r this poor negro. Poor
negro! There spoke the pride of your heart, James Armstrong! But well
is he called Felix in comparison with you. Happy in being born of a
despised and persecuted race; happy in being condemned to the life of
a servant, to an ignorance that diminishes responsibility; happy in
receiving no good thing here. Strut about, James Armstrong, in purple
and fine linen, but know that for all these things, God will assuredly
call thee to judgment."

That whole day Armstrong seemed debating some question with himself.
He paid less than even his usual attention to what was passing around,
and more than once was spoken to without heeding the address. In the
afternoon, he started off by himself, saying he might not return
until evening. Felix, whose anxiety the rebuff in the morning had
strengthened and confirmed, watched his master as he left the house,
and would have followed to guard him against a danger, the approach of
which he instinctively felt, but which he could not see, unless Faith,
to whom he thought proper to communicate his intention, had forbidden
him. She found it difficult to prevent him, so greatly were the fears
of the black excited, on whose mind the motives of delicacy that
induced Faith to desire to guard the movements of her father from
observation, cannot be supposed to have exerted so much force.
Much doubting and questioning the wisdom of the young lady, yet
not venturing to disobey her, Felix blamed himself for making her
acquainted with his design.

"This child head," he said, apostrophizing himself, "ain't no better
than a squash. What made me tell Miss Faith what I were going to do?"

After Armstrong left the house, he continued in the street only a
little way, soon striking across the fields and thus greatly abridging
the distance he must have passed over had he pursued the high road.
The truth is, he was directing his steps towards the very spot he
had visited with Judge Bernard. He reached it, notwithstanding he was
afoot, in much less time than the drive had taken, so rapidly did
he walk when out of sight, and so much was the length of the way
shortened. Upon arriving at the place, he sat down upon the same
log which had been his former seat, and folding his arms sunk into a
reverie. After the space of an hour, perhaps, thus passed, he rose and
commenced piling up near the brook some pieces of wood which he
took from the heaps about him, making another, differing from them
p