“Lor’ bless yer soul, honey, no he ain’t! De dear ole angel, he never was no gamekeeper! De darlin’ ole creetur is too free-hearted to keep any thing, much less game, when dat delikky chile in dere might want it for her breakfas’.” “Oh! you have mistaken my meaning, but I will tell you all about it,” said Susan, as she went around to the back door to admit the kind-hearted old woman. And that morning, while old Amphy picked the red-neck and dressed it for breakfast, Susan let her into some of the mysteries of the game laws as they existed in the “old country.” Whereupon, the namesake of the Ocean Queen expressed her astonishment and indignation “Dat any lords an’ ladies should ’sume for to ’nopolize de Lord’s free, wild creeturs as was ev’dently ’tended for de good of all, bofe black an’ white; and she thank de Lord, _she_ did, as she lived in a free country, where no sich divilments ’vailed!” Susan laughed gayly at the old woman’s excitement, and then soothed her by praising her zeal, and skill in cooking. This day passed much as the preceding one had done. Susan, in generous self-control, refrained from disturbing her mistress with the gloomy story of the apparition in the graveyard, and which now, in daylight, she tried to persuade herself to have been only the effect of imagination. She determined, however, not to leave her window bare and exposed to the visits of such a frightful spectre, however it might have been conjured up; so she took the skirt of a long green merino riding-dress, and manufactured a thick curtain, which she hung up at the window beside her bed. Consequently, that night, if the ghost walked in the graveyard, Susan did not know it; by diligently saying over her prayers, she fell asleep, and her rest remained undisturbed. Nor was she again troubled with ghostly visions up to the night previous to the arrival of Barbara Brande’s vessel. CHAPTER XX. LORD MONTRESSOR’S ARRIVAL. “Oh! had we never, never met, Or, would this heart e’en now forget, How linked how blest we might have been Had fate not frowned so dark between!”—_Moore._ That was a glorious morning, as I said, in the golden month of October. Susan had risen very early, and was already in the kitchen when Amphy arrived. The face of the old creature was all aglow as she entered, exclaiming: “Mornin’ to yer, honey! Mornin’!” “Why, mother Amphy, you look as overjoyed as if somebody had left you a fortune!” said Susan. “Better an’ dat, honey; please my Heabenly Marster, it is, chile; better ’an dat. Miss Barbara ’riv’—come out’n here an’ let me show you a beautiful sight!” Susan followed her through the hall and out at the front door, where the stopped and stood upon the old rickety porch, while Amphy pointed out at sea, exclaiming: “Dar; what you tink o’ _dat_?”