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.

"Oh, 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. Oh, 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