"Which I did, sir, and shocked I was to think as any false charges should cause my dear young missus to run away from home in the night-time, like a fusible slave. And hurt I was to think you didn't trust into me instead of into he."

"Well, Joe, it appears to me that you were resolved to take our trust, if we did not give it to you. What brought you here this morning?"

"Coffee, sir," gravely answered Joe, getting up off the hamper and beginning to untie its fastenings.

"_What?_" demanded Mr. Berners, gathering his brows into a frown.

"COFFEE!" reiterated Joe, as he took from the hamper a small silver coffee-pot, a pair of cups and saucers, spoons, plates, and knives and forks, a bottle of cream, and several small packets containing all that was needful for breakfast.

"Joe! this was very kind and thoughtful of you; but was it quite safe for you to come here with a hamper on your back in open day?" inquired Mr. Berners.

"Lord bless you, sir! safe as safe! I took by-paths, and didn't see a creetur, not one! Why, lord, sir, you had better a-trusted into me from the beginning, than into Capping Pendulum. Bress your soul, ma.r.s.er, there an't that white man going, nor yet that red injun, that can aiqual a colored gentleman into hiding and seeking!"

"I can well believe that."

"Why, ma.r.s.er!--but you don't 'member that time I got mad long o' old Ma.r.s.e Bertram Berners, 'bout blaming of me for the sorrell horse falling lame; and I run away?"

"No."

"Well, I was gone three months, and not five miles from home all that time! And all the constables looking arter me for law and order; and all the poor white trash, hunting of me for the reward; and not one of 'em all ever struck upon my trail, and me so nigh home all the while!"

"Well, but you were found at last," suggested Mr. Berners.

"Who, _me_? No, _sir_! And I don't think as I should a-been found yet; 'cause it was a funny kind of life, that run-a-way life, a dodging of the man-hunters; but you see, ma.r.s.er, I sort o' pined arter the child--meaning Miss Sybil, who was then about four years old. And, moreover, it was fotch to me by a secret friend o' mine, as the child was likewise a pining arter me. So I up and went straight home, and walked right up before old ma.r.s.e, and took off my hat and told him as how _I_ was willin' to forgive and forget, and let by-gones be by-gones like a Christian gentleman, if he would do the same."

"And of course your master at once accepted such magnanimous terms."

"Who, _he_? Why, Ma.r.s.e Lyon! he looked jes as if he'd a-knocked me down!

Only, you see, the child--meaning Miss Sybil--was a sitting on his knee, which, soon as ever she saw me, she ran to me, and clasped me round one leg, and tried to climb up in my arms; which I took her up at once; and old marster, he couldn't knock me down then, if it had been to have saved his life."

"So peace was ratified."

"Yes, Ma.r.s.e Lyon! which I telled you all this here nonsense jes to let you know how good I was at hiding and seeking. And, Ma.r.s.e! the horses come home all right."

"They did! I am glad of that."

"This was the way of it being all right, sir! You see I knowed, when I heard you were going to ride to this old church, as you couldn't get the horses through this thicket, but would have to turn them loose, to find their way home. And I knowed how if any other eyes 'cept mine saw them, it would set people to axing questions. So I goes out to the road, and watches till I sees 'em coming; when I takes charge of 'em, and gets 'em into the stable quiet, and no one the wiser."

"Well done, Joe! But tell me, my good man, are we missed yet? Has any one inquired for us?"

"Plenty has axed arter you both, Ma.r.s.e! But as no one but me and Capping Pendulum knowed where you was gone, and as I locked your door, and took the key, most of the folks still think as how Miss Sybil has gone to bed, overcome by the ewents of the night, and as how you is a watching by her, and a taking care of her."

"That also is well."

"But, Ma.r.s.e, how is Miss Sybil, and where is she?" inquired the faithful servant, looking about himself.

"She is very much prostrated by fatigue and excitement, and is now sleeping in the church."

"Thanks be to the Divine Marster as she _can_ sleep," said Joe, reverently.

"And now," he continued, as he replaced it on his head, "I will kindle a fire and make the coffee, and may be she may wake up by the time it is ready."

"Kindle a fire out here, Joe! Will not the smoke be seen, and lead to our discovery?" inquired Lyon Berners, glancing at the slender column of smoke from the fire in the church, that he himself had kindled, and now for the first time struck with the sense of the danger of discovery to which it might have exposed Sybil.

"Lord, Ma.r.s.e!" replied Joe, showing his teeth, "we are too far off from any human being for any eye to see our smoke. And even if it wasn't so, bless you, there are so many mists rising from the valley this morning, that one smoke more or less wouldn't be noticed."

"That is true," admitted Mr. Berners.

Meanwhile Joe busied himself with lighting a fire. When it was burning freely, he took the kettle and filled it from the little stream that flowed through the church-yard.

"Now, Ma.r.s.e Lyon, in about ten minutes I will set you down to as good a breakfast, almost, as you could have got at home," said Joe, as he raised three cross-sticks over the fire, and hung the kettle over the blaze, gipsy fashion.

While Joe was at work, Mr. Berners went into the church to look after Sybil.

She was still sleeping the heavy sleep of utter mental and bodily prostration. For a few minutes he stood contemplating her with an expression of countenance full of love and pity, and then after adjusting the covering over her, and collecting together the brands of the expiring fire to light up again, he left the church.

On going outside, he found that Joe had spread a cloth and arranged a rude sort of picnic breakfast upon the ground.

"The coffee is ready, Ma.r.s.e Lyon; but how about the Missis?" inquired the man, as he stirred down the grounds from the top of the pot.

"She is still sleeping, and must not be disturbed," answered Mr.

Berners.

"Well, Ma.r.s.e Lyon, I reckon as how you can relish a cup of coffee as well as she; so please to let me wait on you, sir."

Mr. Berners thanked Joe, and threw himself down upon the ground, and made such a breakfast as a hungry man _can_ make, even under the most deplorable circ.u.mstances.

"Now you know, sir, when the Missus wakes up, be it longer or shorter, I can make fresh coffee for her in ten minutes," said Joe, cheerfully.

"But you cannot stay here very long. You'll be missed from the house,"

objected Mr. Berners.

"Please, sir, I have so well provided for all that, that I can stay till night. Bless you, sir, I told my fellow-servants as I was going to take some corn to the mill to be ground, and was agoin' to wait all day to fetch it home; and so I really did take the corn, and told the miller I should come arter it this evening, and so I shall, and take it home all right, accordin' to my word."

"That was a very politic proceeding, Joe; but how could you account to them for the hamper you brought away, and which must have excited suspicion, if not inquiry?"

"Bless you, sir, I wasn't fool enough to let them see the hamper. All they saw was the two bags of corn as I rode out of the gate with. I had filled the hamper on the sly, and hid it in the bushes by the road, until I went by and picked it up."

"Still better, Joe! But your horse? what horse did you ride, and what have you done with him?"

"I rode d.i.c.k, which I have tied him fast in the deep woods on the other side of the river. I crossed over the rapids with the help of a pole,"

explained Joe.

While they were speaking, a step was heard crushing through the dried brushwood, and in another moment Captain Pendleton, pale, sad, and weary, stood before them.

CHAPTER XXIV.