sleeve and whispered, "Huldy." Turning to see if he was unobserved, Van
Dorn followed to the deep-arched chimney at the northern gable, and
dismissed his guide with a look.

"Captain Van Dorn," Hulda said, her large gray eyes strained in
tenderness and nervous courage, "do that boy Levin no harm: I love him!
God forgive all your sins, many as they are, if you disobey
grandmother's wicked commands about my darling!"

"Ha! wild-flower, you have been listening?"

"No, I have only looked: I know Aunt Patty's petting ways when she means
to ruin, and watch her black flashes of cunning between: she is no
cousin of Levin; he is Joe's gentle prisoner; his very name she made him
hide when she saw you coming this morning."

"_Creo que si_: Hulda, let me kiss you!"

"Yes, if you dare."

She gave him that pure, soul-driven, child's strong look again, exerting
all the influence she had ever felt she exercised over him.

Nevertheless he kissed her for the first time:

"To-day, _bonito_, I dare to kiss thee. Believe me, my kiss is a tender
one."

"Yes, sir. There is something like a father in it. Oh, my father, art
thou in heaven?"

"If there be such a place, wild-flower, I think he is."

"Oh, thank you, Captain Van Dorn. There may you also be and find the
faith I feel in my one day's love on earth. I pray for you every day."

"_Ayme_, poor weakling! Pray now for thyself: if thou canst save thyself
sinless a brief day or two, it may be well for thee and Levin. Thy
grandmother is dreadful in her joys this night."

"I can die," said Hulda, "if Levin be saved."

He kissed her again, and something wet dropped down his blushes.

"Eternal love!" he sighed; "I've lost it."

CHAPTER XXX.

AFRICA.

The Captain took his place at the reins, his picturesque velvet jacket,
wide hat, bright hair, and gay shirt, thighings, belt, and boots,
deserving all Patty Cannon's encomiums as he made a polite adieu and
threw his whip like a thunderbolt, and a cheer rose from the discarded
volunteers loitering about the tavern as he drove Joe Johnson and Levin
away.

The road was nearly dead level for five miles, but, being the old
travelled road from Laurel and the south to Easton, and pointing towards
Baltimore, numerous farms and clearings were seen, and tobacco-fields
alternated with the dry corn and new-ploughed wheat patches. Here and
there, like a measure of gold poured upon the ground, the yellow ears
lay in the gaunt corn