Mrs. Ambler finished her prayer and rose from her knees; and as she did so
two slave women, crouching in a corner by the fire, broke into loud
moaning, which filled the little room with an animal and inarticulate sound
of grief.
"Come away, Julia," implored the Governor in a whisper, resisting an
impulse to close his ears against the cry.
But his wife shook her head and spoke for a moment with the sick woman
before she wrapped her shawl about her and came out into the open air. Then
she gave a sigh of relief, and, with her hand through her husband's arm,
followed the path across the orchard.
"So you came home, after all," she said. For a moment he made no response;
then, glancing about him in the darkness, he spoke in a low voice, as if
fearing the sound of his own words.
"Bad news brought me home, Julia," he replied, "At the tavern they told me
a message had come to Leicesterburg from Harper's Ferry. An attack was made
on the arsenal at midnight, and, it may be but a rumour, my dear, it was
feared that the slaves for miles around were armed for an uprising."
His voice faltered, and he put out his hand to steady her, but she looked
up at him and he saw her clear eyes shining in the gloom.
"Oh, poor creatures," she murmured beneath her breath.
"Julia, Julia," he said softly, and lifted the lantern that he might look
into her face. As the light fell on her he knew that she was as much a
mystery to him now as she had been twenty years ago on her wedding-day.
Pages:
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245