“I don’t know; they murdered a harmless peddler last winter, and attacked a peaceable teamster this spring.”

“Still, my dear, there is no danger; we have a pair of double-barreled pistols loaded, and also a blunderbuss; and we are three men, and you are as good as a fourth; so don’t be afraid.”

Hannah was silenced, if not reassured.

They journeyed on at a rate as fast as the rather tired horses could be urged to make.  When the sun had set it grew dark, very dark in the forest.  There was no moon; and although it was a clear, starlight night, yet that did not help them much.  They had to drive very slowly and carefully to avoid accidents, and it was indeed midnight when they drove up to the door of Hannah’s new home.  It was too dark to see more of it than that it was a two-storied white cottage with a vine-clad porch, and that it stood in a garden on the edge of the wood.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE NEW HOME.

  It is a quiet picture of delight,
  The humble cottage, hiding from the sun
  In the thick woods.  You see it not till then,
  When at its porch.  Rudely, but neatly wrought,
  Four columns make its entrance; slender shafts,
  The rough bark yet upon them, as they came
  From the old forest.  Prolific vines
  Have wreathed them well and half obscured the rinds
  Original, that wrap them.  Crowding leaves
  Or glistening green, and clustering bright flowers
  Of purple, in whose cups, throughout the day,
  The humming bird wantons boldly, wave around
  And woo the gentle eye and delicate touch. 
  This is the dwelling, and ’twill be to them
  Quiet’s especial temple.

  —­W.G.  Simms.

“Welcome home, Hannah! welcome home, dearest woman!  No more hard work now, Hannah! and no more slaving at the everlasting wheel and loom!  Nothing to do but your own pretty little house to keep, and your own tidy servant girl to look after!  And no more anxiety about the future, Hannah; for you have me to love you and care for you!  Ah, dear wife! this is a day I have looked forward to through all the gloom and trouble of many years.  Thank God, it has come at last, more blessed than I ever hoped it would be, and I welcome you home, my wife!” said Reuben Gray, as he lifted his companion from the wagon, embraced her, and led her through the gate into the front yard.

“Oh, you dear, good Reuben, what a nice, large house this is! so much better than I had any reason to expect,” said Hannah, in surprise and delight.

“You’ll like it better still by daylight, my dear,” answered Gray.

“How kind you are to me, dear Reuben.”

“It shall always be my greatest pleasure to be so, Hannah.”

A negro girl at this moment appeared at the door with a light, and the husband and wife entered the house.

Ishmael sprang down from his seat, stretched his cramped limbs, and gazed about him with all the curiosity and interest of a stranger in a strange scene.