“Certainly, Ann.  Good-night.”

At the door she turned back with a new and relieving thought.  “Suppose I—­or we—­buy this man’s freedom.”

“If I owned him that would not be required after what you have told me, but Woodburn is an obstinate, rather stern man, and will refuse, I fear, to sell—­”

“What will he do with Josiah if he is returned to him as the Act orders?”

“Oh! once a runaway—­and the man is no good?—­he would probably sell him to be sent South.”

She rose and for a moment stood still in the darkness, and then crying, “The pity of it, my God, the pity of it!” went away without the usual courtesy of good-night.

George Grey, when left to his own company, somewhat amazed, began to wish he had never had a hand in this business.  Ann Penhallow went up to her room, although it was as yet early, leaving John in the library and Grey with a neglected cigar on the porch.  In the bedroom over his shop the man most concerned sat industriously reading the Tribune.

Ann sat down to think.  The practical application of a creed to conduct is not always easy.  All her young life had been among kindly considered slaves.  Mr. Woodburn had a right to his property.  The law provided for the return of slaves if they ran away.  She suddenly realized that this man’s future fate was in her power, and she both liked and respected him, and he had been hurt in their service.  Oh! why was not James at home?  Could she sit still and let things go their way while the mechanism of the law worked.  Between head and heart there was much argument.  Her imagination pictured Josiah’s future.  Had he deserved a fate so sad?  She fell on her knees and prayed for help.  At last she rose and went down to the library.  John laid down his book and stood up.  The young face greeted her pleasantly, as she said, “Sit down, John, I want to talk to you.  Can you keep a secret?”

“Why—­yes—­Aunt Ann.  What is it?”

“I mean, John, keep it so that no one will guess you have a secret.”

“I think I can,” he replied, much surprised and very curious.

“You are young, John, but in your uncle’s absence there is no one else to whom I can turn for help.  Now, listen.  Has Mr. Grey gone to bed?”

“Yes, aunt.”

She leaned toward him, speaking low, almost in a whisper, “I do not want to explain, I only want to tell you something.  Josiah is a runaway slave, John.”

“Yes, aunt, he told me all about it.”

“Did he, indeed!”

“Yes, we are great friends—­I like him—­and he trusted me.  What’s the matter now?” He was quick to understand that Josiah was in some danger.  Naturally enough he remembered the man’s talk and his one fear—­recapture.

“George Grey has recognised Josiah as a runaway slave of a Mr. Woodburn—­” She was most unwilling to say plainly, “Go and warn him.”

He started up.  “And they mean to take him back?”