culiar, appealing quality, which Judithe, with a little grimace,
assured herself was so appealing it was compelling; it left her no
choice but to do what she was doing and for which she could take no
credit whatever to herself--the wistful eyes of the pale-faced
bondwoman did it all.

"In a week there is plenty of time to arrange it," she said, turning
kindly to Pluto. "You can rest in peace about your Rosa's boy. I will
attend to it at once, and the traders shall never have him."

Margeret drew a sharp, inward breath of relief.

"Yo' mean _you'll_ buy him in?" and Pluto's voice was scarcely more
than a whisper. "Yo' mean I'll have a chance, maybe, to buy him back
some day?"

"Not 'some day,' my good fellow," and Judithe folded the paper she had
been writing; "from the day he is bought from the Larue estate he will
have his freedom. He will never be bought or sold again."

The man stared at her, helplessly. No hope of his had ever reached so
high as _that_! He tried to speak--failed--and his face was covered by
his sleeve, as he went slowly out of the room.

"Don't--don't you think Pluto ain't thankful, Madame Caron," said the
soft tones of Margeret, and they were not quite steady tones, either.
Judithe did not look up for fear she should see tears in the
melancholy, dark eyes; "that black boy just so thankful he can't
speak. He'll worship you for what you've done for him, and well he
may."

There was a soft rustle beside her--the presence of lips on her hand,
and then Judithe was alone in the room, and stronger than when she had
entered it so short a while since, braced by the certainty that here,
at least, she had been of use--practical use her own eyes could see,
and all the evening a bird sang in her heart, and the grateful touch
of the bondwoman's lips gave her more pleasure than she could remember
through the same tribute of any courtier.

CHAPTER XXI.

When Pluto brought her mail, an hour later, he tried to express more
clearly in words the utter happiness showing through every feature of
his dark face, but she stopped him with a little gesture.

"I see you are glad--no need to tell it," she remarked, briefly; "if
you want to thank me do it by helping any of your people whom you find
in trouble. There are many of them, no doubt."

And when Mrs. McVeigh thanked her for doing what she could not have
done on such short notice, Judithe put the question aside quite as
lightly.

"The man is a ve