"I think, Julius," said my wife, after a moment, "that you may turn the
mare around and go by the long road."
The old man obeyed with alacrity, and I noticed no reluctance on the
mare's part.
"You are not afraid of Chloe's haunt, are you?" I asked jocularly.
My mood was not responded to, and neither of the ladies smiled.
"Oh, no," said Annie, "but I've changed my mind. I prefer the other
route."
When we had reached the main road and had proceeded along it for a short
distance, we met a cart driven by a young negro, and on the cart were a
trunk and a valise. We recognized the man as Malcolm Murchison's
servant, and drew up a moment to speak to him.
"Who's going away, Marshall?" I inquired.
"Young Mistah Ma'colm gwine 'way on de boat ter Noo Yo'k dis ebenin',
suh, en I'm takin' his things down ter de wharf, suh."
This was news to me, and I heard it with regret. My wife looked sorry,
too, and I could see that Mabel was trying hard to hide her concern.
"He's comin' 'long behin', suh, en I 'spec's you'll meet 'im up de road
a piece. He 's gwine ter walk down ez fur ez Mistah Jim Williams's, en
take de buggy fum dere ter town.
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