“No, my dear, I don’t think these colored men would want to kill anybody. God grant they are not drunk! That is the only danger I am fearing. I am not afraid of any sober negro alive, but a drunken one is to be avoided like a rattlesnake.”
“Well, Mrs. Sutton, I just feel somehow that God and Dr. Wright are going to take care of Helen,—and Miss Ella and Miss Louise, too.”
“I am sure of it, my dear. I am so sure of it that I am thanking God for having sent Dr. Wright and Helen to Grantly,—otherwise the poor, foolish old ladies might have been found there by the darkies when they expected the house to be empty, with everyone gone to the ball, and then there is no telling what would have happened.” Mrs. Sutton shuddered as though she were cold.
“I keep on thinking of Dr. Wright’s face,—his keen blue eyes and his jaw,—somehow, I believe that jaw will pull them out safely.”
CHAPTER XXI
THE FLAMING SWORD
And what a time we have had to keep Helen peeping through the railings at Dr. Wright as he stood in the brilliant moonlight on the gallery at Grantly, while the crazed mob of darkies advanced jauntily to the front of the old mansion! It was their intention to enter and claim the spoils thereof: treasures that they had begun to think belonged to them by reason of their long service and the service of their fathers and fathers’ fathers.
Confident that the mansion was empty, they made no endeavor to be quiet. All the white folks for miles and miles around were feasting at the count’s ball; as for the burning rick,—they had not thought that the fire would do more than warm things up for their deed.