o right here any longer, Karen."

"I heered it was selled, but I didn't rightly believe it," the
old woman said sadly. "And the mistress 'll be turning _me_ away
now?"

"Tell her no," whispered Elizabeth.

"I believe not, Karen, unless you wish it."

"What should I wish it for? I've been here ever since I come
with Mis' Landholm, when she come first, and she left me here;
and I want to stay here, in her old place, till I'm called to
be with her again. D'ye think it'll be long, Governor?"

"Are you in haste, Karen?"

"I don't want fur to stay" said the old woman. "She's gone,
and I can't take care o' you no longer, nor no one. I'd like
to be gone, too -- yes, I would."

"You have work to do yet, Karen. You may take as good care as
you can of this lady."

Again Karen looked curiously and suspiciously at her, for a
minute in silence.

"Is she one of the Lord's people?" she asked suddenly.

Elizabeth looked up on the instant, in utter astonishment at
the question; first at Karen and then at Winthrop. The next
thing was a back-sweeping tide of feeling, which made her drop
her bread and her cup from her hands, and hide her face in
them with a bitter burst of tears. Winthrop looked concerned,
and Karen confounded. But she presently repeated her question
in a half whisper at Winthrop.

"Is she? --"

"There is more company coming, Karen, for you to take care
of," he said quietly. "I hope you have cakes enough. Miss Haye
-- I see the boat-load has arrived -- will you go into the other
room?"

She rose, and not seeing where she went, let him lead her. The
front part of the house was unfurnished; but to the little
square passage-way where the open door let in the breeze from
the river, Winthrop brought a chair, and there she sat down.
He left her there and went back to see to the other members of
the party, and as she guessed to keep them from intruding upon
her. She was long alone.

The fresh sweet air blew in upon her hot face and hands,
reminding her what sort of a world it came from; and after the
first few violent bursts of pain, Elizabeth presently raised
her head to look out and see, in a sort of dogged willingness
to take the contrast which she knew was there. The soft fair
hilly outlines she remembered, in the same August light; -- the
bright bend of the river -- a sloop sail or two pushing lazily
up; -- the same blue of a summer morning overhead; -- the little
green lawn immediately at her feet, and