I don't want the dialect of slavery to linger on your lips.

You must not call me that name again." "Why not ?" "Because I have a nearer and dearer one by which I wish to be called." Leroy drew her nearer, and whispered in her ear a single word.

She started, trembled with emotion, grew pale, and blushed painfully.

An awkward silence ensued, when Leroy, pressing her hand, exclaimed: "This is the hand that plucked me from the grave, and I am going to retain it as mine; mine to guard with my care until death us do part." Leroy looked earnestly into her eyes, which fell beneath his ardent gaze.

With admirable self-control, while a great joy was thrilling her heart, she bowed her beautiful head and softly repeated, "Until death us do part." Leroy knew Southern society too well to expect it to condone his offense against its social customs, or give the least recognition to his wife, however cultured, refined, and charming she might be, if it were known that she had the least infusion of negro blood in her veins.