her grasp, but, being ordered to remain and wait upon table, she stood behind her mistress, carefully suppressing her sobs, though unable to keep back the tears that trickled down her cheeks.  The traveller was hungry; but this sight was a damper upon his appetite.  He was indignant at seeing such a timid young creature so roughly handled; but he dared not give utterance to his emotions, for fear of increasing the persecution to which she was subjected.  Afterward, when his host and hostess were absent from the room, and Louisa was clearing the table, impelled by a feeling of pity, which he could not repress, he laid his hand gently upon her head, and said, “Poor child!”

It was a simple phrase; but his kindly tones produced a mighty effect on that suffering little soul.  Her pent-up affections rushed forth like a flood when the gates are opened.  She threw herself into his arms, nestled her head upon his breast, and sobbed out, “Oh, I have nobody to love me now!” This outburst of feeling was so unexpected, that the young man felt embarrassed, and knew not what to do.  His aversion to disagreeable scenes amounted to a weakness; and he knew, moreover, that, if his hostess should become aware of his sympathy, her victim would fare all the worse for it.  Still, it was not in his nature to repel the affection that yearned toward him with so overwhelming an impulse.  He placed his hand tenderly on her head, and said, in a soothing voice, “Be quiet now, my little girl.  I hear somebody coming; and you know your mistress expects you to clear the table.”

Mrs. Jackson was in fact approaching, and Louisa hastily resumed her duties.

Had Mr. Noble been guilty of some culpable action, he could not have felt more desirous to escape the observation of his hostess.  As soon as she entered, he took up his hat hastily, and went out to ascertain whether his horse had been duly cared for.

He saw Louisa no more that night.  But as he lay awake, looking at a star that peeped in upon him through an opening in the log wall, he thought of her beautiful eyes, when the sun shone upon them, as she emerged from the shadows.  He wished that his mother and sister were living, that they might adopt the attractive child.  Then he remembered that she was a slave, reserved for the New Orleans market, and that it was not likely his good mother could obtain her, if she were alive and willing to undertake the charge.  Sighing, as he had often done, to think how many painful things there were which he had no power to remedy, he fell asleep and saw a very small girl dancing with a pail of water, while a flock of white doves were wheeling round her.  The two pictures had mingled on the floating cloud-canvas of dream-land.

He had paid for his entertainment before going to bed, and had signified his intention to resume his journey as soon as light dawned.  All was silent in the house when he went forth; and out of doors nothing was stirring but a dog that roused himself to bark after him, and chanticleer perched on a stump to crow.  He was, therefore, surprised to find Louisa at the crib where his horse was feeding.  Springing toward him, she exclaimed,—­