“O, I don’t care for what society may say. I’m out of the reach of its sneers. And what you urge, Josy, is reasonable,—very. Yes, she’s a remarkably fine girl, and I’ve certainly taken a strong fancy to her. Some of our first young men are already deep in love with her. Of course she’d be eternally grateful, if I were to emancipate her and make her my wife.” Josephine could hardly repress a smile of triumph to see this thorough-bred tyrant, who knew no law but his own will, thus falling into the snare she was so delicately spreading for him. Something of the satisfaction Van Amburgh might have felt when his tiger succumbed, spread its glow over her cheeks. Never in his coarse calculations had Ratcliff thought of showing Clara any further mercy than he had shown to the humblest of his concubines. And yet Josephine, by her apt suggestions, had half persuaded him, little given as he was to introspective analysis, that the idea of making the girl his wife had originated in his own mind! “Did he keep the whole story from her because he supposed Josy would be jealous?” asked the quadroon, with a caress. “Why, yes, Josy; to tell the truth, I thought there’d have to be a scene sure, when you found out I’d been educating such a girl with a view to her taking your place some time. So I kept dark. But you’re a trump,—you are! I shouldn’t wonder if you could acquire the same influence over her that you now have over my wife.” “Easily!” said Josephine. “I’ve seen her. I like her. I know we should agree. When she learns it was my wish you should emancipate and marry her, she will regard me as her friend. I can teach her not to be jealous of me.” “Capital!” exclaimed Ratcliff. “Josy can remain where she is in the family. Josy will not have to abdicate. There’ll be no unpleasant row between the two women. The whole thing can be harmoniously managed.” “Why not, Carberry? And let me say ’ would be folly to seize this girl rudely, wounding her pride and rousing her resentment. The true way is to decoy her gently till you get her into your possession, and then secure her by such means as I can suggest.” “Hang me, but you’re right again, Josy! I had thought of carrying her off this very day.” “Yes, I supposed so.” “Supposed so? Where in the name of all the devils did you get your information? For there’s but one person beside myself who knows anything about it.” “And that’s Mr. Tremaine!” “So it is, by Jove! How did you know it?” “I put this and that together, and drew an inference. You mean to place her again, for the present, at Mrs. Gentry’s.” “True! That was my plan. But I hadn’t mentioned it to a soul.” “What of that? Where one loves, one has such insight! But is there any one at Mrs. Gentry’s on whom you can rely to keep watch of the girl?” “Yes, there’s an old slave-woman,—Esha. She has a grudge against the little miss, and isn’t likely to be too indulgent.”