Mr. Cluyme, at the top of his speed, was come opposite to the carriage when the lady occupant got out of it.  Clutching at his sleeve, she demanded where he was going.  The bronze clock had a narrow escape.

“To the river,” he gasped.  “To the river, madame!” His wife coming after him had a narrower escape still.  Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of lace from the wrapper, the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.

“Virginia, I am going to the river,” said Mrs. Colfax.  “You may go where you choose.  I shall send the carriage back for you.  Ned, to the levee!” Ned did not lift a rein.

“What, you black rascal!  You won’t obey me?”

Ned swung on his seat.  “No, indeedy, Miss Lilly, I ain’t a-gwine ’thout young Miss.  The Dutch kin cotch me an’ hang me, but I ain’t a-gwine ’thout Miss Jinny.”

Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with dignity.

“Very well, Virginia,” she said.  “Ill as I am, I shall walk.  Bear witness that I have spent a precious hour trying to save you.  If I live to see your father again, I shall tell him that you preferred to stay here and carry on disgracefully with a Yankee, that you let your own aunt risk her life alone in the rain.  Come, Susan!”

Virginia was very pale.  She did not run down the steps, but she caught her aunt by the arm ere that lady had taken six paces.  The girl’s face frightened Mrs. Colfax into submission, and she let herself be led back into the carriage beside the trunk.  Those words of Mrs. Colfax’s stung Stephen to righteous anger and resentment—­for Virginia.

As to himself, he had looked for insult.  He turned to go that he might not look upon her confusion; and hanging on the resolution, swung on his heel again, his eyes blazeing.  He saw in hers the deep blue light of the skies after an evening’s storm.  She was calm, and save for a little quiver of the voice, mistress of herself as she spoke to the group of cowering servants.

“Mammy,” she said, “get up on the box with Ned.  And, Ned, walk the horses to the levee, so that the rest may follow.  Ephum, you stay here with the house, and I will send Ned back to keep you company.”

With these words, clasping tightly the precious little bundle under her arm, she stepped into the carriage.  Heedless of the risk he ran, sheer admiration sent Stephen to the carriage door.

“If I can be of any service, Miss Carvel,” he said, “I shall be happy.”

She glanced at him wildly.

“No,” she cried, “no.  Drive on, Ned!”

And as the horses slipped and started she slammed the door in his face.

Down on the levee wheels rattled over the white stones washed clean by the driving rain.  The drops pelted the chocolate water into froth, and a blue veil hid the distant bluffs beyond the Illinois bottom-lands.  Down on the Levee rich and poor battled for places on the landing-stages, and would have thrown themselves into the flood had there been no boats to save them from the dreaded Dutch.  Attila and his Huns were not more feared.  Oh, the mystery of that foreign city!  What might not its Barbarians do when roused?  The rich and poor struggled together; but money was a power that day, and many were pitilessly turned off because they did not have the high price to carry them—­who knew where?