Andrew the Glad

And as she faced the domineering woman in her trappings of fashion all

the humble blood in the negro's veins, which had come down to her from

the forewomen who had cradled on their black breasts the mothers of such

as Caroline Darrah, was turned into the jungle passion for defense of

this slight white thing that was the child of her heart if not of her

body. The danger of it made Mrs. Lawrence fairly quail, and, white with

fright, she gathered her rich furs about her and fled just as Caroline

Darrah's returning footsteps were heard in the hall.

"Why, where did Mrs. Lawrence go, Tempie?" she demanded in astonishment.

Tempie had just the moment in which to rally herself but she had

accomplished the feat, though her eyes still rolled ominously.

"She 'membered something what she forgot and had ter hurry. She lef'

scuses fer you," and Tempie busied herself with the cups and tray.

"She was beginning to say something queer to me, Tempie, when you came

in. It was about Mr. Sevier and I didn't understand. I almost felt that

she was being disagreeable to me and it frightened me--about him. I--"

"Law, I spects you is mistook, chile, an' if it war anything she jest

wants him herself and was a-laying out ter tell you some enflirtment she

had been a-trying ter have with him. Don't pay no 'tention to it." By

this time she had regained her composure and was able to reassure

Caroline with her usual positiveness to which she added an amount of

worldly tact in substituting a highly disturbing thought in place of the

dangerous one.

"Do you really think she can be in love with--with him, Tempie?" demanded

Caroline Darrah, wide-eyed with astonishment. She was entirely diverted

from any desire to follow out or weigh Mrs. Lawrence's remark to her by

the wiliness of the experienced Tempie.

"They ain't no telling what widder women out fer number twos _will_ do,"

answered Tempie sagely. "Now, you run and let Miss Annette put that blue

frock on you 'fore dinner. In times of disturbance like these here women

oughter fix theyselves up so as ter 'tice the men ter eat a little at

meal times. Ain't I done put on this white apron ter try and git that no

'count Jefferson jest ter take notice a little uv his vittals. Now go on,

honey--it's late."

And thus the love of the old negro had taken away the only chance given

Caroline Darrah to learn the facts of the grim story, from the knowledge

of which she might have worked out salvation for her lover and herself.

An hour later as they were being served the soup by the absorbed and

inattentive Jeff, Mrs. Matilda laid down her spoon and said to Caroline

anxiously: "I wish Phoebe had come out to-night. I asked her but she said she was

too busy. She looked tired. Do you suppose she could be ill?"