n"_--she sank on her knees as
she read the rest--_"Lincoln has issued the proclamation of
emancipation!"_

It was Margeret who found her there a few minutes later. She was still
kneeling by the window, her face covered by her hands.

"You likely to catch cold down there, Madame," said the soft voice. "I
saw you come in here a good while ago, an' I thought I'd come see if I
could serve you some way."

Judithe accepted the proffered hand and rose to her feet. For an
instant Margeret's arms had half enfolded her, and the soft color
swept into the woman's face. Judithe looked at her kindly and said:

"You have already tried to serve me today, Margeret; I've been
thinking of it since, and I wonder why?"

"Any of the folks here would be proud to serve you, Madame Caron,"
said the woman, lapsing again into calm reticence.

Judithe looked at her and wondered what would become of her and the
many like her, now that freedom was declared for the slaves. She could
not understand why she had denied seeing her in the corridor, for they
had met there, almost touched! Perhaps she was some special friend of
Pluto's, and because of that purchase of the child--

"I leave tomorrow for Savannah," said Judithe, kindly. "Come to my
room this evening, and if there is anything I can do for you--"

Margeret's hands were clasped tightly at the question, and those
strange, haunting eyes of hers seemed to reach the girl's soul.

"There is one thing," she half whispered, "not now, maybe, not
right away! But you've bought Loringwood, and I--I lived there too
many years to be satisfied to live away from it. They--Miss
Gertrude--wouldn't ask much for me now, and--"

"I see," and Judithe wished she could tell her that there would never
be buying or selling of her again--that the law of the land had
declared her free! "I promise you, Loringwood shall be your home some
day, if you wish."

"God forever bless you!" whispered Margeret, and then she pushed aside
the curtains and went through the library and up the stairs, and
Judithe watched her, thoughtfully wondering why any slave should cling
to a home where Matthew Loring's will had been law. Was it true that
certain slavish natures in women--whether of Caucasian or African
blood--loved best the men who were tyrants? Was it a relic of
inherited tendencies when all women of whatever complexion were but
slaves to their masters--called husbands?

But something in the delicate, sad face of Marg