“But of what use is this paper?  The girl cannot read.  Shall I take the keys from her?” asked Vernon.

“The note will be sufficient.  Show it to her; she will pretend to read it, and would, if it were in Hebrew or Sanscrit,” said Maxwell, who then repeated the caution he had before given, not to betray the fact of his presence in the city.

Vernon presented the note to the negress, who, with a business-like air, opened it; and, though he could perceive that she held it up-side down, she examined it long and attentively, sputtering with her thick lips, as though actually engaged in the to her impossible operation of reading it.

“Dis alters de case, Massa.  Why you no show dis paper before?” said Dido, with an air of huge importance, which would have done credit to the captain of a country company of militia.

“Open the door, and don’t stop to chatter!” replied Vernon.

“Yes, Massa, I have read de letter, and now I knows dat Massa Guy wants you to see de leddy.  Dat alters de case.  I has nussin furder to say,” muttered Dido, as she unlocked the chamber door.

Emily was seated on a sofa, reading a book she had taken with her to while away the time on board of the steamer.

“Missus, a gemman, who hab brought a letter from Massa Guy,” said Dido, as she opened the door.

“Bring the letter, then,” replied Emily, scarcely raising her eyes from the book.

“No, Missus, de letter am for me, and I hab read it.  It orders me to ’mit dis gemman.”

“That is sufficient,” said Vernon, pushing the attendant back, and closing the door.

Emily rose; and great was her surprise at perceiving the son of her late benefactor.  An avalanche of doubt rushed through her mind, and she could not conjecture the occasion of this visit.  She had left him at his father’s house.  Had he forsaken his new-born repentance?  Was he again the minister of Maxwell’s evil purposes?  She had been a prey to the most distressing anticipations, and had now settled down into the calmness of resignation.  Resolved to die rather than become the bride of Maxwell, she had spent the hours and days of her imprisonment in nerving herself to meet whatever bitter fate might await her, in maintaining her purity and her principle.

The appearance of Jerome Vaudelier caused her a thrill of apprehension, but it was quickly supplanted by a feeling of interest in the individual himself.  Her own gloomy position seemed divested of its sombreness, as she felt that the penitence of the erring soul had not been a reality.

“Jerome Vaudelier, are you, too, the minister of a villain’s wishes?”

“Nay, Miss Dumont—­”

“Say that you are yet true to yourself; that you have not forgotten those solemn vows you made in the home of your father; say that you are not the tool of the vile Maxwell—­say it before you speak your business with me!”

“Miss Dumont, I acknowledge that the present appearance is against me; but I assure you I have come only as the minister of good to you.”