Cousin Maude

This last he said because he saw a shadow flit over the fair face of

the widow, who, like most indulgent mothers, did not wholly believe

in Solomon. The sight of Janet in the hall suggested a fresh subject

to the doctor's mind, and, after coughing a little, he said, "Did I

understand that your domestic was intending to join you at Laurel

Hill?"

"Yes," returned Mrs. Remington, "Janet came to live with my mother

when I was a little girl no larger than Maude. Since my marriage she

has lived with me, and I would not part with her for anything."

"But do you not think two kinds of servants are apt to make trouble,

particularly if one is black and the other white?" and in the

speaker's face there was an expression which puzzled Mrs. Remington,

who could scarce refrain from crying at the thoughts of parting with

Janet, and who began to have a foretaste of the dreary homesickness

which was to wear her life away.

"I can't do without Janet," she said; "she knows all my ways, and I

trust her with everything."

"The very reason why she should not go," re turned the doctor." She

and old Hannah would quarrel at once. You would take sides with

Janet, I with Hannah, and that might produce a feeling which ought

never to exist between man and wife. No, my dear, listen to me in

this matter, and let Janet remain in Vernon. Old Hannah has been in

my family a long time. She was formerly a slave, and belonged to my

uncle, who lived in Virginia, and who, at his death, gave her to me.

Of course I set her free, for I pride myself on being a man of

humanity, and since that time she has lived with us, superintending

the household entirely since Mrs. Kennedy's death. She is very

peculiar, and would never suffer Janet to dictate, as I am sure,

from what you say, she would do. So, my dear, try and think all is

for the best. You need not tell her she is not to come, for it is a

maxim of mine to avoid all unnecessary scenes, and you can easily

write it in a letter."

Poor Mrs. Remington! she knew intuitively that the matter was

decided, and was she not to be forgiven if at that moment she

thought of the grass-grown grave whose occupant had in life been

only too happy granting her slightest wish? But Harry was gone, and

the man with whom she now had to deal was an exacting, tyrannical

master, to whose will her own must ever be subservient. This,

however, she did not then understand. She knew he was not at all

like Harry, but she fancied that the difference consisted in his

being so much older, graver, and wiser than her husband had been,

and so with a sigh she yielded the point, thinking that Janet would

be the greater sufferer of the two.