talked with me awhile. She cried and took on
fearfully about Sam, and was afraid you would punish her when you
returned. I promised you would not, and she left me seeming more
cheerful. I supposed she would go directly home after getting her child
from the nurse's quarters; but it appears she went to Pompey's, where
she staid till after ten o'clock. Neither she nor the child have been
seen since."
"Did you get no trace of her in the morning?"
"Yes, but soon lost it. When she did not appear at work, Sam went to her
cabin to learn the cause, and found the door open, and her bed
undisturbed. She had not slept there. Knowing that Sandy had returned, I
sent for him, and, with Jim and his dog, he commenced a search. The dog
tracked her directly from Pompey's cabin to the bank of the run near the
lower still. There all trace of her disappeared. We dragged the stream,
but discovered nothing. Jim and Sandy then scoured the woods for miles
in all directions, but the hound could not recover the trail. I hope
otherwise, but I fear some evil has befallen her."
"Oh, no! there's no fear of that," said the Colonel: "she is smart: she
waded up the run far enough to baffle the dog, and then made for the
swamp. That is why you lost her tracks at the stream. Rely upon it, I am
right: but she shall not escape me."
We shortly afterward adjourned to the library. After being seated there
a while the Colonel, rising quickly, as if a sudden thought had struck
him, sent for the old preacher.
The old negro soon appeared, hat in hand, and taking a stand near the
door, made a respectful bow to each one of us.
"Take a chair, Pompey," said Madam P----, kindly.
The black meekly seated himself, when the Colonel asked: "Well, Pomp,
what do you know about Jule's going off?"
"Nuffin', massa--I shures you, nuffin'. De pore chile say nuffin to ole
Pomp 'bout dat."
"What did she say?"
"Wal, you see, massa, de night arter you gwo 'way, and arter she'd
worked hard in de brush all de day, and been a strung up in de ole cabin
fur to be whipped, she come ter me wid har baby in har arms, all a-faint
and a-tired, and har pore heart clean broke, and she say dat she'm jess
ready ter drop down and die. Den I tries ter comfut har, massa; I takes
har up from de floor, and I say ter har dat de good Lord He pity
har--dat He woant bruise de broken reed, and woant put no more on her
dan she kin b'ar--dat He'd touch you' heart, and I toled har you'se a
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