University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.
HARRY AND HIS WIFE.

Several miles from the Gordon estate, on an old and
somewhat decayed plantation, stood a neat log cabin, whose
external aspect showed both taste and care. It was almost
enveloped in luxuriant wreaths of yellow jessamine, and
garlanded with a magnificent lamarque rose, whose cream-colored
buds and flowers contrasted beautifully with the
dark, polished green of the finely-cut leaves.

The house stood in an enclosure formed by a high hedge
of the American holly, whose evergreen foliage and scarlet
berries made it, at all times of the year, a beautiful object.
Within the enclosure was a garden, carefully tended, and
devoted to the finest fruits and flowers.

This little dwelling, so different in its air of fanciful neatness
from ordinary southern cabins, was the abode of
Harry's little wife. Lisette, which was her name, was the
slave of a French creole woman, to whom a plantation had
recently fallen by inheritance.

She was a delicate, airy little creature, formed by a mixture
of the African and French blood, producing one of
those fanciful, exotic combinations, that give one the same
impression of brilliancy and richness that one receives from
tropical insects and flowers. From both parent races she
was endowed with a sensuous being exquisitely quick and
fine, — a nature of everlasting childhood, with all its freshness
of present life, all its thoughtless, unreasoning fearlessness
of the future.

She stands there at her ironing-table, just outside her cottage

door, singing gayly at her work. Her round, plump,
childish form is shown to advantage by the trim blue
basque, laced in front, over a chemisette of white linen.
Her head is wreathed with a gay turban, from which escapes,
now and then, a wandering curl of her silky black hair.
Her eyes, as she raises them, have the hazy, dreamy languor,
which is so characteristic of the mixed races. Her
little, childish hands are busy, with nimble fingers adroitly
plaiting and arranging various articles of feminine toilet,
too delicate and expensive to have belonged to those in
humble circumstances. She ironed, plaited, and sung, with
busy care. Occasionally, however, she would suspend her
work, and, running between the flower-borders to the hedge,
look wistfully along the road, shading her eyes with her
hand. At last, as she saw a man on horseback approaching,
she flew lightly out, and ran to meet him.

“Harry, Harry! You 've come, at last. I 'm so glad!
And what have you got in that paper? Is it anything for
me?”

He held it up, and shook it at her, while she leaped after it.

“No, no, little curiosity!” he said, gayly.

“I know it 's something for me,” said she, with a pretty,
half-pouting air.

“And why do you know it 's for you? Is everything to
be for you in the world, you little good-for-nothing?”

“Good-for-nothing!” with a toss of the gayly-turbaned
little head. “You may well say that, sir! Just look at
the two dozen shirts I 've ironed, since morning! Come,
now, take me up; I want to ride.”

Harry put out the toe of his boot and his hand, and, with
an adroit spring, she was in a moment before him, on his
horse's neck, and, with a quick turn, snatched the paper
parcel from his hand.

“Woman's curiosity!” said he.

“Well, I want to see what it is. Dear me, what a tight
string! O, I can't break it! Well, here it goes; I 'll tear

a hole in it, anyhow. O, silk, as I live! Aha! tell me
now this is n't for me, you bad thing, you!”

“Why, how do you know it is n't to make me a summer
coat?”

“Summer coat! — likely story! Aha! I 've found you
out, mister! But, come, do make the horse canter! I want
to go fast. Make him canter, do!”

Harry gave a sudden jerk to the reins, and in a minute
the two were flying off as if on the wings of the wind.
On and on they went, through a small coppice of pines,
while the light-hearted laugh rang on the breeze behind
them. Now they are lost to view. In a few minutes,
emerging from the pine woods in another direction, they
come sweeping, gay and laughing, up to the gate. To
fasten the horse, to snatch the little wife on his shoulder,
and run into the cottage with her, seemed the work only of
a moment; and, as he set her down, still laughing, he exclaimed,

“There, go, now, for a pretty little picture, as you are!
I have helped them get up les tableaux vivans, at their great
houses; but you are my tableau. You are n't good for much.
You are nothing but a humming-bird, made to live on
honey!”

“That 's what I am!” said the little one. “It takes a
great deal of honey to keep me. I want to be praised, flattered,
and loved, all the time. It is n't enough to have you
love me. I want to hear you tell me so every day, and
hour, and minute. And I want you always to admire me,
and praise everything that I do. Now —”

“Particularly when you tear holes in packages!” said
Harry.

“O, my silk — my new silk dress!” said Lisette, thus
reminded of the package which she held in her hand.
“This hateful string! How it cuts my fingers! I will
break it! I 'll bite it in two. Harry, Harry, don't you see
how it hurts my fingers? Why don't you cut it?”

And the little sprite danced about the cottage floor, tearing

the paper, and tugging at the string, like an enraged
humming-bird. Harry came laughing behind her, and, taking
hold of her two hands, held them quite still, while he
cut the string of the parcel, and unfolded a gorgeous plaid
silk, crimson, green, and orange.

“There, now, what do you think of that? Miss Nina
brought it, when she came home, last week.”

“O, how lovely! Is n't she a beauty? Is n't she good?
How beautiful it is! Dear me, dear me! how happy I am!
How happy we are! — an't we, Harry?”

A shadow came over Harry's forehead as he answered,
with a half-sigh,

“Yes.”

“I was up at three o'clock, this morning, on purpose to
get all my ironing done to-day, because I thought you were
to come home to-night. Ah! ah! you don't know what a
supper I 've got ready! You 'll see, by and by. I 'm going
to do something uncommon. You must n't look in that
other room, Harry — you must n't!”

“Must n't I?” said Harry, getting up, and going to the
door.

“There, now! who 's curiosity now, I wonder!” said
she, springing nimbly between him and the door. “No,
you shan't go in, though. There, now; don't, don't! Be
good now, Harry!”

“Well, I may as well give up first as last. This is your
house, not mine, I suppose,” said Harry.

“Mr. Submission, how meek we are, all of a sudden!
Well, while the fit lasts, you go to the spring and get me
some water to fill this tea-kettle. Off with you, now, this
minute! Mind you don't stop to play by the way!”

And, while Harry is gone to the spring, we will follow the
wife into the forbidden room. Very cool and pleasant it
is, with its white window-curtains, its matted floor, and
displaying in the corner that draped feather-bed, with its
ruffled pillows and fringed curtains, which it is the great
ambition of the southern cabin to attain and maintain.

The door, which opened on to a show of most brilliant
flowers, was overlaid completely by the lamarque rose we
have before referred to; and large clusters of its creamy
blossoms, and wreaths of its dark-green leaves, had been
enticed in and tied to sundry nails and pegs by the small
hands of the little mistress, to form an arch of flowers and
roses. A little table stood in the door, draped with a spotless
damasked table-cloth, fine enough for the use of a princess,
and only produced by the little mistress on festive
occasions. On it were arranged dishes curiously trimmed
with moss and vine-leaves, which displayed strawberries
and peaches, with a pitcher of cream and one of whey,
small dishes of curd, delicate cakes and biscuit, and fresh
golden butter.

After patting and arranging the table-cloth, Lisette tripped
gayly around, and altered here and there the arrangement of
a dish, occasionally stepping back, and cocking her little
head on one side, much like a bird, singing gayly as she did
so; then she would pick a bit of moss from this, and a
flower from that, and retreat again, and watch the effect.

“How surprised he will be!” she said to herself. Still
humming a tune in a low, gurgling undertone, she danced
hither and thither, round the apartment. First she gave the
curtains a little shake, and, unlooping one of them, looped
it up again, so as to throw the beams of the evening sun on
the table.

“There, there, there! how pretty the light falls through
those nasturtions! I wonder if the room smells of the
mignonette. I gathered it when the dew was on it, and
they say that will make it smell all day. Now, here 's
Harry's book-case. Dear me! these flies! How they do
get on to everything! Shoo, shoo! now, now!” and,
catching a gay bandana handkerchief from the drawer, she
perfectly exhausted herself in flying about the room in pursuit
of the buzzing intruders, who soared, and dived, and
careered, after the manner of flies in general, seeming determined
to go anywhere but out of the door, and finally were

seen brushing their wings and licking their feet, with great
alertness, on the very topmost height of the sacred bed-curtains;
and as just this moment a glimpse was caught of
Harry returning from the spring, Lisette was obliged to
abandon the chase, and rush into the other room, to prevent
a premature development of her little tea-tableau. Then a
small, pug-nosed, black teakettle came on to the stage of
action, from some unknown cupboard; and Harry had to fill
it with water, and of course spilt the water on to the ironing-table,
which made another little breezy, chattering commotion;
and then the flat-irons were cleared away, and the pug-nosed
kettle reigned in their stead on the charcoal brazier.

“Now, Harry, was ever such a smart wife as I am?
Only think, besides all the rest that I 've done, I 've ironed
your white linen suit, complete! Now, go put it on. Not
in there! not in there!” she said, pushing him away from
the door. “You can't go there, yet. You 'll do well
enough out here.”

And away she went, singing through the garden walks;
and the song, floating back behind her, seemed like an odor
brushed from the flowers. The refrain came rippling in at
the door —

“Poor little thing!” said Harry to himself; “why should
I try to teach her anything?”

In a few minutes she was back again, her white apron
thrown over her arm, and blossoms of yellow jessamine,
spikes of blue lavender, and buds of moss-roses, peeping out
from it. She skipped gayly along, and deposited her treasure
on the ironing-table; then, with a zealous, bustling earnestness,
which characterized everything she did, she began
sorting them into two bouquets, alternately talking and
singing, as she did so,

“You see, Harry, you 're going to have a bouquet to put
into the button-hole of that coat. It will make you look so
handsome! There, now — there, now,

Suddenly stopping, she looked at him archly, and said,
“You can't tell, now, what I 'm doing all this for!”

“There 's never any telling what you women do anything
for.”

“Do hear him talk — so pompous! Well, sir, it 's for
your birthday, now. Aha! you thought, because I can't
keep the day of the month, that I did n't know anything
about it; but I did. And I have put down now a chalk-mark
every day, for four weeks, right under where I keep
my ironing-account, so as to be sure of it. And I 've been
busy about it ever since two o'clock this morning. And
now — there, the tea-kettle is boiling!” — and away she
flew to the door.

“O, dear me! — dear me, now! — I 've killed myself, now,
I have!” she cried, holding up one of her hands, and flirting
it up in the air. “Dear me! who knew it was so hot?”

“I should think a little woman that is so used to the
holder might have known it,” said Harry, as he caressed
the little burnt hand.

“Come, now, let me carry it for you,” said Harry, “and
I 'll make the tea, if you 'll let me go into that mysterious
room.”

“Indeed, no, Harry — I 'm going to do everything myself;”
and, forgetting the burnt finger, Lisette was off in a
moment, and back in a moment with a shining teapot in
her hand, and the tea was made. And at last the mysterious
door opened, and Lisette stood with her eyes fixed
upon Harry, to watch the effect.

“Superb! — magnificent! — splendid! Why, this is good
enough for a king! And where did you get all these
things?” said Harry.

“O, out of our garden — all but the peaches. Those old
Mist gave me — they come from Florida. There, now, you
laughed at me, last summer, when I set those strawberry-vines,
and made all sorts of fun of me. And what do you
think now?”

“Think! I think you 're a wonderful little thing — a
perfect witch.”

“Come, now, let 's sit down, then — you there, and I
here.” And, opening the door of the bird-cage, which
hung in the lamarque rose-bush, “Little Button shall come,
too.”

Button, a bright yellow canary, with a smart black tuft
upon his head, seemed to understand his part in the little
domestic scene perfectly; for he stepped obediently upon
the finger which was extended to him, and was soon sitting
quite at his ease on the mossy edge of one of the dishes,
pecking at the strawberries.

“And, now, do tell me,” said Lisette, “all about Miss
Nina. How does she look?”

“Pretty and smart as ever,” said Harry. “Just the
same witchy, wilful ways with her.”

“And did she show you her dresses?”

“O, yes; the whole.”

“O, do tell me about them, Harry — do!”

“Well, there 's a lovely pink gauze, covered with spangles,
to be worn over white satin.”

“With flounces?” said Lisette, earnestly.

“With flounces.”

“How many?”

“Really, I don't remember.”

“Don't remember how many flounces? Why, Harry,
how stupid! Say, Harry, don't you suppose she will let
me come and look at her things?”

“O, yes, dear, I don't doubt she will; and that will save
my making a gazette of myself.”

“O, when will you take me there, Harry?”

“Perhaps to-morrow, dear. And now,” said Harry,

“that you have accomplished your surprise upon me, I
have a surprise, in return, for you. You can't guess, now,
what Miss Nina brought for me.”

“No, indeed! What?” said Lisette, springing up; “do
tell me — quick.”

“Patience — patience!” said Harry, deliberately fumbling
in his pocket, amusing himself with her excited air. But
who should speak the astonishment and rapture which
widened Lisette's dark eyes, when the watch was produced?
She clapped her hands, and danced for joy, to the
imminent risk of upsetting the table, and all the things
on it.

“I do think we are the most fortunate people — you and
I, Harry! Everything goes just as we want it to — does n't
it, now?”

Harry's assent to this comprehensive proposition was
much less fervent than suited his little wife.

“Now, what 's the matter with you? What goes wrong?
Why don't you rejoice as I do?” said she, coming and seating
herself down upon his knee. “Come, now, you 've
been working too hard, I know. I 'm going to sing to you,
now; you want something to cheer you up.” And Lisette
took down her banjo, and sat down in the doorway under
the arch of lamarque roses, and began thrumming gayly.

“This is the nicest little thing, this banjo!” she said;
“I would n't change it for all the guitars in the world.
Now, Harry, I 'm going to sing something specially for
you.” And Lisette sung:

Lisette rattled the strings of the banjo, and sang with
such a hearty abandon of enjoyment that it was a comfort
to look at her. One would have thought that a bird's soul
put into a woman's body would have sung just so.

“There,” she said, throwing down her banjo, and seating
herself on her husband's knee, “do you know I think you
are like white man in the song? I should like to know what
is the matter with you. I can see plain enough when you
are not happy; but I don't see why.”

“O, Lisette, I have very perplexing business to manage,”
said Harry. “Miss Nina is a dear, good little mistress, but
she does n't know anything about accounts, or money; and
here she has brought me home a set of bills to settle, and
I 'm sure I don't know where the money is to be got from.
It 's hard work to make the old place profitable in our days.
The ground is pretty much worked up; it does n't bear the
crops it used to. And, then, our people are so childish, they
don't, a soul of them, care how much they spend, or how
carelessly they work. It 's very expensive keeping up such
an establishment. You know the Gordons must be Gordons.
Things can't be done now as some other families
would do them; and, then, those bills which Miss Nina
brings from New York are perfectly frightful.”

“Well, Harry, what are you going to do?” said Lisette,
nestling down close on his shoulder. “You always know
how to do something.”

“Why, Lisette, I shall have to do what I 've done two
or three times before — take the money that I have saved,
to pay these bills — our freedom-money, Lisette.”

“O, well, then, don't worry! We can get it again, you
know. Why, you know, Harry, you can make a good deal

with your trade, and one thing and another that you do;
and, then, as for me, why, you know, my ironing, and my
muslins, how celebrated they are. Come, don't worry one
bit; we shall get on nicely.”

“Ah! But, Lisette, all this pretty house of ours, garden,
and everything, is only built on air, after all, till we
are free. Any accident can take it from us. Now, there 's
Miss Nina; she is engaged, she tells me, to two or three
lovers, as usual.”

“Engaged, is she?” said Lisette, eagerly, female curiosity
getting the better of every other consideration;
“she always did have lovers, just, you know, as I used to.”

“Yes; but, Lisette, she will marry, some time, and what
a thing that would be for you and me! On her husband
will depend all my happiness for all my life. He may set
her against me; he may not like me. O, Lisette! I 've seen
trouble enough coming of marriages; and I was hoping,
you see, that before that time came the money for my freedom
would all be paid in, and I should be my own man.
But, now, here it is. Just as the sum is almost made up, I
must pay out five hundred dollars of it, and that throws us
back two or three years longer. And what makes me feel
the most anxious is, that I 'm pretty sure Miss Nina will
marry one of these lovers before long.”

“Why, what makes you think so, Harry?”

“O, I 've seen girls before now, Lisette, and I know the
signs.”

“What does she do? What does she say? Tell me,
now, Harry.”

“O, well, she runs on abusing the man, after her sort;
and she 's so very earnest and positive in telling me she
don't like him.”

“Just the way I used to do about you, Harry, is n't it?”

“Besides,” said Harry, “I know, by the kind of character
she gives of him, that she thinks of him very differently
from what she ever did of any man before. Miss Nina
little knows, when she is rattling about her beaux, what I 'm

thinking of. I 'm saying, all the while, to myself, `Is that
man going to be my master?' and this Clayton, I 'm very
sure, is going to be my master.”

“Well, is n't he a good man?”

“She says he is; but there 's never any saying what good
men will do, never. Good men think it right sometimes to
do the strangest things. This man may alter the whole
agreement between us, — he will have a right to do it, if he
is her husband; he may refuse to let me buy myself; and,
then, all the money that I 've paid will go for nothing.”

“But, certainly, Harry, Miss Nina will never consent to
such a thing.”

“Lisette, Miss Nina is one thing, but Mrs. Clayton may
be quite another thing. I 've seen all that, over and over
again. I tell you, Lisette, that we who live on other people's
looks and words, we watch and think a great deal!
Ah! we come to be very sharp, I can tell you. The more
Miss Nina has liked me, the less her husband may like me;
don't you know that?”

“No; Harry, you don't dislike people I like.”

“Child, child, that 's quite another thing.”

“Well, then, Harry, if you feel so bad about it, what
makes you pay this money for Miss Nina? She don't
know anything about it; she don't ask you to. I don't
believe she would want you to, if she did know it. Just go
and pay it in, and have your freedom-papers made out.
Why don't you tell her all about it?”

“No, I can't, Lisette. I 've had the care of her all her
life, and I 've made it as smooth as I could for her, and I
won't begin to trouble her now. Do you know, too, that
I 'm afraid that, perhaps, if she knew all about it, she
would n't do the right thing. There 's never any knowing,
Lisette. Now, you see, I say to myself, `Poor little thing!
she does n't know anything about accounts, and she don't
know how I feel.' But, if I should tell her, and she should n't
care, and act as I 've seen women act, why, then, you know,

I could n't think so any more. I don't believe she would,
mind you; but, then, I don't like to try.”

“Harry, what does make you love her so much?”

“Don't you know, Lisette, that Master Tom was a dreadful
bad boy, always wilful and wayward, almost broke his
father's heart; and he was always ugly and contrary to her?
I 'm sure I don't know why; for she was a sweet little thing,
and she loves him now, ugly as he is, and he is the most
selfish creature I ever saw. And, as for Miss Nina, she
is n't selfish — she is only inconsiderate. But I 've known
her do for him, over and over, just what I do for her, giving
him her money and her jewels to help him out of a scrape.
But, then, to be sure, it all comes upon me, at last, which
makes it all the more aggravating. Now, Lisette, I 'm
going to tell you something, but you must n't tell anybody.
Nina Gordon is my sister!”

“Harry!”

“Yes, Lisette, you may well open your eyes,” said
Harry, rising involuntarily; “I 'm Colonel Gordon's oldest
son! Let me have the comfort of saying it once, if I never
do again.”

“Harry, who told you?”

“He told me, Lisette — he, himself, told me, when he was
dying, and charged me always to watch over her; and I have
done it! I never told Miss Nina; I would n't have her
told for the world. It would n't make her love me; more
likely it would turn her against me. I 've seen many a man
sold for nothing else but looking too much like his father, or
his brothers and sisters. I was given to her, and my
sister and my mother went out to Mississippi with Miss
Nina's aunt.”

“I never heard you speak of this sister, Harry. Was she
pretty?”

“Lisette, she was beautiful, she was graceful, and she
had real genius. I 've heard many singers on the stage
that could not sing, with all their learning, as she did by
nature.”

“Well, what became of her?”

“O, what becomes of such women always, among us!
Nursed, and petted, and caressed; taught everything elegant,
nothing solid. Why, the woman meant well enough
that had the care of her, — Mrs. Stewart, Colonel Gordon's
sister, — but she could n't prevent her son's wanting her,
and taking her, for his mistress; and when she died there
she was.”

“Well.”

“When George Stewart had lived with her two or three
years, he was taken with small-pox. You know what perfect
horror that always creates. None of his white acquaintances
and friends would come near his plantation; the
negroes were all frightened to death, as usual; overseer ran
off. Well, then Cora Gordon's blood came up; she nursed
him all through that sickness. What 's more, she had influence
to keep order on the place; got the people to getting
the cotton crops themselves, so that when the overseer
came sneaking back, things had n't all gone to ruin, as they
might have done. Well, the young fellow had more in him
than some of them do; for when he got well he left his
plantation, took her up to Ohio, and married her, and lived
with her there.”

“Why did n't he live with her on his plantation?” said
Lisette.

“He could n't have freed her there; it 's against the laws.
But, lately, I 've got a letter from her, saying that he had
died and left to her and her son all his property on the
Mississippi.”

“Why, she will be rich, won't she?”

“Yes, if she gets it. But there 's no knowing how that
will be; there are fifty ways of cheating her out of it, I
suppose. But, now, as to Miss Nina's estate, you don't
know how I feel about it. I was trusted with it, and trusted
with her. She never has known, more than a child, where
the money came from, or went to; and it shan't be said that
I 've brought the estate in debt, for the sake of getting my

own liberty. If I have one pride in life, it is to give it up
to Miss Nina's husband in good order. But, then, the
trouble of it, Lisette! The trouble of getting anything like
decent work from these creatures; the ways that I have to
turn and twist to get round them, and manage them, to get
anything done. They hate me; they are jealous of me.
Lisette, I 'm just like the bat in the fable; I 'm neither bird
nor beast. How often I 've wished that I was a good, honest,
black nigger, like Uncle Pomp! Then I should know
what I was; but, now, I 'm neither one thing nor another.
I come just near enough to the condition of the white to look
into it, to enjoy it, and want everything that I see. Then,
the way I 've been educated makes it worse. The fact is,
that when the fathers of such as we feel any love for us, it
is n't like the love they have for their white children. They
are half-ashamed of us; they are ashamed to show their love,
if they have it; and, then, there 's a kind of remorse and pity
about it, which they make up to themselves by petting us.
They load us with presents and indulgences. They amuse
themselves with us while we are children, and play off all our
passions as if we were instruments to be played on. If we
show talent and smartness, we hear some one say, aside, `It 's
rather a pity, is n't it?' or, `He is too smart for his place.'
Then, we have all the family blood and the family pride; and
what to do with it? I feel that I am a Gordon. I feel in
my very heart that I 'm like Colonel Gordon — I know I am;
and, sometimes, I know I look like him, and that 's one
reason why Tom Gordon always hated me; and, then,
there 's another thing, the hardest of all, to have a sister like
Miss Nina, to feel she is my sister, and never dare to say a
word of it! She little thinks, when she plays and jokes
with me, sometimes, hew I feel. I have eyes and senses;
I can compare myself with Tom Gordon. I know he never
would learn anything at any of the schools he was put to;
and I know that when his tutors used to teach me, how
much faster I got along than he did. And yet he must
have all the position, and all the respect; and, then, Miss
Nina so often says to me, by way of apology, when she puts
up with his ugliness, `Ah! well, you know, Harry, he is the
only brother I have got in the world!' Is n't it too bad?
Col. Gordon gave me every advantage of education, because
I think he meant me for just this place which I fill. Miss Nina
was his pet. He was wholly absorbed in her, and he was
frightened at Tom's wickedness; and so he left me bound to
the estate in this way, only stipulating that I should buy
myself on favorable terms before Miss Nina's marriage.
She has always been willing enough. I might have taken
any and every advantage of her inconsiderateness. And
Mr. John Gordon has been willing, too, and has been very
kind about it, and has signed an agreement as guardian,
and Miss Nina has signed it too, that, in case of her death,
or whatever happened, I 'm to have my freedom on paying
a certain sum, and I have got his receipts for what I have
paid. So that 's tolerably safe. Lisette, I had meant never
to have been married till I was a free man; but, somehow,
you bewitched me into it. I did very wrong.”

“O, pshaw! pshaw!” interrupted Lisette. “I an't going
to hear another word of this talk! What 's the use? We
shall do well enough. Everything will come out right, —
you see if it don't, now. I was always lucky, and I always
shall be.”

The conversation was here interrupted by a loud whooping,
and a clatter of horse's heels.

“What 's that?” said Harry, starting to the window.
“As I live, now, if there is n't that wretch of a Tomtit,
going off with that horse! How came he here? He will
ruin him! Stop there! hallo!” he exclaimed, running out
of doors after Tomtit.

Tomtit, however, only gave a triumphant whoop, and disappeared
among the pine-trees.

“Well, I should like to know what sent him here!” said
Harry, walking up and down, much disturbed.

“O, he is only going round through the grove; he will

be back again,” said Lisette; “never fear. Is n't he a handsome
little rogue?”

“Lisette, you never can see trouble anywhere!” said
Harry, almost angrily.

“Ah! yes, I do,” said Lisette, “when you speak in that
tone! Please don't, Harry! What should you want me to
see trouble for?”

“I don't know, you little thing,” said Harry, stroking
her head fondly.

“Ah, there comes the little rascal, just as I knew he
would!” said Lisette. “He only wanted to take a little
race; he has n't hurt the horse;” and, tripping lightly out,
she caught the reins, just as Tomtit drove up to the gate;
and it seemed but a moment before he was over in the garden,
with his hands full of flowers.

“Stop, there, you young rascal, and tell me what sent
you here!” said Harry, seizing him, and shaking him by the
shoulder.

“Laws, Massa Harry, I wants to get peaches, like other
folks,” said the boy, peeping roguishly in at the window,
at the tea-table.

“And he shall have a peach, too,” said Lisette, “and
some flowers, if he 'll be a good boy, and not tread on my
borders.”

Tomtit seized greedily at the peach she gave him, and,
sitting flat down where he stood, and throwing the flowers
on the ground beside him, began eating it with an earnestness
of devotion as if his whole being were concentrated in
the act. The color was heightened in his brown cheek by
the exercise, and, with his long, drooping curls and eyelashes,
he looked a very pretty centre to the flower-piece
which he had so promptly improvised.

“Ah, how pretty he is!” said Lisette, touching Harry's
elbow. “I wish he was mine!”

“You 'd have your hands full, if he was,” said Harry,
eying the intruder discontentedly, while Lisette stood picking

the hulls from a fine bunch of strawberries which she
was ready to give him when he had finished the peach.

“Beauty makes fools of all you girls,” said Harry, cynically.

“Is that the reason I married you?” said Lisette, archly.
“Well, I know I could make him good, if I had the care of
him. Nothing like coaxing; is there, Tom?”

“I 'll boun' there an't!” said Tom, opening his mouth for
the strawberries with much the air of a handsome, saucy
robin.

“Well,” said Harry, “I should like to know what brought
him over here. Speak, now, Tom! Were n't you sent
with some message?”

“O laws, yes!” said Tom, getting up, and scratching
his curly head. “Miss Nina sent me. She wants you to
get on dat ar horse, and make tracks for home like split
foot. She done got letters from two or three of her beaux,
and she is dancing and tearing round there real awful. She
done got scared, spects; feard they 'd all come together.”

“And she sent you on a message, and you have n't told
me, all this time!” said Harry, making a motion as though
he was going to box the child's ears; but the boy glided out
of his hands as if he had been water, and was gone, vanishing
among the shrubbery of the garden; and while Harry
was mounting his horse, he reäppeared on the roof of the
little cabin, caricoling and dancing, shouting at the topmost
of his voice —

“I 'll give it to you, some time!” said Harry, shaking his
fist at him.

“No, he won't, either,” cried Lisette, laughing. “Come
down here, Tomtit, and I 'll make a good boy of you.”