“Le, do not leave the house—at least, till you see your uncle,” pleaded the lady.
“Oh, no, I shall not go away at once. I shall do nothing hastily, to hurt her. I hurt her enough this morning, the Lord knows!” said the youth, with a heavy sigh.
Mrs. Force looked up inquiringly.
“Oh, yes,” continued Le, “I behaved like a brute! I went out of my head, I think—when she first told me—and I raged at her! raged at the tender, defenseless, little creature—like the wild beast that I was!”
“Oh, Le, it was natural, my poor lad!”
“I was a savage! brutal! beastly! devilish!—but I was out of my mind! And she never defended herself, only cried—cried for me! I wish I had dropped dead before I spoke a word to hurt her! But the devil took me unawares, and drove me out of my senses.”
“I do not wonder, Le.”
“But there, Aunt Elfrida. Go to her! I will walk on the porch for a while.”
Le’s appearance on the porch was the signal for such a reception, or, rather, such an ovation, as could only be seen on a Southern plantation, and upon some such occasion as the present.
The news of the young midshipman’s return—or “the young master’s,” as they chose to call him, in view of his relations, present and prospective, to the family of Mondreer—had spread far and wide among the negroes, and they came flocking up, men, women and children, to shake hands with him and welcome him home.