beforehand with them. The door swung open; there was the flare of a
lighted candle, and a voice cried out to know what was wanted.

"Wanted!" exclaimed Haward. "Ingress into my own house is wanted! Where is
Juba?"

One of the negroes pressed forward. "Heah I is, Marse Duke! House all
ready for you, but you done sont word"--

"I know,--I know," answered Haward impatiently. "I changed my mind. Is
that you, Saunderson, with the light? Or is it Hide?"

The candle moved to one side, and there was disclosed a large white face
atop of a shambling figure dressed in some coarse, dark stuff. "Neither,
sir," said an expressionless voice. "Will it please your Honor to
dismount?"

Haward swung himself out of the saddle, tossed the reins to a negro, and,
with Juba at his heels, climbed the five low stone steps and entered the
wide hall running through the house and broken only by the broad, winding
stairway. Save for the glimmer of the solitary candle all was in darkness;
the bare floor, the paneled walls, echoed to his tread. On either hand
squares of blackness proclaimed the open doors of large, empty rooms, and
down the stair came a wind that bent the weak flame. The negro took the
light from the hand of the man who had opened the door, and, pressing past
his master, lit three candles in a sconce upon the wall.

"Yo' room's all ready, Marse Duke," he declared. "Dere's candles enough,
an' de fire am laid an' yo' bed aired. Ef you wan' some supper, I kin get
you bread an' meat, an' de wine was put in yesterday."