"Oh, I do wrong, do I? We are the people that are never to do wrong! People may stick pins in us, and stick knives in us, wipe their shoes on us, spit in our face—we must be amiable! we must be models of Christian patience! I tell you, your father should rather have put me into quarters and made me work like a field-negro, than to have given me the education he did, and leave me under the foot of every white man that dares tread on me!"
Nina remembered to have seen her father in transports of passion, and was again shocked and startled to see the resemblance between his face and the convulsed face before her.
"Harry," she said, in a pitying, half-admonitory tone, "do think what you are saying! If you love me, be quiet!"
"Love you? You have always held my heart in your hand. That has been the clasp upon my chain. If it hadn't been for you, I should have fought my way to the north before now, or I would have found a grave on the road!"
"Well, Harry," said Nina, after a moment's thought, "my love shall not be a clasp upon any chain; for, as there is a God in heaven, I will set you free! I'll have a bill introduced at the very next legislature, and I know what friend will see to it. So go, now, Harry, go!"
Harry stood a moment, then suddenly raised the hand of his little mistress to his lips, turned, and was gone.
Clayton, who had been passing through the shrubbery, and who had remarked that Nina was engaged in a very exciting conversation, had drawn off, and stood waiting for her at the foot of the veranda steps. As soon as Nina saw him, she reached out her hand frankly, saying,—
"Oh, there, Mr. Clayton, you are just the person! Wouldn't you like to take a ride with me?"
"Of course I should," said he.