[CHAPTER XX.]
About the tragedy? Well, it was a sad affair, and seemed to me, at the time of its occurrence, the saddest thing that could happen; but I have learned since that sorrow untainted by sin is not the worst thing that comes into life, and that—as Master sometimes quotes:
"The love that's safe beneath the sod,
Or better still, in the bosom of God,
Is the perfect love complete."
You see, Master and my sweet young mistress, bonny, brown-eyed Annie Dee, were to be married on the morrow, and a few of the wedding guests were staying at the hospitable old Dee homestead. Railroads were not as plenty then as now, and he was to take her to his home behind the bays—you remember them?
I was going, too, because I belonged to Annie; we had never been separated more than one whole day in my short life, and she loved me dearly.
It is needless to add that I loved her as only an affectionate, dumb creature can love an indulgent owner.
"You are losing your roses, Annie, with the worry and excitement," her bosom friend, Ray Lyle, said; "let us have an hour in the air."
"Yes, a horseback ride," agreed my mistress.
"Only I am such a coward," said her friend.
"Never mind, you shall ride Dandy. I can manage Jackson."