He raised his foot, and pushed her forward on her face. She lay there, with her heavy curls falling round her like a mantle, entirely concealing the tearless, livid face.
Delancey raised his arm, and the heavy lash descended, whirring through the air, telling how fierce the hand that dealt the blow.
The tender flesh could almost be seen to quiver through the thin, light dress; but Minny moved not, uttered no moan, nor raised her head.
"How now, girl, does your spirit hold out? Will you give up the letters?"
"Never!"
Again the lash came down, and this time, across one fair, polished shoulder, gleaming out from among the curls, in her low-necked dress, was marked a braided cut, from which the blood oozed in small round drops, staining also the waist of the dress, where the lash had fallen.
"How now?"
There came no answer: Minny lay still and quiet. Again the enraged master raised the whip, and this time the strokes were a trifle lighter, but more frequent, with no power for questioning.
Della sat in her room waiting for Minny's return. Suddenly a strange sound struck upon her ear. She started, bent forward, and listened eagerly. It came again and again. She sprang to her feet, and darted like lightning down the stairs. She ran hither and thither, scarce knowing whence to trace the sound, when suddenly she met one of the servants.