as been ill from that terrible morning, and keeps her room. They
are all very good to her. Mr. Harrington, James, and even the lady, vie
with each other in offering kindness to her. These things seem to affect
her greatly; last night, when Mrs. Harrington sat down by her bed, and
took the feverish hand which she seemed unwilling to extend, the girl
turned from her suddenly, and burst into a passion of tears that shook
the bed.

"Mrs. Harrington tried to soothe her. She passed her delicate hand over
the waves of purplish black hair, which was all afloat from her head,
and asked in her sweet, gentle way, 'What the girl was crying for. Was
she homesick?'

"Zillah turned suddenly and looked into that sweet face. Her lips
parted, and some strong resolve came into those almond-shaped eyes;
through her inky lashes, laden down with tears, I saw a gleam of true
feeling that made me almost like the girl. But she closed her lips
again, and the noble expression died out of her face, leaving it full of
dusky shadows.

"'No, I am only sick,' she said, 'something struck me as I flung myself
down to the raft. All had left but me. But what does it matter whether a
poor slave lives or dies? It is a thousand dollars gone--two, I
remember, for a pretty slave like me--and that is all.'

"She spoke with bitterness, and her eyes gleamed angrily under the tears
that still trembled on their lashes.

"'But you have scarcely been a slave, Zillah,' said Mrs. Harrington. 'It
would be a shame to look upon you exactly in that light with this face,
fair almost as my own, and this hand soft, and shapely as a child's.
Surely no girl ever had lighter duties.'

"Zillah gave one quick glance at her mistress, and I saw the faint
dimpling of a smile around her lips. She drew her hand away and hid it
under the bed clothes.

"'You--you are making fun of me, searching for purple marks around the
nails. There is no need of that. But for the black blood I could not
have been bought and sold. That is proof enough.'

"The girl spoke bitterly, and her lips trembled with passion. Then I
saw, what had never presented itself to me before, sure signs of her
race. Temper brought the black blood uppermost, and stamped it for a
time on the features. The lips seemed heavier, the nose flattened, the
forehead lowered and grew dusky, a strange vitality stirred the waves of
her hair. No serpent, disturbed in its nest, ever gave out its colors
more vividly. These were