She entered the halls of song, free for all, rich or poor, and heard melodious sounds such as she had never dreamed of hearin’ this side of heaven. And the musicians wuz all of her own music-lovin’ race, and the melody almost seemed to have the secret of Paradise in it, so heavenly sweet it wuz.

All through this favored land out in the rich country wuz immense co-operative farms stocked with sleek herds, and worked with new and wonderful machinery invented by her own people.

And in the Capitol, in the chair of the ruler, sot one of her own race, wise and beneficent. And all the offices and chairs of State wuz filled by the colored people.

Over all the land wuz prosperity, over all the land wuz peace, for there wuz no conflictin’ elements of diverse and alien races and interests mixed up in it; and purified by past sufferings, grown wise by the direct teachings of God, the rulers ruled wisely, the people listened gladly, and the teachings of the Christ who more than two thousand years before come upon earth wuz fulfilled to His chosen people, whom He had brought up out of the depths to show His glory to the heathens.

She saw—for her vision wuz ontrammelled by time or space—she saw the wise and kind influences of the Republic stretching out like the rays from a star into the darkest corners and deepest jungles of this great Eastern Hemisphere—she saw the light slowly dawning in these depths.

She saw missionaries ever goin’ into these places from this New Republic with the Bible in their hands and its sweet wisdom in their lives, and then ever goin’ back with some new recruits gathered from the lowest places, to be in time educated in all good things, and then sent back as missionaries to their own tribes.

And the sunlight lay lovingly on this land like the love of God long hidden under the cloud of His judgments, but now seeming the sweeter from what had gone before.

And from all these cozy homes in city and in country she heard the steady tread, tread of the children walkin’ along to the music of the future, the future of accomplishment, of education, of promise. She saw them forever learnin’ new things, the newer things that wuz forever displacin’ the old—newer, grander, broader views and aims. For heaven and earth wuz drawin’ nearer to each other, and the era of peace on earth, good-will to man had come.

Long did Genieve set there wrapped in the glory of what she saw—whether in the body or out of the body I do not know. God knoweth.

At last the voice of little Snow aroused her, and she took her up in her arms.

But the light remained in her face.

Little Snow come into our room in a few minutes, and she sez, “Genny took me up in her lap, and her face shined.”

And I sez, “Like enough, darlin’. She is one of the Lord’s anointed, anyway.”

And Josiah sez—he had come back, and wuz a layin’ on the lounge—“Probable the sun wuz a shinin’ into her face.”

And Snow sez, “The sun had gone down; it wasn’t shinin’ into her room.”

“Wall,” sez Josiah, “it wuz most probable the lamp.”

“She hadn’t lighted one,” sez Snow.

“Wall, it wuz most probable sunthin’,” sez Josiah.

And I sez, “I presume so.”

And I felt that it wuz.

Wall, while this happy glow wuz still a shinin’ in Genieve’s eyes, Victor wuz a settin’ down below. Genieve had gone across the garden to bid baby Tommy good-bye.

When I went down agin Victor wuz a settin’ by the open window of the settin’ room.

It wuz a lovely night, as I could see plain, for the big windows wuz wide open and the moon shone bright in the east, while yet the rosy glow had not faded out of the western sky.

I sot down with my knittin’ work, and as I sot there a peacefully seamin’ three and one on Josiah’s sock, I see a little white bird come a flyin’ along from towards the clump of roses and magnolias that riz up over little Belle Fanchon’s grave.

It flew along most to the window, and settled down on a wavin’ rose branch, and there it swung back and forth and sung a sweet sort of a invitin’ song. And into its liquid notes seemed to be blent sunthin’ sad and sort o’ comfortin’, and sunthin’ high, and inspirin’, and glad.

I thought I had seen and hearn most every kind of song bird sence I had been South; but thinkses I to myself, I don’t believe I ever see a bird that looked exactly like that, or heard a song that wuz quite so sweet, so sad.

It sot there for all the world as if it wuz a waitin’ for sunthin’.

I didn’t say nuthin’, but I couldn’t help watchin’ it. I felt queer.

Bimeby Victor came up the steps and come in—he had been down on the lawn for a flower for Genieve—and bein’ startled by him, I spoze, the bird flew up a little ways onto a branch that hung over the porch, and kep’ on with that same plaintive, sweet song, and it had that same air as if it wuz a waitin’, waitin’ for somebody or sunthin’.

But pretty soon Maggie come in, and Victor begun to tell us how all his preparations wuz completed, and about his plans, and his hopes, etc., and I got all took up with ’em, and then I had to set my heel—or ruther Josiah’s heel, and that takes up sights of mind and intellect to do it jest right.

And jest as I got it set, in come Snow, the precious darlin’, with her youngest dolly in her arms.

She made me kiss it good-night. I didn’t really want to, its face wuz pasty and bare in patches, but I done it, and got two kisses from Snow’s sweet little lips to take the taste out of my mouth.

And as I had kissed the doll affectionate and accordin’ to her wishes, she put up her little hand to my face in that sweet caress she always gin me when she wuz real satisfied and happy with what I had done, or when I felt bad about anything.

And as I bent my head for that lovin’ and tender caress, oh, how joyful and clear that bird’s song did sound through the twilight; it rung out as if whatever it wuz waitin’ for had come nigh it, and its little lonesome heart wuz full of content and joy.

And after she left my side, Snow kissed her mamma and then went up to bid Victor good-night. She loved Victor, and he loved her dearly. And knowin’ it would be the last time he would ever have the chance agin most likely, he felt agitated and sorry, and took the dear little creeter up in his arms, dolly and all.

As he did so I thought I heard the sound of steps in the garden, but I glanced out past Victor and couldn’t hear anything more, only that plaintive bird song, low, and strange, and thrillin’.

And I kep’ on with my work. But agin we all thought we heard steps, and we listened for a minute, but everything wuz still. But sunthin’ drawed my eyes to look up at little Snow, and even as I looked a ball come crashin’ through the window and went right through that baby’s breast.

Victor sprung to his feet and sez:

“That wuz meant for me!”

And as he looked down on Snow he cried out:

“My God! has it killed the child?”

But he laid her down on the lounge right by him, and, bold as a lion, and as if to shield us all from further harm, he sprang out on the piazza and from there to the ground, and faced the gang of masked men we could see surroundin’ him.

But we couldn’t foller him with any of our thoughts; all of our hearts wuz centred on our little lamb.

She lay there white as death where Victor put her. She lay there still, with her big blue eyes lookin’ up—up—and what did they see? Wuz the Form a bendin’ over her? We thought so, from her face—such a look of content, and understandin’, and comprehension of sunthin’ that wuz beyend our poor knowledge.

For a minute she looked up with that rapt look on her face, and then she tried to lift her little white hand in that pretty gesture of greetin’ somebody we couldn’t see.

And then she slowly turned her look onto all of us, full of love—love and pity; and then she wuz gone from us; we had only the beautiful little body left.

We couldn’t believe it; we wuz stunned and almost killed with the suddenness of it, the terribleness, the onheard-of agony and pity of it.

But it wuz so. When we had come to ourselves a little, and sent for the doctor, and worked over her, and wept over her till fur into the night, we had to believe it—dear little Snow had gone.

Victor, full of thought for Genieve, for us all, led the gang away under a clump of magnolias in a distant part of the grounds, nigh to the little tomb of Belle Fanchon.

They faced him, their faces full of brutal anger, and low envy, and all bad passions. Led on by the cruel lies and influence of Col. Seybert, and their own low distrust and dislike of superiority in one of their own class, their own besotted ideas of their personal freedom—

They told Victor they would give him a chance for life. Let him give up his ideas of colonization, let him give up his plans of enrichin’ himself on the earnings of the poor, let him show he wuz one of his own people by goin’ back to his work again to Col. Seybert’s—they would give him this one chance.