Kent again to raise his hand against one servant on the plantation; Mr. Carter’s will, allowing Mr. Kent no authority over his servants, and commending them to his daughter’s kindness and care, showed great discrimination of character.  This, though, has been a constant source of irritation to Mr. Kent, and he has never been kind to the people.  Mrs. Kent, usually so timid, was roused into anger by his treatment of Robert, and interfered, as I have related to you.  She told me of this, and said how unhappy it had made her, though she could not blame herself.  Since then there has only been a formal politeness between them; Mr. Kent not forgiving his wife for the part she took against him.  Poor little woman!  Robert had been her father’s faithful nurse in his long illness, and I do not wonder at her feelings on seeing him struck.

“Yesterday the will was read, and Dr. Lawton, who was present, informed us of the result.  Mrs. Kent has left most of her property to her husband, but her servants free!  The plantation is to be sold, and the proceeds expended in preparing those who are willing to go to Liberia, or where they choose; as they cannot, manumitted, remain in Virginia.  The older servants, who prefer staying in Virginia as they are, she has left to you, with an allowance for their support, considering you as a kind of guardian; for in no other way could she have provided for their staying here, which they will like better.

    “Who would have thought she could have made so wise a will?

    “Dr. Lawton says that Mr. Kent showed extreme anger on hearing it
    read.  He intends returning to the North, and his $30,000 will be a
    clear gain, for I am told he had not a cent when he married her.

    “Write me when you have fixed the time for your return, and
    believe me, with love to all,

  “Your affectionate relative,
  JANET WILMER.”

Bacchus entered in time to hear the latter part of this letter.  He had his master’s boots in his hands.  When Mrs. Weston stopped reading, he said, “That’s good; bound for Mister Kent.  I’m glad he’s gwine, like Judas, to his own place.”

CHAPTER XXV.

The carriage was slowly ascending the road to the old church, a familiar and dear object to each member of the Weston family.  A village churchyard fills up so gradually, that one is not startled with a sudden change.  Mr. Weston looked from the window at the ivy, and the gothic windows, and the family vault, where many of his name reposed.

The inmates of the carriage had been conversing cheerfully, but as they approached the point where they would see home, each one was occupied with his or her musings.  Occasionally, a pleasant word was exchanged, on the appearance of the well-known neighborhood, the balmy air, and the many shades of green that the trees presented; some of them loaded with white and pink blossoms, promising still better things when the season should advance.