Then around her form Unc’ Caspar wound a cloth of silk and pearls; and on her ankles and wrists golden bands gleamed even through the dark night and the mist; in her ears were the great gold rings of an African princess, and round and round her neck Unc’ Caspar wound the beads that shone like stars. For a moment the hoodoo paused, that ’Liza might look well; then, without breaking the silence, he stood behind the girl, waving for the mystery to disappear, and the great white house slipped into the bed of the river, the cloth of pearl and gold dropped away, the beads that shone like stars faded, and there was only a broken fish-net around ’Liza’s shoulders and wisps of river reeds on her wrists. Through the dark came the voice of the hoodoo: “Ole Caspar rich—ole Caspar free—all dis gwine be yourn if yo’ des mairey Caspar.” But ’Liza shivered under the damp fish-net, and asked Unc’ Caspar to give her time. In the long night she alternately laughed and wept and wrung her hands. “Which I gwine ter do? Which I gwine ter tek—de ole un er de young un?” she cried. “Dat,” said Mammy, “were de sperrits er good an’ ebil stribin’ in her, but she nebber eben call de name er de Lord, so she needn’ ’spec’ no he’p.” The glitter of the gorgeous thing was still in ’Liza’s mind, but through it all would rise the ugly, wrinkled face of Unc’ Caspar; but Unc’ Caspar was rich—Unc’ Caspar had houses and gold. Then out of the dark would leap the form of the young Amaziah, stretching his great, strong arms towards her, even though the veil of the white beard floated between them. But by daybreak ’Liza had made up her mind, and Bithie, pale and ashen, bound a plantain leaf to her own forehead and chanted a death song from her cabin. All day Ole Miss waited for Bithie, but Bithie had forgotten the world. In vain old Maumer anointed her with salves to break the spell of frenzy, still the death chant wailed from the cabin, and Bithie would not be comforted. * * * * * The plantation thrilled with the news of ’Liza’s coming marriage to the hoodoo, who was old enough to be her grandfather. The gossips wagged it, and the old men smoked it in their pipes. Even the pickaninnies drew it into their play, and sang, with a newly invented shuffle: “Lawsy mussy, what ’Liza hab done, Maired de ole man instid uv he son.” And Unc’ Caspar, leaning on his stick, hastened ’Liza for the wedding, and for bridal trickery bored the pearly shells of the river mussel and strung them on his beard; and every night, to make ’Liza surer in her mind, he would make the mist to rise and show her the treasures that were to be hers on her wedding-day.