the main branch of the road leading north
toward Prince George's and Montgomery.

But so argued not the poor old negroes, as they followed Edith up the
west branch of the road that led to Charles County.

This pleasant road ran along the side of a purling brook under the
shadow of the great trees that skirted the forest, and Edith ambled
leisurely along, low humming to herself some pretty song or listening
to the merry carols of the birds or noticing the speckled fish that
gamboled through the dark, glimmering stream or reverting to the subject
of her last reading.

But beneath all this childish play of fancy, one grave, sorrowful
thought lay heavy upon Edith's tender heart. It was the thought of poor
old Luckenough "deserted at its utmost need" to the ravages of the foe.
Then came the question if it were not possible, in case of the house
being attacked, to save it--even for her to save it. While these things
were brewing in Edith's mind, she rode slowly and more slowly, until at
length her pony stopped. Then she noticed for the first time the heavy,
downcast looks of her attendants.

"What is the matter?" she asked.

"Oh! Miss Edith, don't ask me, honey--don't! Ain't we-dem got to go back
to de house and stay dar by our two selves arter we see you safe?" said
Jenny, crying.

"No! what? you two alone!" exclaimed Edith, looking from one to the
other.

"Yes, Miss Edith, 'deed we has, chile--but you needn't look so 'stonish
and 'mazed. You can't help of it, chile. An' if de British do come dar
and burn de house and heave we-dem into de fire jes' out of wanton,
it'll only be two poor, ole, unvaluable niggers burned up. Ole marse
know dat well enough--dat's de reason he resks we."

"But for what purpose have you to return?" asked Edith, wondering.

"Oh! to feed de cattle and de poultry? and take care o' de things dat's
lef behine," sobbed Jenny, now completely broken down by her terrors. "I
know--I jis does--how dem white niggers o' Co'bu'ns 'ill set de house o'
fire, an' heave we-dem two poor old innocen's into de flames out'n pure
debblish wanton!"

Edith passed her slender fingers through her curls, stringing them out
as was her way when absent in thought. She was turning the whole matter
over in her mind. She might possibly save the mansion, though these two
old people were not likely to be able to do so--on the contrary, their
ludicrous terrors would tend to stimulate the wanton cruelty of the
marauders t