“Heaven knows,” he added, as he saw by the expression of Alice’s face how distasteful to her was the whole idea of bargaining for human flesh and blood, “Heaven knows it is not my nature to hold any one in bondage, and I shall gladly hail the day which sees the negro free. But I cannot now help myself more than others around me. Our slaves are our property. Take them from us and we are ruined wholly. Miss Johnson, do you honestly believe that one in forty of those northern abolitionists would deliberately give up ten—twenty—fifty thousand dollars as the case might be, just because the thing valued at that was man and not beast? No, indeed. It’s very easy for them to tell what must be done, but hard finding one to do it. Southern people, born and brought up in the midst of slavery can’t see it as the North do, and there’s where the mischief lies. Neither understands the other, and I greatly fear the day is not far distant when our fair Union shall be torn in tatters by enraged and furious brothers.” He had wandered from Lulu and Muggins to the subject which then, far more than the North believed, was agitating the Southern mind, but Alice, more interested in her purchases than in Secession, of which she had no fears, brought him back to the point, by suggesting that the necessary papers be made out at once, so there could be no mistake. They had ridden far enough by this time, for Hugh was beginning to look tired, and so they turned their horses homeward, talking pleasantly of whatever presented itself to Alice’s mind. Once as Hugh gave her a look which had often puzzled and mystified her, she said, “Do you know it seems to me I must have seen you before I came to Kentucky, for at times there is something very familiar in your face.” For a moment Hugh was tempted to tell her where they had met before, but feeling that he was not quite ready yet to do so, he refrained, and making her some evasive reply, relapsed into a thoughtful mood which continued until Spring Bank was reached. CHAPTER XXV. HUGH AND ALICE.