“And he has kept it a secret from me!” Esha, like most slaves, was a quick judge of character. She had an almost intuitive perception of shams. Convinced of the quadroon’s sincerity, she now threw a cushion on the floor, and, seating herself on it after the Oriental fashion, frankly told the whole story of the child Clara, and disclosed the true nature of her own relations to Ratcliff. When she had concluded, Madame Volney impulsively kissed her. “And are you sure,” she asked, “quite sure that little Darling, as you call her, will resist Ratcliff to the last?” “Dat chile will sooner die dan gib up ter dat ole man. What you ’spose she went out ter buy dat day I met her last? Wall, missis, she buyed a dagger.” “Good! I love her!” cried Madame Volney, with flushed cheeks. “But Esha, do you know where she is now?” “Yes, missis; but I tink I better not tell eb’n you,—’cause you see—” “She’s with Miss Tremaine, at the St. Charles!” “De Lord help us! How yer know dat, missis?” cried Esha, alarmed. “Do Massa Ratcliff know ’bout it?” “He knows it all, and has made his preparations for seizing the girl this very day. He’ll be here this morning to give you your directions. Now, Esha, don’t make a blunder. Don’t let him see that you’re the girl’s friend. Say nothing of my visit. I’ll tell you what I suspect: Ratcliff knows his wife can’t live three months longer. He has never had a child by her. All his children are mulattoes and illegitimate. The desire of his heart is for a lawful heir. He means—Are you sure the girl is white?” “I tell yer, missis, whoebber sold her, fust stained her skin to put up de price. Shouldn’t be ’stonished if dat chile was kidnapped.” Madame Volney looked at her watch. “Esha,” she said, “you’ll be employed by Ratcliff to help secure her person. If, when he comes to you, the ribbon on his straw hat is _green_, do as he tells you. Should the ribbon be _black_, tell him to wait ten minutes. Then do you run round the corner to Aurora Street, where you’ll see a carriage with a white handkerchief held out at the right-hand window. You’ll find me there. We’ll drive to the St. Charles, and take the girl with us somewhere out of Ratcliff’s reach. Can you remember all I’ve told you?” “Ebry word ob it, missis! Tahnk de Lord fur sendin’ yer. Watch Massa Ratcliff sharp. Fix him sure, missis,—fix him sure!” “Trust me, Esha! He seizes no young girl to-day, unless I let him. But be very prudent. You may need money.” “No, missis. No pay fur tellin’ de troof.” “But you may need it for the child’s sake.” “O yis, missis. I’ll take it fur de chile, sure.” Madame Volney placed in her hands thirty dollars in gold, then left the house, and, hailing a carriage at a neighboring stand, told the driver where to take her. “Double speed, double fare!” she added. In ten minutes she was at home.