ou serve me
thus--risking your very life and your professional future--but neither
of us must forget, not for a moment, that I am only a runaway slave. I
can only consent to go with you, Lieutenant Knox, if you promise me
this."

I hesitated to make the pledge, to put it into binding words, my lips
pressed tightly together, my hands clinched. Feeling the rebuke of my
silence, she turned her head once more, and her questioning eyes again
sought my face in the star-gleam.

"You must promise me," she insisted, firmly, although her sensitive
lips trembled as she gave utterance to the shameful words. "I am
nothing else. I am no white woman of your own race and class appealing
for protection. I cannot ask of you the courtesy a gentleman naturally
gives; I can only beg your mercy. I am a negress--you must not forget,
and you must not let me forget. If you will give me your word I shall
trust you, fully, completely. But it must be given. There is no other
way by which I can accept your protection; there can be no equality
between us--only an impassable barrier of race."

"But I do not see this from the same viewpoint as you of the South."

"Oh yes, you do. The viewpoint is not so dissimilar; not in the same
degree, perhaps, but no less truly. You believe in my right of
freedom; you will even fight for that right, but at the same time you
realize as I do, that the one drop of black blood in my veins is a bar
sinister, now and forever. It cannot be overcome; it must not be
forgotten. You will pledge me this?"

"Yes--I pledge you."

"And, in spite of that drop of black blood, as long as we are together,
you will hold me a woman, worthy of respect and honor? Not a creature,
a chattel, a plaything?"

"Will you accept my hand?"

"Yes."

"Then I will answer you, Rene Beaucaire," I said, soberly, "with all
frankness, black or white I am your friend, and never, through any word
or act of mine, shall you ever regret that friendship."

Her wide-open eyes gazed straight at me. It seemed as if she would
never speak. Then I felt the tightening pressure of her hand, and her
head bent slowly forward as though in the instinct of prayer.

"Thank God!" she whispered softly. "Now I can go with you."

I waited breathless, conscious of the trembling of her body against
mine. Once again the bowed head was lifted, and this time a sparkle of
unshed tears were visible in the shadowed eyes.

"You have not yet explained