“You must tell Rhoda about that,” Mrs. Ware exclaimed. “Let her see that there is some virtue in slaveholders. It’s just her notion about slavery being wrong that keeps you apart, Jeff. If you could only convince her that there is as much right in it as there is in anything in this world, where nothing is all right, I believe she’d give up. I’ve tried to, but she seems to think I don’t know enough about it, in general, for what I say to have any influence. Talk to her about it, Jeff, and make her see plainly how we of the South feel about it. You know how necessary slave labor is to the South, and all that side of it. She has heard only the things the abolitionists say, here in the North, and she’s all taken up with that. But you can give her the other side, as a southern man with one of the best and kindest of hearts, who has studied the question thoroughly. If you can only convince her that slavery is right, dear boy, or even best for the niggers, as we know it is, you’ll win the day--and make me almost as happy as you will Rhoda, or yourself!” “It is good advice, madam, and I shall follow it. I have begun to understand that I must win Rhoda’s head before she will give up her heart. But I shall win them both, and call you ‘mother’ yet!” “Heaven grant it, dear boy, for you were made for each other, you and my dear girl!” She rose to take her leave, but Charlotte came with fresh medicines for the invalid and bustled about the room preparing his draughts. Mrs. Ware, with an eye upon her daughter’s graceful movements, sat down again and talked of ordinary affairs until she thought Charlotte had spent as much time there as was needful. Then she summoned that young lady to go with her and assist at certain rites in the kitchen. But Rhoda would not visit the sick-chamber through all the forenoon. Why she was staying away she scarcely knew, except that she said to herself several times during the long hours of the morning, “He won’t miss me if Charlotte’s there.” Jeff had obeyed her injunction that he must not speak of love, and during the last two days had kept careful curb upon his tongue and close watch upon the language of his eyes. And she missed more than she would admit to herself the outbreaks of those heretofore unruly members. She shared her father’s suspense over the election that was going on and during the forenoon, whenever he was alone in his office, she went in to ask him if he had heard any news and to talk over the situation. More than ever, this fall, he was making a companion of her and discussing with her as freely as he did with Horace Hardaker and his other anti-slavery friends, the plans and movements of the anti-slavery people, and the prospects of the Republican party. She was a good listener, rarely making comments unless she had something worth while to say, and usually he found what she did say clear-thoughted and sensible.