"Hist! Elisha! Elisha!" called Valentine, in a hushed, eager voice.
"Who dar?" exclaimed the old negro, starting back so forcibly that the stick and bundle vibrated on his shoulder.
"It is I, Elisha! Come here, quickly. How is Fannie, my dear, suffering Fannie? Quickly! You have seen her since morning?" cried Valentine, in a low, vehement tone.
"Brudder Walley! I 'clar'; de werry man I lookin' arter!" said the old creature, approaching the causeway.
"Tell me! tell me! how is Fannie?" cried Valentine, impatiently.
"Ah, chile! we-dem mus' 'mit to de will o' Marster," sighed the old preacher.
"For Heaven's sake, be plain! Is she—is she still living?" questioned the youth, in an agony of anxiety.
"Wur, when I lef' dar, chile! wur, when I lef' dar! Dat all I can say for sartin 'bout libbin'."
Valentine groaned deeply, asking:
"When did you see her? Tell me everything—everything you know about her."