"Yes, and she, too, spurned me—every one repulses and scorns me, while that woman"——
"Hush! Zillah, you are getting fierce again, and that I will not submit to."
"No, no, master, it was grief for my child, not anger," said the woman, checking herself. "She is ill, very ill. The doctor thinks she must die."
"Indeed, I am grieved to hear it. Let her have every care; have a dozen physicians, if it is needful. Poor child—poor child!"
"You love her, then, this daughter of a slave?" said Zillah, with a fierce gleam in her eyes, as if jealous of his very love for her own child.
"Love her? Why she has always been a pet in the house—a beautiful, sweet-tempered creature, whom everyone loved. I think she is even dearer to me than Ralph himself."
Again the woman turned white.
"And you love her so much?"
"Again, Zillah: you are hard to please; but take good care of the child—in a day or two I will come to see her!"
"Indeed, to see her—her only."