“That may be true; but I wasn’t reasoned into it, and I do not expect to be reasoned out of it.”

“Will you accompany me North?”

“No; except to put you in an insane asylum.  You are the greatest crank out,” said Lorraine, thoroughly disgusted.

“No, thank you; I’m all right.  I expect to start North to-morrow.  You had better come and go.”

“I would rather follow you to your grave,” replied Lorraine, hotly, while an expression of ineffable scorn passed over his cold, proud face.

CHAPTER X.

SHADOWS IN THE HOME.

On the next morning after this conversation Leroy left for the North, to attend the commencement and witness the graduation of his ward.  Arriving in Ohio, he immediately repaired to the academy and inquired for the principal.  He was shown into the reception-room, and in a few moments the principal entered.

“Good morning,” said Leroy, rising and advancing towards him; “how is my ward this morning?”

“She is well, and has been expecting you.  I am glad you came in time for the commencement.  She stands among the foremost in her class.”

“I am glad to hear it.  Will you send her this?” said Leroy, handing the principal a card.  The principal took the card and immediately left the room.

Very soon Leroy heard a light step, and looking up he saw a radiantly beautiful woman approaching him.

“Good morning, Marie,” he said, greeting her cordially, and gazing upon her with unfeigned admiration.  “You are looking very handsome this morning.”

“Do you think so?” she asked, smiling and blushing.  “I am glad you are not disappointed; that you do not feel your money has been spent in vain.”

“Oh, no, what I have spent on your education has been the best investment I ever made.”

“I hope,” said Marie, “you may always find it so.  But Mas——­”

“Hush!” said Leroy, laying his hand playfully on her lips; “you are free.  I don’t want the dialect of slavery to linger on your lips.  You must not call me that name again.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a nearer and dearer one by which I wish to be called.”

Leroy drew her nearer, and whispered in her ear a single word.  She started, trembled with emotion, grew pale, and blushed painfully.  An awkward silence ensued, when Leroy, pressing her hand, exclaimed:  “This is the hand that plucked me from the grave, and I am going to retain it as mine; mine to guard with my care until death us do part.”

Leroy looked earnestly into her eyes, which fell beneath his ardent gaze.  With admirable self-control, while a great joy was thrilling her heart, she bowed her beautiful head and softly repeated, “Until death us do part.”

Leroy knew Southern society too well to expect it to condone his offense against its social customs, or give the least recognition to his wife, however cultured, refined, and charming she might be, if it were known that she had the least infusion of negro blood in her veins.  But he was brave enough to face the consequences of his alliance, and marry the woman who was the choice of his heart, and on whom his affections were centred.