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 "He'll like it well enough. He likes Lida now more than ever and will know how to manage it. Let the two run together a few days and you'll see."

"Very well," Colonel Lauriston agreed.

"He fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh wants to marry Lida and when I fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh tell him that she wants to fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh throw herself away on a nigger he'll be mad fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh enough to kill for her. You just fuh-fubfuh-fuh-tuh leave that to me."

Colonel Lauriston walked away from the man, his head bowed in silence. Old John lifted his three hundred weight from the creaking seat and waddled to his carriage and was soon driving away.

Left to herself, Lida continued in her room for the remainder of the day weeping for her lover to come to her aid. She refused all nourishment and comfort offered by her maid, Chloe. It was far into the night when she finally grew calm and her eyes closed in fitful slumber.

When she awoke the following day she was ill from worry and weeping. For a long time she lay tossing in bed, fever of anguish burning her soul. Through all her torture she revolved plans for escaping and returning to the North and Truman. She knew it was no longer possible to get a letter through, since she was convinced her father would take care that no mail left the house without his inspection.

While she was still puzzling over her predicament the maid entered the room with tea and toast. The aroma of the tea and the odor of the freshly made toast tempted her appetite.