‘I s’pose so, Missy Liz. Is dat baby at your bungalow all right, missy?’ continued Jessica inquisitively. Lizzie flushed to the roots of her hair. She had encountered some impertinence on this subject before, and she feared a repetition of it. ‘It is quite well, Jessica, although it is very weakly, and I am not at all sure of rearing it.’ ‘A good ting if it die,’ said the nurse; ‘and if all such babies died, Missy Liz--we’ve no room for them here.’ ‘You shouldn’t say that, Jessica,’ returned Lizzie mildly; ‘for it may be God’s will that it should live.’ ‘Better say good ting if its _fader_ died!’ exclaimed Jerusha. ‘That’s the sort we’ve no room for. Ah, Missy Liz, no use you opening your eyes like dat. We know plenty on dis plantation, we do!--and we know de good from de bad too, and may de Lord help us to root ’em out.’ ‘Have you any special enemy here then, Jerusha?’ demanded Lizzie. ‘Yes, I have,’ replied the coolie, with dogged determination. ‘Massa Courcelles is my special enemy, and I hate him!’ ‘Monsieur de Courcelles, Jerusha? Has he been unkind to you, or done you any wrong?’ ‘He has done me _dis_ wrong!’ cried Jerusha, holding out her baby. ‘He has given me dis chile, and blows on the top of it!’ She would have said more, but Lizzie put her hand to her head, and, with a low cry, passed swiftly from them. The women gazed after her in astonishment. They could not understand a nature without any feeling of revenge in it,--with only the deepest pain for the sins of one it loved, and a horror of hearing them mentioned by others. They thought that Lizzie had misunderstood them, or had not heard aright. ‘Dat’s funny!’ exclaimed Jerusha. ‘’Pears I didn’t put things right, or she would have smacked little Henri on the head, or killed him dead, as I’d like to kill dat baby at de bungalow.’ ‘Missy Liz not one of _our_ sort,’ said Jessica. ‘She allays berry quiet and gentle, but I guess she _feel_ same as rest.’ ‘Does she _know_ about dat baby at de bungalow?’ ‘I ’spect she knows eberyting, and dat dese low niggers say it is _her_ chile: same as Massa Courcelles did! Poor Miss Lizzie, she’s too good for us. She oughter run a knife into him and the chile too.’ ‘That’s so,’ cried Jerusha; ‘and dat’s what _I_ will do for her! I full of revenge, Jessica. I like to get up some night and fire de Oleander Bungalow, and burn dat man in his bed! I like to stick him wid knife, same as pig--an’ to make him drink poison water till he die.’ ‘Better give him de obeah water--dat safe and silent,’ replied the nurse; ‘but you must do it secret, Jerusha. You mustn’t tell anybody but me.’ ‘I telling no one; but I watch and wait, and I hab my revenge. I swear it on my little Henri’s head!’ said Jerusha solemnly. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IX.