ty to be divided between
some half dozen slaves, who received their freedom and the legacy
together. I am spending mine; when it is gone, I can work."

"Then you reject all help from me?"

"I was your slave, General Harrington--twice bound, first by your laws,
again by the will of my own heart, but I am no beggar; even when you
loved me, I worked for my own bread."

"I am glad that you are so well provided for: now let this romance come
to an end. We are no boy and girl, remember, Zillah; and, though it is
very pleasant to feel that one heart at least proves faithful to the
end, I cannot, in justice to Mrs. Harrington, admit you under the same
roof with herself. Her peace of mind is important to me, very important,
and her tranquillity must not be endangered by these wild visits. I will
withdraw, now, and give you an opportunity to leave the house; be
careful that no one sees you, especially Mrs. Harrington. Adieu! In two
or three days, at most, I shall be able to see you and Lina."

The old gentleman waved his hand, in token of a friendly adieu, as he
went, leaving his singular visitor standing in the middle of the room,
so numbed in feeling or lost in thought, that she seemed unconscious of
his departure.

It was more than a minute before the woman lifted her head; then her
face was pale, and a deep smouldering purpose burned like fire in the
depths of her eyes. She looked around wildly, as if searching for the
man who had just left the room; then her recollection seemed to come
back, and she went up to the table, examining everything upon it with
eager haste. The journal was no longer there, but in its place she found
a folded paper placed in a small portfolio, which bore the General's
initials.

The paper shook in her hands as she unfolded it, for all her former
agitation had come back; and, in her haste to read, the fire seemed to
leap from her black eyes over the writing. It was the life-deed which
had just passed between General Harrington and his son-in-law.

The woman laughed as she folded up the paper--a laugh of such bitter
mockery that it started even herself, as if some other person had been
reviling her.

"And has it ended in this, after years of plotting and privations that
would have killed a common person? Have I ended in binding them more
firmly together. This accounts for his solicitude for her welfare. This
is why these visits of mine trouble him. They might break the compact
which secures