“Well, my dear, I am sorely perplexed.  If we yield in minor points, you should in vital ones, and trust to our riper experience and knowledge.”

The distractions of the day had practically robbed Mr. Baron of all self-control, and he now exclaimed, “I yield nothing.  As your guardian I shall maintain my rights and live up to my sense of responsibility.  If by wild, reckless conduct you thwart my efforts in your behalf, my responsibility ceases.  I can then feel that I have done my best.”

“And so, uncle, you would be quite content, no matter what became of me,” added the girl bitterly.  “Well, then, I tell you to your face that you cannot marry me, like a slave girl, to whom you please.  I’ll die first.  I shall have my girlhood, and then, as woman, marry or not marry, as I choose.  Aunty, I appeal to you, as a woman and a lady, to stop this wretched folly if you can.”

“Louise,” said her aunt, kindly, “as long as I have a home it shall be a refuge to you.  I hope the morrow will bring wiser counsels and better moods to us all.”

The mansion soon became quiet, and all slept in the weariness of reaction.  No sound came from the darkened dwelling except an occasional groan from one of the wounded men on the piazza.  Scoville, wrapped in a blanket, lay down by the fire with his men and was asleep almost instantly.  The still shadows on the dewy grass slowly turned toward the east as the moon sank low.  To the last, its beams glinted on the weapons of vigilant sentinels and vedettes, and the only warlike sounds occurred at the relief of guards.  All rested who could rest except one—­the overseer.  Restless, vindictive, he watched and listened till morning.

CHAPTER XVIII

A WELL-AIMED SLIPPER

It would be hard to imagine a morning more lovely, a more perfect type of peace and good-will, than the one which dawned over The Oaks plantation the following day.  With the light came fragrant zephyrs of delicious coolness; the stillness of the night gave place to a slight stir and rustle of foliage; chanticleers crowed lustily, with no forebodings of their doom; the horses began to whinny for their breakfasts, and the negroes to emerge from their quarters to greet the light of this first fair day of freedom.  Uncle Lusthah declared “De millenyum yere sho!” Smoke rose from Aun’ Jinkey’s chimney, and after the pone was baking on the hearth she came out on the doorstep with her pipe to do a little “projeckin’.”  Even she was impressed with the beauty and peacefulness of the morning.  “En ter tink,” she ejaculated, “my honey’s sleepin’ lak a lil chile ‘stead ob cryin’ en wringin’ her han’s nobody know whar!  Wen dey gits ter mar’in’ my honey en she a bleatin’ en a tremlin’ like a lamb ’long a wolf dat lickin’ he chops ober her, den I say hit’s time fer a smash up.  Marse Scoville look lak he ’tect her gin de hull worl’.”