The sun was approaching his hour of setting; and the scene, lately so dreary and desolate, was now resplendent with colours which defy all description. It was not merely the purple and gold with which, in the weakness of language, we are forced to designate the hues, which neither pen nor pencil can bring before the mind, but it was the sparkling vividness, the transparent splendour of those colours--making them as spirit compared to mere matter--which spread an atmosphere-like enchantment over the scene, changing its rude features, brightening its dull heaviness, glorifying its gloom, and giving startling variety to its monotony. It was like the wonderful power of imagination, seizing upon the most incongruous materials, and harmonizing them in the life-like light that streams from itself. The mind, still subject, like the skin of the cameleon, to the aspect of things round it, took a brighter tone from the changes of the sky. Suddenly, however, I heard, as it seemed to me, at some little distance, a voice calling. At first, I was hardly certain whether it was not the cry of some wild bird; but presently I distinguished clearly the tones of a human voice; and, reining in my jaded horse, I turned round and looked in the direction from which it seemed to proceed. Running my eye over the ground, I could perceive nothing for a moment or two; but there were so many stumps and bushes and broken trees, that a hundred men might have been near me in that dim and scattered light without my perceiving their proximity. Still, however, the voice called, and I thought I could distinguish the word, "Mas'r." Cautiously I turned my horse amongst the bushes, and rode on towards the spot from which the sound seemed to come; and I soon began to discern the outline of a figure sitting at the foot of a tall, conical cypress-tree, almost assuming the form of one of the beautiful cypresses of Eastern Europe, and perched upon a little knoll, rising above the rest of the Swamp. It was not Bessy's figure; but, with no light satisfaction as I drew near to her and more near, I made out the heavy outline of good aunt Jenny. No words can express the good woman's joy and satisfaction when she saw me; and my own was little less, for I knew that I should now have a clue, and that some light, at least, would be thrown upon the mystery which had kept my mind for so many hours in a state of terror and anxiety. Poor Jenny, however, was weak and exhausted--to such a degree even, that she could hardly speak in answer to my questions; and the first consideration was how to revive her failing strength. At the distance which I supposed we were from any human habitation, no food, of course, was to be procured: night was coming on fast, and there seemed no prospect but of her dying there actually of starvation; till suddenly I remembered the hunting-flask of brandy which I had brought from the house of the hapless Mr. Travis, and of which I had never thought since. It was still in the pocket of my jacket, and it proved indeed a most seasonable relief to the poor woman, who soon recovered sufficiently to be able to tell me, vaguely and confusedly, that some twenty minutes after I had left her and Bessy in the wood, a party of white men, headed by Colonel Halliday, had forced their way through the bushes and hurried them away, offering to lodge them securely in Jerusalem. At Bessy's request, the leader promised, she said, to leave two men on the spot to give me warning when I returned; and poor Jenny declared that she heard him herself give the order to that effect. When they reached the path, however, they found more men and horses there; and the party separated into two divisions. Everything was in confusion, the good woman said; and before they were well aware of what was happening, she and Miss Davenport were riding away with one division, while Colonel Halliday took another direction with the other. It was not till they had gone some hundred yards that either Bessy or herself perceived that old William Thornton was with their party. I need not enter into more details, as I shall have to speak of them more fully hereafter, and as the good woman's account was very confused; I learned, however, from her that Bessy and herself had been detained at Mr. Thornton's house all night, but kept separate from each other; that she, at least, had had no food, and that she had seen a party of three or four of aunt Bab's negroes who came to the house, civilly inquiring if Miss Davenport was there, fired at from the windows without the slightest provocation. Immediately after that, Bessy had been placed upon horseback against her will and carried away.

"They turned me out as soon as she was gone," said aunt Jenny, "without even a cup of cold water; but I knew very well where they took her, and so I came on after my darling. But you see I got faint, master, and thought I should die for want here in the Swamp.

"But what did they take her away for, Jenny?" I inquired. "Why did they not let her remain where she was?"

"Why she see'd them shoot poor 'Ercles and the other two," replied the old woman; "and they knew she would witness against them; so they got her out of de State, and will keep her till it's all blown over. Dat's de reason, I am sure."

"Then why did they not send you away, too?" I asked.

"'Cause I'm a coloured woman, and my oath worth nothing," answered aunt Jenny.

"But if they have taken her into another State, how shall we ever find her?" I exclaimed, almost in despair.

"Oh, she close by--not two miles off," she answered. "Why we are in Nort Carolina now."

"Well, take a little more brandy, aunty," I said. "I will lift you on my horse, and we will go on, if you can show me the best way, for it is beginning to grow darkish." She would fain have walked, declaring that she was quite able, and that the brandy had done her "a mighty power of good." But I would have my own way, and we made our road forward just as the last glowing spot of the sun's disk sank below the horizon. He left a bright and beautiful twilight behind him, however, and we had no difficulty in finding our way onward, the road soon after beginning to rise out of the swamp into the firmer ground beyond.