ot even a
frown ruffled his brow. He greeted the children with sunny smiles
calculated to win their hearts, and under ordinary circumstances they
might have done so. But from the first he was regarded with aversion, as
an intruder upon their sanctuary and love. The dislike was mutual, for,
though Price concealed his feelings, there rankled in his breast an
enmity which he could not smother.

Robert was open in his resentment. It was the first time he had ever
opposed his mother. Even when younger, in their trouble and sore
distress, he was her counsellor. He had not complained when the heaviest
burdens were laid on his young shoulders. He had done the work of a man
long before he was even a stout lad. Privation and hardship were borne
without complaint. He rejoiced on his mother's account when their
fortunes so suddenly and unexpectedly changed. Toil was over. Rest came
and with it the improvement he desired.

It was hoped by her best friends that the bitter lesson which Dorothe
had learned would prove effective, but it did not. Women of her
disposition never learn by experience, and she plunged once more into
extravagance and folly. The boy was old enough to realize his mother's
weakness, yet his great love for her placed her above censure. He was
silent and would have borne a second misfortune like the first
uncomplaining; but when he learned that she was to bring one to take the
place of that father who slept beneath the sea, he rebelled.

Dorothe knew the disposition of her children, and she decided to get
them out of the way until after the wedding. At last she hit upon a
plan. Once more in her need she had recourse to the relatives of her
husband. Her husband's sister had married Richard Griffin, a planter,
and lived at Flower de Hundred. The children had always loved their
paternal relatives, and, though they had not been permitted to visit
them since the restoration, they had by no means forgotten them. They
hailed with joy the announcement that they were to go to Flower
de Hundred.

One morning in early June three horses were saddled, and Robert and
Rebecca, accompanied by a trusty negro named Sam, started on their
journey. Most of the travel, especially to a country as far away as
Flower de Hundred, was on horseback.

"I am so glad we are going," said Rebecca, as they galloped along the
road through the woods. "Mother was good to let us go."

"I am s'prised at the missus," the negro said, shaking his he