"Ah! that is so," replied Harris. "I had forgotten that the war of 1862 had decided that grave question. I ask those honest men's pardon for it," added Harris, with that delicate irony which a Southerner must put into his language when speaking to blacks. "But on seeing those gentlemen in your service, I believed——"
"They are not, and have never been, in my service, sir," replied Mrs.
Weldon, gravely.
"We should be honored in serving you, Mrs. Weldon," then said old Tom. "But, as Mr. Harris knows, we do not belong to anybody. I have been a slave myself, it is true, and sold as such in Africa, when I was only six years old; but my son Bat, here, was born of an enfranchised father, and, as to our companions, they were born of free parents."
"I can only congratulate you about it," replied Harris, in a tone which
Mrs. Weldon did not find sufficiently serious. "In this land of
Bolivia, also, we have no slaves. Then you have nothing to fear, and
you can go about as freely here as in the New England States."
At that moment little Jack, followed by Nan, came out of the grotto rubbing his eyes. Then, perceiving his mother, he ran to her. Mrs. Weldon embraced him tenderly.
"The charming little boy!" said the American, approaching Jack.
"It is my son," replied Mrs. Weldon.
"Oh, Mrs. Weldon, you must have been doubly tried, because your child has been exposed to so many dangers."
"God has brought him out of them safe and sound, as He has us, Mr.
Harris," replied Mrs. Weldon.
"Will you permit me to kiss him on his pretty cheeks?" asked Harris.