“Yes, Sandy, and he was a faithful servant, and proved worthy of all I did for him.”

“And w’en he had wo’ked fer you ten years, suh, you sot ’im free?”

“Yes, Sandy, he had earned his freedom.”

“An’ w’en de wah broke out, an’ my folks wuz scattered, an’ I didn’ have nothin’ ter do ner nowhar ter go, you kep’ me on yo’ place, and tuck me ter wait on you, suh, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sandy, and you have been a good servant and a good friend; but tell me now about this gold, and I’ll go and get you out of this, right away, for I need you, Sandy, and you’ll not be of any use to me shut up here!”

“Jes’ hol’ on a minute befo’ you go, Mars John; fer ef dem people outside should git holt er me befo’ you does git me out er here, I may never see you no mo’, suh, in dis worl’.  W’en Mars Billy McLean shot me by mistake, w’ile we wuz out huntin’ dat day, who wuz it boun’ up my woun’s an’ kep’ me from bleedin’ ter def, an’ kyar’ed me two miles on his own shoulders ter a doctuh?”

“Yes, Sandy, and when black Sally ran away with your young mistress and Tom, when Tom was a baby, who stopped the runaway, and saved their lives at the risk of his own?”

“Dat wa’n’t nothin’, suh; anybody could ‘a’ done dat, w’at wuz strong ernuff an’ swif’ ernuff.  You is be’n good ter me, suh, all dese years, an’ I’ve tried ter do my duty by you, suh, an’ by Mistuh Tom, who wuz yo’ own gran’son, an’ de las’ one er de fam’ly.”

“Yes, you have, Sandy, and when I am gone, which will not be very long, Tom will take care of you, and see that you never want.  But we are wasting valuable time, Sandy, in these old reminiscences.  Let us get back to the present.  Tell me about the gold, now, so that I may at once look after your safety.  It may not even be necessary for you to remain here all night.”

“Jes’ one wo’d mo’, Mars John, befo’ you go!  I know you’re gwine ter do de bes’ you kin fer me, an’ I’m sorry I can’t he’p you no mo’ wid it; but ef dere should be any accident, er ef you can’t git me out er here, don’ bother yo’ min’ ‘bout it no mo’, suh, an’ don’ git yo’se’f ixcited, fer you know de doctuh says, suh, dat you can’t stan’ ixcitement; but jes’ leave me in de han’s er de Lawd, suh,—­He’ll look after me, here er hereafter.  I know I’ve fell f’m grace mo’ d’n once, but I’ve done made my peace wid Him in dis here jail-house, suh, an’ I ain’t ‘feared ter die—­ef I haf ter.  I ain’ got no wife ner child’n ter mo’n fer me, an’ I’ll die knowin’ dat I’ve done my duty ter dem dat hi’ed me, an’ trusted me, an’ had claims on me.  Fer I wuz raise’ by a Delamere, suh, an’ all de ole Delameres wuz gent’emen, an’ deir principles spread ter de niggers ’round ’em, suh; an’ ef I has ter die fer somethin’ I didn’ do,—­I kin die, suh, like a gent’eman!  But ez fer dat gol’, suh, I ain’ gwine ter say one wo’d mo’ ’bout it ter nobody in dis worl’!”

Nothing could shake Sandy’s determination.  Mr. Delamere argued, expostulated, but all in vain.  Sandy would not speak.