upon
her master with such force as almost to throw him down, she seized his
arm and wrenched the whip from his grasp.

"I said you had done gone plum crazy," she cried, "but I nebbah thought
I'd lib teh see the day you'd raise yo' arm ag'in yo' own wife an'
chile. Don' you dar' tech 'em! I'll p'otect 'em wid my life's blood!"

"Shut up, you old harridan!" returned Gilcrest. "Nobody's going to
strike your mistress, or her daughter either. Take your Miss Jane to
her room, and attend to her."

"I doan lebe dis room tell I speaks my min' 'bout yo' ongodly carryin'
on an' yo' shameful 'buse ob my sweet lamb, my own Miss Betsy."

"Shut up, I tell you!" again cried Gilcrest.

"I woan shet up. I will speak my min'!"

"I'll cowhide you, you black witch!" shouted her master, threateningly.

"Whip me? Ole Dilsey? 'Deed you woan! Ef you lays de weight ob a fingah
on me, I'll t'ar you limb f'um limb!" She faced him, arms akimbo, eyes
snapping, and defiance in every line of her tall figure and in every
fold of her red turban. "Does you think I'se feared ob you? Me, whut
nussed an' tended you when you wuz a pore, sickly baby, an' bossed you,
an' spanked yo' back sides many a time when you wuz a streprous,
mis-che-vous boy?"

"Leave the room this instant!" cried Gilcrest, white with anger.

"Nary step does I budge tell I frees my mind," answered Dilsey with
determination. "Hain't you no bowels ob marcy fur yo' own flesh an'
blood? Is you done persessed by de Debble, dat you treats dat pore lamb
so, whut hain't done nuthin' but be true to her sweetheart? Yo' fust
borned chile, too, yo' leetle gal whut you kissed an' cried obah fur
joy when ole Dilsey fotch her to you; an' you tuck her in yo' arms, de
tears runnin' down yo' cheeks an' yo' voice trem'lin' an' a-shakin', ez
you thanked de good Lawd fur yo' purty black-eyed baby gal, an' fur
bringin' yo' pore young wife safe frew her trial!"

"There, there, Dilsey," said Gilcrest, moved in spite of himself by her
rough eloquence. "You have entirely misconceived the situation. I had
no intention of striking either your mistress or Miss Betsy. Leave off
your foolish raving, and help me get your Miss Jane to her bed. Don't
you see she is not able to stand?" Then to his daughter he added, "If
all this excitement and trouble make your mother really ill, it is your
fault, you rebellious girl."

CHAPTER XXX.

YOUNG LOCHINVAR

"So light to the croup the fair lady he swung,