the cheeks; her eyes sparkled, her nostrils fluttered with triumph.  She looked so exultant that more than one wondered if she were intoxicated with her own beauty; but Dr. Hamilton understood, and his supper lost its relish.  Some time since he had concluded that where Mary Fawcett failed he could not hope to succeed, but he had done his duty and lectured his cousin.  He understood human nature from its heights to its dregs, however, and promised Hamilton his unaltered friendship, even while in the flood of remonstrance.  He was a philosopher, who invariably held out his hand to the Inevitable, with a shrug of his shoulders, but he loved Rachael, and wished that the ship that brought Levine to the Islands had encountered a hurricane.

The guests started for home at one o’clock, few taking the same path.  The tired slaves went down to their huts.  Rachael remained on the mountain, and Hamilton returned to her.

XII

It was a month later that Rachael, returning after a long ride with Hamilton, found her mother just descended from the family coach.

“Is it possible that you have been to pay visits?” she asked, as she hastened to support the feeble old woman up the steps.

“No, I have been to Basseterre with Archibald Hamn.”

“Not to St. Peter’s, I hope.”

“Oh, my dear, I do not feel in the mood to jest.  I went to court to secure the future of my three dear slaves, Rebecca, Flora, and Esther.”

Rachael placed her mother on one of the verandah chairs and dropped upon another.

“Why have you done that?” she asked faintly.  “Surely—­”

“There are several things I fully realize, and one is that each attack leaves me with less vitality to resist the next.  These girls are the daughters of my dear old Rebecca, who was as much to me as a black ever can be to a white, and that is saying a good deal.  I have just signed a deed of trust before the Registrar—­to Archibald.  They are still mine for the rest of my life, yours for your lifetime, or as long as you live here; then they go to Archibald or his heirs.  I want you to promise me that they shall never go beyond this Island or Nevis.”

“I promise.”  Rachael had covered her face with her hand.

“I believe you kept the last promise you made me.  It is not in your character to break your word, however you may see fit to take the law into your own hands.”

“I kept it.”

“And you will live with him openly after my death.  I have appreciated your attempt to spare me.”

“Ah, you do know me.”

“Some things may escape my tired old eyes, but I love you too well not to have seen for a month past that you were as happy as a bride.  I shall say no more—­save for a few moments with James Hamilton.  I am old and ill and helpless.  You are young and indomitable.  If I were as vigorous and self-willed as when I left your father, I could not control you now.  I shall leave you independent.  Will Hamilton, Archibald, and a few others will stand by you; but alas! you will, in the course of nature, outlive them all, and have no friend in the world but Hamilton—­although I shall write an appeal to your sisters to be sent to them after my death.  But oh, how I wish, how I wish, that you could marry this man.”