"Well, if you'll take me in, daddy, I'll send for my traps from
London, and stay a month or so."

"A month!" cried the forlorn father.

"Well, daddy, you see, there is a chance of more fighting in Mexico,
and I shall see such practice there; beside meeting old friends who
were with me in Texas. And--and I've got a little commission, too,
down in Georgia, that I should like to go and do."

"What is that?"

"Well,--it's a long story and a sad one: but there was a poor Yankee
surgeon with the army in Circassia--a Southerner, and a very good
fellow; and he had taken a fancy to some coloured girl at home--poor
fellow, he used to go half mad about her sometimes, when he was
talking to me, for fear she should have been sold--sent to the New
Orleans market, or some other devilry; and what could I say to comfort
him? Well, he got his mittimus by one of Schamyl's bullets; and when
he was dying, he made me promise (I hadn't the heart to refuse) to
take all his savings, which he had been hoarding for years for no
other purpose, and see if I couldn't buy the girl, and get her away to
Canada. I was a fool for promising. It was no concern of mine; but the
poor fellow wouldn't die in peace else. So what must be, must."

"Oh, go! go!" said Mary. "You will let him go, Doctor Thurnall, and
see the poor girl free? Think how dreadful it must be to be a slave."

"I will, my little Miss Mary; and for more reasons than you think of.
Little do you know how dreadful it is to be a slave."