During this speech the old negro had raised himself from the knee of Sir Henry, and grasped his arm, with that anxious confidence the unhappy only can feel when relieved by the hand of benevolence; each word struck as a chord on his heart, and told him he was supported by a friend.--"Seek you Louise de St. Ursule?" he hesitatingly asked. The quick ear of Harland caught the sound, and, springing toward him, he demanded if he knew aught of Louise? "I do," answered the slave, with reserve, "and if this European seek her, will direct him to her." "Tell me this instant," said Harland; "on your life I charge you!" "You may take it, if you please," said the negro coolly, "and afterward find her if you can. I am a slave, and, as you said, a runaway! If I discover the European woman to you, in return, perhaps, you would deliver me to a merciless master, to expire beneath the whip." Harland deserved not the supposition; cruelty formed no part of his character, though truly the child of pride. Unused to entreat, he had demanded the information he would not have regretted half his fortune to have obtained. The answer of the slave stung him to the heart; and, though Louise was at stake, he would have retorted with the wildest acrimony, had not Sir Henry prevented him, by saying to the slave--"If you be the means of restoring Louise to us, I promise to procure your pardon, if the interest of the Governor can effect it; and your liberty, if your owner will dispose of you." The slave half rose, looked wistfully in the face of Sir Henry: the name of liberty sounded sweetly on his ear, and made his heart beat with unwonted velocity. Yet a momentary doubt shot across his brain. Mankind had ever been his enemy; could he then give credit to the flattering promise?--The countenance of Sir Henry beamed with philanthropy and truth; suspicion vanished; and, rising from the ground, he cried--"I will believe you.--Pursue the path you are in, and I will conduct you to her." "You forget your late accident," said Sir Henry; "let me assist you." "I am, I believe," said the old man, "more capable of walking than you. Slavery has inured me to fatigue. Neither am I materially hurt. I was exhausted when you came to my assistance, and stunned by the last blow I received. But your timely interposition saved my life, and freely now shall you command it." He conducted them, by private paths, to a plantation near Ferrand Grove; in which, after some time, he pointed out a small cottage, so concealed by the foliage that it might have escaped the eyes of a casual observer.--"I can proceed no farther," he said, "without danger of being seen and retaken, which would inevitably bring me to a merciless death. There is the cottage I yester-evening fled from; and there is Louise de St. Ursule confined."