"I do not know."

"I have fallen in love with you. It happened on the very day when
I passed you on the way to the Glen. I never got away from the
remembrance of seeing your hand on the mane of my horse."

He waited for me to speak, but I could not; the balance of my
mind was gone. Why should this have happened to me--a slave? As it
had happened, why did I not feel exultant in the sense of power
which the chance for freedom with him should give?

"What is it, Margaret? your face is as sad as death."

"How do you call me 'Margaret?'"

"As I would call my wife--Margaret."

He rose and stood before me to screen my face from observation.
I supposed so, and endeavored to stifle my agitation.

"You are better," he said, presently. "Come go with me and get
some refreshment." And he beckoned to Mrs. Bliss, who was down the
hall with an unwieldy gentleman.

"Will you go to supper now?" she asked.
"We are only waiting for you," Mr. Uxbridge answered, offering
me his arm.