"Don't say ye hain't seen her, Massa Penn! ye kill ol' Toby if ye do! I done lost her!" And the poor old faithful fellow sobbed out his story,—how Virginia had disappeared, and how, on discovering the woods to be on fire, he had set out in search of her, and been wandering he scarcely knew where ever since. "Now don't say ye don't know nuffin' about her! don't say dat!" falling on his knees, and reaching up his hands beseechingly, as if he had only to prevail on Penn to say that all was well with "Miss Jinny," and that would make it so. Such faith is in simple souls.
"I'll say anything you wish me to, good old Toby! only give me a chance."
"Den say you has seen her."
"I has seen her," repeated Penn.
"O, bress you, Massa Penn! And she ar safe—say dat too!"
"She ar safe," said Penn, laughing.
"Bress ye for dat!" And Toby, weeping with joy, kissed the young man's hand again and again. "And ye knows whar she ar?"
"Yes, Toby! So now get up: don't be kneeling on the rocks here in the rain!"
"Jes' one word more! Say ye got her and ol' Massa Villars safe stowed away, and ye'll take me to see 'em; den dis ol' nigger'll bress you and de Lord and dem, and be willin' fur to die! only say dat, massa!"
"Ah! did I promise to say all you wished?"