The news of Miss May's engagement had spread among the negroes, and many a nappy head was thrust forth seeking a look at the man as he walked about the grounds. I learned from Bob that the wedding was soon to take place. The journey was long, and the man had said that he would not return home without his bride. I had passed him many times in the hall, in the woods, in the road leading to town, but not until one evening when I was summoned to mend the parlor fire did I get an estimating look at him. I had put on a log and had turned about to go when he asked my name. I told him, and he asked laughingly if I were a descendant of the Daniel who was cast into the lion's den? I told him that I was a Daniel who had come to many a judgment and been found wanting. "Dan belongs to brother," said Miss May, "and they read the same books. Brother thinks a great deal of him." "Evidently," Mr. Marston replied. He was a trim looking man of medium size and with black whiskers. His teeth were very white and his brow was broad and smooth. He was easy in manner and was quick to perceive, for noticing my almost instantaneous measurement of him, he looked at me sharply and said: "Well, I suppose you have no objection to my marrying your young mistress?" "No one could object to her choice," I replied, pleased with myself, and Miss May, smiling sweetly, said: "Thank you, Dan. Shut the door as you go out." I took this as a dismissal, whether she meant it or not, and it cut me. But my mind was soon made to feel at rest for as I was going up the stairs she came out and called me softly: "Dan," she said, "I didn't want you to talk very much to Mr. Marston. He is from the far South and thinks that a negro that can read is a great danger to the community, and after I had indiscreetly told him that you and brother read the same books, I thought that it was time for you to go--I didn't want him to say anything to hurt your feelings. I want you to like him." This simple act of kindness brought the tears to my eyes. Ah, through the misty years I can see her now, standing in the hall with upturned face, sweet and beautiful. Preparations for the wedding were hastened forward, and one day the negroes peeped through the parlor door, as we had peeped, long ago, at an array of flowers, Miss Lou lying among them. But now there was no black man to lift his faltering voice in grief--he was gone long years ago and lay sleeping under a dead apple tree; there were soft words of love; and at night there was feasting, the sounds of quick feet, and the spirit of the fiddle was borne upon the air. CHAPTER XIII.