“Brother,” exclaimed I, as I entered, “Rejoice, your life is safe; Marie has obtained it as a wedding present from her father.”
The slave shuddered.
“Marie—wedding—my life! What reference have these things to each other?”
“It is very simple,” answered I. “Marie, whose life you saved, is to be married——.”
“To whom?” exclaimed the negro, a terrible change coming over his face.
“Did you not know that she was to be married to me?”
His features relaxed.
“Ah, yes,” he replied; “and when is the marriage to take place?”
“On August the 22nd.”
“On August the 22nd! Are you mad?” cried he, with terror painted in his countenance.