He went away. The next to appear was Tom, who talked with his mistress for some minutes while I was above stairs, making ready for the journey. Presently he departed. By that time the hasty meal I had ordered was laid and I induced her to sit down to it, while I waited on her. Need I say that then, more than ever, the strangeness of the relations between us came home to me? That she should be here, in my room, in my care, eating an ordinary meal while I attended on her, handed her this or that, and caught now and again the sad smile with which she thanked me—could anything exceed the marvel of it? Her trust in me, the intimacy of it, the silence—for she rarely spoke—all increased the air of unreality; an unreality so great that when the meal was finished and she went to Paton’s room to lie down and rest, it had scarcely seemed out of the question had I gone in with her, covered her, and tucked her up! After that, through three hours of stillness and silence I kept guard in the outer room, staring at the door behind which she lay; and love and pity choked me, and swelled my heart to bursting. How was she suffering! How was she doomed to suffer! What a night and a day were before her! What horror, what despair! For her father was all the world to her. He was all that she had. I could only pray that the exertions she was making, the fatigue that she was enduring, the pains of endless journeys would dull the shock when it came, and that she would not be able to feel or to suffer or to hate as at other times. I believe that during these hours Paton kept guard outside, and warned off the curious. For no one came near us, and all the sounds of the camp seemed dull and distant and we two alone in the world, until a little before three o’clock. Then Tom returned. I had made a note that he must be kept at hand, since she would need him to go with her in my place when she knew all—as she must know all after she had seen her father. I cautioned him as to this, but the man demurred. “Marse, I’m feared ter do it,” he said, showing the whites of his eyes in his earnestness. “Madam ’Stantia, she ordered me ter stay yer. En I’m tired, Marse. I’m en ole nigger en dis jurney’s shuk me. Fer sho’ it has.” “But you rogue, your mistress!” “I ’bliged ter stay, Marse,” he repeated doggedly. “Dis nigger’s mighty tired.” I should have insisted, but the girl had heard his voice and summoned him. She opened her door and he went into the inner room. They talked there for some minutes, while I fretted over this new difficulty. Presently the black came out but she still remained within, and did not follow him for five long minutes. When she came I saw a change in her. Her eyes were bright, and each white cheek had its scarlet patch. She looked like a person in a fever, or on the edge of delirium. What the wine had not done, something else had effected. “Tom had better be ready to ride with us,” I said.