foot on one of the wheel spokes and climbed up. Proctor gave quick instructions to the driver, and they rolled away. Sarah followed a few steps and then stopped, waving her hand high until Roman, standing in the back of the wagon facing her and waving, was lost to her as the driveway through the orchard widened and curved out to the main road. On the little porch that led off the hallway of the upper floor, Rachel, who had said she would not watch him leave, sat numb with her grief and watched.

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