"I do not pray like you," he replied; "my prayers are dry things. I do
say a little rhyme over that my mother taught me in the forest."
"Try to pray for me to do right," said Vesta, "that I may not make this
sacrifice, and leave a wounded conscience. And now, sir, farewell. At
nine o'clock go to our church and wait. If I resolve to come, there you
will find the rector, and all the arrangements made. If I do not come, I
think you will see me no more."
"Oh, beautiful spirit," exclaimed her lover, "oppress me not with that
fear!"
"If another way is made plain to me," Vesta said, "I shall go that way.
If my duty leads me to you again, you will be my master. Sir, though
your errand here was a severe one, I thank you for your sincerity and
the kind consideration you seem to have had for me so long. Farewell."
"Angel! Vesta! Honey!" Milburn cried, "may I kiss you?"
"Not now," she answered, cold as superiority, and interposing her hand.
The door stood wide open, and the slave-girl, Virgie, in it, holding the
Entailed Hat. Milburn, with a shudder, took it, and covered himself, and
departed.
CHAPTER X.
MASTER IN THE KITCHEN.
The kitchen had been a scene of anything but culinary peace and savor
during the long visit of the owner of the hat.
Aunt Hominy and the little darkeys had made three stolen visits to the
hall to peep at the dreadful thing hanging there, as if it were a trap
of some kind, liable to drop a spring and catch somebody, or to explode
like a mortar or torpedo.
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