Before Emily could reply, Muriel moved away, followed by the triumphant Tugmutton with the basket on his arm. Presently she was passing through the parting concourse, bending her head in acknowledgment of the bows, and curtseys, and doffing of hats which saluted her. The negro in his lowest estate is a gentleman in his courtesy, superior in this to many a white of high and low degree. The weight of social wrong had crushed out or bruised down many an excellence in these humble people, but politeness was one which society could not destroy in them. As Muriel went on through the swarming hum, the clatter of voices would cease, the men and women would step aside from the path, the hats would be taken from the heads with a courteous recognition of her presence, which a snob might not have the wits to honor, but which Philip Sidney’s pulse would surely have quickened to behold. Low Irish, in their place, would have stood stolidly and gazed. Low English would have shambled aside with clownish loutishness. Low Americans would have stared and leered, and perhaps spat tobacco-juice on her skirts as she passed them. The low negroes were civil as Frenchmen. In the heart of the grotesque and motley throng, Muriel came upon a black man whom she knew—an erect and stalwart figure, straight as an Indian, with a fine, masculine face, and the full swart negrine features. He was standing in a doorway in his shirtsleeves. Instantly bowing low, and taking off his felt hat when he saw her, he came forward in courteous posture as she stopped. Muriel smiled graciously, and gave him her hand as freely and firmly as she would have given it to her most aristocratic friend. He took it reverentially, yet without bashfulness, while all the black people around stared. “Have you heard the news, Mr. Brown?” she asked. “Yes, madam,” returned the negro, bowing low. “It’s sad news, too, madam. As yet we don’t know which of us they’re after, but I was just going down town to see the Vigilance Committee, and find out about it.” “I am happy to tell you that it’s a false alarm,” replied Muriel, smiling. “Mr. Harrington says so, so you can be at ease. Won’t you please to spread the news among your people here, so that they may be relieved.” The news was spread already, for she had no sooner said it, than it was taken up and passed from lip to lip with joyful confusion. Presently it reached the depths of the crowd, and instantly there was a straggling shout, followed by a surge of the whole concourse toward the direction from whence the information had proceeded. “Stand back,” roared the negro in a tremendous voice. “There’s a lady here. Don’t crowd the lady.”