At this moment Irene's waiting-maid was crossing the lawn. Mr. Tompkins called to her:
"Maggie, is your mistress in her room?"
"No, sir, she went down the road about an hour ago."
The planter fell back in his chair, as though he had been struck a blow, and buried his face in his hands, while the terrified maid hastened into the house to spread the news.
Mrs. Tompkins hurried out on the lawn, where half a dozen blacks had already gathered about their master.
"Oh, what shall we do? what shall we do?" she cried, all her patriotic fervor swallowed up in terror. "Maggie run to her room and see if she is not there."
"No, missus, I have just been to see, an' she is gone."
"Oh, my poor Irene! In the power of the mountain guerillas! What must be done?"
"Be calm, Camille," said the planter, "we will immediately plan a pursuit and rescue her."
The overseer aroused the neighbors, but it was quite dark before they had gathered on the lawn in front of the mansion.