more sweet words for Jube when he brings her fruit."

"Get up, poor fellow, get up, and let us pass," said the captain, in a kindly voice. "She is dead, and it is dangerous to wait."

The man drew back, but still kept on his knees. "And the master," he said piteously.

"I can tell you nothing of him," said the captain; "but the boy, the little one, is safe in my ship yonder."

The negro sprang to his feet, searched for the ship with eager glances, and began to clasp and wring his hands in alternate paroxysms of grief and joy.

"The little master! The poor, poor mistress!" he kept exclaiming.

"Come, let us pass," said the captain, a little impatiently, for the morning had dawned, and rays of soft, rosy light flushed the sky, and fell trembling on the water. "Let us pass, we are not safe a minute here."

The negro stood aside, shaking with grief, and when the funereal group had passed him half a dozen paces, he followed it with his head bowed down, and his clasped hands falling heavily before him. Thus he stood till the body was placed in its shallow grave, but when the first shovelful of earth was lifted, he came forward with both hands extended imploringly, and pushed the spade back. An orange tree stood near, on which the yellow fruit and white blossoms hung clustering together among the fragrant leaves; the negro went to this tree, seized one of the most richly laden boughs, and tore the blossoming branches away with both hands. Then he gathered them eagerly up, carried them to the grave, and over the body of his mistress he scattered the flowers till the turf all around was flooded with fragrance, like an altar at some holy festival.

When this was done the poor fellow drew back, and covering his face with his hands, stood trembling in all his limbs till the sailors had done their work, and dragged some shrubs and vines over the earth under which his murdered lady—more fortunate than thousands massacred that fatal night—had found a death shelter.

The sailors moved away from the grave they had made, but the negro did not look up, and they started for the boat, leaving him behind. Then the stillness aroused him, and as the party neared the shore, he followed with a look of painful entreaty in his face, begging to go with them to the ship.

The captain made a prompt motion for him to come on; but gesticulating energetically for them to wait, he ran back to the spot where they had first seen him, stooping downward, he began to tear up the earth with both hands, flinging the leaves and sods on one side in wild haste, only pausing to entreat their patience, with a pitiful glance of the eyes. At last he dropped on his knees, lifted something from the hole he had dug, and came forward with the moist soil dropping from his hands, which were clutched tightly around a bronze box. He followed the men into the boat, and sat down hugging the box to his bosom, and muttering to himself in hurried, eager words, which no one present understood.

When they reached the ship the negro climbed up the sides like a cat. Once on the deck, he ran back and forth, searching every corner. Then, with a despairing cry, he sprang upon the bulwarks, lifted the box over his head, and poised himself for a plunge.

The captain saw this desperate attempt, threw both arms around the negro, and dragged him back upon the deck.

The poor fellow scrambled to his knees, and looking up with pitiful abjectness, said:

"He is not here—the young master is not here; you said he was."

"Get up and come this way, my poor fellow!" said the captain, touched by the humble pathos of his disappointment.

The negro sprang up and seized the box, which had fallen with a crash on the deck.

"I come, master, I come."

"Hush!" said the kind-hearted sailor, pointing to his berth as they entered the cabin. "Hush! and tell me if that is your young master."

The negro drew in his breath with a sob, and scarcely seemed to respire after that. He crept close up to the berth, and looked down upon the boy with a glow in his black face that it is impossible to describe, for every ugly feature quivered with tenderness, while his eyes filled with light, like those of a Newfoundland dog when he has done brave work for his master.

"What will you do with us, strange master?" he said at last, addressing the captain in a humble whisper. "Not send us back yonder?"

He made a motion toward the town with his hand, and a slow horror crept over his face.

"No, my poor fellow, I will take the child to my own thrice-blessed land, if there is no one left to claim him."

"And Jube—let him go too. If the strange master wants a slave, Jube is strong, like a lion, and honest as a dog."

"Poor fellow!"

"See if Jube is not honest," he added, pressing the bronze box between his hands, and forcing some secret spring to recoil. "They told Jube to keep them, and he did. The master went back after mis—went after them. Jube wanted to go with him, but the master said, 'No, stay on the island, and guard that;' so Jube staid, waiting—waiting—waiting for master to come with mistress and the little boy. He never come—never—never will come again. The mistress sleeps! but where shall Jube go to find him, and give back the box?"

"My poor fellow, I fear your master is dead, from some words I gathered from the boy; I am almost sure of it."

"You will take the little boy and Jube away?" said the negro, anxiously, still holding the box half-shut between his hands.

"If no one comes to claim him or you, I will."

The lid of the box flew open, and a ray of sunshine from the cabin window flashed upon the jewels with which it was filled—diamond necklaces, bracelets flaming with rubies and emeralds, ropes of oriental pearls, and armlets flashing like rainbows, broke the sunshine into sparkles of fire.

Mason looked wonderingly on the eager face of the negro.

"And this treasure—did it belong to your master?" he questioned. "Was it to guard this, you hid in the chaparral at White Island?"

"All his; more, more, much more in the great house out there; but heavy gold—too heavy—we had to leave it and go back. He went—wouldn't take Jube—master went, but never he comes to see if Jube is faithful!"

"And all this belongs to the little fellow yonder. God help him!"

"You take little boy—take the box, and take Jube; he gives you all!"

Jube closed the box, dropped on both knees, and held it up.

Captain Mason hesitated, looked at the sleeping child and its strange guardian, shrinking from the trust which chance had imposed upon him. But he felt that a sacred duty was placed before him, from which no honest man should wish to retreat.

He took the box, but as his hands touched the metal a cold chill crept to his heart, and a mist floated before his eyes—an unstable, reddish mist, such as floods a room when the light is filtered through crimson drapery.

Perhaps the red curtain had fluttered before the cabin window; but if so, he felt the startling effect without knowing its cause, and the box shook in his hands, till the jewels within gave forth a faint sound.

"You will take us," pleaded the negro, frightened by the change in Captain Mason's countenance.

"Yes," answered the brave man, casting off the feeling that had seized upon him; "I accept the trust; God has placed it in my hands. As I discharge it, may he prove merciful to me and mine."

The captain spoke to himself, and from the feelings that filled his heart, rather than in reply to the negro; but the expression of his face was full of grand resolve, which the slave could read better than language. So he looked on with a glow of satisfaction while the box was packed up among the most