“Yes, I have news for you from your own.”

“Oh, Miss Molly, don’t for de Lord’s sake wait a minit!”

“Your wife, whom Mr. Sumner so cruelly sold for you, is very happy now, for she is free, Matthias.”

“Done gone to hevin, does you mean?  Tell it all,” said the old man, who trembled visibly.

“She did not live two months, but she was in good hands.  I accidentally met her mistress, who told me about her.  She said she had kept her in the house to wait on her, for she liked her very much.  But she seemed sad, and grew tired, and one morning she did not appear, and they found her in her little room, next that of Mrs. Sanders, quite dead and looking peaceful and happy.  Her mistress felt badly, for she meant to do well by her.  They thought some heart trouble caused her death.”

“Oh, my! oh, my! dat heart ob hern was done broke when dat man sold our little gal.  Oh, I knowed it ud neber heal up agin! but tank de Lord she’s free up dar.  Oh, Miss Emily! can’t no murderers go in troo de gate?  Dat Mas’r Sumner can’t neber get dar any more, Miss Molly?”

“Yes, Matthias.  Dry your tears, for I’ve something good to tell.  Your oldest boy, John, has a good master, and is buying his freedom.  They help him along.  He drives a team, and is a splendid fellow.  He will be free soon, and will come to see you, perhaps to live with you.  This is all I know, but isn’t it a great deal?”

Matthias stood on his feet, his eyes dilating as they turned full on Mary, his hands clenched, his form raised as erect as it was possible for him, and his breast heaving with great emotion, as from his lips came slowly these words: 

“Do you mean it, Miss Molly?  Is you foolin, or is you in dead earnest for sartin?”

“It is truth, every word I say.”

“Oh, oh, oh!” and he sank on the seat beside us, covering his face with both hands, while tears fell at his feet, and as they touched the grass they shone in the sun like large round drops of dew.  I thought they were as white and pure as though his skin was fair.  And he wept not alone, for we wept with him.

Allie reached to bury her fingers in his mass of woolly, curling hair, and as he felt their tender tips, he raised his head and put out his hands to her, saying: 

“Come, picaninny, come and help me be glad.  Oh, Canaan, bright Canaan!  Oh, de Lord has hearn my prayer an’ what kin I say, what kin I do, an’ how kin I wait fur to see dat chile?  He’s jes like his mother, pooty, I know.  Oh, picaninny, holler louder! le’s tell it to the people that my John is a comin’ fur to see me, dat he haint got no use fur a mas’r any more,” and up and down he walked before us, while Allie made demonstrations of joy.

It was a strange picture.  “Oh, Canaan!” still he sang, and “De New Jerusalem,” until I really feared his joy would overcome him, and was glad to see Louis coming toward us.  He took a seat beside me, and I was about to tell him the wonderful news, when Matthias, who noticed him, handed Allie to her mother, and falling on his knees before Louis, cried aloud: