esent to
save her body than to save her soul, admitting that she had one, and
felt haste to be of more behoof than metaphysics.

There was a moon up now, and Flor could see her companion's dark face
above her, a mere mass of shade; it did not reassure her any to remember
that her own was just as black.

"Lome," said Sarp, setting his back against a tree like one determined
to have attention, "never mind about the boat yet. You 've heard Aunt
Zoe say how't the grace of the Lord was free?"

"Yes, I's heerd her kerwhoopin'. I 's in a hurry, Sarp!"

"But 's how't the man that refuses to accept it, when it's set before
him, is done reckoned a sinner?"

"S'pose I has?"--and in her impatience she began to dance outright.

"It's jus' so with the present hour," he continued, not giving her time
to interpose about escape again. "You have liberty offered you. If you
refuses, how can you answer for it when your spirit 'pears afore the
Judge? You choose him, and you choose righteousness, you chooses the
chance to make yourself white in the Lord's eyes,--your spirit, Lome.
Refuse, and you take sin and chains and darkness; you gets to deserve
the place where they hab their share of fire and brimstone."

"Take mine wid 'lasses," said Flor, who, though inwardly a trifle cowed,
never meant to show it. "W'a' 's de use o' boderin' 'bout all dat ar,
w'en dar 's Miss Emma a-cotchin' her deff, an' I 's jus' starved? Ef you
's go'n' to help us, Sarp"----

"You don' know what chains means, chil'," said the imperturbable Sarp.
"They're none the lighter because you can't see 'em. It a'n't jus' the
power to sell your body and the work of your hands; it's the power to
sell your soul! Ef Mas'r Henry hab de min',--ef Mas'r Henry have the
mind, I say, to make you go wrong, can you help it while you 's a
slave?"

"'Taan' no fault o' mine ter be bad, ef I caan' help it. Come now," said
Flor sullenly, seeing little hope of respite,--"should t'ink 'twas de
Ol' Sarpint hisself!"

"And 'taan' no virtue of yours to be good, ef you caan' help it; you 'd
jus' stay put--jus' between--in de brown earth, as you said. You 'd
never see that beautiful land beyond the grave, wid the river of light
flowing troo der place, an' the people singing songs before the great
white t'rone."

"Tell me 'bout dat ar, Sarp," said Flor, forgetfully.

"Dey 's all free there, Lome."

"How was dis dey got dere? Could n' walk nowes, an' could n' fly"----

"Haan' you s