s, Jo; come back to us, Jo!

"He was walkin' in the gyarden in the cool o' the day
When He seen my baby Jo in the clover blossoms play.

"He was walkin' in the gyarden an' the dew was on His feet
When He seen my baby Jo so little an' sweet.

"They was flowers in the gyarden, roses, an' such,
But the roses an' the pansies, they didn't count for much.

"An' He left the clover blossoms fo' the bees the next day An'
the roses an' the pansies, but He took Jo away.

"Oh, Jo, come back from the cold and the stars
For the cows they has come to the pasture bars,
And the little game chicken has started to crow:
Come back to us, Jo; come back to us Jo!"

He knew their voices and he knew their songs, but never had David heard
his servants sing as they sang this song. Their hymns were strong and
pleasant to the ear, but in this old tune there was a melody and a lilt
that brought a lump in his throat. And there was a heart to their
singing, so that he almost saw them swaying their shoulders to the
melody.

It was the writing on the wall for David.

Out of that song he built a picture of their old lives, the hot
sunshine, the dust, and all the things which Matthew had told him of the
slaves and their ways before the time of the making of the Garden.

He waited, then, either for their messenger or for another song; but he
neither saw the one nor heard the other for a considerable time. An
angry pride sustained him in the meantime, in the face of a life alone
in the Garden. Far off, he heard the neigh of the grays in the meadow
near the gate, and then the clarion clear answer of Glani near the
house. He was grateful for that sound. All men, it seemed, were traitors
to him. Let them go. He would remain contented with the Eden Grays. They
would come and go with him like human companions. Better the noble head
of Glani near him than the treacherous cunning of Benjamin! He accepted
his fate, then, not with calm resignation, but with fierce anger against
Connor, who had brought this ruin on him, and against the men who were
preparing to desert him.

He could hear plainly the creaking of the great wains as the oxen were
yoked to them and they were dragged into position to receive the burdens
of the property they were to take with them into the outer world. And,
in the meantime, he paced through the patio in one of those silent
passions which eat at the heart of a man.