‘What do you mean by speaking to me like that?’ she panted. ‘How _dare_ you pretend to think that I cried because I was in trouble for any one but the poor coolie girl? I know I am a fool to feel such things. Any one is a fool who wastes a tear on you coloured people, for you are all false, and mischief-making, and scandalous; but it is too bad that you should speak as though I were crying for myself. What trouble could I be in? I have everything I want, and in a few days I shall marry the Governor, and none of you will dare to say a word against me; and if you do, Sir Russell will have you whipped, and put in prison, and you may lie and die there, for aught I care.’ It was a foolish and childish rage in which she indulged, but Quita was not much raised above the coloured people she professed to scorn, either in intellect or education. Yet it was sufficient to excite the desire for revenge in the object of her wrath. ‘Missy have me whipped and put in prison?’ she shrieked; ‘_me_--who hab nursed her in my bosom, ever since she was a tiny baby? Oh, no, Missy Quita, you nebber mean dat! I will tell Massa Courtney, and de Governor, eberyting before dat. I tell dem all I know. I clare de character of poor Missy Liz, down at de Doctor’s bungalow, and I tell _whose_ child dat is what she nurse day and night.’ ‘Oh, Jessica!’ cried Maraquita, frightened beyond expression, as she threw herself on her knees before the old negress, ‘don’t say that. I was beside myself. I didn’t stop to weigh my words. I know you are good and faithful, and will be true to me, and keep my terrible secret, for you wouldn’t ruin your poor little missy who loves you; would you, Jessica?’ But the old negress was not to be so easily conciliated. She looked very surly, even whilst Maraquita’s white arms were wreathed about her withered neck. ‘Missy Quita, you berry ungrateful gal,’ she murmured presently. ‘How many nights I sit up and watch and wait, while you flirting wid dat overseer, fear your moder or some one come and find you out? Den when you taken bad, ole Jess know your trouble all de time, and nebber speak one word. But now you going to be grand rich lady, you want to kick old Jessica out, and forget all she done for you. But I won’t be kicked out, Missy Quita. You must take me to Government House, and give me good wages, or I won’t keep your secret any longer; and it isn’t no good saying I’m ungrateful, missy, ’cause you were ungrateful first, and you knows it.’ Maraquita saw the terrible mistake she had made, when it was too late. Why had she not remembered her mother’s advice to conciliate the old negress until the marriage was an accomplished fact? _Then_, Mrs Courtney would have devised some plan to keep her quiet. But now there was but one course open to her,--to promise to give Jessica everything she demanded, however unreasonable.