"Nebber fear, Massa Guy. Trust ole Phœbe, and mind what she say. Me, dis bery ole black 'ooman, nurse ole Massa Falconer on him dying bed. He trust poor Phœbe more dan some, and make her read de Englis' writing. Den him gib her dis," and she drew from her bosom a little black silk bag, "and him say like dis: 'Phœbe, if ebber you hear ob a chile of Guy Falconer in trouble or want, you make him get dis, and it help him one little. You wait, and maybe some day you get to England, and you find if de widow ob my son Guy get her right share out of de 'state, or her chil'en. If so it be, den all right, you burn dis pocket-book. But if it be not so, you gib dis book to de widow or her chile, and dey see it help to prove dere right. Don't want do nobody no harm, but must do de right. Now, Phœbe, you be wise and patient, and see what to do.'"
"And if we were not in want, and had our rights, what then, Phœbe?" asked Guy, after listening attentively.
"Didn't he tell?—Den burn de book."
"Yes; but look here!" And opening the little pocket-book which he had drawn from its silken cover, several bank-notes appeared.
"Nebber mind; all right. Massa not poor now, but go away safe dis bery night."
"Tell me truly, Phœbe. If we had not needed it, what then was to be done with this money?"
"Poor ole massa, him let Phœbe do what she like; den she gib it to good missionary to tell 'bout de Lord Jesus. Now see why me come with poor missy to Rome. Find dear chile here just at right time. Bless de dear Lord, He do eberyting well!" And folding her hands, she rose from the block of stone, and stood for a few moments in silent reverence.
And if ever Guy felt thankful, it was then; for alone, suspected, and a fugitive in a strange city, and that city Rome, it was hard to be penniless also.
But he could not leave without some information of the Count, and also some help from trusty Pierre, and for this he must wait at least till night fall.
