“O Jinny,” murmured that lady, who had revived, “can’t you do something?  Haven’t you done anything?  They will be here any moment to burn us, to murder us—­to—­oh, my poor boy!  Why isn’t he here to protect his mother!  Why was Comyn so senseless, so thoughtless, as to leave us at such a time!”

“I don’t think there is any need to be frightened,” said Virginia, with a calmness that made her aunt tremble with anger.  “It is probably only a rumor.  Ned, run to Mr. Brinsmade’s and ask him about it.”

However loath to go, Ned departed at once.  All honor to those old-time negroes who are now memories, whose devotion to their masters was next to their love of God.  A great fear was in Ned’s heart, but he went.  And he believed devoutly that he would never see his young mistress any more.

And while Ned is running to Mr. Brinsmade’s, Mrs. Colfax is summoning that courage which comes to persons of her character at such times.  She gathers her jewels into a bag, and her fine dresses into her trunk, with trembling hands, although she is well enough now.  The picture of Clarence in the diamond frame she puts inside the waist of her gown.  No, she will not go to Bellegarde.  That is too near the city.  With frantic haste she closes the trunk, which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs and place between the seats of the carriage.  Ned had had the horses in it since church time.  It is not safe outside.  But where to go?

To Glencoe?  It is three in the afternoon, and Jackson explains that, with the load, they would not reach there until midnight, if at all.  To Kirkwood or Webster?  Yes; many of the first families live there, and would take them in for the night.  Equipages of all sorts are passing, —­private carriages and public, and corner-stand hacks.  The black drivers are cracking whips over galloping horses.

Pedestrians are hurrying by with bundles under their arms, some running east, and some west, and some stopping to discuss excitedly the chances of each direction.  From the river comes the hoarse whistle of the boats breaking the Sabbath stillness there.  It is a panic to be remembered.

Virginia leaned against the iron railing of the steps, watching the scene, and waiting for Ned to return from Mr. Brinsmade’s.  Her face was troubled, as well it might be.  The most alarming reports were cried up to her from the street, and she looked every moment for the black smoke of destruction to appear to the southward.  Around her were gathered the Carvel servants, most of them crying, and imploring her not to leave them.  And when Mrs. Colfax’s trunk was brought down and placed in the carriage where three of them might have ridden to safety, a groan of despair and entreaty rose from the faithful group that went to her heart.

“Miss Jinny, you ain’t gwineter leave yo’ ol mammy?”

“Hush, Mammy,” she said.  “No, you shall all go, if I have to stay myself.  Ephum, go to the livery stable and get another carriage.”