back, Marse Harry," he moaned. "He ain't 'sponsible
these days. He didn't know ye! Come 'long, son; come back wid ol' Alec;
please come, Marse Harry. Oh, Gawd! ye GOTTER come!"

"No, I'll go home to-night--another day I'll--"

"Ye ain't got no home but dis, I tell ye! Go tell him who ye is--lemme
run tell him. I won't be a minute. Oh! Marse Harry, I can't let ye go! I
been dat mizzable widout ye. I ain't neber got over lovin' ye!"

Here a voice from near the office broke out. In the dusk the two could
just make out the form of the colonel, who was evidently calling to some
of his people. He was bareheaded and without his shade.

"I've sent Alec to see him safe off the grounds. You go yourself, Mr.
Grant, and follow him into the highroad; remember that after this I hold
you responsible for these prowlers."

The two had paused while the colonel was speaking, Harry, gathering the
reins in his hand, ready to vault into the saddle, and Alec, holding on
to his coat-sleeves hoping still to detain him.

"I haven't a minute more--quick, Alec, tell me how my mother is."

"She's middlin' po'ly, same's ever; got great rings under her eyes and
her heart's dat heaby makes abody cry ter look at 'er. But she ain't
sick, jes' griebin' herse'f to death. Ain't yer gwineter stop and see
'er? May be I kin git ye in de back way."

"Not now--not here. Bring her to Uncle George's house to-morrow about
noon, and I will be there. Tell her how I look, but don't tell her what
my father has done. And now tell me about Miss Kate--how long since you
saw her? Is she married?"

Again the colonel's voice was heard; this time much nearer--within
hailing distance. He and the overseer were evidently approaching the
fence; some of the negroes had doubtless apprised them of the course of
Harry's exit.

Alec turned quickly to face his master, and Harry, realizing that his
last moment had come, swung himself into the saddle. If Alec made any
reply to his question it was lost in the clatter of hoofs as both horse
and man swept down the by-path. In another moment they had gained
the main road, the rider never breaking rein until he had reached the
farm-house where he had fed and watered his horse some hours before.

Thirty-odd miles out and back was not a long ride for a hired horse in
these days over a good turnpike with plenty of time for resting--and
he had as many breathing spells as gallops, for Harry's moods really
directed his gait. Once in