IN THE SHADOW
brought up as you were," said Giles. "They'd hardly bait a man in New York just because his skin happened to be black; besides, there are lots of your people there."
"Very true, but at that time all of these occupied menial positions, made no pretense of any social equality, and, in fact, it was but a year or two before my going there that they were permitted to ride in the same trams with the whites; all of that is changed now."
"It was not altogether unnatural, when you think of it," replied Giles. "Consider what the liberation of your people from slavery had cost the States but a few years before; it is not to be wondered at that they were a bit sore with the whole race. They could not understand the view point of a Haytian."
"All that is changed to-day," said Dessalines. "That is, it is changed in the North. Negroes are now admitted everywhere, I understand, just as they are in England. I do not anticipate any difficulty in this direction, because not only are the conditions changed, but I am older and more a man of the world. By the way"—there was the faintest alteration in the timbre of the voice which seemed to grow softer, richer, more unctuous—"what do you hear from Miss Moultrie?"
A swift shadow crossed Giles's face.
"She is in New York," he answered, a trifle shortly; "or at least she was. I believe that she is now in a place called Manchester, near Boston; she was going there first, to visit some friends."
"She will not go South until the autumn?" asked Dessalines.
"I believe not." There was a curtness to Giles's
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