, which,
proceeding from such a form, would have astonished the listener.

"You met no one?" interrogated the anxious Jaspar.

"Not a soul! Everything was still."

"Let us be sure of it. Step into this room for a moment. I will see that
all the servants have retired," said Jaspar, pushing his confederate
into an adjoining apartment.

A light pull at the bell-rope brought to the library the body-servant of
the late planter.

This "boy," who was known by the name of _Hatchie_, was a mulatto. He
was about forty years of age, and, having never been reduced to labor in
the cane-fields, bore his age remarkably well. He was about six feet in
height, very stout built, and was endowed with immense physical
strength. His brow was a little wrinkled, and his head was a little bald
upon the top,--and these were the only evidences of his years. His
expression was that of great intelligence. In his countenance there was
a kind of humility, to which his demeanor corresponded, that might have
resulted from his condition, or have been inherent in his nature. He was
a man who, even in a land of slavery, would be instinctively respected.

He had been a great favorite with his late master, in whose family he
had spent the greater part of his life. By being constantly in
attendance upon him and his guests, he had acquired a much greater
amount of information than is often found in those of his condition. He
could read and write, and by his intelligence and singular fidelity had
proved a valuable addition to his master's household. Possessing his
confidence, and regarded more as a friend than a slave by Emily, he was
a privileged person in the house,--a confidence which in no instance did
he abuse, and which in no degree abated his affection or his fidelity.

Hatchie was not a phrenologist, but he had long ago acquired a perfect
knowledge of Jaspar's character,--a knowledge which his master or Emily
had never obtained.

Hatchie considered Emily, now that her father was dead, as his own
especial charge, and he watched over her, in the disparity of their
stations, very much as a faithful dog watches over a child intrusted to
its keeping. Towards her he entertained a sentiment of the profoundest
respect as his mistress, and of parental affection as one who had grown
up under his eye.

"Hatchie," said Jaspar, as the mulatto entered the library, "are the
hands all in?"

"Yes, sir," replied Hatchie, whose penetrating mind detected the