In earlier years Mr.
Delamere had been a practicing lawyer, and had numbered Miller's father
among his clients. He had always been regarded as friendly to the
colored people, and, until age and ill health had driven him from active
life, had taken a lively interest in their advancement since the
abolition of slavery. Upon the public opening of Miller's new hospital,
he had made an effort to be present, and had made a little speech of
approval and encouragement which had manifested his kindliness and given
Miller much pleasure.
It was with the consciousness, therefore, that he was approaching a
friend, as well as Sandy's master, that Miller's mind was chiefly
occupied as his tired horse, scenting the end of his efforts, bore him
with a final burst of speed along the last few rods of the journey; for
the urgency of Miller's errand, involving as it did the issues of life
and death, did not permit him to enjoy the charm of mossy oak or forest
reaches, or even to appreciate the noble front of Belleview House when
it at last loomed up before him.
"Well, William," said Mr. Delamere, as he gave his hand to Miller from
the armchair in which he was seated under the broad and stately portico,
"I didn't expect to see you out here. You'll excuse my not
rising,--I'm none too firm on my legs. Did you see anything of my man
Sandy back there on the road? He ought to have been here by nine
o'clock, and it's now one. Sandy is punctuality itself, and I don't know
how to account for his delay.
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