"And I shall remain with my husband," added Mrs. Baron, firmly.
"Well, nothing worse may happen than a general sack of the place, but I cannot leave mother and the girl who is to be my wife. I shall ride over to our place in the morning for the best horse on it, and to see the overseer. I'll bring back a few papers which I will put in your charge, uncle."
Thus they discussed the emergency till Mrs. Whately thought she could venture to Miss Lou's room. Her son accompanied her to the door and called out, "I give you my word, cousin, that Aun' Jinkey can go to her cabin, and that no one shall disturb her"; then he retreated to the parlor again.
When Mrs. Whately entered the room, she witnessed what was not reassuring. Miss Lou's white shoulder was bare, and upon it was the long red mark of the whip. Aun' Jinkey was bathing the bruise with some lotion. "My poor child!" said the lady, "Madison is almost beside himself with grief and self-reproach."
"Please tell him," replied the girl, "that I'm glad the blow fell on me instead of mammy."
"Ah, well, my dear, he has asked forgiveness and is profoundly sorry."
"Hit soon be well, honey. Wish ter grashus hit wuz me dat hab it! en you barin' hit so patient, too, w'en I smokin'. Dar, I kiver hit up now, en hit ain' dar in de mawnin'. I reck'n I go back ter de cabin now, honey. I kin'er used ter my own chimbly corner. Miss Whately got sump'n ter say ter comfort you."
"Very well, mammy. I'll see that you have no trouble," and the old woman departed.
"Surely, Louise, you cannot expect any more trouble, after my son has said there would not be any," said Mrs. Whately, in a somewhat aggrieved tone.
"You must have seen," was the reply, "that Cousin Madison hasn't just the kind of self-control which inspires confidence."