"See here, Daddy Fox! I thought what you was up to, so I stopped to give this 'vice! Ef Valley's took up, we shall all know who slipped the bloodhounds on him, an' then some dark night somethin' will happen to you so sudden you won't never know what hurt you! Tain't only me, but a great many more is a-watchin' of you!" And with this brief and pithy exordium Joe released Portiphar, or rather spurned him forward, and went his own way. This threat put the old man in a cold sweat of terror. He knew the strong fellow-feeling among his own class; that, even in the dangerous number of twenty persons, it would keep Valentine's secret; that he himself was suspected as a traitor; that, if Valentine should now be arrested, his own life might not be safe with those of the meeting who were not professing Christians; and he resolved to guide himself accordingly. Several weeks passed in safety to the wretched young man. But, released from the awful solitude and silence of his own heavily-burdened soul, free to come among a few of his fellow-creatures, free to speak of the deep sorrow and remorse that consumed his heart, among those who pitied and shrank not from him, who prayed for and with him, Valentine's mind began to recover its healthy tone; he did not cease to mourn his crime, but he mourned no longer as one without hope; he was again received into the little brotherhood of the church, the simple ceremony being performed in the lone cabin; again he became the man of fervent prayer and eloquent exhortation; and powerful, far more powerful, was he now, through his terrible experiences and profound repentance, than ever he had been. To his confidant brother, Elisha, he was accustomed to say: "I know I shall not finally escape the earthly punishment of my crime. I know that sooner or later it must come; nor do I wish to avoid it; yet will I do nothing to hasten its arrival; but when it shall come, I will accept it." To which Elisha would reply: "Our lives are in the hands of the Lord," or words to that purpose. Weeks grew into months, spring ripened into summer, and summer waned into autumn, and still Valentine lived unmolested. At length, however, near the last of September, a rumor got afloat that Valentine, the murderer of Mr. Waring, was concealed somewhere in the neighborhood of his late master's residence. How this report first got in circulation no one seemed to be able to tell; though how the secret, known to twenty people, had been guarded so long may be more of a subject for conjecture to many minds. Be that as it may, the peace of the unhappy little family was gone forever. Phædra's lonely cabin in the pine barrens and Fannie's humble home in the city were subject to sudden invasions and searchings by day and by night. Their weekly prayer-meetings were surprised and broken up. But no trace of Valentine could be discovered; as unexpectedly as he had appeared, so suddenly had he again disappeared. The earth seemed to have swallowed him.