“Elsie does know it, darling mother. Elsie knows it all. God nor angels would suffer her to be kept in ignorance of it—of all the sufferings—of all the sacrifice that has made it her duty never to leave you nor forsake you again. And may Heaven forsake me, mother, the hour that ever I leave you again!” “Oh, Elsie! good, but rash child, have you ventured to come back here? Oh, Elsie!” And Alice threw her arms around the neck of her daughter, and clasped her to her bosom, and both wept copiously. At last—“Tell me what has happened, dearest child. I have no recollection of anything since my swoon,” said Alice, in a faint voice, slipping from the embrace of Elsie. “Mother, darling mother, won’t you please to rest now, without asking any questions? You must be so weak,” replied Elsie, laying her gently down, and arranging the cover over her. “I feel weak, yet well, light, renewed; but I won’t ask questions that will pain you to answer, dear child. I am almost certain of what has occurred. I swooned, and was picked up by one of the women and brought to this quarter, and she sent for you. Dear Elsie, I am afraid she alarmed you. Did Magnus come, too?” “Yes, dearest Mrs. Garnet, I am here,” said Dr. Hardcastle, advancing to the bedside with a cordial in his hand. Elsie raised her mother once more, and taking the restorative draught, placed it to her lips. Alice drank it, and then said: “Magnus, Elsie, I am afraid they have told you a dreadful tale of what occurred to me after you left the house. Dearest, you must not believe all that you may have heard, and you must excuse the rest. You know negroes, especially negro women, will exaggerate. They do not intentionally transcend the truth, but their quick fancies and warm sympathies lead them into extravagance. General Garnet, in the temporary insanity of rage, has done something violent, no doubt; but not so violent as has appeared to you, and no doubt he regrets his anger now. Elsie, do not think too hardly of your father. Give him time. All will come right at last. In the meanwhile, darling, I must return to the house. I must not seem inclined to make the most of his anger by absenting myself. Dearest Elsie, this morning we must part again. We will take breakfast together in this humble quarter, and then we must part, dear child, until better times. You must go with your husband, Elsie, and I must return to mine,” said Alice, lifting up her arms and embracing her child. Elsie looked at Magnus in despair. He stooped, and said: “Dear Mrs. Garnet, you must sleep now. I am your physician as well as your son. You must be silent, close your eyes, and lie still.”