“I understand, mammy,” and Helen put her arms around the old woman's neck. An almost overpowering impulse had risen in her to tell the old sufferer the truth, but thinking that some of the negroes might be listening, and remembering her promise, she restrained herself.
“I'm going to write a note to Carson to come up at once,” she said. “He'll have something to tell you, mammy.”
And passing the negroes about the door she went to the house, and hastening into the library she wrote and forwarded by a servant the following note:
“Dear Carson,—Come at once, and come prepared to tell her. I can't stand it any longer. Do, do come.
“Helen.”
CHAPTER XXX
