“Then,” said Robert, “I can give you that assurance,” and smilingly he lifted his hair from his temple, on which was a large, red spot.

“I am satisfied,” exclaimed Iola, fixing her eyes, beaming with hope and confidence, on Robert.  “Oh, I am so glad that I can, without the least hesitation, accept your services to join with me in the further search.  What are your plans?”

“To stop for awhile in C——­,” said Robert, “and gather all the information possible from those who sold and bought my mother.  I intend to leave no stone un-turned in searching for her.”

“Oh, I do hope that you will succeed.  I expect to stop over there a few days, and I shall be so glad if, before I leave, I hear your search has been crowned with success, or, a least, that you have been put on the right track.  Although I was born and raised in the midst of slavery, I had not the least idea of its barbarous selfishness till I was forced to pass through it.  But we lived so much alone I had no opportunity to study it, except on our own plantation.  My father and mother were very kind to their slaves.  But it was slavery, all the same, and I hate it, root and branch.”

Just then the conductor called out the station.

“We stop here,” said Robert.  “I am going to see Mrs. Johnson, and hunt up some of my old acquaintances.  Where do you stop?”

“I don’t know,” replied Iola.  “I expect that friends will be here to meet us.  Bishop B——­, permit me to introduce you to Mr. Robert Johnson, whom I have every reason to believe is my mother’s brother.  Like myself, he is engaged in hunting up his lost relatives.”

“And I,” said Robert, “am very much pleased to know that we are not without favorable clues.”

“Bishop,” said Iola, “Mr. Johnson wishes to know where I am to stop.  He is going on an exploring expedition, and wishes to let me know the result.”

“We stop at Mrs. Allston’s, 313 New Street,” said the bishop.  “If I can be of any use to you, I am at your service.”

“Thank you,” said Robert, lifting his hat, as he left them to pursue his inquiries about his long-lost mother.

Quickly he trod the old familiar streets which led to his former home.  He found Mrs. Johnson, but she had aged very fast since the war.  She was no longer the lithe, active woman, with her proud manner and resolute bearing.  Her eye had lost its brightness, her step its elasticity, and her whole appearance indicated that she was slowly sinking beneath a weight of sorrow which was heavier far than her weight of years.  When she heard that Robert had called to see her she was going to receive him in the hall, as she would have done any of her former slaves, but her mind immediately changed when she saw him.  He was not the light-hearted, careless, mischief-loving Robby of former days, but a handsome man, with heavy moustache, dark, earnest eyes, and proud military bearing.  He smiled, and reached out his hand to her.  She