With the politeness natural to the Southern negro, she opened the gate for the gentleman, but as she closed it behind him, she cast after him a look of earnest malevolence.

"Ef dot ole Miss Keswick don' kunjer you, sah," she said in an undertone, "I's gwine to do it myse'f.

So, dar!" And she gave her foot a stamp on the ground.
Lawrence, all ignorant of the malignant feeling he had excited in this, to him, very unimportant and uninteresting black girl, tied his horse and went into the house.

As he passed the open door of the parlor he saw a lady reading by a window in the farthest corner.

Hanging up his hat, he entered, hoping that the reader, whose form was partially concealed by the back of the large rocking chair in which she was sitting, was Miss March.