The light from a little dormer-window in the garret beamed so brightly that it charmed Virgie's soul with the fascination of warmth and home, and, without thinking, she crossed the stile, bathed her hot temples at the well, and walked into the kitchen before the fire.
"Freedom!" said Virgie, wanderingly; "have I come to it?" She fell upon the rag carpet before the fire, saying, "Father, dear father," and did not move.
"Well," spoke a man of large paunch and black snake's eyes, sitting there, "it's not often people in search of freedom walk into Devil Jim Clark's!"
"She is white," exclaimed a woman, looking compassionately upon the stranger, "and she is dying."
"No," retorted the man, "she is too pretty to be white. This is the bright wench Sam Ogg was seen with. She belongs to Allan McLane, and there's a reward of five hundred dollars for her, but she'll bring two thousand in New Orleans for a mistress."
"Hush!" said the woman; "you may bring a judgment upon your daughters."
"Joe Johnson is about to sail," remarked Devil Jim Clark; "he shall take her with him."
The girl had heard that name through the thick chambers of oblivion. She rose and shrieked, and rushed into the woman's arms:
"Save me, mother, save me from that man!"
The woman's heart was pierced by the cry, and she folded Virgie to her breast and kissed her, saying: