m harm. She was not like
Marantha but just Hertha Williams who had slipped out of her room to see
the stars and then slipped back again. She was safe here, in Tom's room,
at home.

Kneeling beside her bed she prayed for strength, strength to be good
though she was young and pretty and colored. She could not see ahead,
probably it would be wise to go away somewhere, she wished it might be
near Tom--it was hard to be alone; but she must never again trust the
white man's world.

Back in her bed terror crept over her once more and she shook with fear;
but at length, in sheer exhaustion, she lay quiet, and when the first
morning light entered the room it found her asleep.

CHAPTER IX

"Mercy on us!"

Miss Patty was overcome. She fell back in her chair, her hands trembling
violently, her breath coming short and quick.

"My dear," cried Miss Witherspoon hurrying toward her and fanning her
with the newspaper that lay on the table with the morning mail.

"It's incredible," the southern woman said. She picked up the letter she
had been reading, scanned it a moment, and put it on the table again.
Her companion, devoured with curiosity but strong in the belief that
good manners required that she should show indifference, continued her
ministrations for a few seconds and then turned to her own mail.

"You'll have to advise me," Miss Patty said tremulously, the letter
wavering in her hand, her small head with its white hair shaking up and
down as she talked. "Why should John and Lee have gone away this
morning! I don't know what to do."

"If I can be of any service----"

"This letter is from an old friend, my dear, a very old friend. I
haven't seen him for a long time--I'm such an invalid, you know--but he
writes as an old friend should and asks me to break the news to the dear
child as best I may."

"The dear child?" Miss Witherspoon echoed, interrogation in her voice.

"Yes, and she always has been a dear child; you know how I have cared
for her and shown an interest in her. And to think that this should have
happened! It's incredible."

"What has happened?" The northern woman's tone was peremptory. If she
was to offer advice she would no longer be kept in suspense.

"Why, this amazing story. I should never believe it if it came from
another source, but Bostwick Unthank is the best lawyer in the state. It
is very considerate and polite, I must say, for him to write to me
instead of to John, though Hertha o