In the afternoon, Camilla, the only daughter of her master, entered her cabin, and throwing her arms around her neck exclaimed, “Oh!  Mammy, I am so sorry I didn’t know Agnes was dead.  I’ve been on a visit to Mr. Le Grange’s plantation, and I’ve just got back this afternoon, and as soon as I heard that Agnes was dead I hurried to see you.  I would not even wait for my dinner.  Oh! how sweet she looks,” said Camilla, bending over the corpse, “just as natural as life.  When did she die?”

“This morning, my poor, dear darling!” And another burst of anguish relieved the overcharged heart.

“Oh!  Mammy, don’t cry, I am so sorry; but what is this?” said she, as the little bundle of flannel began to stir.

“That is poor Agnes’ baby.”

“Agnes’ baby?  Why, I didn’t know that Agnes had a baby.  Do let me see it?”

Tenderly the grandmother unfolded the wrappings, and presented the little stranger.  He was a beautiful babe, whose golden hair, bright blue eyes and fair complexion showed no trace of the outcast blood in his veins.

“Oh, how beautiful!” said Camilla; “surely this can’t be Agnes’ baby.  He is just as white as I am, and his eyes—­what a beautiful blue—­and his hair, why it is really lovely.”

“He is very pretty, Miss, but after all he is only a slave.”

A slave.  She had heard that word before; but somehow, when applied to that fair child, it grated harshly on her ear; and she said, “Well, I think it is a shame for him to be a slave, when he is just as white as anybody.  Now, Mammy,” said she, throwing off her hat, and looking soberly into the fire, “if I had my way, he should never be a slave.”

“And why can’t you have your way?  I’m sure master humors you in everything.”

“I know that; Pa does everything I wish him to do; but I don’t know how I could manage about this.  If his mother were living, I would beg Pa to set them both free, and send them North; but his mother is gone; and, Mammy, we couldn’t spare you.  And besides, it is so cold in the North, you would freeze to death, and yet, I can’t bear the thought of his being a slave.  I wonder,” said she, musing to herself, “I wonder if I couldn’t save him from being a slave.  Now I have it,” she said, rising hastily, her face aglow with pleasurable excitement.  “I was reading yesterday a beautiful story in the Bible about a wicked king, who wanted to kill all the little boys of a people who were enslaved in his land, and how his mother hid her child by the side of a river, and that the king’s daughter found him and saved his life.  It was a fine story; and I read it till I cried.  Now I mean to do something like that good princess.  I am going to ask Pa, to let me take him to the house, and have a nurse for him, and bring him up like a white child, and never let him know that he is colored.”

Miriam shook her head doubtfully; and Camilla, looking disappointed, said, “Don’t you like my plan?”