“Col.  Zane, I do not feel that I owe your sister anything, and what I am going to tell you is simply because you have always been my friend, and I do not want you to have any wrong ideas about me.  I’ll tell you the truth and you can be the judge as to whether or not I insulted your sister.  I fell in love with her, almost at first sight.  The night after the Indians recaptured your brother, Betty and I stood out in the moonlight and she looked so bewitching and I felt so sorry for her and so carried away by my love for her that I yielded to a momentary impulse and kissed her.  I simply could not help it.  There is no excuse for me.  She struck me across the face and ran into the house.  I had intended that night to tell her of my love and place my fate in her hands, but, of course, the unfortunate occurrence made that impossible.  As I was to leave at dawn next day, I remained up all night, thinking what I ought to do.  Finally I decided to write.  I wrote her a letter, telling her all and begging her to become my wife.  I gave the letter to your slave, Sam, and told him it was a matter of life and death, and not to lose the letter nor fail to give it to Betty.  I have had no answer to that letter.  Today she coldly ignored me.  That is my story, Col.  Zane.”

“Well, I don’t believe she got the letter,” said Col.  Zane.  “She has not acted like a young lady who has had the privilege of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to you.  And Sam never had any use for you.  He disliked you from the first, and never failed to say something against you.”

“I’ll kill that d—­n nigger if he did not deliver that letter,” said Clarke, jumping up in his excitement.  “I never thought of that.  Good Heaven!  What could she have thought of me?  She would think I had gone away without a word.  If she knew I really loved her she could not think so terribly of me.”

“There is more to be explained, but I am satisfied with your side of it,” said Col.  Zane.  “Now I’ll go to Sam and see what has become of that letter.  I am glad I am justified in thinking of you as I have.  I imagine this thing has hurt you and I don’t wonder at it.  Maybe we can untangle the problem yet.  My advice would be—­but never mind that now.  Anyway, I’m your friend in this matter.  I’ll let you know the result of my talk with Sam.”

“I thought that young fellow was a gentleman,” mused Col.  Zane as he crossed the green square and started up the hill toward the cabins.  He found the old negro seated on his doorstep.

“Sam, what did you do with a letter Mr. Clarke gave you last October and instructed you to deliver to Betty?”

“I dun recollec’ no lettah, sah,” replied Sam.

“Now, Sam, don’t lie about it.  Clarke has just told me that he gave you the letter.  What did you do with it?”

“Masse Zane, I ain dun seen no lettah,” answered the old darkey, taking a dingy pipe from his mouth and rolling his eyes at his master.