Uncle David was frightened and crept away to Brother Green, where he sat hour after hour mournfully watching the fire. It was on one of these days when he was in the forge that a young negro on a raw-boned Indian pony rode up to Madame, who was on the point of starting for her daily expedition to Ezra’s, and inquired “whar ole man Weston lived,” as he had a message for him. Instead of answering directly, Madame endeavoured to find out what the boy wanted of Ezra. The little darkie thereupon produced a scrap of crumpled paper from the recesses of his ragged shirt and informed Madame he wanted to give him “dat ar’.” Madame took the paper, opened it, and gave a gasp. Then in a moment she recovered herself with an effort, and assured the negro it was all right, and that she would see to it. She made most particular inquiries as to where he lived, and then sent him off, happy with a piece of corn-bread and a dollar for himself. Having thus got rid of the negro lad, Madame proceeded on her way to Ezra’s house in order to perform her daily task there. She seemed strangely excited, and her blue eyes glittered like sapphires. Her whole bearing was that of a person labouring under intense excitement, all traces of which she was endeavouring to conceal. Her very voice had a new ring in it as she talked with Ezra, and her breath came quick and fast. Had his senses been less dulled by suffering, he could not have failed to notice the change in her, notwithstanding her efforts at concealment. He was sitting, looking with unseeing eyes across the vacant cornfield, when suddenly she spoke. “Ezra, let us go away from this place. Let us leave all the recollections of Perfection City behind us, and begin life afresh.” He turned his eyes upon her with a slow questioning look, showing how far away had been his thoughts at the moment. “How can we leave this place? There is too much money and too much labour sunk in it for us all to leave and go to some other spot.” “Not all, dear friend, only you and I,” said Madame, in her caressing voice. Ezra started. “That is even more impossible,” he said, in great agitation. “Why impossible? I have money. It will more than suffice for all our needs, nay, it will give us all the luxuries we can sigh for.” “It is not that, but you forget——” “No, Ezra, I don’t forget, but I want you to forget. I want you to draw a wet sponge over the recollection of the past and begin anew. It is not too late.” “You don’t know what you are saying, Madame. You cannot mean it.” “I do mean it, and I know what it means. You have no tie——” Ezra shivered. “Neither have I. We are both free to make our lives what we list.” “You mistake, we are both tied by all our past lives, and with bonds that may not be lightly broken. We are tied by our own feelings as well as by the good opinion of the world at large.” Madame snapped her fingers with scorn.