of the house of Gilcrest.
Thenceforward, the unreasoning, self-sacrificing devotion which in
former days Dilsey had lavished upon Hiram was transferred to his
daughter.

As time went on, and her cares and responsibilities multiplied with the
advent of each new baby to her master and mistress, Mammy Dilsey,
though still faithful and devoted, became more and more self-important
and dictatorial. She felt herself superior in education and position to
the other negroes, and almost, if not quite, as important a part of the
household as the master himself. As for Mrs. Gilcrest, Dilsey's regard
for her was compounded of admiration and pitying patronage. She loved
and tended and ruled over all the children, but Betsy was her idol, for
whom she would cheerfully have laid down her own life. Throughout
Betsy's disagreement with her father, Dilsey had been her confidant and
comforter; and her indignation against her master for the past few
months had only thus far been restrained from actual outbreak by
Betty's entreating her to be silent, lest by want of tactful patience
she might still further provoke the irascible spirit of the master of
Oaklands. On this particular morning, however, Aunt Dilsey's spirit was
stirred within her, and she felt it high time to assert herself.

When Betsy reached the sitting-room she found her mother crying
helplessly and her father fuming up and down the room.

"What do you mean by this, girl?" he asked, flourishing a folded paper
in her face. "Did I not command you to have nothing more to do with
that worthless fellow? And here you are actually writing to him, and
bribing my servants to fetch his letters and to take him your answers!
What do you mean?"

"I mean, sir," Betsy answered, facing him bravely, "that I'll not
submit to your tyrannical treatment any longer--keeping me a prisoner
in these grounds, and forbidding me to hold any communication with the
man I love and honor and mean to marry. I have been for weeks under
restraint; not even allowed to walk about the yard without a spying
black slave at my heels. More than this, two weeks ago you intercepted
a letter addressed to me, and you now hold in your hand--without any
right whatever--a note of mine to Mr. Logan. What if I did 'stoop to
bribe a servant' to carry a message to my lover? That is little in
comparison with your keeping me in durance, and intercepting my
letters. And you talk to me of 'stooping' and of dishonor!"

"Betsy! B