"She is well, and by this time happy in her dreams."
"And did she send you to me? how came you here?"
"I came here with the pass, which gives any negro a right to the highway; and though I forged it, it served me well."
Minny stepped back into the shadow of the archway, and Wilkins, obeying the convulsive grasp of that delicate hand, followed her.
"Bernard," said she, dropping her voice almost into a whisper, which echoed deep and clear through the dark and narrow alley, "I have come to you to-night, for the last time in my life, to stand before you for a moment in the light of other days."
She paused, as if some smothered emotion overcame her; and the trembling hand upon his arm slipped down, and was clasped an instant in Wilkins' grasp. It lingered there but a moment, one wild sad moment to Minny, and was withdrawn hastily, with a gush of tears.
"I cannot tell you," she proceeded to say, in a tone of touching sadness, and speaking every word with impressive distinctness, "I cannot tell you what came over me to-night, as I sat by the tall window, looking up at the pale stars, and listening to the night-wind, but it seemed to me like some vivid dream, or some shadowy vision of the past, and as my mistress fell asleep, I sat there still, looking up at the stars, with my vision between me and them. Listen, Bernard, and let me tell you what it was."
Wilkins' heart was touched by the soul-reaching sadness of the girl's manner, and he folded his arms patiently upon his breast, and leaned back against the brick wall of the archway, with his head bent forward to listen.
"I saw myself, Bernard, at first, as I was when first you came here. I knew none of the sorrows of my situation then, if there were any; at least I did not think it