He sprang from his seat, and clutched my hands. 'Do you believe it? Joe says so; but Joe is a nigger, and what does a _nigger_ know?' Then, putting his mouth close to my ear, he added: 'They told me _she_ was one. It was false--false as hell; but'--and he threw his arms above his head, and groaned the rest--'but it made me say it. O my GOD! my GOD! it made me say it!' His head sank on my shoulder, and again he gave out those piteous moans. 'Have comfort, my boy. I know she loves and pities you, _now_!' He looked up. 'Say that again! For the love of God say that again!' 'It is so! As sure as there's another life, it is so!' He gazed at me fixedly for a few moments--then again commenced pacing the room. 'I wish I could believe it. But _you_ ought to know; you look like a parson. You are a parson, aren't you?' 'Yes; I'm a parson. I _know_ it is so!' 'Well, tell them to hurry up. I want to go to her at once--_now_! I can't live another week in this way. Tell them to hurry up.' 'Yes, I will; and you'll go with me to-morrow, won't you?' He gave me again, a long, scrutinizing look. 'You're the sheriff, aren't you?' 'Yes.' 'Well, then, I'll go with you. But you must promise to make short work of it.' 'Yes, yes; I'll promise that. But lie down now, and be quiet. I'll be ready for you in the morning.' 'Well, well, I'll try to be patient;' and he threw himself on the small cot in one corner of the room. 'But you'll let old Joe stay with me, won't you?' 'Yes; certainly.' 'Thank you, sir. Joe, bring me a cigar--that's a good fellow. You're the decentest nigger I ever knew. It's an awful pity you're black. They told me _she_ was black. 'Twas an infernal lie! I know it, for I saw her last night, and she was whiter than any woman you ever saw. Black! Pshaw! nobody but the devil's black; and _she_--she's an angel NOW!' As we passed out of the room, Joe said to me: 'Would you like to see Selma?' 'Have you kept the body?' 'Yes; I knew you would want to see her.' He led the way up stairs to her chamber. In a plain, air-tight coffin, lay all that was left of the slave girl. Her hands were crossed on her bosom; her long, glossy, brown hair fell over her neck, and on her face was the look the angels wear. She seemed not dead, but sleeping! As I turned away, Joe took my hand, and, while a nervous spasm passed over his face, he said: 'She was all that I had; but I--I forgive him!' 'And for that, GOD will forgive _you_!' The next day we buried her. * * * * * 'Boss Joe' accompanied us to the North. We reached home just after dark. When we entered the parlor, Frank gazed around with an eager, curious look, as if some familiar scene was returning to him. In a few moments Kate entered. She rushed to him, and clasped him in her arms. He took her face between his two hands, and looked long and earnestly at her. Then, dropping his head on her shoulder, and bursting into tears, he cried: 'My mother! O my mother!'