"Mis' Southey is a waitin', Missus." The sharp eyes of the mistress were upon him, but he remained unmoved, whistling a few low notes at the same time beating a subdued tattoo upon the door.
"Mrs. Southey?" repeated the lady, without removing her gaze, but not a muscle moved in the face she was scanning.
"Tell her to come to me," she continued, and the servant departed. Great would have been the chagrin of the mistress had she seen the humble slave boy as he descended to the parlor below. Catching a glimpse of Nelly at the farther end of the long hall, he threw himself into the most laughable contortions, which provoked in her convulsive chuckles at the same time adding a reproof by a dubious shake of the head. In a few moments more the door closed behind Mrs. Belmont as she entered her friend's room and the two were alone together.
"I am sure he had not the least idea who you were, and no wonder! I do not believe I should recognize you myself if we should meet on the street;" remarked the lady as her visitor seated herself. "How strangely you look in that gray traveling suit!"
"Not more so to you than to myself;" was the low reply.
"Your hair put back so plainly, and those glasses, have really added half a score to your years. No one will doubt your origin, or that you are an English lady of the old school." The speaker laughed merrily, but the visitor remained calm and silent, having been led by her companion far away into the future where new scenes and new duties awaited her. It was a perilous task she had undertaken, and no one understood it better than herself. But the last few years had been fitting her for the risks she were to encounter.
"It was true that no one within the circle of my acquaintances was so well fitted to act this part in the great drama of war," was her conclusion, and no one had such a reason for hating the foe as had she, and while she was performing this great service for her country she could at the same time pay off the debt of her blighted hopes. During the short visit quite another scene was being enacted below stairs. Harry and Nelly were standing together in one corner of the large kitchen engaged in close conversation, notwithstanding the protestations of Aunt Nancy, who reiterated a dozen times a day at least the declaration "Dat boy Harry don't arn de salt in his porridge." For once her words rattled away in the air and fell unheeded on the ears they were aimed at.
"I tell you, Nell," said the slave, "dar's somethin' goin' t' happen jes suits dis chap. We'll have a fine house all our own, and some little Sambo to take care ob de chilerns, and, and—"
"Go away, you Harry," and the girl slapped his round cheek, with a yellow hand that delighted to push back the curtains hanging about her future as well as did her lover.
"Well, I hearn 'em talk, and old Ben sang 'de Good Time's Comin', louder last Sabba-day dan he eber did afore. It's comin' Nell. I jes thought—I'll tell Ben, and set him praying for it. He'll make it all right, sartin, sure; and when we get de big house we'll take old Ben to mind de chilerns. He'll like dat for pay, sartin." Nelly laughed, and declared again that Aunt Nancy wanted her, then darted away, followed by the laugh of her lover.