On arriving at the mansion of Gracchus, Sempronius led Malchus to the
apartment occupied by Flavia. Her face lighted with satisfaction.
“You have done well, my Sempronius,” she said; “I shall not forget your
ready gratification of my wish. So this is the young Carthaginian? My
friends will all envy me at having so handsome a youth to attend upon
me. Do you speak our tongue?” she asked graciously.
“A few words only,” Malchus answered. “I speak Greek.”
“It is tiresome,” Flavia said, addressing Sempronius, “that I do not
know that language; but Julia has been taught it. Tell him, Sempronius,
that his duties will be easy. He will accompany me when I walk abroad,
and will stand behind me at table, and will have charge of my pets. The
young lion cub that Tiberius procured for me is getting troublesome
and needs a firm hand over him; he nearly killed one of the slaves
yesterday.”
Sempronius translated Flavia's speech to Malchus.
“I shall dress him,” Flavia said, “in white and gold; he will look
charming in it.”
“It is hardly the dress for a slave,” Sempronius ventured to object.
“I suppose I can dress him as I please. Lesbia, the wife of Emilius,
dresses her household slaves in blue and silver, and I suppose I have as
much right as she has to indulge my fancies.”
“Certainly, Lady Flavia,” Sempronius said reverentially. “I only thought
that such favours shown to the Carthaginian might make the other slaves
jealous.”
Flavia made no answer, but waved her fan to Sempronius in token of
dismissal. The young Roman, inwardly cursing her haughty airs, took his
leave at once, and Flavia handed Malchus over to the charge of the chief
of the household, with strict directions as to the dress which was to be
obtained for him, and with orders to give the animals into his charge.
Malchus followed the man, congratulating himself that if he must serve
as a slave, at least he could hardly have found an easier situation. The
pets consisted of some bright birds from the East, a Persian greyhound,
several cats, a young bear, and a half grown lion. Of these the lion
alone was fastened up, in consequence of his attack upon the slave on
the previous day.
Malchus was fond of animals, and at once advanced boldly to the lion.
The animal crouched as if for a spring, but the steady gaze of Malchus
speedily changed its intention, and, advancing to the full length of its
chain, it rubbed itself against him like a great cat. Malchus stroked
its side, and then, going to a fountain, filled a flat vessel with water
and placed it before it. The lion lapped the water eagerly. Since its
assault upon the slave who usually attended to it, none of the others
had ventured to approach it. They had, indeed, thrown it food, but had
neglected to supply it with water.
“We shall get on well together, old fellow,” Malchus said. “We are both
African captives, and ought to be friends.”
Finding from the other slaves that until the previous day the animal
had been accustomed to run about the house freely and to lie in Flavia's
room, Malchus at once unfastened the chain and for some time played with
the lion, which appeared gentle and good tempered. As the master of
the household soon informed the others of the orders he had received
respecting Malchus, the slaves saw that the newcomer was likely, for
a time at least, to stand very high in the favour of their capricious
mistress, and therefore strove in every way to gain his goodwill.
Presently Malchus was sent for again, and found Julia sitting on the
couch by the side of her mother, and he at once acknowledged to himself
that he had seldom seen a fairer woman. She was tall, and her figure was
full and well proportioned. Her glossy hair was wound in a coil at the
back of her head, her neck and arms were bare, and she wore a garment
of light green silk, and embroidered with gold stripes along the bottom,
reaching down to her knees, while beneath it a petticoat of Tyrian
purple reached nearly to the ground.
“Is he not good looking, Julia?” Flavia asked. “There is not a slave in
Rome like him. Lesbia and Fulvia will be green with envy.”
Julia made no reply, but sat examining the face of Malchus with as much
composure as if he had been a statue. He had bowed on entering, as he
would have done in the presence of Carthaginian ladies, and now stood
composedly awaiting Flavia's orders.
“Ask him, Julia, if it is true that he is a cousin of Hannibal and the
captain of his guard. Such a youth as he is, I can hardly believe
it; and yet how strong and sinewy are his limbs, and he has an air of
command in his face. He interests me, this slave.”
Julia asked in Greek the questions that her mother had dictated.
“Ask him now, Julia,” Flavia said, when her daughter had translated the
answer, “how he came to be captured.”
Malchus recounted the story of his being blown by a gale into the Roman
ports; then, on her own account, Julia inquired whether he had been
present at the various battles of the campaign. After an hour's
conversation Malchus was dismissed. In passing through the hall beyond
he came suddenly upon a female who issued from one of the female
apartments. They gave a simultaneous cry of astonishment.
“Clotilde!” Malchus exclaimed, “you here, and a captive?”
“Alas! yes,” the girl replied. “I was brought here three months since.”
“I have heard nothing of you all,” Malchus said, “since your father
returned with his contingent after the battle of Trasimene. We knew that
Postumius with his legion was harrying Cisalpine Gaul, but no particular
has reached us.”
“My father is slain,” the girl said. “He and the tribe were defeated.
The next day the Romans attacked the village. We, the women and the old
men, defended it till the last. My two sisters were killed. I was taken
prisoner and sent hither as a present to Flavia by Postumius. I have
been wishing to die, but now, since you are here, I shall be content to
live even as a Roman slave.”
While they were speaking they had been standing with their hands
clasped. Malchus, looking down into her face, over which the tears were
now streaming as she recalled the sad events at home, wondered at the
change which eighteen months had wrought in it. Then she was a girl,
now she was a beautiful woman--the fairest he had ever seen, Malchus
thought, with her light brown hair with a gleam of gold, her deep gray
eyes, and tender, sensitive mouth.
“And your mother?” he asked.
“She was with my father in the battle, and was left for dead on the
field; but I heard from a captive, taken a month after I was, that she
had survived, and was with the remnant of the tribe in the well nigh
inaccessible fastnesses at the head of the Orcus.”
“We had best meet as strangers,” Malchus said. “It were well that none
suspect we have met before. I shall not stay here long--if I am not
exchanged. I shall try to escape whatever be the risks, and if you will
accompany me I will not go alone.”
“You know I will, Malchus,” Clotilde answered frankly. “Whenever you
give the word I am ready, whatever the risk is. It should break my heart
were I left here alone again.”
A footstep was heard approaching, and Clotilde, dropping Malchus' hands,
fled away into the inner apartments, while Malchus walked quietly on to
the part of the house appropriated to the slaves. The next day, having
assumed his new garments, and having had a light gold ring, as a badge
of servitude, fastened round his neck, Malchus accompanied Flavia and
her daughter on a series of visits to their friends.
The meeting with Clotilde had delighted as much as it had surprised
Malchus. The figure of the Gaulish maiden had been often before his eyes
during his long night watches. When he was with her last he had resolved
that when he next journeyed north he would ask her hand of the chief,
and since his journey to Carthage his thoughts had still more often
reverted to her. The loathing which he now felt for Carthage had
converted what was, when he was staying with Allobrigius, little more
than an idea, into a fixed determination that he would cut himself loose
altogether from corrupt and degenerate Carthage, and settle among the
Gauls. That he should find Clotilde captive in Rome had never entered
his wildest imagination, and he now blessed, as a piece of the greatest
good fortune, the chance, which had thrown him into the hands of the
Romans, and brought him into the very house where Clotilde was a slave.
Had it not been for that he would never again have heard of her. When
he returned to her ruined home he would have found that she had been
carried away by the Roman conquerors, but of her after fate no word
could ever have reached him.
Some weeks passed, but no mode of escape presented itself to his mind.
Occasionally for a few moments he saw Clotilde alone, and they were
often together in Flavia's apartment, for the Roman lady was proud
of showing off to her friends her two slaves, both models of their
respective races.
Julia had at first been cold and hard to Malchus, but gradually her
manner had changed, and she now spoke kindly and condescendingly to him,
and would sometimes sit looking at him from under her dark eyebrows with
an expression which Malchus altogether failed to interpret. Clotilde was
more clear sighted. One day meeting Malchus alone in the atrium she said
to him: “Malchus, do you know that I fear Julia is learning to love you.
I see it in her face, in the glance of her eye, in the softening of that
full mouth of hers.”
“You are dreaming, little Clotilde,” Malchus said laughing.
“I am not,” she said firmly; “I tell you she loves you.”
“Impossible!” Malchus said incredulously. “The haughty Julia, the
fairest of the Roman maidens, fall in love with a slave! You are
dreaming, Clotilde.”
“But you are not a common slave, Malchus, you are a Carthaginian noble
and the cousin of Hannibal. You are her equal in all respects.”
“Save for this gold collar,” Malchus said, touching the badge of slavery
lightly.
“Are you sure you do not love her in return, Malchus? She is very
beautiful.”
“Is she?” Malchus said carelessly. “Were she fifty times more beautiful
it would make no difference to me, for, as you know as well as I do, I
love some one else.”
Clotilde flushed to the brow. “You have never said so,” she said softly.
“What occasion to say so when you know it? You have always known it,
ever since the day when we went over the bridge together.”
“But I am no fit mate for you,” she said. “Even when my father was
alive and the tribe unbroken, what were we that I should wed a great
Carthaginian noble? Now the tribe is broken, I am only a Roman slave.”
“Have you anything else to observe?” Malchus said quietly.
“Yes, a great deal more,” she went on urgently. “How could you present
your wife, an ignorant Gaulish girl, to your relatives, the haughty
dames of Carthage? They would look down upon me and despise me.”
“Clotilde, you are betraying yourself,” Malchus said smiling, “for you
have evidently thought the matter over in every light. No,” he said,
detaining her, as, with an exclamation of shame, she would have fled
away, “you must not go. You knew that I loved you, and for every time
you have thought of me, be it ever so often, I have thought of you a
score. You knew that I loved you and intended to ask your hand from your
father. As for the dames of Carthage, I think not of carrying you there;
but if you will wed me I will settle down for life among your people.”
A footstep was heard approaching. Malchus pressed Clotilde for a moment
against his breast, and then he was alone. The newcomer was Sempronius.
He was still a frequent visitor, but he was conscious that he had lately
lost rather than gained ground in the good graces of Julia. Averse as
he had been from the first to the introduction of Malchus into the
household, he was not long in discovering the reason for the change
in Julia, and the dislike he had from the first felt of Malchus had
deepened to a feeling of bitter hatred.
“Slave,” he said haughtily, “tell your mistress that l am here.”
“I am not your slave,” Malchus said calmly, “and shall not obey your
orders when addressed in such a tone.”
“Insolent hound,” the young Roman exclaimed, “I will chastise you,” and
he struck Malchus with his stick. In an instant the latter sprang upon
him, struck him to the ground, and wrenching the staff from his hand
laid it heavily across him. At that moment Flavia, followed by her
daughter, hurried in at the sound of the struggle. “Malchus,” she
exclaimed, “what means this?”
“It means,” Sempronius said rising livid with passion, “that your slave
has struck me--me, a Roman patrician. I will lodge a complaint against
him, and the penalty, you know, is death.”
“He struck me first, Lady Flavia,” Malchus said quietly, “because I
would not do his behests when he spoke to me as a dog.”
“If you struck my slave, Sempronius,” Flavia said coldly, “I blame him
not that he returned the blow. Although a prisoner of war, he is, as you
well know, of a rank in Carthage superior to your own, and I wonder not
that, if you struck him, he struck you in return. You know that you had
no right to touch my slave, and if you now take any steps against him I
warn you that you will never enter this house again.”
“Nor will I ever speak a word to you,” Julia added.
“But he has struck me,” Sempronius said furiously; “he has knocked me
down and beaten me.”
“Apparently you brought it upon yourself,” Flavia said. “None but
ourselves know what has happened; therefore, neither shame nor disgrace
can arise from it. My advice to you is, go home now and remain there
until those marks of the stick have died out; it will be easy for you to
assign an excuse. If you follow the matter up, I will proclaim among
my friends how I found you here grovelling on the ground while you were
beaten. What will then be said of your manliness? Already the repeated
excuses which have served you from abstaining to join the armies in
the field have been a matter for much comment. You best know whether it
would improve your position were it known that you had been beaten by a
slave. Why, you would be a jest among young Romans.”
Sempronius stood irresolute. His last hopes of winning Julia were
annihilated by what had happened. The tone of contempt in which both
mother and daughter had spoken sufficiently indicated their feelings,
and for a moment he hesitated whether he would not take what revenge he
could by denouncing Malchus. But the thought was speedily put aside. He
had been wrong in striking the domestic slave of another; but the fact
that Malchus had been first attacked, and the whole influence of the
house of Gracchus, its relations, friends, and clients exerted in his
behalf, would hardly suffice to save him. Still the revenge would be
bought dearly in the future hostility of Flavia and her friends, and
in the exposure of his own humiliating attitude. He, therefore, with a
great effort subdued all signs of anger and said:
“Lady Flavia, your wish has always been law to me, and I would rather
that anything should happen than that I should lose your favour and
patronage, therefore, I am willing to forget what has happened, the more
so as I own that I acted wrongly in striking your slave. I trust that
after this apology you will continue to be the kindly friend I have
always found you.”
“Certainly, Sempronius,” Flavia said graciously, “and I shall not forget
your ready acquiescence in my wishes.”
It was the more easy for Sempronius to yield, inasmuch as Malchus had,
after stating that he had been first struck, quietly left the apartment.
For some little time things went on as before. Malchus was now at
home in Rome. As a slave of one of the most powerful families, as was
indicated by the badge he wore on his dress, he was able, when his
services were not required, to wander at will in the city. He made the
circuit of the walls, marked the spots which were least frequented and
where an escape would be most easily made; and, having selected a spot
most remote from the busy quarter of the town, he purchased a long rope,
and carrying it there concealed it under some stones close to one of the
flights of steps by which access was obtained to the summit of the wall.
The difficulty was not how to escape from Rome, for that, now that he
had so much freedom of movement, was easy, but how to proceed when he
had once gained the open country. For himself he had little doubt that
he should be able to make his way through the territories of the allies
of Rome, but the difficulty of travelling with Clotilde would be much
greater.
“Clotilde,” he said one day, “set your wits to work and try and think of
some disguise in which you might pass with me. I have already prepared
for getting beyond the walls; but the pursuit after us will be hot, and
until we reach the Carthaginian lines every man's hand will be against
us.”
“I have thought of it, Malchus; the only thing that I can see is for me
to stain my skin and dye my hair and go as a peasant boy.”
“That is what I, too, have thought of, Clotilde. The disguise would be
a poor one, for the roundness of your arms and the colour of your eyes
would betray you at once to any one who looked closely at you. However,
as I can see no better way, I will get the garments and some for myself
to match, and some stuff for staining the skin and hair.”
The next day Malchus bought the clothes and dye and managed to bring
them into the house unobserved, and to give to Clotilde those intended
for her.
The lion, under the influence of the mingled firmness and kindness of
Malchus, had now recovered his docility, and followed him about the
house like a great dog, sleeping stretched out on a mat by the side of
his couch.
Sempronius continued his visits. Malchus was seldom present when he
was with Flavia, but Clotilde was generally in the room. It was now the
height of summer, and her duty was to stand behind her mistress with a
large fan, with which she kept up a gentle current of air over Flavia's
head and drove off the troublesome flies. Sometimes she had to continue
doing so for hours, while Flavia chatted with her friends.
Sempronius was biding his time. The two slaves were still high in
Flavia's favour, but he was in hopes that something might occur which
would render her willing to part with them. He watched Julia narrowly
whenever Malchus entered the room, and became more and more convinced
that she had taken a strong fancy for the Carthaginian slave, and the
idea occurred to him that by exciting her jealousy he might succeed in
obtaining his object. So careful were Malchus and Clotilde that he had
no idea whatever that any understanding existed between them. This,
however, mattered but little; nothing was more likely than that
these two handsome slaves should fall in love with each other, and he
determined to suggest the idea to Julia.
Accordingly one day when he was sitting beside her, while Flavia was
talking with some other visitors, he remarked carelessly, “Your mother's
two slaves, the Carthaginian and the Gaul, would make a handsome
couple.”
He saw a flush of anger in Julia's face. For a moment she did not reply,
and then said in a tone of indifference:
“Yes, they are each well favoured in their way.”
“Methinks the idea has occurred to them,” Sempronius said. “I have seen
them glance at each other, and doubt not that when beyond your presence
they do not confine themselves to looks.”
Julia was silent, but Sempronius saw, in the tightly compressed lips and
the lowering brow with which she looked from one to the other, that the
shaft had told.
“I have wondered sometimes,” he said, “in an idle moment, whether
they ever met before. The Carthaginians were for some time among the
Cisalpine Gauls, and the girl was, you have told me, the daughter of a
chief there; they may well have met.”
Julia made no reply, and Sempronius, feeling that he had said enough,
began to talk on other subjects. Julia scarcely answered him, and at
last impatiently waved him away. She sat silent and abstracted until the
last of the visitors had left, then she rose from her seat and walked
quietly up to her mother and said abruptly to Clotilde, who was standing
behind her mistress: “Did you know the slave Malchus before you met
here?”
The suddenness of the question sent the blood up into the cheeks of the
Gaulish maiden, and Julia felt at once that the hints of Sempronius were
fully justified.
“Yes,” Clotilde answered quietly, “I met him when, with Hannibal, he
came down from the Alps into our country.”
“Why did you not say so before?” Julia asked passionately. “Mother, the
slaves have been deceiving us.”
“Julia,” Flavia said in surprise, “why this heat? What matters it to us
whether they have met before?”
Julia did not pay any attention, but stood with angry eyes waiting for
Clotilde's answer.
“I did not know, Lady Julia,” the girl said quietly, “that the affairs
of your slaves were of any interest to you. We recognized each other
when we first met. Long ago now, when we were both in a different
position--”
“And when you loved each other?” Julia said in a tone of concentrated
passion.
“And when we loved each other,” Clotilde repeated, her head thrown back
now, and her bearing as proud and haughty as that of Julia.
“You hear that, mother? you hear this comedy that these slaves have been
playing under your nose? Send them both to the whipping post.”
“My dear Julia,” Flavia exclaimed, more and more surprised at her anger,
“what harm has been done? You astonish me. Clotilde, you can retire.
What means all this, Julia?” she went on more severely when they were
alone; “why all this strange passion because two slaves, who by some
chance have met each other before, are lovers? What is this Gaulish
girl, what is this Carthaginian slave, to you?”
“I love him, mother!” Julia said passionately.
“You!” Flavia exclaimed in angry surprise; “you, Julia, of the house of
Gracchus, love a slave! You are mad, girl, and shameless.”
“I say so without shame,” Julia replied, “and why should I not? He is a
noble of Carthage, though now a prisoner of war. What if my father is
a consul? Malchus is the cousin of Hannibal, who is a greater man than
Rome has ever yet seen. Why should I not wed him?”
“In the first place, it seems, Julia,” Flavia said gravely, “because
he loves someone else. In the second place, because, as I hear, he is
likely to be exchanged very shortly for a praetor taken prisoner at
Cannae, and will soon be fighting against us. In the third place,
because all Rome would be scandalized were a Roman maiden of the
patrician order, and of the house of Gracchus, to marry one of the
invaders of her country. Go to, Julia, I blush for you! So this is the
reason why of late you have behaved so coldly to Sempronius. Shame on
you, daughter! What would your father say, did he, on his return from
the field, hear of your doings? Go to your chamber, and do not let me
see you again till you can tell me that you have purged this madness
from your veins.”
Without a word Julia turned and left the room. Parental discipline was
strong in Rome, and none dare disobey a parent's command, and although
Julia had far more liberty and license than most unmarried Roman girls,
she did not dare to answer her mother when she spoke in such a tone.
Flavia sat for some time in thought, then she sent for Malchus. He had
already exchanged a few words with Clotilde, and was therefore prepared
for her questions.
“Malchus, is it true that you love my Gaulish slave girl?”
“It is true,” Malchus replied quietly. “When we met in Gaul, two years
since, she was the daughter of a chief, I a noble of Carthage. I loved
her; but we were both young, and with so great a war in hand it was not
a time to speak of marriage.”
“Would you marry her now?”
“Not as a slave,” Malchus replied; “when I marry her it shall be before
the face of all men--I as a noble of Carthage, she as a noble Gaulish
maiden.”
“Hannibal is treating for your exchange now,” Flavia said. “There are
difficulties in the way, for, as you know, the senate have refused to
allow its citizens who surrender to be ransomed or exchanged; but the
friends of the praetor Publius are powerful and are bringing all their
influence to bear to obtain the exchange of their kinsman, whom Hannibal
has offered for you. I will gladly use what influence I and my family
possess to aid them. I knew when you came to me that, as a prisoner of
war, it was likely that you might be exchanged.”
“You have been very kind, my Lady Flavia,” Malchus said, “and I esteem
myself most fortunate in having fallen into such hands. Since you know
now how it is with me and Clotilde, I can ask you at once to let me
ransom her of you. Any sum that you like to name I will bind myself, on
my return to the Carthaginian camp, to pay for her.”
“I will think it over,” Flavia said graciously. “Clotilde is useful to
me, but I can dispense with her services, and will ask you no exorbitant
amount for her. If the negotiations for your exchange come to aught, you
may rely upon it that she shall go hence with you.”
With an expression of deep gratitude Malchus retired. Flavia, in thus
acceding to the wishes of Malchus, was influenced by several motives.
She was sincerely shocked at Julia's conduct, and was most desirous of
getting both Malchus and Clotilde away, for she knew that her daughter
was headstrong as she was passionate, and the presence of Clotilde in
the house would, even were Malchus absent, be a source of strife and
bitterness between herself and her daughter.
In the second place, it would be a pretty story to tell her friends,
and she should be able to take credit to herself for her magnanimity in
parting with her favourite attendant. Lastly, in the present state of
affairs it might possibly happen that it would be of no slight
advantage to have a friend possessed of great power and influence in the
Carthaginian camp. Her husband might be captured in fight--it was not
beyond the bounds of possibility that Rome itself might fall into the
hands of the Carthaginians. It was, therefore, well worth while making a
friend of a man who was a near relation of Hannibal.
For some days Julia kept her own apartment. All the household knew that
something had gone wrong, though none were aware of the cause. A general
feeling of uneasiness existed, for Julia had from a child in her fits of
temper been harsh with her slaves, venting her temper by cruelly beating
and pinching them. Many a slave had been flogged by her orders at such
a time, for her mother, although herself an easy mistress, seldom
interfered with her caprices, and all that she did was good in the eyes
of her father.
At the end of the week Flavia told Malchus that the negotiations for his
release had been broken off, the Roman senate remaining inflexible
in the resolve that Romans who surrendered to the enemy should not be
exchanged. Malchus was much disappointed, as it had seemed that the time
of his release was near; however, he had still his former plan of escape
to fall back upon.
A day or two later Julia sent a slave with a message to Sempronius, and
in the afternoon sallied out with a confidential attendant, who always
accompanied her when she went abroad. In the Forum she met Sempronius,
who saluted her.
“Sempronius,” she said coming at once to the purpose, “will you do me a
favour?”
“I would do anything to oblige you, Lady Julia, as you know.”
“That is the language of courtesy,” Julia said shortly; “I mean would
you be ready to run some risk?”
“Certainly,” Sempronius answered readily.
“You will do it the more readily, perhaps,” Julia said, “inasmuch as
it will gratify your revenge. You have reason to hate Malchus, the
Carthaginian slave.”
Sempronius nodded.
“Your suspicion was true, he loves the Gaulish slave; they have been
questioned and have confessed it. I want them separated.”
“But how?” Sempronius asked, rejoicing inwardly at finding that Julia's
wishes agreed so nearly with his own.
“I want her carried off,” Julia said shortly. “When once you have got
her you can do with her as you will; make her your slave, kill her,
do as you like with her, that is nothing to me--all I want is that she
shall go. I suppose you have some place where you could take her?”
“Yes,” Sempronius said, “I have a small estate among the Alban Hills
where she would be safe enough from searchers; but how to get her there?
She never goes out except with Lady Flavia.”
“She must be taken from the house,” Julia said shortly; “pretty slaves
have been carried off before now, and no suspicion need light upon you.
You might find some place in the city to hide her for a few days, and
then boldly carry her through the gates in a litter. None will think of
questioning you.”
“The wrath of Lady Flavia would be terrible,” Sempronius said
doubtfully.
“My mother would be furious at first,” Julia said coldly; “but get her a
new plaything, a monkey or a Numidian slave boy, and she will soon forget
all about the matter.”
“But how do you propose it should be done?” Sempronius asked.
“My slave shall withdraw all the bolts of the back entrance to the
house,” Julia said; “do you be there at two in the morning, when all
will be sound asleep; bring with you a couple of barefooted slaves. My
woman will be at the door and will guide you to the chamber where the
girl sleeps; you have only to gag her and carry her quietly off.”
Sempronius stood for a moment in doubt. The enterprise was certainly
feasible. Wild adventures of this kind were not uncommon among the
dissolute young Romans, and Sempronius saw at once that were he detected
Julia's influence would prevent her mother taking the matter up hotly.
Julia guessed his thoughts.
“If you are found out,” she said, “I will take the blame upon myself,
and tell my mother that you were acting solely at my request.”
“I will do it, Julia,” he agreed; “tonight at two o'clock I will be
at the back door with two slaves whom I can trust. I will have a place
prepared to which I can take the girl till it is safe to carry her from
the city.”