en no lettah," answered the old darkey,
taking a dingy pipe from his mouth and rolling his eyes at his
master.

"If you lie again I will punish you," said Col. Zane sternly. "You
are getting old, Sam, and I would not like to whip you, but I will
if you do not find that letter."

Sam grumbled, and shuffled inside the cabin. Col. Zane heard him
rummaging around. Presently he came back to the door and handed a
very badly soiled paper to the Colonel.

"What possessed you to do this, Sam? You have always been honest.
Your act has caused great misunderstanding and it might have led to
worse."

"He's one of dem no good Southern white trash; he's good fer
nuttin'," said Sam. "I saw yo' sistah, Mis' Betty, wit him, and I
seen she was gittin' fond of him, and I says I ain't gwinter have
Mis' Betty runnin' off wif him. And I'se never gibbin de lettah to
her."

That was all the explanation Sam would vouchsafe, and Col. Zane,
knowing it would be useless to say more to the well-meaning but
ignorant and superstitious old negro, turned and wended his way back
to the house. He looked at the paper and saw that it was addressed
to Elizabeth Zane, and that the ink was faded until the letters were
scarcely visible.

"What have you there?" asked his wife, who had watched him go up the
hill to the negro's cabin. She breathed a sigh of relief when she
saw that her husband's face had recovered its usual placid
expression.

"It is a little letter for that young fire-brand up stairs, and, I
believe it will clear up the mystery. Clarke gave it to Sam last
fall and Sam never gave it to Betty."

"I hope with all my heart it may settle Betty. She worries me to
death with her love affairs."

Col. Zane went up stairs and found the young lady exactly as he had
left her. She gave an impatient toss of her head as he entered.

"Well, Madam, I have here something that may excite even your
interest." he said cheerily.

"What?" asked Betty with a start. She flushed crimson when she saw
the letter and at first refused to take it from her brother. She was
at a loss to understand his cheerful demeanor. He had been anything
but pleasant a few moments since.

"Here, take it. It is a letter from Mr. Clarke which you should have
received last fall. That last morning he gave this letter to Sam to
deliver to you, and the crazy old nigger kept it. However, it is too
late to talk of that, only it does seem a great pity. I feel sorry
for both of you. C