Among the most zealous of the church members, and among those who never failed to be present at Phædra's weekly prayer meetings, was a young and pretty quadroon, named Fannie. She was a free girl and an orphan, and was employed as shop girl in a hair dresser's and fancy store kept by a respectable old French couple in the city of M. But though her home and her business was in town, and there were also two or three "colored missions" in that place, yet Fannie preferred to walk out every Sunday morning to the little log meeting-house in Magnolia Grove. And those who were envious of Fannie's beauty did not scruple to say that she came out so far for the sake of hearing Brother Valentine pray or exhort, or to let him hear her sing; for Fannie had a voice that might have made her fortune, had she been white, and had it been cultivated. However that might be, Phædra loved Fannie as if she had been her own daughter, and she always took her home from meeting, to dine and spend the afternoon at Red Hill. And after an early tea, Valentine always walked home with Fannie to the city. It is also true that Valentine became a frequent customer at Leroux's, the hair-dresser's and fancy store where Fannie was employed; and as Valentine not only made his own but also his master's purchases, and as he had a _carte blanche_ for the same, his custom was of no trifling importance to the establishment. But, valuable as was this patronage, as soon as the proprietors began to suspect the nature of the attraction to their store, they felt it to be their duty to warn the young girl, which they would do in something like these terms: "Take my advice, Fannie, and send that young fellow about his business; he may be a very good young man, I dare say; but he is a slave, and never will be able to do anything for you," Monsieur Leroux would say. "You are free, Fannie, and you are very pretty, and all that; and you might look a great deal higher than that," would say Madam Leroux. "Think, _ma fille_, if you take him, you will always have yourself and your family to support, for you never can have any help from a slave husband"--thus Monsieur Leroux. "Consider, _mon enfant_, if you marry him, he may be sold away next year, or next month, even! How would you like that?" thus Madam Leroux. And Fannie would blush, or smile, or pout, or drop a tear, or say to herself: "Poor Valley! Maybe something may happen to set him free! Maybe I might work hard, and save money enough to"--she could not bring herself to say buy--"ransom him! And, anyhow, it is not his fault if he is not free. And it must be hard enough, the dear knows, to be as he is, without my letting him think that it makes any difference to me." Obstacles and objections which, to cooler-hearted and clearer-headed people would seem very formidable, if not entirely conclusive, were but slight impediments in the way of these humble lovers.