uma," prepared to commence her journey to Bellevue. While
De Guy conducted Emily to the ladies' cabin, Hatchie was getting her few
articles of baggage on board, and the boat was fairly under weigh
without the faithful mulatto's having had a sight of the new protector
of Emily. The attorney congratulated himself on this circumstance; his
mind had thus been released from the pressure of a most painful anxiety.
His plan was now accomplished.

But the meeting could not be much longer deferred. De Guy, however, now
that they were free from the friends of Emily, no longer dreaded it.

The dinner hour arrived, and Hatchie was standing by the side of his
mistress on the gallery, when De Guy approached and announced the fact.
His voice startled Hatchie. It was the same squeaking tone he had heard
at Bellevue on the night of his escape. He turned to look upon the
speaker, and was confounded to behold the very person who had plotted
with Jaspar on that memorable night! With a presence of mind which never
deserted him, he held his peace, resolved not to frighten his mistress
by exposing the fact.

Hatchie stood lost in thought on the gallery long after De Guy had
conducted his mistress to the dinner-table. The mulatto was in a
quandary,--a worse quandary than the congressional hero of Kentucky has
described in any of his thousand relations of hair-breadth escapes. His
mistress was fairly committed to her new destiny, and how could he
extricate her?

He resolved to do the only thing he possibly could do,--to watch
unceasingly, to be ever ready to defend his mistress in case of
necessity. The papers which De Guy had brought from Bellevue, and which
he heard described by the doctor, did much to assure him that no evil
was intended towards her; but the man who had been a villain once was,
in his opinion, exceedingly apt to be so again.

Emily was ill at ease during the passage; not that she felt unsafe, or
dreaded treachery, but something seemed to whisper that evil _might_ be
near her. An undefined sensation of doubt seemed to beset her path, and
urge upon her the unpleasant necessity of extreme caution. She was
conscious of being engaged in a good work. She had forgiven her great
enemy, and was now on her way to smooth his dying pillow. There was
something lofty and beautiful in the thought, and she derived much
consolation from it.

De Guy rarely intruded himself upon her notice during the passage. At
meal-hours he was scrupu