fact that he so trusted her appealed strongly to her woman's nature. In her alienation from her relatives she was peculiarly insolated and lonely at just the period in life when she most craved appreciative understanding, and her intuitions led her to believe that this stranger could both understand and respect her feelings. His genial, kindly smile warmed her sore, lonely heart, and convinced her that there was a world of human affections and simple faith as well as of imperious wills and formal beliefs. His words in regard to himself and the North was another shock to her confidence in her uncle and aunt, and another proof that there was no good reason for the marriage they were forcing upon her.

For a brief time she watched with keen-eyed interest to see if her aunt would take any steps to have Aun' Jinkey's cabin searched. Her mind was soon relieved on this score, for she became convinced that her uncle was distracted by various anxieties; while Mrs. Baron, from force of habit and with the purpose of diverting her mind from all she feared, was pursuing her preparations with restless energy, keeping every one in her employ as busy as herself. It was evident that her niece's idle hands and perturbed wanderings to and fro annoyed her, and at last she broke out: "Louise, it would be much more becoming in you to unite with me in my efforts. The idea of your sitting and idly bemoaning your case in that foolish old woman's cabin! I'm glad you had the grace to show obedience to me before her, for this is a time when to our people the example of obedience is most necessary, and you should be the first to set it in all respects. It will only increase the trouble which your uncle and Perkins are having if our people see that you are rebellious. There is much that you should be doing and seeing to, for your uncle says that it may be best for you to leave the plantation with Mrs. Whately and her son immediately after your marriage."

"I am not married yet. I shall appeal to Aunt Whately, and if she has a woman's heart she will not sanction the marriage."

"You will find that because she has a woman's heart, and a Baron's heart, she will sanction it and insist upon it.” "We shall see," replied the girl, turning to go to her

room.

"Louise, it is my wish that you should put your things in order to be packed hastily, if need be."

Miss Lou made no answer.

CHAPTER IX.

PARALYZED WITH SHAME.

far from obeying her aunt's injunctions, Miss Lou sat down by her window, but she did not note the smiling spring landscape over which the western sun was throwing its long, misty rays. Tears so blurred her eyes and blinded her vision that she could scarcely see at all. At last she was aroused by the crunching of wheels, and became aware that Mrs. Whately had arrived. From what she knew of this aunt she had a good deal of hope from her appeal, for Mrs. Whately had always seemed a kind-hearted woman. True, she had been over-indulgent to her son, and, in her blind idolatry of this only child, blind to his faults, always comforting herself with the belief that he was merely highspirited and would settle down when he grew older.

Miss Lou wished to speak to the mother before the son returned, and in the hope of securing a merciful ally in the lady, went down immediately to receive her. Mr. Baron was on the back porch calling, "Chunk, where in the mischief are you?" Where, indeed, with the start he had gained for the Union lines?

"My dear niece," cried Mrs. Whately, effusively, "how glad I am to see you, and to take you in my arms on this deeply interesting occasion!" but the matron was troubled at the girl's red eyes and pallid face.

"I will show you to your room at once," said Mrs. Baron to her guest, decisively and significantly.

Miss Lou was right in believing that the situation and the unhappy appearance of the prospective bride would be explained. She had been forestalled in her chance to make an appeal. Mrs. Baron emphatically sustained her husband's purpose, concluding: "My dear sister, in this crisis you will have to take a firm stand with the rest of us. Louise is acting like a perverse child, and no more realizes the necessity and wisdom of our course than a baby."

Meantime the outcry for Chunk increased, and Miss Lou was troubled that he did not respond. Taking advantage of the fact that her mistress was upstairs, Zany stole swiftly, with many a misgiving, to Aun' Jinkey's cabin.

"Whar dat gran'boy o' you'n?" she asked, breathlessly. "Ain' he in de gyardin?"

"No, he ain'. Does you know whar he is? Bettah tell me de truf. Mout sabe you a heap ob trouble."

"Des you min' yo' business, en doan cum trapesin' yere 'bout Chunk. You talks ez ef you own 'im."

"Ole mars'r tinks he own 'im, en he des a yellin' fer 'im. De oberseer hollerin', too, en de lil niggahs runnin' yere, dar, en yander lookin' fer 'im. Yere one ob um now."

With new and direful forebodings Aun' Jinkey declared loudly: "I doan know whar he be. He ain' say not'n ter me 'bout gwine anywhar."

Uttering an angry and contemptuous exclamation, Zany sped back, and, with a scared look, said to Miss Lou, "Aun' Jinkey 'clar she dunno not'n 'bout Chunk's doin's. Ef she ain' foolin' me, I des belebe he's runned away."

At these tidings and at this suggestion the young girl was almost distracted. She went instantly to the cabin, supposing that it would soon be searched.

"Mammy!" she exclaimed, "where's Chunk?"

"'Fo' de Lawd, honey, I doan know. I des gwine all ter pieces wid de goin's on."

"But people will be here looking. Is he up there?" asked the girl in a whisper.

"No, he des lit out two hour ago, en he guv me dis" (showing the money), "en say he see me agin. I'se feared he'n Chunk gwine off togeder."

"Well, you don't know. you don't know any thing. can."

Hide the money and declare
I'll stand by you as far as I

As she hastened back she saw a Confederate soldier running towards the house and Perkins limping after him as fast as possible. Entering the rear door she heard the soldier demanding fiercely of her uncle, "Where's that cursed nigger you call Chunk?"

"Whom are you addressing, sir?" asked Mr. Baron, indignantly.

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'Well, see yere, boss," was the excited reply, "this ere ain't no time fer standin' on nice words. That cursed nigger o' your'n took the lieutenant's horse ter the run fer a drink, en one o' your'n 'long of him, en me en Perkins kyant find nary one of 'em."

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"Yes, sir," added Perkins in great wrath, we uns follered the hoof-prints ter the run en inter the water, en there's no hoof-prints comin' back. That infernal nigger has lit out with the two horses."

"Why don't you go after him then?" shouted Mr. Baron, distracted with anger and accumulating perplexities. "He can't be far yet."

"I'd like ter see the hoss on this place that could ketch the lieutenant's black mare. Oh, why didn't I shoot the nigger?" and the soldier strode up and down as if demented.

"You deserve to be shot yourself, sir, if you, who had been placed on guard, permitted that black rascal to take the horses."