? ? ? ? "What shall we do, Mr. Clayton?" asked the old professor. "Where shall we look? God could not have been so cruel as to take my little girl away from me now."
? ? ? ? "We must arouse Esmeralda first," replied Clayton. "She can tell us what has happened. Esmeralda!" he cried again, shaking the black woman roughly by the shoulder.
? ? ? ? "O Gaberelle, I want to die!" cried the poor woman, but with eyes fast closed. "Let me die, dear Lord, don't let me see that awful face again."
? ? ? ? "Come, come, Esmeralda," cried Clayton.
? ? ? ? "The Lord isn't here; it's Mr. Clayton. Open your eyes."
? ? ? ? Esmeralda did as she was bade.
? ? ? ? "O Gaberelle! Thank the Lord," she said.
? ? ? ? "Where's Miss Porter? What happened?" questioned Clayton.
? ? ? ? "Ain't Miss Jane here?" cried Esmeralda, sitting up with wonderful celerity for one of her bulk.
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