"My friend, I must say that I think father Bonnie upholds a soul-destroying error. I must say that, as conscience-bound. I pray the Lord for him and you both. I put it right to your conscience, my friend, whether you think you could keep to your trade, and live a Christian life."
"No; the fact is, it's a d——d bad business, that's just where 't is. We an't fit to be trusted with such things that come to us—gals and women. Well, I feel pretty bad, I tell you, to-night; 'cause I know I haven't done right by this yer gal. I ought fur to have let her alone; but, then, the devil or something possessed me. And now she has got a fever, and screeches awfully. I declar, some things she says go right through me!"
Father Dickson groaned in spirit over this account, and felt himself almost guilty for belonging ostensibly and outwardly to a church which tolerated such evils. He rode along by the side of his companion, breaking forth into occasional ejaculations and snatches of hymns. After a ride of about an hour, they arrived at the encampment. A large fire had been made in a cleared spot, and smouldering fragments and brands were lying among the white ashes. One or two horses were tied to a neighboring tree, and wagons were drawn up by them. Around the fire, in different groups, lay about fifteen men and women, with heavy iron shackles on their feet, asleep in the moonlight. At a little distance from the group, and near to one of the wagons, a blanket was spread down on the ground under a tree, on which lay a young girl of seventeen, tossing and moaning in a disturbed stupor. A respectable-looking mulatto-woman was sitting beside her, with a gourd full of water, with which from time to time she moistened her forehead. The woman rose as the trader came up.
"Well, Nance, how does she do now?" said the trader.
"Mis'able enough!" said Nance. "She done been tossing, a throwing round, and crying for her mammy, ever since you went away!"
"Well, I've brought the minister," said he. "Try, Nance, to wake her up; she'll be glad to see him."
The woman knelt down, and took the hand of the sleeper.
"Emily! Emily!" she said, "wake up!"
The girl threw herself over with a sudden, restless toss. "Oh, how my head burns!—Oh, dear!—Oh, my mother! Mother!—mother!—mother!—why don't you come to me?"
Father Dickson approached and knelt the other side of her. The mulatto-woman made another effort to bring her to consciousness.