As Wilkins finished writing, he carefully folded and sealed his letter, and handed it to the girl, without adding any superscription.
"There, Minny, give her that; but, remember how much depends upon your secresy. There's a day coming when you shall meet your full reward for all you are doing for us now."
"Yes, Mr. Bernard," she replied, addressing him by his first name, and speaking earnestly, "I think of that myself sometimes, and tremble."
"And tremble! What do you mean?"
"Nothing, nothing; no matter now. Give me a pass, and let me be gone! The great gun has fired two hours ago!"
"You are too white to need a pass, Minny."
"Ay! but I am a slave."
The bitter emphasis with which she uttered these last
words sank deep into Guly's young heart, and was the first intimation to him that she was not of unmixed origin. She looked so purely beautiful, as she stood there with that shade of scornful sadness on her face, that the boy forgot the part he was acting in standing there, and remained with his large eyes riveted upon her.
"Here's your pass, Minny; but, mark me, it will not be claimed of you."