but I've been thinkin' of Cap'n Tom all day. I
can't throw it off."

Bisco shook his head solemnly. "So have I--so have I. The older I
gits, the mo' I miss Marse Tom."

"I don't like the way things are goin'--in yonder"--and the preacher
nodded his head toward the house.

Uncle Bisco looked cautiously around to see that no one was near:
"He's doin' his bes'--the only thing is whether she can forgit Marse
Tom."

"Bisco, it ain't human nature for her to stan' up agin all that's
brought to bear on her. Cap'n Tom is dead. Love is only human at
las', an' like all else that's human it mus' fade away if it ain't
fed. It's been ten years an' mo'--sence--Cap'n Tom's light went out."

"The last day of November--'64--" said Uncle Bisco, "I was thar an'
seed it. It was at the Franklin fight."

"An' Dick Travis has loved her from his youth," went on the overseer,
"an' he loves her now, an' he's a masterful man."

"So is the Devil," whispered Uncle Bisco, "an' didn't he battle with
the angels of the Lord an' mighty nigh hurled 'em from the crystal
battlements."

"Bisco, I know him--I've knowed him from youth. He's a conjurin'
man--a man who does things--he'll win her--he'll marry her yet.
She'll not love him as she did Cap'n Tom. No--she'll never love
again. But life is one thing an' love is another, an' it ain't often
they meet in the same person. Youth mus' live even if it don't love,
an' the law of nature is the law of life."

"I'm afeered so," said the old negro, shaking his head, "I'm afeered
it'll be that way--but--I'd ruther see her die to-night."

"If God lets it be," said the preacher, "Bisco, if God lets it be--"
he said excitedly, "if he'll let Cap'n Tom die an' suffer the
martyrdom he suffered for conscience sake an' be robbed, as he was
robbed, of his home, an' of his love--if God'll do that, then all I
can say is, that after a long life walkin' with God, it'll be the
fus' time I've ever knowed Him to let the wrong win out in the end.
An' that ain't the kind of God I'm lookin' fur."

"Do you say that, Marse Hillyard?" asked the old negro quickly--his
eyes taking on the light of hope as one who, weak, comes under the
influence of a stronger mind. "Marse Hillyard, do you believe it?
Praise God."

"Bisco--I'm--I'm ashamed--why should I doubt Him--He's told me a
thousand truths an' never a lie."

"Praise God," replied the old man softly.

And so the two old men talked on, and their talk was of Captain Tom.