prescience vague, but unmistakable. One appeal was left
to me, and I made it.

"Robert, tell me what it means? Do not commit a crime and make me
accessory to it. There is a better way of righting wrong than by
violence;--let me help you find it."

My voice trembled as I spoke, and I heard the frightened flutter of my
heart; so did he, and if any little act of mine had ever won affection
or respect from him, the memory of it served me then. He looked down,
and seemed to put some question to himself; whatever it was, the answer
was in my favor, for when his eyes rose again, they were gloomy, but not
desperate.

"I _will_ tell you, Ma'am; but mind, this makes no difference; the boy
is mine. I'll give the Lord a chance to take him fust; if He don't, I
shall."

"Oh, no! remember, he is your brother."

An unwise speech; I felt it as it passed my lips, for a black frown
gathered on Robert's face, and his strong hands closed with an ugly sort
of grip. But he did not touch the poor soul gasping there behind him,
and seemed content to let the slow suffocation of that stifling room end
his frail life.

"I'm not like to forget that, Ma'am, when I've been thinkin' of it all
this week. I knew him when they fetched him in, an' would 'a' done it
long 'fore this, but I wanted to ask where Lucy was; he knows,--he told
to-night--an' now he's done for."

"Who is Lucy?" I asked hurriedly, intent on keeping his mind busy with
any thought but murder.

With one of the swift transitions of a mixed temperament like this, at
my question Robert's deep eyes filled, the clenched hands were spread
before his face, and all I heard were the broken words,--

"My wife,--he took her"--

In that instant every thought of fear was swallowed up in burning
indignation for the wrong, and a perfect passion of pity for the
desperate man so tempted to avenge an injury for which there seemed no
redress but this. He was no longer slave or contraband, no drop of black
blood marred him in my sight, but an infinite compassion yearned to
save, to help, to comfort him. Words seemed so powerless I offered none,
only put my hand on his poor head, wounded, homeless, bowed down with
grief for which I had no cure, and softly smoothed the long neglected
hair, pitifully wondering the while where was the wife who must have
loved this tender-hearted man so well.

The captain moaned again, and faintly whispered, "Air!" but I never
stirred. God forgive me! just then