“My pore baby,” said Mam Liza, with broken sobs.  “I’se drefful sorry.  My heart’s most broke into two.”  Then, controlling herself, she dismissed the servants who stood around, weeping, and led Marie to her room.

“Come, honey, lie down an’ lem’me git yer a cup ob tea.”

“Oh, no; I don’t want anything,” said Marie, wringing her hands in bitter agony.

“Oh, honey,” said Mam Liza, “yer musn’t gib up.  Yer knows whar to put yer trus’.  Yer can’t lean on de arm of flesh in dis tryin’ time.”  Kneeling by the side of her mistress she breathed out a prayer full of tenderness, hope, and trust.

Marie grew calmer.  It seemed as if that earnest, trustful prayer had breathed into her soul a feeling of resignation.

Gracie stood wonderingly by, vainly trying to comprehend the great sorrow which was overwhelming the life of her mother.

After the first great burst of sorrow was over, Marie sat down to her desk and wrote a letter to Iola, informing her of her father’s death.  By the time she had finished it she grew dizzy and faint, and fell into a swoon.  Mammy Liza tenderly laid her on the bed, and helped restore her to consciousness.

Lorraine, having heard of his cousin’s death, came immediately to see Marie.  She was too ill to have an interview with him, but he picked up the letter she had written and obtained Iola’s address.

Lorraine made a careful investigation of the case, to ascertain whether Marie’s marriage was valid.  To his delight he found there was a flaw in the marriage and an informality in the manumission.  He then determined to invalidate Marie’s claim, and divide the inheritance among Leroy’s white relations.  In a short time strangers, distant relatives of her husband, became frequent visitors at the plantation, and made themselves offensively familiar.  At length the dreadful storm burst.

Alfred Lorraine entered suit for his cousin’s estate, and for the remanding of his wife and children to slavery.  In a short time he came armed with legal authority, and said to Marie:—­

“I have come to take possession of these premises.”

“By what authority?” she gasped, turning deathly pale.  He hesitated a moment, as if his words were arrested by a sense of shame.

“By what authority?” she again demanded.

“By the authority of the law,” answered Lorraine, “which has decided that Leroy’s legal heirs are his white blood relations, and that your marriage is null and void.”

“But,” exclaimed Marie, “I have our marriage certificate.  I was Leroy’s lawful wife.”

“Your marriage certificate is not worth the paper it is written on.”

“Oh, you must be jesting, cruelly jesting.  It can’t be so.”

“Yes; it is so.  Judge Starkins has decided that your manumission is unlawful; your marriage a bad precedent, and inimical to the welfare of society; and that you and your children are remanded to slavery.”