gry men respect neither friend nor foe when it comes to satisfying
their wants, and ravaged plantations and desolated homes marred the beauty
of the peaceful landscape.

It was a long hard day's ride and Jeanne was glad when at last just as
the brief twilight was deepening, Mr. Vance descried a large house in the
distance and directed Jeff to drive them there so that they might have
shelter for the night.

"Dar's nobody ter hum," was Jeff's announcement after knocking at all the
doors.

"Go to the quarters and find out where the people are," commanded his
master, but the darky soon returned with the information that the cabins
were empty also.

"Strange," said the gentleman. "What do you think we would better do,
Clarisse?"

"Can you not open the doors in some way?" asked the lady pettishly. "I
am tired, mon ami, and if no one is there we might just as well take
possession. Private property doesn't seem to be respected these times."

Without another word Mr. Vance gave the order, and the two men soon
succeeded in forcing an entrance. The fast falling darkness gave weird
glimpses of the interior of the residence.

"Remain without," said her husband hastily, "until I get a light."

Presently the cheering flash of a fire dispelled the gloom of the dwelling
and after being assured that everything was all right within, the lady
entered followed by Jeanne and the blacks. The October air was chilly and
the warmth of the pine knots was very acceptable.

Jeanne crept into a corner where she could enjoy the blaze and fell into
a reverie. The poor child was very miserable. Her aunt and uncle scarcely
noticed her or when they did speak to her it was in such great contrast
to their former affectionate address that her heart was heavy indeed.

The brightness of the pine knots in the vast fireplace lighted up the
room vividly. The apartment seemed to have been the living-room of the
family, and its disarrangement showed that the inmates had left its
sheltering walls hurriedly. At one end of the room were great spinning
wheels with the thread still hanging.

Mr. Vance had drawn up an easy chair to one side of the odorous fire and
leaned silently back in its depths apparently lost in thought. His wife
was seated near him, the firelight glancing almost caressing on the rich
sheen of her hair and the vivid crimson of her cheek and lip. Snowball's
dusky figure flitted back and forth supplying the fire with the rich
pine knots