“Oh, mother!” he exclaimed, “I did love her honestly before, but now I adore her.  I must marry her, and by a lifetime of devotion wipe out the wrong I did not intend to inflict.”

“It will all come about right yet, my boy,” she whispered.  “I never understood Louise before.  I fear they have been too strict and unsympathetic in her bringing up, and so she has naturally rebelled against all their plans.  You didn’t think at the time—­indeed, in our excitement we all forgot—­that Aun’ Jinkey was her mammy, and you know how strong that tie is, even in your case, and you have always had a mother’s love.”

“Oh, fool, fool that I was in my mad anger!  Brave, grand, heroic girl!  I’d have done as much for my old mammy; or rather I’d have struck down a general before he should harm her.  Oh, mother, mother!” concluded the much-indulged youth, “I must marry her.  She is just the bride for a soldier.”

“Rather than have her fall into the hands of the enemy, we will lead her to see that it is the only thing to be done,” replied Mrs. Whately.

Perkins had a consultation with Mr. Baron, as far as that desperately perturbed old gentleman was capable of holding one, the result of which was the decision to let the negroes alone, provided they kept quiet and obeyed.  It was evident to both of them that the approach of Union forces, though yet comparatively distant, had produced the usual demoralizing effects.  The government at The Oaks had not been harsh, but it had been strict and animated by a spirit which alienated sympathy.  The situation was now seen to be too critical to admit of severity, all the more as the protection of Whately and his troopers might soon be withdrawn.

It was a silent and depressing meal to which they sat down that evening, long after the accustomed hour, a fact which Mr. Baron would not forget, even in the throes of an earthquake.  He groaned over it; he groaned over everything, and especially over his niece, who had suddenly developed into the most unmanageable element in the whole vexed problem of the future.  He felt that they owed her very much, and that she held the balance of power through her influence over the negroes; and yet he was incensed that she was not meek and submissive as a young woman should be under all circumstances.  An angry spot burned in each of Mrs. Baron’s cheeks, for she felt that Miss Lou’s conduct reflected very unfavorably on her bringing up.  She was so scandalized and vexed that she could scarcely think of anything else.  Mrs. Whately was all deprecation and apology, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters in every way, while her son was as savagely angry at himself as he had been at poor Aun’ Jinkey and her grandson.