approach I have ever known to a mother. She doesn't know about her grandson, and no one shall try to cut the truth out of her. Come, mammy," and she led the trembling old negress up to her room. When hidden from all eyes her courage and excitement gave way, and she cried on her mammy's breast like the child she was.

CHAPTER X.

Μ'

A BAFFLED DIPLOMATIST.

ISS LOU left consternation, confusion and deep anxiety below stairs. Mad Whately had his own code of ethics, and he felt as if he had committed the unpardonable sin. His mother was shocked and pained beyond measure. She understood the feelings of her son, and sympathized with him. Drawing him into the parlor, she soothed and cheered him with the assurance that when his cousin's anger passed she would explain and intercede.

"O mother!" he exclaimed, "I did love her honestly before, but now I adore her. I must marry her, and by a lifetime of devotion wipe out the wrong I did not intend to inflict."

"It will all come about right yet, my boy," she whispered. "I never understood Louise before. I fear they have been too strict and unsympathetic in her bringing up, and so she has naturally rebelled against all their plans. You didn't think at the time indeed, in our excitement we all forgot that Aun' Jinkey was her mammy, and you know how strong that tie is, even in your case, and you have always had a mother's love."

"Oh, fool, fool that I was in my mad anger! Brave, grand, heroic girl! I'd have done as much for my old mammy; or rather I'd have struck down a general before he should harm her. O mother, mother!" concluded the much-indulged youth, "I must marry her. She is just the bride for a soldier."

"Rather than have her fall into the hands of the enemy, we will lead her to see that it is the only thing to be done," replied Mrs. Whately.

Perkins had a consultation with Mr. Baron, as far as that desperately perturbed old gentleman was capable of holding one, the result of which was the decision to let the negroes alone, provided they kept quiet and obeyed. It was evident to both of them that the approach of Union forces, though yet comparatively distant, had produced the usual demoralizing effects. The government at The Oaks had not been harsh, but it had been strict and animated by a spirit which alienated sympathy. The situation was now seen to be too critical to admit of severity, all the more as the protection of Whately and his troopers might soon be withdrawn.

It was a silent and depressing meal to which they sat down that evening, long after the accustomed hour, a fact which Mr. Baron would not forget, even in the throes of an earthquake. He groaned over it; he groaned over every thing, and especially over his niece, who had suddenly developed into the most unmanageable element in the whole vexed problem of the future. He felt that they owed her very much, and that she held the balance of power through her influence over the negroes; and yet he was incensed that she was not meek and submissive as a young woman should be under all circumstances. An angry spot burned in each of Mrs. Baron's cheeks, for she felt that Miss Lou's conduct reflected very unfavorably on her bringing up. She was so scandalized and vexed that she could scarcely think of any thing else. Mrs. Whately was all deprecation and apology, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters in every way, while her son was as savagely angry at himself as he had been at poor Aun' Jinkey and her grandson.

Most fortunately the main feature in the case remained undiscovered. The fact that a Union scout had been hidden

and permitted to depart would have been another bombshell, and the consequences of its explosion would have been equally hard to predict or circumscribe. As it was, Miss Lou and Aun' Jinkey received a certain remorseful sympathy which they would have forfeited utterly had the truth been revealed. And the secret did tremble on the lips of Zany. She was not only greatly aggrieved that Chunk had "runned away" after all, without her, and had become a sort of hero among his own kind on the plantation, but she also felt keenly her own enforced insignificance when she knew so much more than that Chunk had merely decamped. Her mistress little dreamed, as the girl waited stolidly and sullenly on the table, that she was so swelling with her secret as to be like a powder magazine. But fear rather than faith finally sealed Zany's lips. She was aware that the first question asked would be, "If you knew so much, why didn't you tell?" and she could give no reason which would save her from condign punishment. Moreover, she hoped that Chunk would soon return with no end of "Linkum men," and then her silence would be rewarded.

Supper was sent up to Miss Lou and her guest, and the old woman, having at last some sense of security, made her first good meal since "things began to happen." Then she hankered after her pipe. "I'll get it for you," said the warm-hearted girl. She stole to the head of the landing, and, the hall below being clear at the moment, she flitted down and out at the back door, reaching the deserted cabin unobserved. How desolate it looked in the fading twilight! The fire was out on the hearth, and the old creaking chair was empty. But Miss Lou did not think of Aun' Jinkey. Her thoughts were rather of a stranger whose face had been eloquent of gratitude as he offered to shield her with his life. Then she remembered his excited question as to the time of the marriage. "When?" Had her answer any thing to do

with the sudden and bold departure? Her heart was in a sudden flutter. She snatched the corncob pipe and tobacco pouch, and sped back again in a strange blending of fear and hope. She felt guilty that she could dare hope to see him, a Yankee, again. "But his smile was so pleasant and frank!" she murmured. "Oh, I never remember to have had such genial, honest, unreserved good-will looked at me by any one except mammy, and she's so old and wrinkled that she can't look much of any thing. What handsome, kind, dark eyes he had! Yet they would all say, 'He's a monster!'"'

She made her way back in safety until she reached the head of the stairs, and then came plump upon her aunt. "Where have you been?" asked Mrs. Baron, sharply.

"After Aun' Jinkey's pipe."

"Horrible! I forbid her smoking in this house."

“I shall permit her to smoke in my room."

"You have no right."

"Very well; then I'll go with her to her cabin."

"My dear sister," said Mrs. Whately, putting her hand on the irate lady's arm, "I think it will be better to let our niece have her way in such little things. We must remember that she is no longer a child."

"I think she is acting like a very perverse and foolish one; but then rather than have any more scenes "— and looking unutterable things she passed on down the stairs.

"My dear, I wish to see you by and by. Won't you let me?" said Mrs. Whately.

"I wish to see you

plied the girl, decisively.

- I must see you before I sleep," re

"I'll come up soon, then, dear."

Mrs. Baron reported to her husband what had occurred, but he only groaned. He was scarcely able to do much else

now.

E