“When that day comes, missus,—­that day my good old woman and me will be together again,—­how happy I shall be!  Seems as if the regaining that one object would complete my earthly desires.  And my children,—­how much I have felt for them, and how little I have said!” returns Harry, as, seated in the veranda of the plantation mansion, the two ladies near him are watching his rising emotions.

“Never mind, Harry,” rejoins Franconia; “it will all be well, one of these days.  You, as well as uncle, must bear with trouble.  It is a world of trouble and trial.”  She draws her chair nearer him, and listens to his narrative of being carried off,—­his endeavours to please his strange master down in Mississippi,—­the curious manner in which his name was changed,—­the sum he was compelled to pay for his time, and the good he effected while pursuing the object of his mission on the neighbouring plantations.  Hope carried him through every trial,—­hope prepared his heart for the time of his delivery,—­hope filled his soul with gratitude to his Maker, and hope, which ever held its light of freedom before him, inspired him with that prayer he so thankfully bestowed on the head of his benefactor, whose presence was as the light of love borne to him on angels’ wings.

Moved to tears by his recital of past struggles, and the expression of natural goodness exhibited in the resignation with which he bore them, ever praying and trusting to Him who guides our course in life, Franconia in turn commenced relating the misfortunes that had befallen her uncle.  She tells him how her uncle has been reduced to poverty through Lorenzo’s folly, and Graspum, the negro dealer’s undiscoverable mode of ensnaring the unwary.  He has been importuned, harassed, subjected to every degradation and shame, scouted by society for attempting to save those beautiful children, Annette and Nicholas, from the snares of slavery.  And he now welters in a debtor’s prison, with few save his old faithful Daddy Bob for friends.

“Master, and my old companion, Daddy Bob!” exclaims Harry, interrupting her at the moment.

“Yes:  Daddy takes care of him in his prison cell.”

“How often old Bob’s expressive face has looked upon me in my dreams! how often he has occupied my thoughts by day!”

“Goodness belongs to him by nature.”

“And master is in prison; but Daddy is still his friend and faithful!  Well, my heart sorrows for master:  I know his proud heart bleeds under the burden,” he says, shaking his head sorrowfully.  There is more sympathy concealed beneath that black exterior than words can express.  He will go and see master; he will comfort him within his prison walls; he will rejoin Daddy Bob, and be master’s friend once more.  Mrs. Rosebrook, he is sure, will grant him any privilege in her power.  That good lady is forthwith solicited, and grants Harry permission to go into the city any day it suits his convenience-except Sunday, when his services are required for the good of the people on the plantation.  Harry is delighted with this token of her goodness, and appoints a day when he will meet Miss Franconia,—­as he yet calls her,—­and go see old master and Daddy.  How glowing is that honest heart, as it warms with ecstasy at the thought of seeing “old master,” even though he be degraded within prison walls!