“Rachael is Here,” it ran, “but refuses to see Us.  I do not know what to think.  I drove over as soon as I heard of Their arrival.  Levine received Me and was as Courteous and Polished as ever, but Rachael had a Headache and did not come out.  Mary and I have been there Twice since, and with the same result.  Levine assured us that he had begged her to see her Sisters, but that She is in a very low and melancholy state, owing doubtless to her Condition.  He seemed much concerned, but More, I could not help thinking, because he feared to lose an Heir than from any love for my little Sister.  Peter and Mary agree with Me, that You had best come here if You can.”

Mary Fawcett, whatever her foibles, had never failed to spring upright under the stiffest blows of her life.  Ignoring her physical pains, which had been aggravated by the mental terrors of the last two months, and sternly commanding the agony in her heart to be silent, she despatched a note at once to Dr. Hamilton,—­Archibald Hamn was in Barbados,—­asking him to charter a schooner, if no ship were leaving that day for the Danish Islands, and accompany her to St. Croix.  He sent her word that they could sail on the following morning if the wind were favourable, and the black women packed her boxes and carried them on their heads to Basseterre.

That evening, as Mary Fawcett was slowly walking down the avenue, leaning heavily on her cane, too wretched to rest or sleep, a ship flying the German colours sailed past.  She wondered if it had stopped at St. Croix, then forgot it in the terrible speculations which her will strove to hold apart from her nerves.

Wearied in body, she returned to the house and sat by the window of her room, striving to compose her mind for sleep.  She was forcing herself to jot down instructions for her housekeeper, whom she had taught to read, when she heard a chaise and a pair of galloping horses enter the avenue.  A moment later, Dr. Hamilton’s voice was roaring for a slave to come and hold his horses.  Then it lowered abruptly and did not cease.

Mary Fawcett knew that Rachael had come to her, and without her husband.  For a moment she had a confused idea that the earth was rocking, and congratulated herself that the house was too high for a tidal wave to reach.  Then Dr. Hamilton entered with Rachael in his arms and laid her on the bed.  He left at once, saying that he would return in the morning.  Mary Fawcett had not risen, and her chair faced the bed.  Rachael lay staring at her mother until Mary found her voice and begged her to speak.  She knew that her hunger must wait until she had stood at the bar and received her sentence.