She carried in her hand a branch of the magnolia tree, from which depended a splendid blossom of that most glorious of all flowers. She bowed slightly as she came near the portico, and, passing around the corner of the house, entered it by a side door. Mrs. Martas was most passionately devoted to the magnolia, and, from her exclamations of delight, which were soon heard in the hall, we knew that Celia had brought the beautiful flower as a peace-offering to her mistress, and that it had been accepted as such. Very soon the two women came nearer, and from our seats on the veranda we could hear their conversation. A terrible weight seemed to have been lifted from the heart of Captain Martas by the girl’s return, and by the apparent renewal of friendly relations between his beautiful wife and his even more beautiful slave--a relief which showed itself in his face and form, but not in his speech. “Yes,” said Celia to Mrs. Martas, “it is an old, wide-spreading tree on the very edge of the water, and is glorious with just such splendid blossoms as these. There must be more than three hundred clusters, some that I could not reach being much larger and finer than this one.” “And you say,” answered Mrs. Martas, “that the air is still, and that the perfume broods all around the tree? Oh, how sweet!” “Yes,” said Celia, “it is so strong that you can taste as well as smell the wonderful perfume. Few people could bear to stand immediately beneath the shade; it is so sweet as to be almost overpowering.” “Oh, how I wish I could see it! How far is it, Celia?” “Only four miles. You can go. It is deep in the swamp: but the pony can follow the ridge all the way. You can go, and get home before dusk. I would like you to see it before a rain makes the road too bad, or the winds come and scatter the delicious perfume that now hangs as heavy as dew all around the glorious tree for yards and yards away.” “I will go,” she cried. “Tell Toby to bring out Selim, and you can take a horse. Let us go at once. It is getting late.” “I would rather walk,” said Celia, “so as to be sure that I will not miss the route in going back, although I watched so carefully that I know I can find it on foot.” Very soon a boy led up Mrs. Martas’s pony, and she went out to the steps and mounted, followed by Celia on foot. The girl held the stirrup for her mistress, and as she did so looked back at Captain Martas with eyes in which shone strange love, pity, and tenderness; but the voice of her mistress called her away, and, even in turning her black and lustrous eyes toward Captain Martas, their expression totally changed, and showed for a fleeting instant the murderous glitter that gleamed from the eyes of a panther when ready for a fatal spring.