nt you, sir."

"Fool! Minny, slave, out of my way!"

Minny moved not a muscle.

"Do as I command you, or, by Heaven, I'll make you. Was ever such
disobedience shown a master?"

Minny stood firm, but silent, her back against the door. Mr. Delancey
laid his hand upon the bell-rope, and pulled it violently.

"Voltaire," said he, to the servant who answered it, "bring me the heavy
whip, with the braided lash."

It was not often that Mr. Delancey punished a slave, but when he did he
was very severe. In this case, pride, anger, and a feeling something
like revenge, for what he deemed Minny's obstinacy, spurred him on. The
refusal of the letters had made him determined to possess them, and
nothing could now have turned him from his course. Reader, he was a
father; and his daughter was his idol!

The servant brought the whip, laid it on the table, glanced pityingly at
Minny, and went out with a shudder.

Mr. Delancey seized Minny by the arm, and pushed her on before him,
until he reached an upper balcony, near the sleeping apartments of the
domestics.

"Now, girl, down with you."

"No, sir; if you lash me, let me stand and bear it like a human being,
not like a dog, with my face to the dust."

"Down with you, or I will knock you down! You shall take it, as would
any other slave."

Minny threw back her curls, and knelt before her master.

"On your face, girl, _down_!"

He raised his foot, and pushed her forward on her face. She lay there,
with her heavy curls falling round her like a mantle, entirely
concealing the tearless, livid face.

Delancey raised his arm, and the heavy lash descended, whirring through
the air, telling how fierce the hand that dealt the blow.

The tender flesh could almost be seen to quiver through the thin, light
dress; but Minny moved not, uttered no moan, nor raised her head.

"How now, girl, does your spirit hold out? Will you give up the
letters?"

"Never!"

Again the lash came down, and this time, across one fair, polished
shoulder, gleaming out from among the curls, in her low-necked dress,
was marked a braided cut, from which the blood oozed in small round
drops, staining also the waist of the dress, where the lash had fallen.

"How now?"

There came no answer: Minny lay still and quiet. Again the enraged
master raised the whip, and this time the strokes were a trifle lighter,
but more frequent, with no power for questioning.

Della sat in her room waiting for Minny's