relation which the hearts of the lovers had recognized,—­pity he did not!  Uncle Nathan, whom Pat had described in glowing colors,—­none are more highly esteemed than those who confer the most solid benefits,—­seemed to him the proper person, especially as Pat had seen her speak to him after the accident.  An honest man is so easily known, that the poor Irishman’s instinctive knowledge of human nature imparted the most correct information.

“I am your friend, and I trust the Lord will always put it into my heart to befriend the unfortunate,” said Uncle Nathan, in answer to Hatchie’s remark.

“It is not on my own account that I need a friend,” said Hatchie, in a melancholy tone, for the responsibility which rested upon him had solemnized his mind, and banished all reflections of self.  “It matters little what becomes of me.  But, sir, you are a stranger to me, and I know not that I may trust you.”

“Nor I nuther, till I know what you want of me.  If it is an honest sarvice, one that I can do without goin’ agin my conscience, why, I am ready to do anything to help a feller-cretur.”

“The service I am about to request,” replied Hatchie, his doubts in a great measure removed by the apparent sincerity of his auditor, “can be done honestly; and, if your conscience approves any act, it will approve this one.”

“Very well, I will act for you to the best of my judgment, and use all the discretion that natur gave me, and a little I larned by the way-side.  Partrick tells me you want to talk with the lady whose life you saved last night.”

“Not exactly to talk with her, but about her.  I feel that I can trust you, even with her destiny.  That lady is my mistress.  She is an angel of goodness.  I am perfectly willing to be her slave, so that it was not to gain my freedom I escaped in this box.  It was to save her from a cruel wrong which her uncle would inflict upon her.”

“That old gentleman who is with her?” interrupted Uncle Nathan.

“The same.  He is the most hardened villain in the world,—­so different from my poor master, who was a good man, and loved even his slaves!  This man would make it appear that my mistress is not the legitimate child of her father, but the daughter of a quadroon girl, whom he formerly owned.  He has forged a will to obtain his own purposes, and deprived poor mistress of her natural rights.  But, on the night when the villany was perpetrated, I managed to obtain the true will, and to make my escape,—­and a very narrow escape it was, for I was shot at and obliged to jump into the river to save my life.  They think the shot killed me; but I shall yet expose their villany—­”

“Good gracious, I hope so!” exclaimed Uncle Nathan, whose sympathies wore awakened by the brief narrative of the mulatto.

“Now, it is scarcely prudent for me to retain possession of this will.  I may be discovered, or drowned, or shot; and then my poor mistress would never be restored.”