“And yo' think I ought to have accepted him?” she said slowly. “No! but--you know--you told me”--he began hurriedly. But she had already risen, and was shaking out the folds of her dress. “We're not talking BUSINESS co'nnle--and business was my only excuse for coming here, and taking Sophy's place. I'll send her in to yo', now.” “But, Miss Dows!--Miss Sally!” She stopped--hesitated--a singular weakness for so self-contained a nature--and then slowly produced from her pocket a second letter--the one that Courtland had directed to the company. “I didn't read THIS letter, as I just told yo' co'nnle, for I reckon I know what's in it, but I thought I'd bring it with me too, in case YO' CHANGED YO'R MIND.” He raised himself on his pillow as she turned quickly away; but in that single vanishing glimpse of her bright face he saw what neither he nor any one else had ever seen upon the face of Sally Dows--a burning blush! “Miss Sally!” He almost leaped from the bed, but she was gone. There was another rustle at the door--the entrance of Sophy. “Call her back, Sophy, quick!” he said. The negress shook her turbaned head. “Not much, honey! When Miss Sally say she goes--she done gone, shuah!” “But, Sophy!” Perhaps something in the significant face of the girl tempted him; perhaps it was only an impulse of his forgotten youth. “Sophy!” appealingly--“tell me!--is Miss Sally engaged to her cousin?” “Wat dat?” said Sophy in indignant scorn. “Miss Sally engaged to dat Dumont! What fo'? Yo' 're crazy! No!” “Nor Champney? Tell me, Sophy, has she a LOVER?” For a moment the whites of Sophy's eyes were uplifted in speechless scorn. “Yo' ask dat! Yo' lyin' dar wid dat snake-bit arm! Yo' lyin' dar, and Miss Sally--who has only to whistle to call de fust quality in de State raoun her--coming and going here wid you, and trotting on yo'r arrants--and yo' ask dat! Yes! she has a lover, and what's me', she CAN'T HELP IT; and yo' 're her lover; and what's me', YO' can't help it either! And yo' can't back out of it now--bo'fe of yo'--nebber! Fo' yo' 're hers, and she's yo'rs--fo' ebber. For she sucked yo' blood.” “What!” gasped Courtland, aghast at what he believed to be the sudden insanity of the negress. “Yes! Whar's yo'r eyes? whar's yo'r years? who's yo' dat yo' didn't see nor heah nuffin? When dey dragged yo' outer de swamp dat night--wid de snake-bite freshen yo'r arm--didn't SHE, dat poh chile!--dat same Miss Sally--frow herself down on yo', and put dat baby mouf of hers to de wound and suck out de pizen and sabe de life ob yo' at de risk ob her own? Say? And if dey's any troof in Hoodoo, don't dat make yo' one blood and one soul! Go way, white man! I'm sick of yo'. Stop dar! Lie down dar! Hol' on, co'nnle, for massy's sake. Well, dar--I'll call her back!” And she did!