Pompey  turned  the  key  to  Dinah's  door,  and  in  they
walked.  There  sat  the  fugitive  on  the  side  of  the  bed,
the  perspiration  standing  in  large  drops  on  his  fore-
head, and  trembling  from  head  to  foot  with  affright.  The


48^^  WFE  AT  TITK  SOUTH  ;  OR

planter  extended  his  hand,  and  with  a  pleasant  smile
upon  his  countenance,  inquired  after  his  health.  The
fugitive  would  fain  make  answer,  but  the  words  stuck
in  his  throat.
"Why,  are  you  sick,  Tom?  You  look  as  though
you  were  going  into  an  ague  fit.  Can't  you  speak  to
your  old  master  ? "  asked  the  planter,  in  a  bland  voice.
The  fugitive  made  no  answer  at  first ;  but  the  planter
treated  him  so  kindlv,  and  difierent  irom  what  he  anti-
cipated,  that  he  lost  his  fear  in  a  moment  or  two,  and
felt  more  at  ease.
"  I  thought  you  would  n't  speak  to  me,  if  you  seed
me,"  finally  he  said.
"  Oh  !  to  be  sure.  You  lived  too  long  with  me  to
be  forgotten.  Where  do  you  stay,  Tom  ? "  asked  the
planter.
TJie  fugitive  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say  in  reply.
"  Are  you  stopping  here  at  the  Falls  ? "

"  No,  mass'r."

"  Where  is  your  home  ? "

"  I  can't  say,  mass'r."

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  you  have  no  home  ? "  said
the  planter,  beginning  to  take  pity  on  him.
"I  hab  lived  in  Buffalo  sometime  back."

"  Hard  times,  Tom  —  eh  ? "

"  Yas,  mass'r."

"  Well,  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  in  such  condition.
But,  I  suppose  you  consider  yourself  free,  and  that
'thought  recompenses  you  for  all  your  trouble  in  obtain-
ing a  livelihood,"  said  the  planter.
