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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Peculiar - A Tale of the Great Transition - -Author: Epes Sargent - -Release Date: April 18, 2022 [eBook #67872] - -Language: English - -Produced by: KD Weeks, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PECULIAR *** - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are -referenced. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. - - PECULIAR - - _A Tale of the Great Transition_ - - BY EPES SARGENT - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - CARLETON, PUBLISHER, 413 BROADWAY - M DCCC LXIV - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by - EPES SARGENT, - in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of - Massachusetts. - - - - - - - - - UNIVERSITY PRESS: - WELCH, BIGELOW, AND COMPANY, - CAMBRIDGE. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. A GLANCE IN THE MIRROR 1 - II. A MATRIMONIAL BLANK 6 - III. THE WOLF AND THE LAMB 12 - IV. A FUGITIVE CHATTEL 19 - V. A RETROSPECT 28 - VI. PIN-HOLES IN THE CURTAIN 34 - VII. AN UNCONSCIOUS HEIRESS 46 - VIII. A DESCENDANT OF THE CAVALIERS 57 - IX. THE UPPER AND THE LOWER LAW 69 - X. GROUPS ON THE DECK 81 - XI. MR. ONSLOW SPEAKS HIS MIND 97 - XII. THE STORY OF ESTELLE 105 - XIII. FIRE UP! 148 - XIV. WAITING FOR THE SUMMONER 151 - XV. WHO SHALL BE HEIR? 158 - XVI. THE VENDUE 165 - XVII. SHALL THERE BE A WEDDING? 178 - XVIII. THE UNITIES DISREGARDED 183 - XIX. THE WHITE SLAVE 187 - XX. ENCOUNTERS AT THE ST. CHARLES 200 - XXI. A MONSTER OF INGRATITUDE 219 - XXII. THE YOUNG LADY WITH A CARPET-BAG 224 - XXIII. WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR? 233 - XXIV. CONFESSIONS OF A MEAN WHITE 240 - XXV. MEETINGS AND PARTINGS 251 - XXVI. CLARA MAKES AN IMPORTANT PURCHASE 257 - XXVII. DELIGHT AND DUTY 264 - XXVIII. A LETTER OF BUSINESS 274 - XXIX. THE WOMAN WHO DELIBERATES IS LOST 279 - XXX. A FEMININE VAN AMBURGH 290 - XXXI. ONE OF THE INSTITUTIONS 300 - XXXII. A DOUBLE VICTORY 305 - XXXIII. SATAN AMUSES HIMSELF 314 - XXXIV. LIGHT FROM THE PIT 327 - XXXV. THE COMMITTEE ADJOURNS 335 - XXXVI. THE OCCUPANT OF THE WHITE HOUSE 349 - XXXVII. COMPARING NOTES 359 - XXXVIII. THE LAWYER AND THE LADY 372 - XXXIX. SEEING IS BELIEVING 382 - XL. THE REMARKABLE MAN AT RICHMOND 392 - XLI. HOPES AND FEARS 397 - XLII. HOW IT WAS DONE 430 - XLIII. MAKING THE BEST OF IT 442 - XLIV. A DOMESTIC RECONNAISSANCE 455 - XLV. ANOTHER DESCENDANT OF THE CAVALIERS 464 - XLVI. THE NIGHT COMETH 471 - XLVII. AN AUTUMNAL VISIT 480 - XLVIII. TIME DISCOVERS AND COVERS 489 - XLIX. EYES TO THE BLIND 493 - - - - - PECULIAR. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - A GLANCE IN THE MIRROR. - -“Wed not for wealth, Emily, without love,—’tis gaudy slavery; nor for -love without competence,—’tis twofold misery.”—_Colman’s Poor -Gentleman._ - - -It is a small and somewhat faded room in an unpretending brick house in -one of the streets that intersect Broadway, somewhere between Canal -Street and the Park. A woman sits at a writing-table, with the fingers -of her left hand thrust through her hair and supporting her forehead, -while in her right hand she holds a pen with which she listlessly draws -figures, crosses, circles and triangles, faces and trees, on the -blotting-paper that partly covers a letter which she has been inditing. - -A window near by is open at the top. March, having come in like a lion, -is going out like a lamb. A canary-bird, intoxicated with the ambrosial -breath and subduing sunshine of the first mild day of spring, is pouring -forth such a _Te Deum laudamus_ as Mozart himself would have despaired -of rivalling. Yesterday’s rain-storm purified the atmosphere, swept -clean the streets, and deodorized the open gutters, that in warm weather -poison with their effluvium the air of the great American metropolis. - -On the wall, in front of the lady at the table, hangs a mirror. Look, -now, and you will catch in it the reflection of her face. Forty? Not far -from it. Perhaps four or five years on the sunny side. Fair? Many -persons would call her still beautiful. The features, though somewhat -thin, show their fine Grecian outline. The hair is of a rich flaxen, the -eyes blue and mild, the mouth delicately drawn, showing Cupid’s bow in -the curve of the upper lip, and disclosing, not too ostentatiously, the -whitest teeth. - -Her dress is significant of past rather than present familiarity with a -fashionable wardrobe. If she ever wore jewels, she has parted with all -of them, for there is not even a plain gold ring on her forefinger. Her -robe is a simple brown cashmere, not so distended by crinoline as to -disguise her natural figure, which is erect, of the average height, and -harmoniously rounded. We detect this the better as she rises, looks a -moment sorrowfully in the glass, and sighs to herself, “Fading! fading!” - -There is a gentle knock at the door, and to her “Come in,” an old black -man enters. - -“Good morning, Toussaint,” says the lady; “what have you there?” - -“Only a few grapes for Madame. They are Black Hamburgs, and very sweet. -I hope Madame will relish them. They will do her good. Will she try some -of them now?” - -“They are excellent, Toussaint. And what a beautiful basket you have -brought them in! You must have paid high for all this fruit, so early in -the season. Indeed, you must not run into such extravagances on my -account.” - -“Does Madame find her cough any better?” - -“Thank you, Toussaint, I do not notice much change in it as yet. Perhaps -a few more mild days like this will benefit me. How is Juliette?” - -“_Passablement bien._ Pretty well. May I ask—ahem! Madame will excuse -the question—but does her husband treat her with any more consideration -now that she is ill?” - -“My good Toussaint, I grieve to say that Mr. Charlton is not so much -softened as irritated by my illness. It threatens to be expensive, you -see.” - -“Ah! but that is sad,—sad! I wish Madame were in my house. Such care as -Juliette and I would take of her! You look so much like your mother, -Madame! I knew her before her first marriage. I dressed her hair the day -of her wedding. People used to call her proud. But she was always kind -to me,—very kind. And you look like her so much! As I grow old I think -all the more of my old and early friends,—the first I had when I came to -New York from St. Domingo. Most of them are dead, but I find out their -children if I can; and if they are sick I amuse myself by carrying them -a few grapes or flowers. They are very good to indulge me by accepting -such trifles.” - -“Toussaint, the goodness is all on your side. These grapes are no -trifle, and you ought to know it. I thank you for them heartily. Let me -give you back the basket.” - -“No, please don’t. Keep it. Good morning, Madame! Be cheerful. _Le bon -temps reviendra._ All shall be well. _Bon jour! Au revoir_, Madame!” - -He hurries out of the room, but instantly returns, and, taking a leaf of -fresh lettuce out of his pocket, reaches up on tiptoe and puts it -between the bars of the bird-cage. “I was nigh forgetting the lettuce -for the bird,” says he. “Madame will excuse my _gaucherie_.” And, bowing -low, he again disappears. - -The story of Emily Bute Charlton may be briefly told. Her mother, Mrs. -Danby, was descended from that John Bradshaw who was president of the -court which tried Charles the First, and who opposed a spirited -resistance to the usurpation of Cromwell in dissolving the Parliament. -Mrs. Danby was proud of her family tree. In her twentieth year she was -left a widow, beautiful, ambitious, and poor, with one child, a -daughter, who afterwards had in Emily a half-sister. This first daughter -had been educated carefully, but she had hardly reached her seventeenth -year when she accepted the addresses of a poor man, some fifteen years -her senior, of the name of Berwick. The mother, with characteristic -energy, opposed the match, but it was of no use. The daughter was -incurably in love; she married, and the mother cast her off. - -Time brought about its revenges. Mr. Berwick had inherited ten acres of -land on the island of Manhattan. He tried to sell it, but was so -fortunate as to find nobody to buy. So he held on to the land, and by -hard scratching managed to pay the taxes on it. In ten years the city -had crept up so near to his dirty acres that he sold half of them for a -hundred thousand dollars, and became all at once a rich man. Meanwhile -his wife’s mother, Mrs. Danby, after remaining fourteen years a widow, -showed the inconsistency of her opposition to her daughter’s marriage by -herself making an imprudent match. She married a Mr. Bute, poor and -inefficient, but belonging to “one of the first families.” By this -husband she had one daughter, Emily, the lady at whose reflection in the -mirror we have just been looking. - -Emily Bute, like her half-sister, Mrs. Berwick, who was many years her -senior, inherited beauty, and was quite a belle in her little sphere in -Philadelphia, where her family resided. Her mother, who had repelled -Berwick as a son-in-law in his adversity, was too proud to try to -propitiate him in his prosperity. She concealed her poverty as well as -she could from her daughter, Mrs. Berwick, and the latter had often to -resort to stratagem in order to send assistance to the family. At last -the proud mother died; and six months afterwards her firstborn daughter, -Mrs. Berwick, died, leaving one child, a son, Henry Berwick. - -Years glided on, and Mr. Bute had hard work to keep the wolf from the -door. He was one of those persons whose efforts in life are continual -failures, from the fact that they cannot adapt themselves to -circumstances,—cannot persevere during the day of small things till -their occupation, by gradual development, becomes profitable. He would -tire of an employment the moment its harvest of gold seemed remote. -Forever sanguine and forever unsuccessful, he at last found himself -reduced, with his daughter, to a mode of life that bordered on the -shabby. - -In this state of things, Mr. Berwick, like a timely angel, reappeared, -rich, and bearing help. He was charmed with Emily, as he had formerly -been with her half-sister. He proposed marriage. Mr. Bute was enchanted. -He could not conceive of Emily’s hesitating for a moment. Were her -affections pre-engaged? No. She had been a little of a flirt, and that -perhaps had saved her from a serious passion. Why not, then, accept Mr. -Berwick? He was so old! Old? What is a seniority of thirty years? He is -rich,—has a house on the Fifth Avenue, and another on the North River. -What insanity it would be in a poor girl to allow such a chance to slip -by! - -Still Emily had her misgivings. Her virginal instincts protested against -the sacrifice. She had an ideal of a happy life, which certainly did not -lie all in having a freestone house, French furniture, and a carriage. -She knew the bitterness of poverty; but was she quite ready to marry -without love? Her father’s distresses culminated, and drove her to a -decision. She became Mrs. Berwick; and Mr. Bute was presented with ten -thousand dollars on the wedding-day. He forthwith relieved himself of -fifteen hundred in the purchase of a “new patent-spring phaeton” and -span. “A great bargain, sir; splendid creatures; spirited, but gentle; a -woman can drive them; no more afraid of a locomotive than of a stack of -hay; the carriage in prime order; hasn’t been used a dozen times; will -stand any sort of a shock; the property of my friend, Garnett; he -wouldn’t part with the horses if he could afford to keep them; his wife -is quite broken-hearted at the idea of losing them; such a chance -doesn’t occur once in ten years; you can sell the span at a great -advance in the spring.” - -This urgent recommendation from “a particular friend, entirely -disinterested,” decided Bute. He bought the “establishment.” The next -day as he was taking a drive, the shriek of a steam-whistle produced -such an effect upon his incomparable span, that they started off at -headlong speed, ran against a telegraph-pole, smashed the “new -patent-spring phaeton,” threw out the driver, and broke his neck against -a curb-stone; and that was the end of Mr. Bute for this world, if we may -judge from appearances. - -Emily’s marriage did not turn out so poorly as the retributions of -romance might demand. But on Mr. Berwick’s death she followed her -mother’s example, and married a second time. She became Mrs. Charlton. -Some idea of the consequences of this new alliance may be got from the -letter which she has been writing, and which we take the liberty of -laying before our readers. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - A MATRIMONIAL BLANK. - - “Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, - And delves the parallels in beauty’s brow.” - _Shakespeare._ - - - TO HENRY BERWICK, CINCINNATI. - -DEAR HENRY: You kindly left word for me to write you. I have little of a -cheering nature to say in regard to myself. We have moved from the house -in Fourteenth Street into a smaller one nearer to the Park and to Mr. -Charlton’s business. His complaints of his disappointment in regard to -my means have lately grown more bitter. Your allowance, liberal as it -is, seems to be lightly esteemed. The other day he twitted me with -_setting a snare_ for him by pretending to be a rich widow. O Henry, -what an aggravation of insult! I knew nothing, and of course said -nothing, as to the extent of your father’s wealth. I supposed, as every -one else did, that he left a large property. His affairs proved to be in -such a state that they could not be disentangled by his executors till -two years after his death. Before that time I was married to Mr. -Charlton. - -Had I but taken your warning, and seen through his real feelings! But he -made me think he loved me for myself alone, and he artfully excited my -distrust of you and your motives. He represented his own means as ample; -though for that I did not care or ask. Repeatedly he protested that he -would prefer to take me without a cent of dowry. I was simpleton enough -to believe him, though he was ten years my junior. I fell foolishly in -love, soon, alas! to be rudely roused from my dream! - -It seems like a judgment, Henry. You have always been as kind to me as -if you were my own son. Your father was so much my senior, that you may -well suppose I did not marry him from love. I was quite young. My -notions on the subject of matrimony were unformed. My heart was free. My -father urged the step upon me as one that would save him from dire and -absolute destitution. What could I do, after many misgivings, but yield? -What could I _do_? I now well see what a woman of real moral strength -and determination could and ought to have done. But it is too late to -sigh over the past. - -I behaved passably well, did I not? in the capacity of your step-mother. -I was loyal, even in thought, to my husband, although I loved him only -with the sort of love I might have entertained for my grandfather. You -were but two or three years my junior, but you always treated me as if I -were a dowager of ninety. As I now look back, I can see how nobly and -chivalrously you bore yourself, though at the time I did not quite -understand your over-respectful and distant demeanor, or why, when we -went out in the carriage, you always preferred the driver’s company to -mine. - -Your father died, and for a year and a half I conducted myself in a -manner not unworthy of his widow and your mother. At the end of that -period Mr. Charlton appeared at Berwickville. He dressed pretty well, -associated with gentlemen, was rather handsome, and professed a sincere -attachment for myself. Time had dealt gently with me, and I was not -aware of that disparity in years which I afterwards learned existed -between me and my suitor. In an unlucky moment I was subdued by his -importunities. I consented to become his wife. - -The first six months of our marriage glided away smoothly enough. My new -husband treated me with all the attention which I supposed a man of -business could give. If the vague thought now and then obtruded itself -that there was something to me undefined and unsounded in his character, -I thrust the thought from me, and found excuses for the deficiency which -had suggested it. One trait which I noticed caused me some surprise. He -always discouraged my buying new dresses, and grew very economical in -providing for the household. I am no epicure, but have been accustomed -to the best in articles of food. I soon discovered that everything in -the way of provisions brought into the house was of a cheap or -deteriorated quality. I remonstrated, and there was a reform. - -One bright day in June, two gentlemen, Mr. Ken and Mr. Turner, connected -with the management of your father’s estate, appeared at Berwickville. -They came to inform me that my late husband had died insolvent, and that -the house we then occupied belonged to his creditors, and must be sold -at once. Mr. Charlton received this intelligence in silence; but I was -shocked at the change wrought by it on his face. In that expression -disappointment and chagrin of the intensest kind seemed concentrated. -Nothing was to be said, however. There were the documents; there were -the facts,—the stern, irresistible facts of the law. The house must be -given up. - -After these bearers of ill-tidings had gone, Mr. Charlton turned to me. -But I will not pain you by a recital of what he said. He rudely -dispelled the illusions under which I had been laboring in regard to -him. I could only weep. I could not utter a word of retaliation. Whilst -he was in the midst of his reproaches, a servant brought me a letter. -Mr. Charlton snatched it from my hand, opened, and read it. Either it -had a pacifying effect upon him, or he had exhausted his stock of -objurgations. He threw the letter on the table and quitted the room. - -It was your letter of condolence and dutiful regard, promising me an -allowance from your own purse of a hundred dollars a month. What coals -of fire it heaped on my head! To please Mr. Charlton I had quarrelled -with you,—forbidden you to visit or write me,—and here was your return! -The communication coming close upon the dropping of my husband’s -disguise almost unseated my reason. What a night of tears that was! I -recalled your warnings, and now saw their truth,—saw how truly -disinterested you were in them all. How generous, how noble you appeared -to me! How in contrast, alas! with him I had taken for better or worse! - -I lay awake all night. Of course I could not think of accepting your -offer. In the first place, my past treatment of you forbade it. And then -I knew that your own means were narrow, and that you had just entered -into an engagement of marriage with a poor girl. But when, the next day, -I communicated my resolve to my husband, he calmly replied: “Nonsense! -Write Mr. Berwick, thanking him for his offer, and telling him that, -small as the sum is, considering your wants, you accept it.” What a poor -thing you must have thought me, when you got my cold letter of -acceptance. Do me the justice to believe me when I affirm that every -word of it was dictated by my husband. How I have longed to see you in -person, to tell you all that I have endured and felt! But this -circumstances have prevented. And now I am possessed with the idea that -I never shall see you in this life again. And that is why I make these -confessions. Your marriage, your absence in Europe, your recent return, -and your hurried departure for the West, have kept me uncertain as to -where a message would reach you. Yesterday I got a few affectionate -lines from you, telling me a letter, if mailed at once, would reach you -in Cincinnati, or, if a week later, in New Orleans. And so I am devoting -the forenoon to this review of my past, so painful and sad. - -Let me think of your happier lot, and rejoice in it. So your affairs -have prospered beyond all hope! Through your wife you are unexpectedly -rich in worldly means. Better still, you are rich in affection. Your -little Clara is “the brightest, the loveliest, the sunniest little thing -in the wide world.” So you write me; and I can well believe it from the -photograph and the lock of hair you send me. Bless her! What would I -give to hug her to my bosom. And you too, Henry, you too I could kiss -with a kiss that should be purely maternal,—a benediction,—a kiss your -wife would approve, for, after all, you are the only child I have had. -Mr. Charlton has always said he would have no children till he was a -rich man. He and the female physician he employs have nearly killed me -with their terrible drugs. Yes, I am dying, Henry. Even the breath of -this sweet spring morning whispers it in my ear. Bless you and yours -forever! What a mistake my life has been! And yet, how I craved to love -and be loved! You will think kindly of me always, and teach your wife -and child to have pleasant associations with my name. - -All the rich presents your father made me have been sold by Mr. -Charlton; but I have one, that he has not seen,—a costly and beautiful -gold casket for jewels, which I reserve as a present for your little -Clara. I shall to-morrow pack it up carefully, and take it to a friend, -who I know will keep and deliver it safely. That friend, strange as it -may sound to you, is the venerable old black hair-dresser, Toussaint, -who lives in Franklin Street. Your father used to say he had never met a -man he would trust before Toussaint; and I can say as much. Toussaint -used to dress my mother’s hair; he is now my adviser and friend. - -Born a slave in the town of St. Mark in St. Domingo in 1766, Pierre -Toussaint was twelve years the junior of that fellow-slave, the -celebrated Toussaint l’Ouverture, born on the same river, who converted -a mob of undrilled, uneducated Africans into an army with which he -successively overthrew the forces of France, England, and Spain. At the -beginning of the troubles in the island, in 1801, Pierre was taken by -his master, the wealthy Mons. Berard, to New York. Berard, having lost -his immense property in St. Domingo, soon died, and Pierre, having -learnt the business of a hair-dresser, supported Madame Berard by his -labors some eight years till her death, though she had no legal claim -upon his service. Bred up, as he was, indulgently, Pierre’s is one of -those exceptional cases in which slavery has not destroyed the moral -sense. - -I know of few more truly venerable characters. A pious Catholic, he is -one of the stanchest of friends. One of his rules through life has been, -never to incur a debt,—to pay on the spot for everything he buys. And -yet he is continually giving away large sums in charity. One day I said, -“Toussaint, you are rich enough; you have more than you want; why not -stop working now?” He answered, “Madame, I have enough for myself, but -if I stop work, I have not enough for others!” By the great fire of -1835, Toussaint lost by his investments in insurance companies. The -Schuylers and the Livingstons passed around a subscription-paper to -repair his losses; but he stopped it, saying he would not take a cent -from them, since there were so many who needed help more than he. - -An old French gentleman, a white man, once rich, whom Toussaint had -known, was reduced to poverty and fell sick. For several months -Toussaint and his wife, Juliette, sent him a nicely cooked dinner; but -Toussaint would not let him know from whom it came, “because,” said the -negro, “it might hurt his pride to know it came from a black man.” -Juliette once called on this invalid to learn if her husband could be of -any help. “O no,” said the old Monsieur, “I am well known; I have good -friends; every day they send me a dinner, served up in French style. -To-day I had a charming vol-au-vent, an omelette, and green peas, not to -speak of salmon. I am a person of some importance, you see, even in this -strange land.” And Juliette would go home, and she and Toussaint would -have a good laugh over the old man’s vauntings.[1] - -But what has possessed me to enter into all these details! I know not, -unless it is the desire to escape from less agreeable thoughts. - -I have a request to make, Henry. You will think me fanciful, foolish, -perhaps fanatical; and yet I am impelled, by an unaccountable -impression, to ask you to give up the tickets you tell me you have -engaged in the Pontiac, and to take passage for New Orleans in some -other boat. If you ask me _why_, the only explanation I can give is, -that the thought besets me, but the reason of it I do not know. Do you -remember I once capriciously refused to let your father go in the cars -to Springfield, although his baggage was on board? Those cars went -through the draw-bridge, and many lives were lost. Write me that you -will heed my request. - -And now, Henry, son, nephew, friend, good by! Tell little Clara she has -an aunt or grandmother (which, shall it be?) in New York who loves to -think of her and to picture the fair forehead over which the little curl -you sent me once fell. By the way, I have examined her photograph with a -microscope, and have conceived a fancy that her eyes are of a slightly -different color; one perhaps a gray and the other a mixed blue. Am I -right? Tell your wife how I grieve to think that circumstances have not -allowed us to meet and become personally acquainted. You now know all -the influences that have kept us apart, and that have made me seem -frigid and ungrateful, even when my heart was overflowing with -affection. What more shall I say, except to sum up all my love for you -and all my gratitude in the one parting prayer, Heaven bless you and -yours! - - Your mother, EMILY CHARLTON. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - THE WOLF AND THE LAMB. - - “Bitten by rage canine of dying rich; - Guilt’s blunder! and the loudest laugh of hell!” - _Young._ - - -The poor little lady! First sold by a needy parent to an old man, and -then betrayed by her own uncalculating affections to a young one, whose -nature had the torpor without the venerableness of age! Her heart, full -of all loving possibilities, had steered by false lights and been -wrecked. Brief had been its poor, shattered dream of household joys and -domestic amenities! - -It was the old, old story of the cheat and the dupe; of credulous -innocence overmatched by heartless selfishness and fraud. - -The young man “of genteel appearance and address” who last week, as the -newspapers tell us, got a supply of dry-goods from Messrs. Raby & Co., -under false pretences, has been arrested, and will be duly punished. - -But the scoundrel who tricks a confiding woman out of her freedom and -her happiness under the false pretences of a disinterested affection and -the desire of a loving home,—the swindler who, with the motives of a -devil of low degree, affects the fervor and the dispositions of a loyal -heart,—for such an impostor the law has no lash, no prison. To play the -blackleg and the sharper in a matter of the affections is not penal. -Success consecrates the crime; and the victim, when her eyes are at -length opened to the extent of the deception and the misery, must -continue to submit to a yoke at once hateful and demoralizing; she must -submit, unless she is willing to brave the ban of society and the -persecutions of the law. - -Ralph Charlton, when he gave his wife Berwick’s letter the night before, -had supposed she would sit down to pen an answer as soon as she was -alone. And so the next morning, after visiting his office in Fulton -Street, he retraced his steps, and re-entered his house soon after -Toussaint had left, and just as Mrs. Charlton had put her signature to -the last page of the manuscript, and, bowing her forehead on her palms, -was giving vent to sobs of bitter emotion. - -Charlton was that prodigy in nature,—a young man in whom an avarice that -would have been remarkable in a senile miser had put in subjection all -the other passions. Well formed and not ungraceful, his countenance was -at first rather prepossessing and propitiatory. It needed a keener eye -than that of the ordinary physiognomist to penetrate to the inner -nature. It was only when certain expressions flitted over the features -that they betrayed him. You must study that countenance and take it at -unawares before you could divine what it meant. Age had not yet hardened -it in the mould of the predominant bias of the character. Well born and -bred, he ought to have been a gentleman, but it is difficult for a man -to be that and a miser at the same time. There was little in his style -of dress that distinguished him from the mob of young business-men, -except that a critical eye would detect that his clothes were well -preserved. Few of his old coats were made to do service on the backs of -the poor. - -Charlton called himself a lawyer, his specialty being conveyancing and -real estate transactions. His one purpose in life was to be a rich man. -To this end all others must be subordinate. When a boy he had been -taught to play on the flute; and his musical taste, if cultivated, might -have been a saving element of grace. But finding that in a single year -he had spent ten dollars in concert tickets, he indignantly repudiated -music, and shut his ears even to the hand-organs in the street. He had -inherited a fondness for fine horses. Before he was twenty-five he would -not have driven out after Ethan Allen himself, if there had been any -toll-gate keepers to pay. His taste in articles of food was nice and -discriminating; but he now bought fish and beef of the cheapest, and -patronized a milkman whose cows were fed on the refuse of the -distilleries. - -Charlton was not venturous in speculation. The boldest operation he ever -attempted was that of his marriage. Before taking that step he had -satisfied himself in regard to the state of the late Mr. Berwick’s -affairs. They could be disentangled, and made to leave a balance of half -a million for the heirs, if a certain lawsuit, involving a large amount -of real estate, should be decided the right way. Charlton burrowed and -inquired and examined till he came to the conclusion that the suit would -go in favor of the estate. On that hint he took time by the forelock, -and married the widow. To his consternation matters did not turn out as -he had hoped. - -As Charlton entered his wife’s room, on the morning she had been writing -the letter already presented, “What is all this, madam?” he exclaimed, -advancing and twitching away the manuscript that lay before her. - -The lady thus startled rose and looked at him without speaking, as if -struggling to comprehend what he had done. At length a gleam of -intelligence flashed from her eyes, and she mildly said, “I will thank -you to give me back those papers: they are mine.” - -“_Mine_, Mrs. Charlton! Where did you learn that word?” said the -husband, really surprised at the language of his usually meek and -acquiescent helpmate. - -“Do you not mean to give them back?” - -“Assuredly no. To whom is the letter addressed? Ah! I see. To Mr. Henry -Berwick. Highly proper that I should read what my wife writes to a young -man.” - -“Then you do not mean to give the letter back, Charlton?” - -Another surprise for the husband! At first she used to speak to him as -“Ralph,” or “dear”; then as “Mr. Charlton”; then as “Sir”; and now it -was plain “Charlton.” What did it portend? - -The lady held out her hand, as if to receive the papers. - -“Pooh!” said the husband, striking it away. “Go and attend to your -housework. What a shrill noise your canary is making! That bird must be -sold. There was a charge of seventy-five cents for canary-seed in my -last grocer’s bill! It’s atrocious. The creature is eating us out of -house and home. Bird and cage would bring, at least, five dollars.” - -“The letter,—do you choose to give it back?” - -“If, after reading it, I think proper to send it to its address, it -shall be sent. Give yourself no further concern about it.” - -Mrs. Charlton advanced with folded arms, looked him unblenchingly in the -face, and gasped forth, with a husky, half-chocked utterance, “Beware!” - -“Truly, madam,” said the astonished husband, “this is a new character -for you to appear in, and one for which I am not prepared.” - -“It is for that reason I say, Beware! Beware when the tame, the -submissive, the uncomplaining woman is roused at last. Will you give me -that letter?” - -“Go to the Devil!” - -Mrs. Charlton threw out her hand and clutched at the manuscript, but her -husband had anticipated the attempt. As she closed with him in the -effort to recover the paper, he threw her off so forcibly that she fell -and struck her head against one of the protuberant claws of the legs of -her writing-table. - -Whatever were the effects of the blow, it did not prevent the lady from -rising immediately, and composing her exuberant hair with a gesture of -puzzled distress that would have excited pity in the heart of a Thug. -But Charlton did not even inquire if she were hurt. After a pause she -seemed to recover her recollection, and then threw up her head with a -lofty gesture of resolve, and quitted the room. - -Her husband sat down and read the letter. His equanimity was unruffled -till he came to the passage where the writer alludes to the gold casket -she had put aside for little Clara. At that disclosure he started to his -feet, and gave utterance to a hearty execration upon the woman who had -presumed to circumvent him by withholding any portion of her effects. He -opened the door and called, “Wife!” No voice replied to his summons. He -sought her in her chamber. She was not there. She had left the house. So -Dorcas, the one overworked domestic of the establishment, assured him. - -Charlton saw there was no use in scolding. So he put on his hat and -walked down Broadway to his office. Here he wrote a letter which he -wished to mail before one o’clock. It was directed to Colonel Delaney -Hyde, Philadelphia. Having finished it and put it in the mail-box, -Charlton took his way at a brisk pace to the house of old Toussaint. - -That veteran himself opened the door. A venerable black man, reminding -one of Ben Franklin in ebony. His wool was gray, his complexion of the -blackest, showing an unmixed African descent. He was of middling height, -and stooped slightly; was attired in the best black broadcloth, with a -white vest and neckcloth, and had the manners of a French marquis of the -old school. - -“Is my wife here?” asked Charlton. - -“Madame is here,” replied the old man; “but she suffers, and prays to be -not disturbed.” - -“I must see her. Conduct me to her.” - -“_Pardonnez._ Monsieur will comprehend as I say the commands of Madame -in this house are sacred.” - -“You insolent old nigger! Do you mean to tell me I am not to see my own -wife?” - -“_Precisement._ Monsieur cannot see Madame Charlton.” - -“I’ll search the house for her, at any rate. Out of the way, you blasted -old ape!” - -Here a policeman, provided for the occasion by Toussaint, and who had -been smoking in the front room opening on the hall, made his appearance. - -“You can’t enter this house,” said Blake, carelessly knocking the ashes -from his cigar. Charlton had a wholesome respect for authority. He drew -back on seeing the imperturbable Blake, with the official star on his -breast, and said, “I came here, Mr. Blake, to recover a little gold box -that I have reason to believe my wife has left with this old nigger.” - -“Well, she might have left it in worse hands,—eh, Toussaint?” said -Blake, resuming his cigar; and then, removing it, he added, “If you call -this old man a nigger again, I’ll make a nigger of you with my fist.” - -Toussaint might have taken for his motto that of the old eating-house -near the Park,—“_Semper paratus_.” The gold box having been committed to -him to deposit in a place of safety, he had meditated long as to the -best disposition he could make of it. As he stood at the window of his -house, looking thoughtfully out, he saw coming up the street a gay old -man, swinging a cane, humming an opera tune, and followed by a little -dog. As the dashing youth drew nearer, Toussaint recognized in him an -old acquaintance, and a man not many years his junior,—Mr. Albert -Pompilard, stock-broker, Wall Street. - -No two men could be more unlike than Toussaint and Pompilard; and yet -they were always drawn to each other by some subtle points of -attraction. Pompilard was a reckless speculator and spendthrift; -Toussaint, a frugal and cautious economist; but he had been indebted for -all his best investments to Pompilard. Bold and often audacious in his -own operations, Pompilard never would allow Toussaint to stray out of -the path of prudence. Not unfrequently Pompilard would founder in his -operations on the stock exchange. He would fall, perhaps, to a depth -where a few hundred dollars would have been hailed as a rope flung to a -drowning man. Toussaint would often come to him at these times and offer -a thousand dollars or so as a loan. Pompilard, in order not to hurt the -negro’s feelings, would take it and pretend to use it; but it would be -always put securely aside, out of his reach, or deposited in some bank -to Toussaint’s credit. - -Toussaint stood at his door as Pompilard drew nigh. - -“Ha! good morning, my guide, philosopher, and friend!” exclaimed the -stock-broker. “What’s in the wind now, Toussaint? Any money to invest?” - -“No, Mr. Pompilard; but here’s a box that troubles me.” - -“A box! Not a pill-box, I hope? Let me look at it. Beautiful! beautiful, -exceedingly! It could not be duplicated for twelve hundred dollars. -Whose is it? Ah! here’s an inscription,—‘_Henry Berwick to Emily_.’ -Berwick? It was a Henry Berwick who married my wife’s niece, Miss -Aylesford.” - -“This box,” interposed Toussaint, “was the gift of his late father to -his second wife, the present Mrs. Charlton.” - -“Ah! yes, I remember the connection now.” - -“Mrs. Charlton wishes me to deposit the box where, in the event of her -death, it will reach the daughter of the present Mrs. Berwick. Here is -the direction on the envelope.” - -Pompilard read the words: “For Clara Aylesford Berwick, daughter of -Henry Berwick, Esq., to be delivered to her in the event of the death of -the undersigned, Emily Charlton.” - -“I will tell you what to do,” said Pompilard. “Here come Isaac Jones of -the Chemical and Arthur Schermerhorn. Isaac shall give a receipt for the -box and deposit it in the safe of the bank, there to be kept till called -for by Miss Clara Berwick or her representative.” - -“That will do,” said Toussaint. - -The two gentlemen were called in, and in five minutes the proper paper -was drawn up, witnessed, and signed, and Mr. Jones gave a receipt for -the box. - -Briefly Toussaint now explained to Charlton the manner in which the box -had been disposed of. Charlton was nonplussed. It would not do to -disgust the officials at the Chemical. It might hurt his credit. A -consolatory reflection struck him. “Do you say my wife is suffering?” he -asked. - -“Madame will need a physician,” replied the negro. “I have sent for Dr. -Hull.” - -“Well, look here, old gentleman, I’m responsible for no debts of your -contracting on her account. I call Mr. Blake to witness. If you keep her -here, it must be at your own expense. Not a cent shall you ever have -from _me_.” - -“That will not import,” replied Toussaint, with the hauteur of a prince -of the blood. - -Felicitating himself on having got rid of a doctor’s bill, Charlton took -his departure. - -“The exceedingly poor cuss!” muttered Blake, tossing after him the stump -of a cigar. - -“Let me pay you for your trouble, Mr. Blake,” said Toussaint. - -“Not a copper, Marquis! I have been here only half an hour, and in that -time have read the newspaper, smoked one regalia, quality prime, and -pocketed another. If that is not pay enough, you shall make it up by -curling my hair the next time I go to a ball.” - -“But take the rest of the cigars.” - -“There, Marquis, you touch me on my weak point. Thank you. Good by, -Toussaint!” - -Toussaint closed the door, and called to his wife in a whisper, speaking -in French, “How goes it, Juliette?” - -“Hist! She sleeps. She wishes you to put this letter in the post-office -as soon as possible. If you can get the canary-bird, do it. I hope the -doctor will be here soon.” - -Toussaint left at once to mail the invalid’s letter and get possession -of her bird. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - A FUGITIVE CHATTEL. - -“The providential trust of the South is to perpetuate the institution of -domestic slavery as now existing, with freest scope for its natural -development. We should at once lift ourselves intelligently to the -highest moral ground, and proclaim to all the world that we hold this -trust from God, and in its occupancy are prepared to stand or -fall.”—_Rev. Dr. Palmer of New Orleans, 1861._ - - -The next morning Charlton sat in his office, calculating his percentage -on a transaction in which he had just acted as mediator between borrower -and lender. The aspect of the figures, judging from his own, was -cheerful. - -The office was a gloomy little den up three flights of stairs. All the -furniture was second hand, and the carpet was ragged and dirty. No broom -or dusting-cloth had for months molested the ancient, solitary reign of -the spiders on the ceiling. A pile of cheap slate-colored boxes with -labels stood against the wall opposite the stove. An iron safe served -also as a dressing-table between the windows that looked out on the -street; and over it hung a small rusty mirror in a mahogany frame with a -dirty hair-brush attached. The library of the little room was confined -to a few common books useful for immediate reference; a City Directory, -a copy of the Revised Statutes, the Clerk’s Assistant, and a dozen other -volumes, equally recondite. - -There was a knock at the door, and Charlton cried out, “Come in!” - -The visitor was a negro whose face was of that fuliginous hue that -bespeaks an unmixed African descent. He was of medium height, square -built, with the shoulders and carriage of an athlete. He seemed to be -about thirty years of age. His features, though of the genuine Ethiopian -type, were a refinement upon it rather than an exaggeration. The -expression was bright, hilarious, intelligent; frank and open, you would -add, unless you chanced to detect a certain quick oblique glance which -would flash upon you now and then, and vanish before you could well -realize what it meant. Across his left cheek was an ugly scar, almost -deep enough to be from a cutlass wound. - -“Good morning, Peculiar. Take a chair.” - -“Not that name, if you please, Mr. Charlton,” said the negro, closing -the door and looking eagerly around to see if there had been a listener. -“Remember, you are to call me Jacobs.” - -“Ah yes, I forgot. Well, Jacobs, I am glad to see you; but you are a few -minutes before the time. It isn’t yet twelve. Just step into that little -closet and wait there till I call you.” - -The negro did as he was directed, and Charlton closed the door upon him. -Five minutes after, the clock of Trinity struck twelve, and there was -another knock at the door. - -Before we suffer it to be answered, we must go back and describe an -interview that took place some seven weeks previously, in the same -office, between Charlton and the negro. - -A year before that first interview, Charlton had, in some accidental -way, been associated with a well-known antislavery counsel, in a case in -which certain agents of the law for the rendition of fugitive slaves had -been successfully foiled. Though Charlton’s services had been -unessential and purely mercenary, he had shared in the victor’s fame; -and the grateful colored men who employed him carried off the illusion -that he was a powerful friend of the slave. And so when Mr. Peculiar, -_alias_ Mr. Jacobs, found himself in New York, a fugitive from bondage, -he was recommended, if he had any little misgivings as to his immunity -from persecution and seizure, to apply to Mr. Charlton as to a fountain -of legal profundity and philanthropic expansiveness. Greater men than -our colored brethren have jumped to conclusions equally far from the -truth in regard not only to lawyers, but military generals. - -Charlton’s primary investigations, in his first interview with Peek, had -reference to the amount of funds that the negro could raise through his -own credit and that of his friends. This amount the lawyer found to be -small; and he was about to express his dissatisfaction in emphatic -terms, when a new consideration withheld him. Affecting that ruling -passion of universal benevolence which the fond imagination of his -colored client had attributed to him, he pondered a moment, then spoke -as follows: - -“You tell me, Jacobs, you are in the delicate position of a fugitive -slave. I love the slave. Am I not a friend and a brother, and all that? -But if you expect me to serve you, you must be entirely frank,—disguise -nothing,—disclose to me your real history, name, and situation,—make a -clean breast of it, in short.” - -“That I will do, sir. I know, if I trust a lawyer at all, I ought to -trust him wholly.” - -There was nothing in the negro’s language to indicate the traditional -slave of the stage and the novel, who always says “Massa,” and speaks a -gibberish indicated to the eye by a cheap misspelling of words. A -listener who had not seen him would have supposed it was an educated -white gentleman who was speaking; for even in the tone of his voice -there was an absence of the African peculiarity. - -“My friends tell me I may trust you, sir,” said Jacobs, advancing and -looking Charlton square in the face. Charlton must have blenched for an -instant, for the negro, as a slight but significant compression of the -lip seemed to portend, drew back from confidence. “Can I trust you?” he -continued, as if he were putting the question as much to himself as to -Charlton. There was a pause. - -Charlton took from his drawer a letter, which he handed to the negro, -with the remark, “You know how to read, I suppose.” - -Without replying. Peek took the letter and glanced over it,—a letter of -thanks from a committee of colored citizens in return for Charlton’s -services in the case already alluded to. Peek was reassured by this -document. He returned it, and said, “I will trust you, Mr. Charlton.” - -“Take a seat then, Jacobs, and I will make such notes of your story as I -may think advisable.” - -Peek did as he was invited; but Charlton seemed interested mainly in -dates and names. A more faithful reporter would have presented the -memorabilia of the narrative somewhat in this form: - -“Was born on Herbert’s plantation in Marshall County, Mississippi. -Mother a house-slave. When he was four years old she was sold and taken -to Louisiana. His real name not Jacobs. That name he took recently in -New York. The name he was christened by was PECULIAR INSTITUTION. It was -given to him by one Ewell, a drunken overseer, and was soon shortened to -Peek, which name has always stuck to him. Was brought up a body servant -till his fourteenth year. Soon found that the way for a slave to get -along was to lie, but to lie so as not to be found out. Grew to be so -expert a liar, that among his fellows he was called the lawyer. No -offence to you, Mr. Charlton. - -“As soon as he could carry a plate, was made to wait at table. Used to -hear the gentlemen and ladies talk at meals. Could speak their big words -before he knew their meaning. Kept his ears and eyes well open. An old -Spanish negro, named Alva, taught him by stealth to read and write. When -the young ladies took their lessons in music, this child stood by and -learnt as much as they did, if not more. Learnt to play so well on the -piano that he was often called on to show off before visitors. - -“Was whipped twice, and then not badly, at Herbert’s: once for stealing -some fruit, once for trying to teach a slave to read. Family very pious. -Old Herbert used to read prayers every morning. But he didn’t mind -making a woman give up one husband and take another. Didn’t mind -separating mother and child. Didn’t mind shooting a slave for -disobedience. Saw him do it once. Herbert had told Big Sam not to go -with a certain metif girl; for Herbert was as particular about matching -his niggers as about his horses and sheep. A jealous negro betrayed Sam. -Old Herbert found Sam in the metif girl’s hut, and shot him dead, -without giving him a chance to beg for mercy.[2] Well, Sam was only a -nigger; and didn’t Mr. Herbert have family prayers, and go to church -twice every Sunday? Who should save his soul alive, if not Mr. Herbert? - -“In spite of prayers, however, things didn’t go right on the plantation. -The estate was heavily mortgaged. Finally the creditors took it, and the -family was broken up. Peculiar was sold to one Harkman, a speculator, -who let him out as an apprentice in New Orleans, in Collins’s -machine-shop for the repair of steam-engines. But Collins failed, and -then Peek became a waiter in the St. Charles Hotel. Here he stayed six -years. Cut his eye-teeth during that time. Used to talk freely with -Northern visitors about slavery. Studied the big map of the United -States that hung in the reading-room. Learnt all about the hotels, North -and South. Stretched his ears wide whenever politics were discussed. - -“Having waited on the principal actors and singers of the day at the St. -Charles, he had a free pass to the theatres. Used often to go behind the -scenes. Waited on Blitz, Anderson, and other jugglers. Saw Anderson show -up the humbug, as he called it, of spiritual manifestations. Went to -church now and then. Heard some bad preachers, and some good. Heard Mr. -Clapp preach. Heard Mr. Palmer preach. After hearing the latter on the -duties of slaves, tried to run away. Was caught and taken to a new -patent whipping-machine, recently introduced by a Yankee. Here was left -for a whipping. Bought off the Yankee with five dollars, and taught him -how to stain my back so as to imitate the marks of the lash. Thus no -discredit was brought on the machine. A week after was sold to a Red -River planter, Mr. Carberry Ratcliff. - -“Can never speak of this man calmly. He had a slave, a woman white as -you are, sir, that he beat, and then tried to make me take and treat as -my wife. When he found I had cheated him, he just had me tied up and -whipped till three strong men were tired out with the work. It’s a -wonder how I survived. My whole back is seamed deep with the scars. This -scar over my cheek is from a blow he himself gave me that day with a -strip of raw hide. He sold me to Mr. Barnwell in Texas as soon as I -could walk, which wasn’t for some weeks. I left, resolving to come back -and kill Ratcliff. I meant to do this so earnestly, that the hope of it -almost restored me. Revenge was my one thought, day and night. I felt -that I could not be at ease till that man Ratcliff had paid for his -barbarity. Even now I sometimes wake full of wrath from my dreams, -imagining I have him at my mercy. - -“I went to Texas with a bad reputation. Was put among the naughty -darkies, and sent to the cotton-field. Braxton, the overseer, had been a -terrible fellow in his day, but I happened to be brought to him at the -time he was beginning to get scared about his soul. Soon had things my -own way. Braxton made me a sort of sub-overseer; and I got more work out -of the field-hands by kindness than Braxton had ever got by the lash. - -“One day I discovered on a neighboring plantation an old woman who -proved to be my mother. She had been brought here from Louisiana. She -was on the point of dying. She knew me, first from hearing my name, and -then from a cross she had pricked in India ink on my breast. She hadn’t -seen me for sixteen years. Had been having a hard time of it. Her hut -was close by a slough, a real fever-hole, and she had been sick most of -the time the last three years. - -“The old woman flashed up bright on finding me: gave me a long talk; -told me little stories of when I was a child; told me how my father had -been sold to an Alabama man, and shot dead for trying to break away from -a whipping-post. All at once she said she saw angels, drew me down to -her, and dropped away quiet as a lamb, so that, though my forehead lay -on her breast, I didn’t know when she died. - -“After this loss, I was pretty serious. Wasn’t badly treated. My master, -an educated gentleman, was absent in New Orleans most of the time. -Overseer Braxton, after the big scare he got about his soul, grew to be -humane, and left almost everything to me. But I felt sick of life, and -wanted to die, though not before I had killed Ratcliff. One day I heard -that Corinna, a quadroon girl, a slave on the plantation, had fallen -into a strange state, during which she preached as no minister had ever -preached before. I had known her as a very ordinary and rather stupid -girl. Went to see her in one of her trances. Found that report had -fallen short of the real case. Was astonished at what I saw and heard. -Saw what no white man would believe, and so felt I was wiser on one -point than all the white men. My interviews with Corinna soon made me -forget about Ratcliff; and when she died, six weeks after my first -visit, felt my mind full of things it would take me a lifetime to think -out and settle. - -“After Corinna’s death, I stayed some months on the plantation, though I -had a chance to leave. Stayed because I had an easy time and because I -found I could be of use to the slaves; and further, because I had -resolved, if ever I got free, it should be by freeing myself. A white -man, a Mr. Vance, whose life I had saved, wanted to buy and free me. I -made him spend his money so it would show for more than just the freeing -of one man. But Braxton, the overseer, who was letting me have pretty -much my own way, at last died; and Hawks, his successor, was of opinion -that the way to get work out of niggers was to treat them like dogs; and -so, one pleasant moonlight night, I made tracks for Galveston. Here, by -means of false papers, I managed to get passage to New Orleans, and -there hid myself on board a Yankee schooner bound for New London, -Connecticut. When she was ten days out, I made my appearance on deck, -much to the surprise of the crew. Fifteen days afterwards we arrived in -the harbor of New London. - -“Old Skinner, the captain, had been playing possum with me all the -voyage,—keeping dark, and pretending to be my friend, meaning all the -while to have me arrested in port. No sooner had he dropped anchor than -he sent on shore for the officers. But the mate tipped me the wink. -‘Darkey,’ said he, ‘do you see that little green fishing-boat yonder? -Well, that belongs to old Payson, an all-fired abolitionist and friend -of the nigger. Our Captain and crew are all under hatches, and now if -you don’t want to be a lost nigger, jest you drop down quietly astern, -swim off to Payson, and tell him who you are, and that the -slave-catchers are after you. If old Payson don’t put you through after -that, it will be because it isn’t old Payson.’ - -“I did as the mate told me. Reached the fishing-boat. Found old Payson, -a gnarled, tough, withered old sea-dog, who comprehended at once what -was in the wind, and cried, ‘Ha! ha!’ like the war-horse that snuffs the -battle. Just as I got into the boat, Captain Skinner came up on the -schooner’s deck, and saw what had taken place. The schooner’s small boat -had been sent ashore for the officers whose business it was to carry out -the Fugitive-Slave Law. What could Skinner do? Visions of honors and -testimonials and rewards and dinners from Texan slaveholders, because of -his loyalty to the _institution_ in returning a runaway nigger, suddenly -vanished. He paced the deck in a rage. To add to his fury, old Payson, -while I stood at the bows, dripping and grinning, came sailing up before -a stiff breeze, and passed within easy speaking distance, Payson pouring -in such a volley of words that Skinner was dumbfounded. ‘I’ll make New -London too hot for you, you blasted old skinflint!’ cried Payson. ‘You’d -sell your own sister just as soon as you’d sell this nigger, you would! -Let me catch you ashore, and I’ll give you the blastedest thrashing you -ever got yet, you infernal doughface, you! Go and lick the boots of -slaveholders. It’s jest what you was born for.’ - -“And the little sail-boat passed on out of hearing. Payson got in the -track of one of the spacious steamboats that ply between the cities of -Long Island Sound and New York, and managed to throw a line, so as to be -drawn up to the side. We then got on board. In six hours, we were in New -York. Payson put me in the proper hands, bade me good by, returned to -his sail-boat, and made the best speed he could back to New London, -fired with hopes of pitching into that ‘meanest of all mean skippers, -old Skinner.’ - -“This was three years ago. The despatch agents of the underground -railroad hurried me off to Canada. As soon as I judged it safe, I -returned to New York. Here I got a good situation as head-waiter at -Bunker’s. Am married. Have a boy, named Sterling, a year old. Am very -happy with my wife and child and my hired piano. But now and then I and -my wife have an alarm lest I shall be seized and carried back to -slavery.” - -Here Mr. Institution finished his story, which we have condensed, -generally using, however, his own words. Charlton did not subject him to -much cross-questioning. He asked, _first_, what was the name of the -schooner in which Peek had escaped from Texas. It was the Albatross. -Charlton made a note. _Second_, did Mr. Barnwell, Peek’s late master, -have an agent in New Orleans? Yes; Peek had often seen the name on -packages: P. Herman & Co. And, _third_, did Peek marry his wife in -Canada? Yes. Then she, too, is a fugitive slave, eh? - -Peek seemed reluctant to answer this question, and flashed a quick, -distrustful glance on Charlton. The latter assumed an air of -indifference, and said, “Perhaps you had better not answer that -question; it is immaterial.” - -Again Peek’s mind was relieved. - -“That is enough for the present, Mr. Jacobs,” continued Charlton. “If I -have occasion to see you, I can always find you at Bunker’s, I suppose.” - -“Yes, Mr. Charlton. Inquire for John Jacobs. Keep a bright lookout for -me, and you sha’n’t be the loser. Will five dollars pay you?” - -Charlton wavered between the temptation to clutch more at the moment, -and the prospect of making his new client available in other ways. At -length taking the money he replied, “I will make it do for the present. -Good morning.” - - - - - CHAPTER V. - A RETROSPECT. - -“Any slave refusing obedience to any command may be flogged till he -submits or dies. Not by occasional abuses alone, but by the universal -law of the Southern Confederacy, the existing system of slavery violates -all the moral laws of Christianity.”—_Rev. Newman Hall._ - - -Before removing Peculiar from the closet which at Charlton’s bidding he -has entered, we must go back to the time when he was a slave, and -amplify and illustrate certain parts of his abridged narrative. His -life, up to the period when he comes upon our little stage, divides -itself into three eras, all marked by their separate moral experiences. -In the _first_, he felt the slave’s crowning curse,—the absence of that -sense of personal responsibility which freedom alone can give; and he -fell into the demoralization which is the inherent consequence of the -slave’s condition. In the _second_ era, he encountered his mother, and -then the frozen fountain of his affections was unsealed and melted. In -the _third_, he met Corinna, and for the first time looked on life with -the eyes of belief. - -It will seem idle to many advanced minds in this nineteenth century to -use words to show the wrong of slavery. Why not as well spend breath in -denouncing burglary or murder? But slavery is still a power in the -world. We are daily told it is the proper _status_ for the colored man -in this country; that he ought to covet slavery as much as a white man -ought to covet freedom. Besides, since Peek has confessed himself at one -time of his life a liar, we must show why he ought logically to have -been one. - -To blame a slave for lying and stealing, is about as fair as it would be -to blame a man for using strategy in escaping from an assassin. For the -slaveholder, if not the assassin of the slave’s life, is the assassin of -his liberty, his manhood, his moral dignity. - -Mr. Pugh of Ohio, Vallandigham’s associate on the gubernatorial ticket -for 1863, presents his thesis thus: “When the slaves are fit for -freedom, they will be free.” - -The profundity of this oracular proposition is only equalled in the -remark of the careful grandmother, who declared she would never let a -boy go into the water till he knew how to swim. - -“_When_ the slaves are fit!” As if the road were clear for them to -achieve their fitness! Why, the slave is not only robbed of his labor, -but of his very chances as a thinking being. Yes, with a charming -consistency, the slavery barons, the Hammonds and the Davises, while -they tell us the negro is unfitted for mental cultivation, institute the -severest penal laws against all attempts to teach the slave to read! - -The first natural instinct of the slave, black or white, towards his -master is, to cheat and baffle that armed embodiment of wrong, who -stands to him in the relation of a thief and a tyrant. Thus, from his -earliest years, lying and fraud become legitimate and praiseworthy in -the slave’s eyes; for slavery, except under rare conditions, crushes out -the moral life in the victim. - -Any conscience he may have, being subordinate to the conscience of his -master, is kept stunted or perverted. The slave may wish to be true to -his wife; but his master may compel him to repudiate her and take -another. He may object to being the agent of an injustice; but the snap -of the whip or the revolver may be the reply to any conscientious -scruples he may offer against obedience. - -In the first stage of his slave-life, Peculiar probably gave little -thought to the moral bearings of his lot; although old Alva, his -instructor, who was something of a casuist, had offered him not a few -hard nuts to crack in the way of knotty questions. But Peculiar did -precisely what you or I would have done under similar circumstances: he -taxed his ingenuity to find how he could most safely shirk the tasks -that were put upon him. Knowing that his taskmasters had no right to his -labor, that they were, in fact, robbing him of what was his own, he did -what he could to fool and circumvent them. Thus he grew to be, by a -necessity of his condition, the most consummate of hypocrites and the -most intrepid and successful of liars. At eighteen he was a match for -Talleyrand in using speech to conceal his thoughts. - -He saw that, if slaves were well treated, it was because the prudent -master believed that good treatment would pay. Humanity was gauged by -considerations of cotton. Thus the very kindnesses of a master had the -taint of an intense selfishness; and Peculiar, while readily availing -himself of all indulgences, correctly appreciated the spirit in which -they were granted. - -The devotional element seems to be especially active in the negro; but -it has little chance for rational development, dwarfed and kept from the -light as the intellect is. The uneducated slave, like the Italian -brigand,—indeed, like many worthy people who go to church,—thinks it an -impertinence to mix up morality with religion. He agrees fully with the -distinguished American divine, who the other Sunday began his sermon -with these words, “Brethren, I am not here to teach you morality, but to -save your souls.” As if a saving faith could exist allied to a corrupt -morality! - -Peculiar could not come in contact with a sham, however solemn and -pretentious, without applying to it the puncture of his skeptical -analysis. He saw his master, Herbert, go to church on a Sunday and kneel -in prayer, and on a Monday shoot down Big Sam for attaching himself to -the wrong woman. He saw the Rev. Mr. Bloom take the murderer by the -hand, as if nothing had happened more tragical than the shooting of a -raccoon. - -And then Peculiar cogitated, wondering what religion could be, if its -professors made such slight account of robbery and murder. Was it the -observance of certain forms for the propitiation of an arbitrary, -capricious, and unamiable Power, who smiled on injustice and barbarity? -The more he thought of it, the more inexplicable grew the puzzle. -Herbert evidently regarded himself as one of the elect; and Mr. Bloom -encouraged him in his security. If heaven was to be won by such kind of -service as theirs, Peculiar concluded that he would prefer taking his -chances in hell; and so he became a scoffer. - -His residence in New Orleans, in enlarging the sphere of his -experiences, did not bring him the light that could quicken the -devotional part of his nature. Dwelling most of the time in a hotel -which frequently contained three or four hundred inmates, he was thrown -among white men of all grades, intellectual and moral. He instinctively -felt his superiority both ways to not a few of these. It was therefore a -swindling lie to say that the blacks were born to be the thrall of the -whites, that slavery was the proper _status_ of the black in this or any -country. If it were true that _stupid_ blacks ought to be slaves, so -must it be true of the same order of whites. - -He heard preachers stand up in their pulpits, and, like the Rev. Dr. -Palmer, blaspheme God by calling slavery a Divine institution. “Would it -have been tolerated so long, if it were not?” they asked, with the -confidence of a conjurer when he means to hocus you. To which Peek might -have answered, “Would theft and murder have been tolerated so long, if -they were not equally Divine?” The Northern clergymen he encountered -held usually South-side views of the subject, and so his prejudices -against the cloth grew to be somewhat too sweeping and indiscriminate. -Judged of by its relations to slavery, religion seemed to him an -audacious system of impositions, raised to fortify a lie and a wrong by -claiming a Divine sanction for merely human creeds and inventions. - -This persuasion was deepened when he found there were intelligent white -men utterly incredulous as to a future state, and that the people who -went to church were many of them practically, and many of them -speculatively, infidels. The remaining fraction might be, for all he -knew, not only devout, but good and just. Indeed, he had met some such, -but they could be almost counted on his ten fingers. - -One day at the St. Charles he overheard a discussion between Mr. James -Sterling, an English traveller, and the Rev. Dr. Manners of Virginia. -Slaves are good listeners; and Peculiar had sharpened his sense of -hearing by the frequent exercise of it under difficulties. He was an -amateur in key-holes. On this occasion he had only to open a ventilating -window at the top of a partition, and all that the disputants might say -would be for his benefit. - -“Will you deny, sir,” asked the reverend Doctor, “that slavery has the -sanction of Scripture?” - -“I exclude that inquiry as impertinent at present,” said Sterling. “If -Scripture authorized murder, then it would not be murder that would be -right, but Scripture that would be wrong. And so in regard to slavery. -On that particular point Scripture must not be admitted as -authoritative. It cannot override the enlightened human conscience. It -cannot render null the deductions of science and of reason on a question -that manifestly comes within their sphere.” - -“Ah! if you reject Scripture, then I have nothing more to say,” retorted -the Doctor. But, after a pause, he added, “Have you not generally found -the slaves well treated and contented?” - -“A system under which they are well treated and made content,” replied -Sterling, “is really the most to be deplored and condemned. If slavery -could so brutalize men’s minds as to make them hug their chains and -glory in degradation, it would be, in my eyes, doubly cursed. But it is -not so; the slaves are not happy, and I thank God for it. There is -manhood enough left in them to make them at least unhappy.”[3] - -“You assume the equality of the races,” interposed the Doctor. - -“It is unnecessary for my argument to make any such assumption,” said -Sterling. “I have found that many black men are superior to many white -men, and some of those white men slaveholders. I do not _assume_ this. I -know it. I have seen it. But even if the black men were inferior, I -hold, that man, as man, is an end unto himself, and that to use him as a -brute means to the ends of other men is to outrage the laws of God. I -take my stand far above the question of happiness or unhappiness. Have -you noticed the young black man, called Peek, who waits behind my chair -at table?” - -“Yes, a bright-looking lad. He anticipates your wants well. You have fed -him, I suppose?” - -“I have given him nothing. I have put a few questions to him, that is -all; and what I have to say is, that he is superior in respect to brains -to nine tenths of the white youth who suck juleps in your bar-rooms or -kill time at your billiard-tables.” - -“As soon as the Abolitionists will stop their infatuated clamor,” -replied the Doctor, “the condition of the slave will be gradually -improved, and we shall give more and more care to his religious -education.” - -“So long as the negro is ruled by force,” returned Mr. Sterling, “no -forty-parson power of preaching can elevate his character. It is a -savage mockery to prate of _duty_ to one in whom we have emasculated all -power of will. We cannot make a moral intelligence of a being we use as -a mere muscular force.” - -“All that the South wants,” exclaimed the Doctor, “is to be let alone in -the matter of slavery. If there are any alleviations in the system which -can be safely applied, be sure they will not be lacking as soon as we -are let alone by the fanatics of the North. Leave the solution of the -problem to the intelligence and humanity of the South.” - -“Not while new cotton-lands pay so well! Be sure, reverend sir, if the -South cannot quickly find a solution of this slave problem, God will -find one for them, and that, trust me, will be a violent one. American -civilization and American slavery can no longer exist together. One or -the other must be destroyed. For my part, I can’t believe it to be the -Divine purpose that a remnant of barbarism shall overthrow the -civilization of a new world. Slavery must succumb.”[4] - -“I recommend you, Mr. Sterling, not to raise your voice quite so high -when you touch upon these dangerous topics here at the South. I will bid -you good evening, sir.” - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - PIN-HOLES IN THE CURTAIN. - -“The reader will here be led into the great, ill-famed land of the - marvellous.” - _Ennemoser._ - -The conversation between the English traveller and the Virginia Doctor -of Divinity was brought to a close, and Peek jumped down from the table -on which he had been listening, refreshed and inspired by the eloquent -words he had taken in. - -A week afterwards he made a second attempt to escape from bondage. He -was caught and sold to Mr. Carberry Ratcliff, who had an estate on the -Red River. Here, failing in obedience to an atrocious order, he received -a punishment, the scars of which always remained to show the degree of -its barbarity. He was soon after sent to Texas, where he became the -slave of Mr. Barnwell. - -Here he was at first put to the roughest work in the cotton-field. It -tasked all his ingenuity to slight or dodge it. Luckily for him, about -the time of his arrival he found an opportunity to make profitable use -of the ecclesiastical knowledge he had derived from the Rev. Messrs. -Bloom and Palmer. - -Braxton, the overseer, had been frightened into a concern for his soul. -He had a heart-complaint which the doctor told him might carry him off -any day in a flash. A travelling preacher completed the work of terror -by satisfying him he was in a fair way of being damned. The prospect did -not seem cheerful to Braxton. He had found exhilaration and comfort in -whipping intractable niggers. The amusement now began to pall. Besides, -the doctor had told him to shun excitement. - -In this state of things, enter Mr. Peculiar Institution. That gentleman -soon learnt what was the matter; and he contrived that the overseer, -seemingly by accident, should overhear him at prayers. Braxton had heard -praying, but never any that had the unction of Peek’s. From that time -forth Peek had him completely under his control. - -Peek did not abuse his authority. He ruled wisely, though despotically. -At last the accidental encounter with his dying mother introduced a new -world of thoughts and emotions. Short as was his opportunity for -acquaintance with her, such a wealth of tenderness and love as she -lavished upon him developed a hitherto inactive and undreamed-of force -in his soul. The affectional part of his nature was touched. She told -him of the delight his father used to take in playing with him, an -infant; and when he thought of that father’s fate, shot down for -resisting the lash, he felt as if he could tear the first upholder of -slavery he might meet limb from limb, in his rage. - -The mother died, and then all seemed worthless and insipid to Peek. -Having seen how little heed was paid to the feelings of slaves in -separating those of opposite sex who had become attached to each other, -he early in life resolved to shun all sexual intimacies, till he should -be free. He saw that in slavery the distinction between licit and -illicit connections was a playful mockery. The thought of being the -father of a slave was horrible to him; and neither threats of the lash -nor coaxings from masters and overseers could induce him to enter into -those temporary alliances which Mr. Herbert used pleasantly to call “the -holy bonds of matrimony.” His resolution grew to be a passion stronger -even than desire. - -Thus the affections were undeveloped in him till he encountered his -mother. He knew of no relative on earth, after her, to love,—no one to -be loved by. Life stretched before him flat, dull, and unprofitable; and -death,—what was that but the plunge into nothingness? - -True, Mr. Herbert and the clergyman who drank claret with Mr. Herbert -after the latter had shot down Big Sam talked of a life beyond the -grave; but could such humbugs as they were be believed? Could the -stories be trustworthy, which were based mainly on the truth of a book -which all the preachers (so he supposed) declared was the all-sufficient -authority for slavery? Well might Peek distrust the promise that was -said to rest only on writings that were made to supply the apology of -injustice and bloody wrong! - -While in this state of mind, he heard of Corinna, the quadroon girl. -Unattractive in person, slow of apprehension, and rarely uttering a -word, she had hitherto excited only his pity. But now she fell into -trances during which she seemed to be a new and entirely different -being. At his first interview with her when she fell into one of these -inexplicable states, she seized his hand, and imitating the look, -actions, and very tone of his dying mother, poured forth such a flood of -exhortations, comfortings, warnings, and encouragements, that he was -bewildered and confounded. - -What could it all mean? The power that spoke through Corinna claimed to -be his mother, and seemed to identify itself, as far as revelations to -the understanding could go. It recalled the little incidents that had -passed between them in the presence of no other witness. It pierced to -his inmost secrets,—secrets which he well knew he had communicated to no -human being. - -And yet Peek saw upon reflection that, though a preternatural faculty -was plainly at work,—a faculty that took possession of his mind as a -photographer does of all the stones, flaws, and stains in the wall of a -building,—there was no sufficient identification of that faculty with -the individual he knew as his mother. Little that might not already have -been in his own mind, long hidden, perhaps, and forgotten, was revealed -to him. - -He also concluded that the intelligence, whatever it might be, was a -fallible one, and that it would be folly to give up to its guidance his -own free judgment. - -He renewed his interviews daily as long as the quadroon girl lived. -Skeptical, cautious, and meditative, he must test all these phenomena -over and over again. And he did test them. He established conditions. He -made records on the spot. He removed all possibilities of collusion and -deception. And still the same phenomena! - -Nor were they confined to the imperfect wonders of clairvoyance and -prophecy. Once in the broad daylight, when he was alone with the invalid -girl in her hut, and no other human being within a distance of a quarter -of a mile, she was lifted horizontally before his eyes into the air, and -kept there swaying about at least a third of a minute, while the drapery -of her dress clung to her person as if held by an invisible hand.[5] - -A bandore—a stringed musical instrument the name of which has been -converted by the negroes into _banjo_—hung on a nail in the wall. One -moonlight evening, when no third person was present, this African lute -was detached by some invisible force and carried by it through the room -from one end to the other! It would touch Peek on the head, then float -away through the air, visible to sight, and sending forth from its -chords, smitten by no mortal fingers, delectable strains. The same -invisible power would tune the instrument, tightening the strings and -trying them with a delicate skill; and then it would hang the banjo on -its nail. - -After this improvised concert, Peek felt all at once a warm living hand -upon his forehead, first lovingly patting it and then passing round his -cheek, under his chin, and up on the other side of his face. He grasped -the hand, and it returned his pressure. It was a hand much larger than -Corinna’s, and she lay on her back several feet from him, too far to -touch him with any part of her person. Plainly in the moonlight he could -see it,—a perfect hand, resembling his mother’s! It shaded off into -vacuity above the wrist, and, even while he held it solid and -flesh-like, melted all at once, like an impalpable ether, in his -grasp.[6] - -These phenomena, with continual variations, were repeated day after day -and night after night. Flowers would drop from the ceiling into his -hands, delicious odors of fruits would diffuse themselves through the -room. A music like that of the Swiss bell-ringers would break upon the -silence, continuing for a minute or more. A pen would start up from the -table and write an intelligible sentence. A castanet would be played on -and dashed about furiously, as if by some invisible Bacchante. A -clatter, as of the hammering of a hundred carpenters, would suddenly -make itself heard. A voice would speak intelligible sentences, sometimes -using a tin trumpet for the purpose. Articles of furniture would pass -about the room and cross each other with a swiftness and precision that -no mortal could imitate. The noise of dancers, using their feet, and -keeping time, would be heard on the floor. - -Once Corinna asked him to leave his watch with her. He did so. When he -was several rods from the house she called to him, “You are sure you -haven’t your watch?” “Yes, sure,” replied Peek. He hurried home, a -distance of two miles, without meeting a human being. On undressing to -go to bed, he found his watch in his vest pocket. - -These physical thaumaturgies produced upon Peek a more astounding effect -than all the evidences of mind-reading and clairvoyance. In the -communications made to him by the “power,” there was generally something -unsatisfying or incomplete. He would, for instance, think of some -departed friend,—a white man, perhaps,—and, without uttering or writing -a word, would desire some manifestation from that friend. Immediately -Corinna would strip from her arm the drapery, and show on her skin, -written in clear crimson letters, some brief message signed by the right -name. And then the supposed bearer of that name (speaking through -Corinna) would correctly recall incidents of his acquaintance with -Peek.[7] - -Thus much was amazing and satisfactory; but when Peek analyzed it all in -thought, he found that no sufficient proof of identification had been -given. A “power,” able to probe his own mind, might get from it all that -was spoken relative to the individual claiming identity; might even know -how to imitate that individual’s handwriting. Peek concluded that one -must be himself in a spiritual state in order to identify a spirit. The -so-called “communications” he found, for the most part, monotonous. They -were, some of them, above Corinna’s capacity, but not above his own. -Erroneous answers were not unfrequently given, especially in reply to -questions upon matters of worldly concern. He was repeatedly told of -places where he could find silver and gold, and never truly. - -He concluded that to surrender one’s faith implicitly to the word of a -spirit _out_ of the flesh, either on moral or on secular questions, was -about as unwise as it would be to give one’s self up to the control of a -spirit _in_ the flesh,—a mere mortal like himself. He was satisfied by -his experience that it was not in the power of spirits to impair his own -freedom of will and independence of thought, so long as he exercised -them manfully. And this assurance was to his mind not only a guaranty of -his own spiritual relationship, but it pointed to a supreme, omniscient -Spirit, the gracious Father of all. If the words that came through -Corinna had proved, in every instance, infallible, what would Peek have -become but a passive, unreasoning recipient, as sluggish in thought as -Corinna herself! - -We have said that the “communications” were generally on a level with -Peek’s own mind. There was once an exception. Said a very learned spirit -(learned, as to him it seemed) one night, speaking through Corinna:— - -“Attend, even if you do not understand all that I may utter. The great -purpose of creation is to exercise and develop independent, individual -thought, and through that, a will in harmony with the Supreme Wisdom. -Men are subjected to the discipline of the earth-sphere, not to be happy -there, but to qualify themselves for happiness,—to deserve happiness. - -“What would all created wonders be without thought to appreciate and -admire them? Study is worship. Admiration is worship. Of what account -would be the starry heavens, if there were not _mind_ to study and to -wonder at creation, and thus to fit itself for adoration of the Creator? - -“My friend Lessing, when he was on your earth, once said, that, if God -would _give_ him truth, he would decline the gift, and prefer the labor -of seeking it for himself. But most men are mentally so inert, they -would rather believe than examine; and so they flatter themselves that -their loose, unreasoning acquiescence is a saving belief. Pernicious -error! All the mistakes and transgressions of men arise either from -feeble, imperfect thinking, or from not thinking at all. - -“The heart is much,—is principal; but men must not hope to rise until -they do their own thinking. They cannot think by proxy. They must -exercise the mind on all that pertains to their moral and mental growth. -You may perhaps sometimes wish that you too, like this poor, torpid, -parasitical creature, Corinna, might be a medium for outside spirits to -influence and speak through. But beware! You know not what you wish. -Learn to prize your individuality. The wisdom Corinna may utter does not -become hers by appropriation. In her mind it falls on barren soil. - -“We all are more or less mediums; but the innocent man is he who resists -and overcomes temptation, not he who never felt its power; and the wise -man is he who, at once recipient and repellent, seeks to appropriate and -assimilate with his being whatever of good he can get from all the -instrumentalities of nature, divine and human, angelic and demoniac.” - -Peek derived an indefinable but awakening impression from these words, -and asked, “Is the Bible true?” - -The reply was: “It is true only to him who construes it aright. If you -find in it the justification of American slavery, then to you it is not -true. All the theologies which would impose, as essentials of faith, -speculative dogmas or historical declarations which do not pertain to -the practice of the highest human morality and goodness, as taught in -the words and the example of Christ, are, in this respect at least, -irreverent, mischievous, and untrue.” - -“How do I know,” asked Peek, “that you are not a devil?” - -“I am aware of no way,” was the reply, “by which, in your present state, -you can know absolutely that I am not a devil,—even Beelzebub, the -prince of devils. Each man’s measure of truth must be the reason God has -given him. But of this you may rest assured: it is a great point gained -to be able to believe really even in a devil. Given a devil, you will -one day work yourself so far into the light as to believe in an angel.” - -“Is there a God?” asked the slave. - -“God is,” said the spirit, “and says to thee, as once to Pascal, ‘=Be -consoled! Thou wouldst not seek me, if thou hadst not found me.=’” - -These were almost the only words Peek ever received through Corinna that -struck him by their superiority to what he himself could have imagined; -and he was impressed by them accordingly. Though they were above his -comprehension at the moment, he thought he might grow up to them, and he -caused them to be repeated slowly while he wrote them down. - -Corinna died, and Peek kept on thinking. - -What rapture in thought now! What a new meaning in life! What a new -universe for the heart was there in love! Henceforth the burden and the -mystery of “all this unintelligible world” was lightened if not -dissolved; for death was but the step to a higher plane of life. The -old, trite emblem of the chrysalis was no mere barren fancy. Continuous -life was now to his mind a _certainty_; arrived at, too, by the -deductions of experience, sense, and reason, as well as intimated by the -eager thirst of the heart. - -The process by which he made the phenomena he had witnessed conduce to -this conclusion was briefly this. An invisible, intelligent _force_ had -lifted heavy articles before his eyes, played on musical instruments, -written sentences, and spoken words. This _force_ claimed to be a human -spirit in a human form, of tissues too fine to be visible to our grosser -senses. It could pass, like heat and electricity, through what might -seem material impediments. It had a plastic power to reincarnate itself -at will, and imitate human forms and colors, under certain -circumstances, and it gave partial proof of this by showing a hand, an -arm, or a foot undistinguishable from one of flesh and blood. On one -occasion the human form entire had been displayed, been touched, and had -then dissolved into invisibility and intangibility before him. - -Now he must either take the word of this intelligent “force,” that it -was an independent spiritual entity, or he must account for its acts by -some other supposition. The “force,” in its communications to his mind, -had shown it was not infallible; it had erred in some of its -predictions, although in others it had been wonderfully correct. If its -explanation of itself was untrue,—if no outside intelligent force were -operating,—the other supposition was, that the phenomena were a -proceeding either from himself, the spectator, or from Corinna. And -here, without knowing it, Peek found himself speculating on the theory -of Count Gasparin,[8] who has had the candor to brave the laugh of -modern science (a very different thing from _scientia_) by recounting as -facts what Professor Faraday and our Cambridge _savans_ denounce as -impositions or delusions. - -Peek was therefore reduced to these two explanations: either the “force” -was a spirit (call it, if you please, an outside power), as it claimed -to be, or it was a faculty unconsciously exerted by the mortals present. -In either case, it supplied an assurance of spirit and immortality; for -it might fairly be presumed that such wonderful powers would not be -wrapt up in the human organism except for a purpose; and that purpose, -what could it be but the future development of those powers under -suitable conditions? So either of Peek’s hypotheses led to the same -precious and ineffable conviction of continuous life,—of the soul’s -immortality! - -On one occasion a Northern Professor, who had given his days to the -positive sciences, and who believed in matter and motion, and nothing -else, passed a week, while visiting the South for his health, with his -old friend and classmate, Mr. Barnwell; and Peek overheard the following -conversation. - -“How do you get rid of all this testimony on the subject?” asked Mr. -Barnwell. - -“Stuff and nonsense!” exclaimed the Professor. “That a poor benighted -nigger should believe this trash isn’t surprising. That poets, like -Willis and Mrs. Browning, should give in to it may be tolerated, for -they are privileged. In them the imaginative faculty is irregularly -developed. But that sane and intelligent white men like Edmonds, and -Tallmadge, and Bowditch, and Brownson, and Bishop Clark of Rhode Island, -and Howitt, and Chambers, and Coleman, and Dr. Gray, and Wilkinson, and -Mountford, and Robert Dale Owen, should gravely swallow these idiotic -stories, is lamentable indeed. The spectacle becomes humiliating, and I -sigh, ‘Poor human nature!’” - -“But Peek is far from being a benighted nigger,” replied Barnwell; “he -can read and write as well as you can; he is the best shot in the -county; he is a good mechanic; for a time he waited on one of the great -jugglers at the St. Charles; he can explain or cleverly imitate all the -tricks of all the conjurers; he is not a man to be humbugged, especially -by a poor sick girl in a hut with no cellar, no apparatus, no rooms -where any coadjutor could hide. It has been the greatest puzzle of my -life to know how to explain Peek’s stories.” - -“Half that is extraordinary in them,” said the Professor, “is probably a -lie, and the other half is delusion. Not one man in fifty is competent -to test such occurrences. Men’s senses have not been scientifically -trained; their love of the marvellous blinds them to the simplest -solutions of a mystery. _How to observe_ is one of the most difficult of -arts; and one must undergo rigid scientific culture in the practical -branches before he can observe properly.” - -“Under your theory, Professor, ninety-eight men out of every hundred -ought to be excluded as witnesses from our courts of justice. It strikes -me that a fellow like Peek—with his senses always in good working trim, -who never misses his aim, who can hit a mark by moonlight at forty -paces, and shoot a bird on the wing in bright noonday, who can detect a -tread or a flutter of wings when to your ear all is silence—is as -competent to see straight and judge of sights and sounds as any blinkard -from a college, even though he wear spectacles and call himself -professor of mathematics. Remember, Peek is not a superstitious nigger. -He will feel personally obliged to any ghost who will show himself. He -shrinks from no haunted room, no solitude, no darkness.” - -“Truly, Horace, you speak as if you half believed these absurdities.” - -“No,—I wish I could. Peek once said to me, that he wouldn’t have -believed these things on _my_ testimony, and couldn’t expect me to -believe them on _his_.” - -“Our business,” said the Professor, “is with the life before us. I agree -with Comte, that we ought to confine ourselves to positive, demonstrable -facts; with Humboldt, that ‘there is not much to boast of after our -dissolution,’ and that ‘the blue regions on the other side of the -grave’[9] are probably a poet’s dream. Let us not trouble ourselves -about the inexplicable or the uncertain.” - -“But you do not consider, Professor, that Peek’s facts _are_ positive to -his experience. Besides, to say, with Comte, that a fact is -inexplicable, and that we can’t go beyond it, is not to demonstrate that -the fact has its cause in itself; it is merely to confess the mystery of -a cause unknown.”[10] - -“Well, Horace, I’m sleepy, and must retire. I’ll find an opportunity to -cross-examine Peek before I go, and you shall see how he will contradict -and stultify himself.” - -Before the opportunity was found, the Professor had _passed on_. Less -modest than Rabelais was in his last moments, he did not condescend to -say, “I go to inquire into a great possibility.” The physician in -attendance, who was a young man, and had recently “experienced -religion,” asked the Professor if he had found the Lord Jesus. To which -the Professor, making a wry face, replied, “Jargon!” “Have you no regard -for your soul?” asked the well-meaning doctor. “Can you prove to me, -young man, that I _have_ a soul?” returned the Professor, trying to -raise himself on his pillow, in an argumentative posture. “Don’t you -believe in a future state?” asked the doctor. “I believe what can be -proved,” said the Professor; “and there are two things, and only two, -that can be proved,—though Berkeley thinks we can’t prove even -those,—matter and motion.[11] All phenomena are reducible to matter and -motion,—matter and motion,—matter and mo-o-o—” - -The effort was too much for the moribund Professor. He did not complete -the utterance of his formula, at least on this side of the great -curtain. Probably when he awoke in the next life, conscious of his -identity, he felt very much in the mood of that other man of science, -who, on being told that the microscope would confute an elaborate theory -he had raised, refused to look through the impertinent instrument. - -For several months Peek retained his place under Braxton. But even -overseers, whip in hand, cannot frighten off Death. Braxton disappeared -through the common portal. His successor, Hawks, had a theory that the -true mode of managing niggers was to overawe them by extreme severity at -the start, and then taper off into clemency. He had been lord of the -lash a week or two, when he was asked by Mr. Barnwell how he got along -with Peek. - -“Capitally!” replied Hawks. “I took care to put him through his paces at -our first meeting,—took the starch right out of him. He’d score his own -mother now if I told him to. He’s a thorough nigger—is Peek. A nigger -must fear a white man before he can like him. Peek would go through fire -and water for me now. He has behaved so well, I have given him a pass to -visit his sister at Carter’s.” - -“I never knew before that Peek had a sister,” said Barnwell. - -Peek did not come back from that visit. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - AN UNCONSCIOUS HEIRESS. - - “She is coming, my dove, my dear; - She is coming, my life, my fate; - The red rose cries, ‘She is near, she is near’; - And the white rose weeps, ‘She is late’; - The larkspur listens, ‘I hear, I hear’; - And the lily whispers, ‘I wait.’” - _Tennyson._ - - -We left Peek (known in New York as Jacobs) in the little closet opening -from the apartment where Charlton sat at his papers. The knock at the -outer door was succeeded by the entrance of a person of rather imposing -presence. - -Mr. Albert Pompilard stood upwards of six feet in his polished shoes and -variegated silk stockings. He was bulky, and could not conceal, by any -art of dress, an incipient paunch. But whether he was a youth of -twenty-five or a man of fifty it was very difficult to judge on a hasty -inspection. He was in reality sixty-nine. He affected an extravagantly -juvenile and jaunty style of dress, and was never twenty-four hours -behind the extreme fashions of Young America. - -On this occasion Mr. Pompilard was dressed in a light-colored sack or -pea-jacket, with gaping pockets and enormous buttons, the cloth being a -sort of shaggy, woollen stuff, coarse enough for a mat. His pantaloons -and vest were of the same astounding fabric. He wore a new black hat, -just ironed and brushed by Leary; a neckerchief of a striped -red-and-black silk, loosely tied; immaculate linen; and a diamond on his -little finger. A thick gold chain passed round his neck, and entered his -vest pocket. He swung a gold-headed switch, and was followed by a little -terrier dog of a breed new to Broadway. - -Mr. Pompilard’s complexion was somewhat florid, and presented few marks -of age. He wore his own teeth, which were still sound and white, and his -own hair, including whiskers, although the hue was rather too black to -be natural. - -“I believe I have the honor of addressing Mr. Charlton,” said Pompilard, -with the air of one who is graciously bestowing a condescension. - -“That’s my name, sir. What’s your business?” replied Charlton, in the -curt, dry manner of one who gives his information grudgingly. - -“My name, sir, is Pompilard. You may not be aware that there is a sort -of family connection between us.” - -“Ah! yes; I remember,” said Charlton, looking inquiringly at his -visitor, but not asking him to sit down. - -Pompilard returned his gaze, as if waiting for something; then, seeing -that nothing came, he lifted a chair, replaced it with emphasis on the -floor, and sat down. If it was a rebuke, Charlton did not take it, -though the terrier seemed to comprehend it fully, for he began to bark, -and made a reconnoissance of Charlton’s legs that plainly meant -mischief. - -Pompilard refreshed himself for a moment with the lawyer’s alarm, then -ordered Grip to lie down under the table, which he did with a quavering -whine of expostulation. - -“I see,” said Pompilard, “you almost forget the precise nature of the -connection to which I allude. Let me explain: the lady who has the honor -to be your wife is the step-mother, I believe, of Mr. Henry Berwick.” - -“Both the step-mother and aunt,” interposed Charlton, somewhat mollified -by the language of his visitor. - -“Yes, she was half-sister to his own mother,” resumed Pompilard. “Well, -the wife of Mr. Henry Berwick was Miss Aylesford of Chicago, and is the -niece of my present wife.” - -“I understand all that,” said Charlton; and then, as the thought -occurred to him that he might make the connection useful, he rose, and, -offering his hand, said, “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. -Pompilard.” That gentleman rose and exchanged salutations; and Grip, -under the table, gave a smothered howl, subsiding into a whine, as if he -felt personally aggrieved by the concession, and would like to put his -teeth in the calf of a certain leg. - -“My object in calling,” said Pompilard, “is merely to inquire if you can -give me the present address of Mrs. Henry Berwick. My wife wishes to -communicate with her.” - -Charlton generally either evaded a direct question or answered it by a -lie. He never received a request for information, even in regard to the -time of day, that he did not cast about in his mind to see how he could -gain by the withholding or profit by the giving. He took it for granted -that every man was trying to get the advantage of him; and he resolved -to take the initiative in that game. And so, to Pompilard’s inquiry, -Charlton replied: - -“I really cannot say whether Mr. Berwick is in the country or not. The -last I heard of him he was in Paris.” - -“Then your intelligence of him is not so late as mine. He arrived in -Boston some days since, but left immediately for the West by the way of -Albany. I thought your wife might be in communication with him.” - -“They seldom correspond.” - -“I must inquire about him at the Union Club,” said Pompilard, musingly. -“By the way, Mr. Charlton, you deal in real estate securities, do you -not?” - -“Occasionally. There are some old-fashioned persons who consult me in -regard to investments.” - -“Do you want any good mortgages?” asked Pompilard. - -“Just at present, money is very scarce and high,” replied Charlton. - -“That’s the very reason why I want it,” said his visitor. “Could you -negotiate a thirty thousand dollar mortgage for me?” - -“But that’s a very large sum.” - -“Another reason why I want it,” returned Pompilard. “Supposing the -security were satisfactory, what bonus should you require for getting me -the money? Please give me your lowest terms, and at once, for I have an -engagement in five minutes on ’Change.” - -“Well, sir,” said Charlton, in the tone of a man to whom it is an -ordinary act to drive the knife in deep, “I think in these times five -per cent would be about right.” - -“Pooh! I’ll bid you good morning, Mr. Charlton,” said Pompilard, with an -air of unspeakable contempt. “Come, Grip.” - -And Mr. Pompilard bowed and turned to leave, just as another knock was -heard at the door. He opened it, encountering four men, one of whom -kicked the unoffending terrier; an indignity which Pompilard resented by -switching the aggressor smartly twice round the legs, and then passed -on. He had not descended five steps when a bullet from a pistol grazed -his whiskers. “Not a bad shot that, my Southern friend!” said the old -man, deliberately continuing his descent. - -Before losing sight of Pompilard we must explain why he was desirous -that his wife should communicate with Mrs. Berwick. - -Inheriting a fortune from his mother, Albert Pompilard had managed to -squander it in princely expenditures before he was twenty-five years -old. The vulgar dissipations of sensualists he despised. He abstained -from wine and strong drink at a time when to abstain was to be laughed -at. With the costliest viands and liquors on his table for guests, he -himself ate sparingly and drank cold water. Had he been as scrupulously -moral in the management of his soul as he was of his body, he would have -been a saint. But he was a spendthrift and a gambler on a large scale. - -Having ruined himself financially, he married. A little money which his -wife brought him was staked entire on a stock operation, and won. Thence -a new fortune larger than the first. At thirty-five he was worth half a -million. He took his wife, two daughters, and a son to Paris, gave -entertainments that made even royalty envious, and in ten years returned -to New York a bankrupt. His wife died, and Pompilard appeared once more -at the stock board. Ill-luck now pursued him with remorseless -pertinacity, but never succeeded in disturbing his equanimity. He was -frightfully in debt, but the consideration never for a moment marred his -digestion nor his slumbers. The complacency of a man contented with -himself and the world shed its beams over his features always. - -At fifty, a widower, with three children, he carried off and married -Miss Aylesford, who at the time was on a visit to New York,—a girl of -eighteen, handsome, accomplished, and worth half a million. In vain had -her brother tried to open her eyes to Pompilard’s character as an -inveterate fortune-hunter and spendthrift. The wilful young lady would -have her way. Pompilard took possession, paid his debts with interest, -and, with less than one third of his wife’s property left, once more -tried his fortune in Wall Street. This time he won. At sixty he was -richer than ever. He became the owner of a domain of three hundred acres -on the Hudson,—built palatial residences,—one in the country, and one on -the favored avenue that leads to Murray Hill,—bought a steamboat to -transport his guests to and from the city,—gave a series of _fêtes_, and -kept open houses. - -But soon one of those panics in the money-market which take place -periodically to baffle the calculations and paralyze the efforts of -large holders of stocks, occurred to confound Pompilard. In trying to -_hold_ his stocks, he was compelled to make heavy sacrifices, and then, -in trying to _hedge_, he heaped loss on loss. He had to sell his acres -on the Hudson,—then his town house,—finally his horses; and at -sixty-nine we find him trying to get a mortgage for thirty thousand -dollars on five or six poor little houses, the last remnant from the -wreck of his wife’s property. In the hope of effecting this he had -persuaded his wife to communicate with her niece, Mrs. Berwick. - -The brother of Mrs. Pompilard, Robert Aylesford, had inherited a large -estate, which he had increased by judicious investments in land on the -site of Chicago, some years before that wonderful city had risen like an -exhalation in a night from the marsh on which it stands. His wife had -died in child-birth, leaving a daughter whom he named after her, -Leonora. His own health was subsequently impaired by a malignant fever, -caught in humane attendance on a Mr. Carteret, a stranger whom he had -accidentally met at Cairo in Southern Illinois. - -Deeply chagrined at his sister’s imprudent marriage, and feeling that -his own health was failing, Aylesford conceived a somewhat romantic -project in regard to his only child, Leonora. During a winter he had -passed in Italy he had become acquainted with the Ridgways, a refined -and intelligent family from Western Massachusetts. One of the members, a -lady, kept a boarding-school of deserved celebrity in the town of -Lenbridge. - -To this lady Aylesford took his little girl, then only two years old, -and said: “I wish you to bring her up under the name of Leonora -Lockhart, her mother’s maiden name, and her own, though not all of it. -When she is married, let her know that the rest of it is _Aylesford_. -She is so young she will not remember much of her father. Keep both her -and the world in ignorance of the fact that she is born to a fortune. My -wish is that she shall not be the victim of a fortune-hunter in -marriage; and you will take all needful steps to carry out my wish. I -leave you the address of my man of business, Mr. Keep, in New York, who -will supply you with a thousand dollars a year as your compensation for -supporting and educating her. Neither she nor any one else must know -that even this allotment is on her account. My physician orders me to -pass the winter in Cuba, and I may not return. Should that be my lot, I -look to you to be in the place of a parent to my child. Her relations -may suppose her dead. I shall not undeceive them. Her nearest relative -is her aunt, my sister, Mrs. Pompilard, who, in the event of my death, -will be legally satisfied that such a disposition is made of my property -that it cannot directly or indirectly fall into the hands of that -irreclaimable spendthrift, her husband. As I have lived for the last -twenty years at the West, I do not think you will have any difficulty in -keeping my secret.” - -Subsequently he said: “On the day of Leonora’s marriage, should she have -passed her eighteenth year, the trustees of my property will have -directions to hand over to her the income. Till that it is done, your -lips must be sealed in regard to her prospects. In the event of her -remaining single, I have made provisions which Mr. Keep will explain to -you. I am resolved that my daughter shall not have to buy a husband.” - -Mrs. Ridgway accepted the trust in the same frank spirit in which it was -offered. Mr. Aylesford took leave of his little girl, and before the -next spring she was fatherless. Her eighteenth birthday found her -developed into a young lady of singular grace and beauty, with -accomplishments which showed that the body had not been neglected in -adorning the mind. But the mystery that surrounded her family and origin -produced a shyness that kept her aloof from social intimacies. Vainly -did her attentive friends try to overcome her fondness for solitary -musings and rides. She was possessed with the idea that she was an -illegitimate child, though to this suspicion she never gave utterance -till candor seemed to compel it. - -On a charming morning in June, as a young man, just escaped from a -law-office in New York for a week’s recreation among the hills of -Lenbridge, was entering “the cathedral road,” as it was called, -overarched as it was by forest-trees, and spread with an elastic mat of -pine-leaves, he saw a young lady riding a spirited horse, a -bright-colored bay, exquisitely formed, and showing high blood in every -step. The sagacious creature evidently felt the exhilaration of the -fresh, balsamic air, for he played the most amusing antics, dancing and -curvetting as if for the entertainment of a circus of spectators; -starting lightly and feigning fright at little shining puddles of water, -leaping over fallen stumps, but with such elastic ease and precision as -not to stir his rider in her seat,—and frolicking much like a pet kitten -when the ball of yarn is on the floor. - -His mistress evidently understood his ways, and he hers, for she talked -to him and patted his glossy neck and seemed to encourage him in his -tricks. At last she said, “Come, now, Hamlet, enough of this,—behave -yourself!” and then he walked on quite demurely. He traversed a -cross-road newly repaired with broken stones, and entered on the forest -avenue. But all at once Hamlet seemed to go lame, and the lady -dismounted, and, lifting one of his fore-feet, tried to extract a stone -that had got locked in the hollow of his sole. Her strength was unequal -to the task. The pedestrian who had been watching her movements -approached, bowed, and offered his assistance. The lady thanked him, and -resigned into his hand the hoof of the gentle animal, who plainly -understood that something for his benefit was going on. - -“The stone is wedged in so tightly, I fear it will require a chisel to -pry it out,” said the new acquaintance, whose name was Henry Berwick. -Then, after a pause, he added, “But perhaps I can hammer it out with -another stone.” - -“Let me find one for you,” said Leonora, running here and there, and -searching as she held up her riding-habit. - -Henry looked after her with an interest he had never felt before for any -one in the form of a young lady. How bewitchingly that black beaver with -its ostrich plumes sat on her head, but failed to hide those luxuriant -curls,—luxuriant by the grace of nature and not of the hair-dresser! And -then that face,—how full of life and tenderness and mind! And how -admirably did its red and white contrast with the surrounding blackness -of its frame! And that figure,—how were its harmonious perfections -brought out by the simple, closely fitting nankeen riding-habit trimmed -with green! - -While she was engaged in her search, Mr. Henry Berwick dishonestly did -his best to loosen the shoe. All at once, in the most innocent manner, -he exclaimed, “This shoe is loose,—it has come off,—look here!” - -And he held it up, just as Leonora handed him a stone. - -He took the stone, and with one blow knocked out the fragment that lay -wedged in the hollow of the sole. - -“Thank you, sir,” said Leonora. - -“You are one of Mrs. Ridgway’s young ladies, I presume,” said Henry. - -“Yes, I shall not be back in time for my music-lesson, if I do not -hurry.” - -“There is a blacksmith not a quarter of a mile from here. My advice to -you is to stop and have this shoe refitted. Remember, you have a mile of -a newly macadamized road to travel before you get home, and over that -you will have to walk your horse slowly unless you restore him his -shoe.” - -Leonora seemed struck by these considerations. “I will take your -advice,” she said, putting herself in the saddle with a movement so -quick and easy that Berwick could not interpose to help her. But the -horse limped so badly that she once more dismounted. - -“Let me lead him for you,” said Berwick, “I shall not have to go a step -out of my way.” - -“You are very obliging,” replied the lady. - -And the young man led the horse, while the young lady walked by his -side. - -The quarter of a mile was a remarkably long one. It was a full hour -before the blacksmith’s shed was reached, and then Berwick, secretly -giving the man of the anvil a dollar, winked at him, and said aloud, -“Call us as soon as you have fitted the shoe”; and then added, in an -_aside_, “Be an hour or so about it.” - -The new acquaintances strolled together to a beautiful pond within sight -among the hills. - -O that exquisite June morning, with its fresh foliage, its clear sky, -its pine odors, its wild-flowers, and its songs of birds! How -imperishable in the memories of both it became! How much happier were -they ever afterwards for the happiness of that swift-gliding moment! - -Leonora spied some harebells in the crevices of the slaty rocks of a -steep declivity, and pointed them out as the first of the season. - -“I must get them for you,” cried Berwick. - -“No, no! It is a dangerous place,” said Leonora. - -“They shall be your harebells,” said Berwick, swinging himself, by the -aid of a birch-tree that grew almost horizontally out of the cleft of a -rock, over the precipice, and snatching the flowers. Leonora treasured -them for years, pressed between the leaves of Shelley’s Poems. - -Thus began a courtship which, three weeks afterwards, was followed by an -offer of marriage. Early in the acquaintance, foreseeing the drift of -Berwick’s eager attentions, Leonora had frankly communicated by letter -her suspicions in regard to her own birth. - -In his reply Berwick had written: “I almost wish it may be as you -imagine, in order that I may the better prove to you the strength of my -attachment; for I do not underrate the desirableness of an honorable -genealogy. No one can prize more than I an unspotted lineage. But I -would not marry the woman who I did not think could in herself -compensate me for the absence of all advantages of family position and -wealth; and whose society could not more than m—flittedake up for the -loss of all social attractions that could be offered outside of the home -her presence would sanctify. You are the one my heart points to as able -to do all this; and so, Leonora, whether it be the bar sinister or the -ducal coronet that ought to be in your coat of arms, it matters not to -me. No herald’s pen can make you less charming in my eyes. Under any -cloud that could be thrown over your origin, to me you would always be, -as Portia was to Brutus, a fair and honorable wife;— - - ‘As dear to me as are the ruddy drops - That visit this sad heart.’ - -And yet not sad, if you were mine! So do not think that any future -development in regard to the antecedents of yourself or of your parents -can detract from an affection based on those qualities which are of the -soul and heart, and the worth of which no mortal disaster can impair.” - -To all which the imprudent young lady returned this answer: “Do not -think to outdo me in generosity. You judge me independently of all -social considerations and advantages; I will do the same by you; for I -know as little of you as you do of me.” - -They met the next morning, and Berwick said: “Is not this a very -dangerous precedent we are setting for romantic young people? What if I -should turn out to be a swindler or a bigamist?” - -“My heart would have prescience of it much sooner than my head,” replied -Leonora. “Women are not so often misled into uncongenial alliances by -their affections as by their passions or their calculations. The lamb, -before he has ever known a wolf, is instinctively aware of an enemy’s -presence, even while the wolf is yet unseen. If the lamb stopped to -reason with himself, he would be very apt to say, ‘Nonsense! it is no -doubt a very respectable beast who is approaching. Why should I imagine -he wants to harm me?’” - -“But what if I am a wolf disguised as a lamb?” asked Berwick. - -“I am so good a judge of tune,” replied Leonora, “that I should detect -the sham the moment you tried to cry _baa_. Nay, a repugnant nature -makes itself felt to me by its very presence. There are some persons the -very touch of whose hand produces an impression, I generally find to be -true, of their character.” - -“An ingenious plea!” said Berwick with an affectation of sarcasm. “But -it does not palliate your indiscretion.” - -“Very well, sir,” replied Leonora, “since you disapprove my -precipitancy, we will—” - -Berwick interrupted the speech at the very portal of her mouth, by -surprising its warders, the lips. - -And so it was a betrothal. - -How admirably had Mrs. Ridgway behaved through it all! How scrupulous -she had been in withholding all intimations of Leonora’s prospective -wealth! There were young men among the Ridgways, handsome, accomplished, -just entering the hard paths of commercial or professional toil. How -easy it would have been to have hinted to some of them, “Secure this -young lady, and your fortune is made. Let a hint suffice.” But Mrs. -Ridgway was too loyal to her trust to even blindly convey by her -demeanor towards Leonora a suspicion that the child was aught more than -the dowerless orphan she appeared. - -Berwick took a small house in Brooklyn, and prepared for his marriage. -Clients were as yet few and poor, but he did not shrink from living on -twelve hundred a year with the woman he loved. He was not quite sure -that his betrothed was even rich enough to refurnish her own wardrobe. -So he delicately broached the question to Mrs. Ridgway. That lady -mischievously told him that if he could let Leonora have fifty dollars, -it might be convenient. The next day Berwick sent a check for ten times -that amount. - -But after the wedding, an elderly gentleman, named Keep, to whom Berwick -had been introduced a few days before, took him and the bride aside, and -delivered to him a schedule of the title-deeds of an estate worth a -million, the bequest of the bride’s father, and the income of which was -to be subject to her order. - -“But this deranges all our little plans!” exclaimed the bride, with -delightful _naïveté_. - -“Well, my children, you must put up with it as well as you can,” said -Mr. Keep. - -Berwick took the surprise gravely and thoughtfully. With this great -enlargement of his means and opportunities, were not his -responsibilities proportionably increased? - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - A DESCENDANT OF THE CAVALIERS. - -“Pride of race, pride in an ancestry of gentlemen, pride in all those -habitudes and instincts which separated us so immeasurably from the -peddling and swindling Yankee nation,—all this pride has been openly -cherished and avowed in all simplicity and good faith.”—_Richmond (Va.) -Enquirer._ - - -Peek sat in the little closet which opened into Charlton’s office. -Suddenly he heard the crack of a pistol, followed by a volley of -ferocious oaths. Efforts seemed to be made to pacify the utterer, who -was with difficulty withheld by his companions from following the person -who had offended him. At these sounds Peek felt a cold, creeping -sensation down his back, and a tightness in his throat, as if it were -grasped by a hand. The pistol-shot and the nature of the oaths brought -before him the figure of the overseer with his broad-brimmed hat, his -whip, and his revolver. - -All the negro’s senses were now concentrated in the one faculty of -hearing. He judged that five persons had entered the room. The angry man -had cooled down, and the voices were not raised above a whisper. - -“Is he here?” asked one. - -No answer was heard in reply. Probably a gesture had sufficed. - -“Will he resist?” - -“Possibly. These fugitives usually go armed.” - -“What shall we do if he threatens to fire?” - -Here an altercation ensued, during which Peek could understand little of -what was uttered. But he had heard enough. His thoughts first reverted -to his wife and his infant boy, and he pictured to himself their -destitute condition in the event of his being taken away. Then the -treachery of Charlton glared upon him in all its deformity, and he -instinctively drew from the sheath in an inside pocket of his vest a -sharp, glittering dagger-like knife. He looked rapidly around, but there -was nothing to suggest a mode of escape. The only window in the closet -was one over the door communicating with the office. - -Suddenly it occurred to him that, if he were to be hemmed in in this -closet, his chances of escape would be small. It would be better for him -to be in the larger room, whether he chose to adopt a defensive or an -offensive policy. Seeing an old rope in a corner of the closet, he -seized it with the avidity a drowning man might show in grasping at a -straw. - -He listened intently once more to the whisperers. A low susurration, -accompanied with a whistling sound, he identified at once as coming from -Skinner, the captain of the schooner in which he had made his escape. -Then some one sneezed. Peek would have recognized that sneeze in -Abyssinia. It must have proceeded from Colonel Delancy Hyde. - -Standing on tiptoe on a coal-box, the negro now looked through a hole in -the green-paper curtain covering the glass over the door, and surveyed -the whole party. He found he was right in his conjectures. The captain -was there with one of his sailors,—an old inebriate by the name of -Biggs, both doubtless ready to swear to the slave’s identity. And the -Colonel was there as natural as when he appeared on the plantation, -strolling round to take a look at the “smart niggers,” so as to be able -to recognize them in case of need. Two policemen, armed with bludgeons, -and probably with revolvers; and Charlton, with a paper tied with red -tape in his hand, formed the other half of this agreeable company. Peek -marked well their positions, put his knife between his teeth, and -descended from the box. - -Colonel Delancy Hyde is a personage of too much importance to be kept -waiting while we describe the movements of a slave. Colonel Delancy Hyde -must be attended to first. Tall, lank, and gaunt in figure, -round-shouldered and stooping, he carried his head very much after the -fashion of a bloodhound on the scent. Beard and moustache of a reddish, -sandy hue, coarse and wiry, concealed much of the lower part of a face -which would have been pale but for the floridity which bad whiskey had -imparted. The features were rather leonine than wolfish in outline (if -we may believe Mr. Livingstone, the lion is a less respectable beast -than the wolf). But the small brownish eyes, generally half closed and -obliquely glancing, had a haughty expression of penetration or of scorn, -as if the person on whom they fell would be too much honored by a full, -entire regard from those sublime orbs. - -The Colonel wore a loosely fitting frock-coat and pantaloons, evidently -bought ready made. They were of a grayish nondescript material which he -used to boast was manufactured in Georgia. He generally carried his -hands in his pockets, and bestowed his tobacco-juice impartially on all -sides with the _abandon_ of a free and independent citizen who has not -been used to carpets. - -There were two things of which Colonel Delancy Hyde was proud: one, his -name, the other, his Virginia birth. It is interesting to trace back the -genealogy of heroes; and we have it in our power to do this justice to -the Colonel. - -In the year 1618 there resided in London a stable-keeper of doubtful -reputation, and connected with gentlemen of the turf who frequented Hyde -Park and Newmarket in the early days of that important British -institution, the horse-race. This man’s name was Hyde. He had a patron -in Sir Arthur Delancy, a dissipated nobleman, whom he admired, naming -after him a son who was early initiated in all the mysteries of -jockeyship and gambling. - -Unfortunately for the youth, he did not have the wit to keep out of the -clutches of the law. Twice he was arrested and imprisoned for swindling. -A third offence of a graver character, consisting in the theft of a -pocket-book containing thirteen shillings, led to his arraignment for -grand larceny, a crime then punishable with death. The gallows began to -loom in the not remote distance with a sharpness of outline not -pictorially pleasant to the ambition of the Hyde family. - -About that time the “London Company,” whose colony in Virginia was in a -languishing condition, petitioned the Crown to make them a present of -“vagabonds and condemned men” to be sent out to enforced labor. The -senior Hyde applied to Sir Arthur Delancy to save his namesake; and that -nobleman laid the case before his friend, Sir Edward Sandys, treasurer -of the company aforesaid. By their joint influence the Hydes were spared -the disgrace of seeing their eldest hung; and King James having -graciously granted the London Company’s petition for a consignment of -“vagabonds and condemned men,” a hundred were sent out (a mere fraction -of the numbers of similar gentry who had preceded them), and of this -precious lot the younger Hyde made one.[12] Just a year afterwards, -namely, in 1620, a Dutch trading-vessel anchored in James River with -twenty negroes, and this was the beginning of African slavery in North -America. - -Neither threats nor lashes could induce young Mr. Hyde, this “founder of -one of the first families,” to work. Soon after his arrival on the banks -of the Chickahominy he stole a gun, and thenceforth got a precarious -living by shooting, fishing, and pilfering. He took to himself a female -partner, and faithfully transmitted to his descendants the traits by -which he was distinguished. - -Not one of them, except now and then a female of the stock, was ever -known to get an honest living; and even if the poor creatures had -desired to do so, the state of society where their lot was cast was such -as to deter them from learning any mechanical craft or working -methodically at any manual employment. - -Slavery had thrown its ban and its slime over white labor, branding it -with disrepute. To get bread, not by the sweat of your own brow, but by -somebody else’s sweat, became the one test of manhood and high spirit. -To be a gentleman, you must begin with robbery. - -The Hydes were hardly an educated race. There was a tradition in the -family that one of them had been to school, but if he had, the fruits of -culture did not appear. They seemed to have shared the benediction of -Sir William Berkeley, once Governor of Virginia, who wrote: “I thank God -there are no free schools nor printing, and I hope we shall not have -them these hundred years.” - -It is true that our Colonel Delancy Hyde could read and write, although -indifferently. The labor of acquiring this ability had been enormous and -repugnant; but before his eighteenth year he had achieved it; and -thenceforth he was a prodigy in the eyes of the rest of his kin. He got -his title of Colonel from once receiving a letter so addressed from -Senator Mason, who had employed him to buy a horse. Among the Colonel’s -acquaintances who could read, this brevet was considered authoritative -and sufficient. - -Not being of a thrifty and forehanded habit, the Colonel’s father never -rose to the possession of more than three slaves at a time; but he made -up for his deficiency in this respect by beating these three all the -more frequently. They were a miserable set, and, to tell the truth, -deserved many of the whippings they got. The owner was out of pocket by -them, year after year, but was too shiftless a manager to provide -against the loss, and was too proud to get rid of the encumbrances -altogether. He and his children and his neighbors were kept poor, -squalid, and degraded by a system that in effect made them the serfs of -a few rich proprietors, who, by discrediting white labor, were able to -buy up at a trifling cost the available lands, and then impoverish them -by the exhausting crops wrung from the generous soil by large gangs of -slaves under the rule of superior capital and intelligence. - -And yet no lord of a thousand “niggers” could be a more bigoted upholder -than the Hydes of “our institutions, sir.” (Living by jugglery, Slavery -usually speaks of _the_ institution as our _institutions_.) They would -foam at the mouth in speaking of those men of the North who dared to -question the divinity and immutability of slavery. To deny its right to -unlimited extension was the one kind of profanity not to be pardoned. It -was worse than atheism to say that slavery was sectional and freedom -national. - -To the Colonel’s not very clear geographical conceptions the white -Americans south of Mason and Dixon’s line were, with hardly an -exception, descendants of noblemen and gentlemen; while all north were, -to borrow the words of Mr. Jefferson Davis, either the “scum of Europe” -or “a people whose ancestors Cromwell had gathered from the bogs and -fens of Ireland and Scotland.”[13] - -Colonel Delancy Hyde revelled in those genealogical invectives of a -similar tenor by a Richmond editor, whose fatuous and frantic iterations -that the Yankees were the descendants of low-born peasants and -blackguards, while the Southern Americans are the progeny of the English -cavaliers, betrayed a ludicrous desire to strengthen his own feeble -belief in the asseveration by loud and incessant clamor; for he had -faith in Sala’s witty saying, that, if a man has strong lungs, and will -keep bawling day after day that he is a genius or a gentleman, the -public will at last believe him. - -The Colonel never tired of denouncing the Puritans:—“A canting, -hyppercritical set of cusses, sir; but they had some little fight in -’em, though they couldn’t stahnd up agin the caval’yers,—no sir-r-r!—the -caval’yers gev ’em particular hell; but the Yankee spawn of these -cusses,—they hev lost the little pluck the Puritans wonst had, and air -cowards, every mother’s son on ’em. One high-tone Southern gemmleman—one -descendant of the caval’yers—can clare out any five on ’em in a fair -fight.” - -By a fair fight for a descendant of the cavaliers, the Colonel meant one -of two things: either a six-barrelled revolver against an unarmed -antagonist, or an ambush in which the aforesaid descendant could hit, -but be secure against being hit in return. One of the Colonel’s maxims -was, “Never fire unless you can take your man at a disadvantage.” - -His sire having been unluckily cast in a petty lawsuit, “by a low-born -Yankee judge, sir,” Colonel Delancy Hyde drifted off to the Southwest, -and gradually emerged into the special vocation for which the -unfortunate habits of life, which the Southern system had driven him to, -seemed to qualify him. He became a sort of agent for the recovery of -runaway slaves, and in this capacity had the freedom of the different -plantations, and was frequently applied to for help by bereaved masters. -Every man is said to have his specialty: the Colonel had at last found -_his_. - -In the survey which Peculiar took of the assemblage in Charlton’s -office, he saw that Charlton himself was separated from the rest in -being behind a small semicircular counter, an old piece of furniture, -bought cheap at a street auction. By getting in the lawyer’s place the -negro would have a sort of barrier, protecting him in front and on two -sides against his assailants. Behind him would be the stove. - -Stealthily throwing open the closet-door he glided out, and before any -one could intercept him, he had fastened Charlton’s arms in a noose, and -was standing over him with upraised knife. So rapid, so sudden, so -unexpected had been the movement, that it was all completed before even -an exclamation was uttered. The first one to break the silence was -Charlton, who in a paroxysm of terror cried out, “Mercy! Save me, -officers! save me!” - -Iverson, one of the policemen, started forward and drew a revolver; but -Peek made a shield of the body of the lawyer, who now found himself -threatened with a pistol on one side and a knife on the other, much to -his mortal dismay. - -“Put down your pistol, Iverson!” he stammered. “Don’t attempt to do -anything, any of you. This g-g-gentleman doesn’t mean to do any harm. He -will listen to reason. The gentleman will listen to reason.” - -“Gentleman be damned!” exclaimed Colonel Delancy Hyde. “Officer, put -down your pistol. This piece of property mustn’t be damaged. I’m -responsible for it. Peek, you imperdent black cuss, drop that -rib-tickler,—drop it right smart, or yer’ll ketch hell.” - -The Colonel advanced, and Peek brought down his knife so as to inflict -on Charlton’s shoulder a gentle puncture, which drew from him a cry of -pain, followed by the exclamation, in trembling tones: “Keep off, keep -off, Colonel! Peek doesn’t mean any harm.” - -Iverson made an attempt to get in the negro’s rear, but a shriek of -remonstrance from Charlton drove the officer back. - -Finding now that he was master of the situation, Peek let his right arm -fall gradually to his side, and, still holding Charlton in his grasp, -said: “Gentlemen, there are just five chairs before you. Be seated, and -hear what I have to say.” - -The company looked hesitatingly at one another, till Blake, one of the -policemen, said, “Why not?” and took a seat. The rest followed his -example. - -And then Peek, crowding back the rage and anguish of his heart, spoke as -follows: “My name is Peculiar Institution. I came to this lawyer some -seven weeks ago for advice. I paid him money. He got me to tell him my -story. He pretended to be my friend; but thinking he could make a few -dollars more out of the slaveholder than he could out of me, he sends on -word to the man who calls himself my master;—in short, betrays me. You -see I have him in my power. What would you do with him if you were in my -place?” - -“I’d cut off his dirty ears!” exclaimed Blake, carried beyond all the -discretion of a policeman by his indignation. - -“What do you say, Colonel Hyde?” asked Peek. - -“Wall, Peek, I don’t car’ what yer do ter him, providin’ yer’ don’t -damage yerself; but I reckon yer’d better drop that knife dam quick, and -give in. It’s no use tryin’ to git off. We’ve three witnesses here to -swar you’re the right man. The Yankees put through the Fugitive Law -right smart now. Yer stand no chance.” - -“That’s all true, Colonel,” replied Peek, speaking as if arguing aloud -to himself. “The law was executed in Boston last week, where there -wasn’t half the proof you have. To do it they had to call out the whole -police force, but they _did_ it; and if such things are done in Boston, -we can’t expect much better in New York. But you see, Colonel, with this -knife in my hand, I can now do one of two things: I can either kill this -man, or kill myself. In either case you lose. The law hangs me if I kill -him, and if I kill myself the sexton puts all of me he can lay hold of -under the ground. Now, Colonel, if you refuse my terms, I’m fully -resolved to do one of these two things,—probably the first, for I have -scruples about the second.” - -“The cussed nigger talks as ef he was readin’ from a book!” exclaimed -Hyde, in astonishment. “Wall, Peek, what tairms do yer mean?” - -“You must promise that, on my letting this man go, you’ll allow me to -walk freely out of this room, and go where I please unattended, on -condition that I’ll return at five o’clock this afternoon and deliver -myself up to you to go South with you of my own accord, without any -trial or bother of any kind.” - -The Colonel gave a furtive wink at the policeman Iverson, and replied: -“Wall, Peek, that’s no more nor fair, seein’ as you’re sich a smart -respectible nigger. But I reckon yer’ll go and stir up the cussed -abolitioners.” - -“I’ll promise,” returned Peek, “not to tell any one what’s going on.” - -Hyde whispered in Iverson’s ear, and the latter nodded assent. - -“Wall, Peek,” said Colonel Hyde, “if yer’ll swar, so help yer Gawd, -yer’ll do as yer say, we’ll let yer go.” - -“Please write down my words, sir,” said Peek, addressing Blake. - -The policeman took pen and paper, and wrote, after Peek’s dictation, as -follows:— - -“We the undersigned swear, on our part, so help us God, we will allow -Peculiar Institution to quit this room free and unfollowed, on his -promise that he will return and give himself up at five o’clock this P. -M. And I, Peculiar Institution, swear, on my part, so help me God, I -will, if these terms are carried out, fulfil the above-named promise.” - -“Sign that, you five gentlemen, and then I’ll sign,” said Peek. - -The five signed. The paper and pen were then handed to Peek, and he -added his name in a good legible hand, and gave the paper to Blake. - -Having done this, he pulled the rope from Charlton’s arms, and threw it -on the floor, then returned his knife to the sheath, and picked up his -cap. - -But as he started for the door, Colonel Hyde drew his revolver, stood in -his way, and said: “Now, nigger, no more damn nonsense! Did yer think -Delancy Hyde was such a simple cuss as to trust yer? Officers, seize -this nigger.” - -Iverson stepped forward to obey, but Blake, with the assured gesture of -one whose superiority has been felt and admitted, motioned him aside, -and said to Hyde, “I’ll take your revolver.” - -The Colonel, either thrown off his guard by Blake’s cool air of -authority, or supposing he wanted the weapon for the purpose of -overawing the negro, gave it up. Blake then walked to the door, threw it -open, and said: “Peculiar Institution, I fulfil my part of the contract. -Now go and fulfil yours; and see you don’t come the lawyer over me by -breaking your word.” - -Before Colonel Delancy Hyde could recover from the amazement and wrath -into which he was put by this act, Peculiar had disappeared from the -room, and Blake, closing the door after him, had locked it, and taken -out the key and thrust it in his pocket. - -“May I be shot,” exclaimed the Colonel, “but this is the damdest mean -Yankee swindle I ever had put on me yit,—damned if it ain’t! Here I’ve -been to a hunderd dollars expense to git back that ar nigger, and now -I’m tricked out of my property by the very man I hired to help me git -it. This is Yankee all through,—damned if it ain’t!” - -Charlton, still pale and trembling from his recent shock, had yet -strength to put in these words: “I must say, Mr. Blake, your conduct has -been unprofessional and unhandsome. There isn’t another officer in the -whole corps that would have committed such a blunder. I shall report you -to your superiors.” - -Blake shook his finger at him, and replied, “Open your lips again, you -beggarly hound, and I’ll slap your face.” - -Charlton collapsed into silence. Blake took a chair and said, “Amuse -yourselves five minutes, gentlemen, and then I’ll open the door.” - -“A hell of a feller fur an officer!” muttered the Colonel. “To let the -nigger slide in that ar way, afore I’d ever a chance to take from him -his money and watch, which in course owt to go to payin’ my expenses. -Cuss me if I—” - -“Silence!” exclaimed Blake in a voice of thunder. - -Cowed by the force of a reckless and impulsive will, all present now -kept quiet. Colonel Hyde, who, deprived of his revolver, felt his -imbecility keenly, went to the window and looked out. Iverson, who was a -coward, tried to smile, and then, seeing the expression on Blake’s face, -looked suddenly grave. Captain Skinner gave way to melancholy -forebodings. His companion, Biggs, refreshed himself with a quid of -tobacco, and stood straddling and bracing himself on his feet as if he -thought a storm was brewing, and expected a lurch to leeward to take him -off his legs. As for Charlton, he drew a slip of paper toward him, and -appeared to be carelessly figuring on it; although, when he thought -Blake was not looking, his manner changed to an eager and anxious -consideration of the matter before him. - -The five minutes had nearly expired when Blake rose, turned his back to -Charlton, and seemed to be lost in reverie. Charlton took this -opportunity to hastily finish what he had been writing. He then enclosed -it in an envelope, and directed it. This done, he motioned to Iverson, -and held up the letter. The latter nodded, and pointed with a motion of -the thumb to a newspaper on the table. Charlton placed the letter under -it, coughed, and turned to warm himself at the stove. Iverson sidled -toward the newspaper, but before he could reach it, Blake turned and -dashed his fist on it, took up the letter, and whispered menacingly to -Charlton, “Utter a single word, and I’ll choke you.” - -Then unlocking and opening the door, he said to the other persons in the -room, “Go! you can return, if you choose, at five o’clock.” - -“Give me my revolver,” demanded the Colonel. - -“Say two words, and I’ll have you arrested for trying to shoot an -unarmed man,” replied Blake. - -The Colonel swallowed his rage and left the room, followed by Iverson -and the two witnesses. Blake again locked the door and took the key. - -“What’s the meaning of all this?” asked Charlton, seriously alarmed. - -“It means that if you open that traitor’s mouth of yours till I tell you -to, you’ll come to grief.” - -Charlton subsided and was silent. - -Blake unfolded the paper he had seized, and read as follows: “You will -probably find Peek, either at Bunker’s in Broadway, or at his rooms in -Greenwich Street, the side nearest the river, third or fourth house from -the corner of Dey Street.” - -Blake thrust the paper back into his pocket, and, wholly regardless of -Charlton’s presence, began pacing the floor. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - THE UPPER AND THE LOWER LAW. - -“There is a law above all the enactments of human codes,—the same -throughout the world, the same in all times: it is the law written by -the finger of God on the heart of man; and by that law, unchangeable and -eternal, while men despise fraud and loathe rapine and abhor bloodshed, -they will reject with indignation the wild and guilty fantasy than man -can hold property in man.”—_Lord Brougham._ - - -The policeman, Blake, was a Vermonter whose grandsire had been one of -the eighty men under Ethan Allen at the capture of Fort Ticonderoga. The -traditions of the Revolution were therefore something more than barren -legends in Blake’s mind. They had inspired him with an enthusiastic -admiration of the republic and its institutions. His patriotism was a -sentiment which all the political and moral corruption, with which a New -York policeman is inevitably brought in contact, could not corrode or -enfeeble. - -Even slavery, being tolerated by the Constitution of the United States, -was, in his view, not to be spoken of lightly. He shut his eyes and his -ears to all that could be said in its condemnation; he opened them to -all its palliating features and facts. Did not statistics prove that the -blacks, in a state of slavery, increase in double the proportion they do -in a state of freedom, surrounded by whites? This comforting argument -was eagerly seized by Blake as a moral sedative. - -The Fugitive-Slave Law he was satisfied was strictly in accordance with -both the spirit and the letter of the Constitution of the United States. -Therefore it must be honestly enforced. The Abolitionists, who were -striving to defeat the execution of the law, were almost as bad as -Mississippi repudiators who were swindling their foreign creditors. So -long as we were enjoying the benefits of the Constitution, was it not -mean and dastardly to undertake to jockey the South out of the obvious -protection of that clause in it which has reference to the “person held -to service or labor,” which we all knew to mean the slave? - -Considerations like these had made Blake one of the most earnest -advocates of the enforcement of the law among his brethren of the -police; and when at last he was called on to carry it out in the case of -Peek, he felt that obedience was a duty which it would be poltroonery to -evade. He went forth, therefore, with alacrity that morning, resolved to -allow no mawkish sensibility to interfere with his obligations as an -officer and a citizen. - -Accompanied by Iverson, he waited on Colonel Delancy Hyde at the New -York Hotel. They found that worthy in the smoking-room, seated at a -small marble table, with a cigar in his mouth and an emptied tumbler, -which smelt strongly of undiluted whiskey, before him. The Colonel -graciously asked the officers to “liquor.” Iverson assented, but Blake -declined. - -A refusal to “liquor,” the Colonel had been bred to regard as a personal -indignity; and so, turning to Blake, he said: “Look here, stranger! I’m -Colonel Delancy Hyde. Virginia-born, be Gawd! From one of the oldest -families in the State! None of yer interloping Yankee scum! No Puritan -blood in _me_! My ahncestor was one of the cavalyers. My father was one -of the largest slave-owners in the State. Now if yer want to put an -affront on me, I’d jest have yer understand fust who yer’ve got to deal -with.” - -“Bah!” said Blake, turning on his heel, and walking to the window. - -Iverson, who dreaded a scene, smoothed over the affront with a lie. “The -fact is, Colonel,” whispered he, “Blake wouldn’t be fit for duty if he -were to drink with us. A spoonful upsets him; but he’s ashamed to -confess it. A weak head! You understand?” - -The explanation pacified the Colonel. Indeed, his sympathies were at -once wakened for the unhappy man who couldn’t drink. This representative -of the interests of slavery certainly did not prepossess Blake in favor -of his mission; but justice must be done, notwithstanding the character -of the claimant. - -An addition was now made to the circle. Captain Skinner and Biggs, the -sailor already mentioned,—a short, thick-set stump of a man, with only -one eye, and that black and overarched by a bushy, gray eyebrow,—a very -wicked-looking old fellow,—entered and made themselves known to the -Colonel. They had come up from New London, to serve as witnesses. As a -matter of policy, the Colonel could not do less than ask them to join in -the raid on the whiskey decanter; and this they did so effectually that -the last drop disappeared in Biggs’s capacious tumbler. - -As it was not yet time for the appointment at Charlton’s office, the -party, all but Blake, took chairs and lighted cigars, and the Colonel -asked Captain Skinner to narrate the circumstances of Peek’s appearance -on board the Albatross. - -“Well, you see, Colonel,” said Skinner, “we had been ten days out, when -one night the second mate, as he was poking about between decks, caught -a strange nigger creeping into a cotton-bale just for’ard of the -store-room. We ordered the nigger out, and he came into the cabin, and -pretended to be a free nigger, and said he’d pay his passage as soon as -he could git work in New York. In course I knew he was lyin’, but I -didn’t let on that I suspected him. I played smooth; and cuss me, if the -nigger didn’t play smooth too; for he made as if he believed me; and so -when we got to New London, afore I could git the officers on board, he -jumped into the water and swam to old Payson’s boat, and Payson he got -him on board one of the Sound steamers, and had him put through to New -York that same night. The next day Payson attakted me in the street, -knocked me down, and stamped on me, and afore I could have him tuk up, -he was on board that infernal boat of his, and off out of sight. There’s -the scar of the gash Payson left on my skull.” - -Blake, at these words, left the window, and came and looked at the scar -with evident satisfaction. Colonel Hyde, with a lordly air of patronage, -held out his hand to Skinner, and said: “Capting, the scar is an honor. -Capting, yer hand. I love to meet a high-tone gemmleman, and you’re one. -Capting, allow me to shake yer hand.” - -“With pleasure,” said Biggs, taking the Colonel’s hand and shaking it in -his own big, coarsely-seamed flipper, before the Captain had a chance to -reach out. The Colonel smiled grimly at Biggs’s playfulness, but said -nothing. - -“Come! it’s time to go,” exclaimed Iverson, looking at his watch. The -party rose, and proceeded down Broadway to Charlton’s office. We have -already seen what transpired on their arrival. Our business is now with -what happened after their departure. - -Three o’clock struck. The small hand on the dial of Trinity was fast -moving toward four; and still Blake paced the floor in Charlton’s -office. Every now and then there would be a knock at the door, and -Blake, with a menacing shake of his head, would impose silence on the -conveyancer, till the applicant for admission, tired of knocking, would -go away. - -Blake’s thoughts were in the condition of a chopping sea where wind and -tide are opposing each other. Reflections that reached to the very -foundation of human society—questions of abstract right and wrong—were -combating old notions adopted on the authority of others, and as yet -untested in the cupel of his own conscience. - -Brought for the first time face to face with the law for the rendition -of fugitive slaves,—encountering it in its practical operation,—he found -in it a barbarous necessity from which his heart recoiled with horror -and disgust. Must he disregard that pleading cry of conscience, that -voice of God and Christ in his soul, calling on him to do in -righteousness unto others as he would have them do unto him? Could any -human enactment exempt him from that paramount obedience? - -How had he felt dwarfed in another’s presence that day! He had seen a -man, and that man a negro, putting forth his manhood in the best way he -could to parry the arm of a savage oppression, doubly fiendish in its -mockery, coming as it did under the respectable escort of the law. -Surely the negro showed himself better worthy of freedom than any white -man among his hunters. - -Would the fellow keep his pledge? Would he come back? Blake now -earnestly hoped he would not. Was not any stratagem justifiable in such -a case? Should we mind resorting to deception in order to rescue -ourselves or another from a madman or a murderer? Why, then, might not -Peek violate his written promise, made as it was to men who were trying -to rob him of a freedom more precious than life to such a soul as his? - -But had not he himself—he, Blake—made use of his poor show of generosity -to impress it on Peek that he must prove worthy the trust reposed in -him? This recollection brought bitter regret to the policeman. Instead -of encouraging the negro to escape, he had put scruples of conscience or -of generosity in his way, which might induce him to return. Would Blake -have done so to his own brother, under similar circumstances? Would he -not have bidden him cheat his persecutors, and make good his flight? -Assuredly yes! And yet to the poor negro he had practically said, -Return! - -These reflections wrought powerfully upon Blake. Why not run and urge -the negro to escape? It was still more than an hour to five o’clock. -Yes, he would do it! - -Then came a consideration to check the impulse. He, a sworn officer of -the law, should he lend himself to the defeat of the very law he had -taken it upon himself to execute? Was there not something intensely -dishonest in such a course? - -Well, he could do one thing at least: he could resign his office, and -then try to undo the mischief he had perhaps done the negro by his -injunction. Yes, he would do that. - -Impulsive in all his movements, Blake looked at his watch, and found he -would have just an hour in which to crowd all the action he proposed to -himself. Turning to Charlton, he said: “Your conduct to this runaway -slave will make your life insecure if I choose to go to certain men in -this city and tell them what I can with truth. What you now are -intending to do is to have the slave intercepted. I don’t ask you to -promise, simply because you will lie if you think it safe; but I say -this to you: If I find that any measures are taken before five o’clock -to catch the slave, I shall hold you responsible for them, and shall -expose you to parties who will see you are paid back for your rascality. -Take no step for an arrest, and I hold my tongue.” - -Glad of such a compromise, Charlton replied: “I’m agreed. Up to five -o’clock I’ll do nothing, directly or indirectly, to intercept the -nigger.” - -Blake was speedily in the street after this. He hurried to the City -Hall, found the Chief of Police, gave in his resignation, deposited -Colonel Hyde’s pistol among the curiosities of the room, and said that -another man must be found to attend to the case at Charlton’s office. -Having in this way eased his conscience, Blake ran as far as Broadway, -and jumped into an omnibus. But the omnibus was too slow, so he jumped -out and ran down Broadway to Bunker’s. How the precious time flew by! -Before he could be satisfied at Bunker’s that Peek was not there, the -clock indicated five minutes of five. He rushed out in the direction of -the slave’s lodgings. An old woman with wrinkled face, and bent form, -and carrying a broom, was showing the apartments to an applicant who -thought of moving from the story below. Where were the negro and his -wife? Gone! How long ago? More than two hours! The clock struck five. - -Wholly disheartened, Blake ran back to Charlton’s office. He found it -locked. No one answered to his knock. Raising his foot he kicked open -the door with a single effort. The office was deserted. No one there! He -ran to the Jersey City ferry-boat that carries passengers for the -Philadelphia cars; it had left the wharf some twenty minutes before. -Baffled in all directions, he took his way to the police-station to find -Iverson; but that officer was on duty, nobody knew where. After waiting -at the station till nearly midnight, Blake at last, worn out with -discouragement and fatigue, went home. - -What had become of Peek all this time? - -Anticipating that he and his wife might at any moment find it prudent to -leave for Canada at half an hour’s notice, Peek had always kept his -affairs in a state to enable him to do this conveniently. He had hired -his rooms, furniture, and piano-forte by the week, paying for them in -advance. Two small trunks were sufficient to contain all his movable -property; and these might be packed in five minutes. - -Flora, his wife, who like Peek was of unmixed blood, had been lady’s -maid in a family in Vicksburg. Here she had become an expert in washing -and doing up muslins and other fine articles of female attire. But the -lady she served died, and Flora became the property of Mr. Penfield, a -planter, who, looking on her with the eyes that a cattle-breeder might -turn on a Durham cow, ordered her to marry one Bully Bill, a lusty -African with a neck like the cylinder of a steam-engine. Flora objected, -and learning that her objections would not be respected, she ran away, -and after various fortunes settled at Montreal. Here she married Peek, -who taught her to read and write. She had been bred a pious Catholic, -and Peek, finding that they agreed in the essentials of a devout and -believing heart, never undertook to disturb her faith. - -They moved to New York, and Peek with his wages as waiter, and Flora -with the money she got for doing up muslins, earned jointly an income -which placed them far above want in the region of absolute comfort and -partial refinement. Few more happy and loyal couples could have been -found even in freestone palaces on the Fifth Avenue. - -“Well, Flora, how long will it take you to get ready?” said Peek, -entering the neat little kitchen, where she was at work at her -ironing-board, while little Sterling sat amusing himself on the floor in -building a house with small wooden bricks. - -Flora, at once comprehending the intent of the question, replied, “I -sha’n’t want more ’n half an hour.” - -“Well, a boat leaves for Albany at five,” said Peek, taking the Sun -newspaper, and cutting out an advertisement. “We’d better quit here, and -go on board just as soon as we can.” - -“Le ’m me see,” said Flora, meditatively. “The grocer at the corner will -send round these muslins, ’specially if we pay him for it. My customers -owe me twenty dollars,—how shall we collek that?” - -“You can write to them from Montreal.” - -“Lor! so I can, Peek. Who’d have thought of it but you?” - -“Come, then! Be lively. Tumble the things into the trunks. We’ll give -poor old Petticum the odds and ends we leave behind; and she’ll notify -the landlord, and take care of the rooms.” - -In less than an hour’s time they had made all their preparations, and -were all three in a coach with their luggage, rattling up Greenwich -Street towards one of the Twenties. Here they went on board an old -steamer, recently taken from the regular line for freighting purposes, -and carrying only a few passengers. Having seen Flora and Sterling -safely bestowed with the luggage, and given the former his watch and all -his money, except a dollar in change, Peek said: “Now, Flora, I’ve got -to go ashore on business. If I shouldn’t be here when the boat starts, -do you keep straight on to Montreal without me. Go to the post-office -regularly twice a week to see if there’s a letter for you.” - -“What is it, Peek? Tell me all about it,” said Flora, who painfully felt -there was a secret which her husband did not choose to disclose. - -“Now, Flora, don’t be silly,” replied Peek, wiping the tears from her -face with his handkerchief. “I tell you, I may be aboard again before -you start,—haven’t made up my mind yet,—only, if you shouldn’t see me, -never you mind, but just keep on. Find out your old customers in -Montreal, and wait patiently till I join you. So don’t cry about it. The -Lord will take care of it all. Here’s a handbill that tells you the best -way to get to Montreal. Look out for pickpockets. I shouldn’t leave you -if I didn’t have to, Flora. I’ll tell you everything about it when we -meet. So good by.” - -Having no suspicion of the actual cause of Peek’s leaving her, and -confident, through faith in him, that it must be for a right purpose, -Flora cheered up, and said: “Well, Peek, I ’spec you’ve got some little -debts to pay; but do come back to-day if you can; and keep clar’ of the -hounds, Peek,—keep clar’ of the hounds.” - -And so, kissing wife and child, with an overflowing heart Peek quitted -the boat. He did not at once leave the vicinity. There was a pile of -fresh lumber not far off. Dodging out of sight behind it, and then -sitting down in a little enclosure formed by the boards, where he could -see the boat and not be seen, he tried to orient his conscience as to -his duty under the extraordinary circumstances in which he found -himself. - -Go back to the life of a slave? Leave wife and child, and return to -bondage, degradation, subordination to another’s will? He looked out on -the beautiful river, flashing in the warm spring sunshine; to the -opposite shore of Hoboken, where he and Flora used to stroll on Sundays -last summer, dragging Sterling in his little carriage. Was there to be -no more of that pleasant independent life? - -A slave? Liable to be kicked, cuffed, spit on, fettered, scourged by -such a creature as Colonel Delancy Hyde? No! To escape the pursuing -fiends who would force such a lot on an innocent human being, surely any -subterfuge, any stratagem, any lie, would be justifiable! - -And Peek thought of the joy that Flora would feel at seeing him return, -and he rose to go back to the boat. - -A single thought drew him back to his covert. “So help me God.” Had he -not pledged himself,—pledged himself in sincerity at the moment in those -words? Had he not by his act promised Blake, who had befriended him, -that he would return, and might not Blake lose his situation if the -promise were broken? - -As Peek found conscience getting the better of inclination in the -dispute, he bowed his head in his hands, and wept sobbingly like a -child. Such anguish was there in the thought of a surrender! Then, -extending himself prostrate on the boards, his face down, and resting on -his arms, he strove to shut out all except the voice of God in his soul. -He uttered no word, but he felt the mastery of a great desire, and that -was for guidance from above. Tender thoughts of the sufferings and wants -of the poor slaves he had left on Barnwell’s plantation stole back to -him. Would he not like to see them and be of service to them once more? -What if he should be whipped, imprisoned? Could he not brave all such -risks, for the satisfaction of keeping a pledge made to a man who had -shown him kindness? And he recalled the words, once spoken through -Corinna, “Not to be happy, but to deserve happiness.” - -Besides, might he not again escape? Yes! He would go back to Charlton’s -office. He would surrender himself as he had promised. The words which -Colonel Hyde had conceived to be of no more binding force than a wreath -of tobacco-smoke were the chain stronger than steel that drew the negro -back to the fulfilment of his pledge. “So help me God!” Could he profane -those words, and ever look up again to Heaven for succor? - -And so he rose, took one despairing look at the boat, where he could see -Flora pointing out to her little boy the wonders of the river, and then -rushed away in the direction of Broadway. There was no lack of -omnibuses, but no friendly driver would give him a seat on top, and he -was excluded by social prejudice from the inside. It was twenty minutes -to five when he reached Union Park. Thence running all the way in the -middle of the street with the carriages, he reached Charlton’s office -before the clock had finished striking the hour. - -There had been wrangling and high words just before his entrance. -Colonel Delancy Hyde was ejecting his wrath against the universal Yankee -nation in the choicest terms of vituperation that his limited vocabulary -could supply. The loss of both his nigger and his revolver had been too -much for his equanimity. Captain Skinner and his companion, Biggs, were -sturdily demanding their fees, which did not seem to be forthcoming. -Charlton, in abject grief of heart, was silently lamenting the loss of -his fifty dollars, forfeited by the non-delivery of the slave; and -Iverson, the policeman, was delicately insinuating in the ear of the -lawyer that he should look to him for his pay. - -Peek, entering in this knotty condition of affairs, was the _Deus ex -machina_ to disentangle the complication and set the wheels smoothly in -motion. No one believed he would come back, and there issued from the -lips of all an exclamation of surprise, not unseasoned with oaths to -suit the several tastes. - -“Cuss me if here ain’t the nigger himself come back!” exclaimed the -Colonel. “Wall, Peek, I didn’t reckon you was gwine to keep yer word, -and it made me swar some to see how I’d been chiselled fust out of my -revolver and then out of my nigger, by a damned Yankee policeman. But -here you air, and we’ll fix things right off, so’s to be ready for the -next Philadelphy train, if so be yer’ll go without any fuss.” - -“Yes, I’ll go, Colonel,” said Peek, “but you’ll have an officer to see I -don’t escape from the cars.” - -“Thar’s seventy-five dollars expense, blast yer!” exclaimed the Colonel. -“Yes, be Gawd! I’ve got to pay this man for goin’ to Cincinnati and -back. O, but old Hawks will take your damned hide off when we git you -back in Texas,—sure!” - -Peek, to serve some purpose of his own, here dropped his dignity -entirely, and assumed the manner and language of the careless, -rollicking plantation nigger. “Yah! yah!” laughed he. “Wall, look -a-he-ah, Kunnle Delancy Hyde. Les make a trade,—we two,—and git rid of -the policeman altogedder. I can sabe yer fifty dollars, shoo-er-r-r, -Kunnle Delancy Hyde, if you’ll do as how dis nigger tells yer to.” - -“How’ll yer do it, Peek?” asked the Colonel, much pacified by the -slave’s repetition of his entire name and title. - -“I’ll promise to be a good nigger all the way to Cincinnati, and not try -to run away,—no, not wunst,—if you’ll pay me twenty-five dollars.” - -“Will yer sign to that, Peek, and put in, ‘So help me Gawd’?” asked the -Colonel. - -Peek started, and looked sharply at Hyde; and then quietly replied, -“Yes, I’ll do it, if you’ll gib me the money to do with as I choose; but -you must agree to le’m me write a letter, and put it in the post-office -afore we leeb.” - -The Colonel considered the matter a moment, then turned to Charlton, and -said, “Draw up an agreement, and let the nigger sign it, and be sure and -put in, ‘So help me Gawd.’” - -The arrangement was speedily concluded. The witnesses and the officers -were paid off. Charlton received his fifty dollars and Peek his -twenty-five. The slave then asked for pen, ink, and paper, and placed -five cents on the table as payment. In two minutes he finished a letter -to Flora, and enclosed it with the money in an envelope, on which he -wrote an address. Charlton tried hard to get a sight of it, but Peek did -not give him a chance to do this. - -The Colonel and Peek then walked to the post-office, where the slave -deposited his letter; after which they passed over to Jersey City in the -ferry-boat, and took the train to Philadelphia. - -As for Charlton, no sooner had his company left him, than he seized his -hat, locked up his office, and hurried to Greenwich Street, where he -proceeded to examine the lodgings vacated by Peek. He found Mrs. -Petticum engaged in collecting into baskets the various articles -abandoned to her by the negroes,—old dusters, a hod of charcoal, -kindling-wood, loaves of bread, and small collections of groceries, -sufficient for the family for a week. Mrs. Petticum appeared to have -been weeping, for she raised her apron and wiped her eyes as Charlton -came in. - -“Well, have they gone?” asked he. - -“Yes, sir, and the wuss for me!” said the old woman. - -Charlton took his cue at once, and replied: “They were excellent people, -and I’m sorry they’ve gone. What was the matter? Were the slave-catchers -after them?” - -“I don’t know,” sighed Petticum; “I shouldn’t wonder. Poor Flora! That -was all she worried about. I’d like to have got my hands in the hair of -the man that would have carried her off. Where’ll you find the white -folks better and decenter than they was?” - -“Not in New York, ma’am,” said Charlton, stealthily looking about the -room, examining every article of furniture, and opening the drawers. - -“The furniture belongs to Mr. Craig; but all in the drawers is mine,” -said the old woman, not favorably impressed by Charlton’s -inquisitiveness. - -“O, it’s all right,” replied Charlton; “I didn’t know but I could be of -some help. You’ve no idea where they went to?” - -“They didn’t tell me, and if I knowed, I shouldn’t tell you, without I -knowed they wanted me to.” - -“O, it’s no sort of consequence. I’m a particular friend, that’s all,” -said Charlton. “Did you notice the carriage they went off in?” - -“Yes, I did.” - -“Could you tell me the number?” - -“No, I couldn’t.” - -Seeing an old handkerchief in one of the baskets, Charlton took it out, -and looked at the mark. He could get nothing from that; so he threw it -back. An old shoe lay swept in a corner. He took it up. Stamped on the -inner sole were the words, “J. Darling, Ladies’ Shoes, Vicksburg.” -Charlton copied the inscription in his memorandum-book before putting -the shoe back where he had found it. The Sun newspaper lay on the floor. -Taking it up, he found that an advertisement had been cut out. Selecting -an opportunity when Mrs. Petticum was not looking, he thrust the paper -in his pocket. - -And then, after examining an old stove-funnel, he went out. - -“He’s no gentleman, anyhow,” said Mrs. Petticum; “and I don’t believe he -ever was a friend of the Jacobses.” - - - - - CHAPTER X. - GROUPS ON THE DECK. - -“Incredulity is but Credulity seen from behind, bowing and nodding -assent to the Habitual and the Fashionable.”—_Coleridge._ - - -The Pontiac had passed New Madrid on the Mississippi. She was advertised -as a first-class high-pressure boat, bound to beat any other on the -river in the long run, but with a captain and officers who were -“teetotalers,” and never raced. - -The weather had been stormy for several days; but it was now a -delightful April forenoon. The sun-bright atmosphere was at once fresh -and soft, exhilarating and luxurious, in a combination one rarely enjoys -so fully as on a Western prairie. The delicate spring tracery of the -foliage was fast expanding into a richer exuberance on either bank of -the great river. The dogwood, with its blossoms of an alabaster -whiteness, here and there gleamed forth amid the tender green of the -surrounding trees,—maples, sycamores, and oaks. All at once a magnolia -sent forth a gush of fragrance from its snowy flowers. With every mile -southward the verdure grew thicker and the blossoms larger. - -Two miles in the rear of the Pontiac, ploughing up the tawny waters with -her sharp and pointed beak, came the Champion, a new boat, and destined, -as many believed, to prove the fastest on the river. Whatever her -capacities, she had thus far shown herself inferior to the Pontiac in -speed. She kept within two or three miles, but failed to get much -nearer. Captain Crane of the Pontiac, a small, thin, wiry man, who had -acquired a great reputation for sagacity by always holding his tongue, -kept puffing away at a cigar, looking now and then anxiously at his -rival, but evidently happy in the assurance of victory. - -The passengers of the Pontiac were distributed in groups about different -parts of the boat. Some were in the cabin playing at euchre or brag. -Some, regardless of the delicious atmosphere which they could drink in -without money and without price, were imbibing fiery liquors at the bar, -or puffing away at bad cigars on the forward part of the lower deck. A -few were reading, and here and there a lady might be seen busy with her -needle. - -On the hurricane deck were those who had come up for conversation or a -promenade. Smokers were requested to keep below. The groups here were -rather more select and less numerous than on the main deck. They were -mostly gathered aft, so that the few promenaders could have a clear -space. - -Among these last were a lady and two gentlemen, one on either side of -her; the younger, a man apparently about thirty-two, of middle height, -finely formed, handsome, and with the quiet, unarrogating air of one -whose nobility is a part of his nature, not a question of convention. -(The snob’s nonchalance is always spurious. He hopes to make you think -he is unconscious of your existence, and all the while is anxiously -trying to dazzle or stun you by his appearance.) - -The other gentleman was also one to whom that much-abused name would be -unhesitatingly applied. He seemed to be about fifty-five, with a person -approaching the portly, dignified, gray-haired, and his face indicating -benevolence and self-control. - -The lady, who appeared to be the wife of the younger man, was half a -head shorter than he, and a model of delicate beauty in union with high -health. Personally of a figure and carriage which Art and Grace could -hardly improve, she was dressed in a simple gray travelling-habit, with -a velvet hat and ostrich-plumes of the same color. But she had the rare -skill of making simplicity a charm. Flounces, jewels, and laces would -have been an impertinence. While she conversed, she seemed to take a -special interest in a group that occupied two “patent life-preserving -stools” near the centre of the deck. A young boy held in his lap a -little girl, seemingly not more than two years old, and pointed out -pictures to her from a book, while a mulatto woman, addressed as Hattie, -who appeared to have the infant in charge, joined in their juvenile -prattle, and placed her arm so as to assist the boy in securing his -hold. - -“Your son seems to know how to fascinate children,” said the lady, -addressing the elder gentleman; “he has evidently won the heart of my -little Clara.” - -“He has a sister just about her age in Texas,” replied the father; “he -is glad to find in your little girl a substitute for Emily.” - -“You live in Texas then?” asked the younger gentleman. - -“Yes; let me introduce myself, since I was the first to broach -conversation. My name is John Onslow, and my home is in Southwestern -Texas, though I was born in Mississippi, whence I removed some six or -seven years ago. My family consists of a wife, two sons, and a daughter. -The younger of my sons, Robert, sits yonder. The elder, William Temple, -is a student at Yale. I inherited several hundred slaves. I have -gradually liberated them all. In Texas I am trying the experiment of -free labor; but it is regarded with dislike by my slave-holding -neighbors, and they do not scruple, behind my back, to call me an -Abolitionist. I have been North to buy farming implements, and to offer -inducements to German immigrants. There, sir, you have my story; and if -you are a Yankee, you will appreciate my candor.” - -“And requite it, I suppose you think,” returned the younger gentleman, -laughing. “It strikes me that it is you, Mr. Onslow, who are playing the -Yankee. You have been talking, sir, with one Henry Berwick, New-Yorker -by birth, retired lawyer by profession, and now on his way to New -Orleans to attend to some real estate belonging to his wife. That little -girl is his daughter. This lady is his wife. My dear, this is our -fellow-passenger, Mr. Onslow. Allow me to introduce him to your better -acquaintance.” - -The lady courtesied, flashing upon the stranger a smile that said as -eloquently as smile could say, “I need no vouchers; I flatter myself I -can distinguish a gentleman.” - -As she turned aside her glance it met that of a third person, till then -unnoticed. He was pacing the deck and held an opera-glass in his hand, -with which he looked at places on either bank. He was slightly above the -middle height, compactly built, yet rather slender than stout, erect, -square-shouldered, neatly limbed. He might be anywhere between thirty -and thirty-five years of age. His hair was here and there threaded with -gray, and his cheeks were somewhat sunken, although there was nothing to -suggest the lassitude of ill-health in his appearance. His complexion -was that of a man who leads an active out-of-door life; but his hands -were small and unmarked by toil. He wore his beard neatly trimmed. His -finely curved Roman features and small expressive mouth spoke refinement -and strength of will, not untempered with tenderness; while his dark -gray eyes seemed to penetrate without a pause straight to their object. -A sagacious physiognomist would have said of him, “That man has a story -to tell; life has been to him no holiday frolic.” In the expression of -his eyes Mrs. Berwick was reminded of Sir Joshua’s fine picture of “The -Banished Lord.” This stranger, as he passed by, looked at her gravely -but intently, as if struck either by her beauty or by a fancied -resemblance to some one he had known. There was that in his glance which -so drew her attention, she said to her husband, “Who is that man?” - -“I have not seen him before,” replied Mr. Berwick. “Probably he came on -board at New Madrid.” - -They walked to the extent of their promenade forward, and turning saw -this stranger leaning against the bulwarks. His low-crowned hat of a -delicate, pliable felt, with its brims half curled up, his well-cut -pantaloons of a coarse but unspotted fabric, and his thin overcoat of a -light gray, showed that the Broadway fashions of the hour were not -unfamiliar to the wearer. This time he did not look up as the three -passed. His gaze seemed intent on the children; and the soft smile on -his lips and the dewy suffusion in his eyes betrayed emotion and tender -meditation. - -“Well, Leonora, what is your judgment? Is he, too, a gentleman?” asked -Mr. Berwick of his wife. - -“Yes; I will stake my reputation as a sibyl on it,” she replied. - -“Ah! you vain mother!” said Berwick, laughing. “You say that, because he -seems lost in admiration of our little Clara. Isn’t her weakness -transparent, Mr. Onslow? What think _you_ of this new-comer?” - -“He certainly has the air of a gentleman,” said Onslow “and yet he looks -to me very much like a fellow I once had up before me for -horse-stealing. Was he too much interested in looking at your wife, or -did he purposely abstain from letting me catch his eye? I shouldn’t -wonder if he were either a steamboat gambler or a horse-thief!” - -“Atrocious!” exclaimed Mrs. Berwick. “I don’t believe a word of it. That -man a horse-thief! Impossible!” - -“On closer examination, I think I must be mistaken,” rejoined Mr. -Onslow. “If I remember aright, the fellow with whom I confound him had -red hair.” - -“There! I knew you must be either joking or in error,” said the lady. - -“And now,” continued Mr. Onslow, “I have a vague recollection of meeting -him at the hotel where I stopped in Chicago last week.” - -“Ah! if he is a Chicago man, I must be right in my estimate of him,” -said Mrs. Berwick. - -“Why so? Why should you be partial to Chicago?” - -“Because my father was one of the first residents of the place.” - -“What was his name?” - -“Robert Aylesford.” - -As she uttered this word they repassed the stranger. To their surprise -he repeated, in a tone of astonishment, “Aylesford!” then seemed to fall -into a fit of musing. Before they again reached the spot, he had walked -away, and taken a seat in an arm-chair aft, where he occupied himself in -wiping the opera-glass with his handkerchief. If he had recognized -Onslow, he had not betrayed it. - -Here the attention of all on the upper deck was arrested by an explosion -of wrathful oaths. - -A tall, gaunt, round-shouldered man, dressed in an ill-fitting suit of -some coarse, home-made cloth, had ascended the stairs with a lighted -cigar in his mouth. One of the waiters of the boat, a bright-looking -mulatto, followed him, calling, “Mister! Mister!” - -The tall man paid no heed to the call, and the mulatto touched him on -the shoulder, and said, “We don’t allow smoking on this deck,” whereupon -the tall man angrily turned on him and, with eyes blazing with savage -fire, exclaimed: “What in hell air yer at, nigger? Ask my pardon, blast -yer, or I’ll smash in yer ugly profile, sure!” - -“Ask your pardon for what?” - -“For darrin’ to put yer black hand on me, confound yer!” - -The mulatto replied with spirit: “You don’t bully this child, Mister. I -merely did my duty.” - -“Duty be damned! I’ll stick yer, sure, if yer don’t apologize right off, -damned lively!” And the tall man unsheathed a monstrous bowie-knife. - -Mr. Onslow approached, and mildly interposed with the remark, “It was -natural for the waiter to touch you, since he couldn’t make you hear.” - -“Who the hell air you, sir?” said the tall man. “I reckon I kn settle -with the nigger without no help of yourn.” - -“Yes,” said another voice; “if the gentleman demands it, the nigger must -ask his pardon.” - -Mr. Onslow turned, and to his surprise beheld the stranger with the -opera-glass. - -“Really, sir,” said Mr. Onslow, “I hope you do not wish to see a man -degrade himself merely because he isn’t white like ourselves.” - -“The point can’t be argued, sir,” said the stranger, putting his glass -in his pocket. Then seizing the mulatto by the throat, he thrust him on -his knees. “Down, you black hound, and ask this gentleman’s pardon.” - -To everybody’s surprise, the mulatto’s whole manner changed the minute -he saw the stranger; and, sinking on his knees, he crossed his arms on -his breast, and, with downcast eyes, said, addressing the tall man, “I -ask pardon, sir, for putting my hand on you.” - -“Wall, that’s enough, nigger! I pardon yer,” said the mollified tall -man, returning his bowie-knife to its sheath. “Niggers mus’ know thar -places,—that’s all. Ef a nigger knows his place, I’d no more harm him -nor I’d harm a val’able hoss.” - -The mulatto rose and walked away; but with no such show of chagrin as a -keen observer might have expected; and the tall man, turning to him of -the opera-glass, said, “Sir, ye ’r a high-tone gemmleman; an’ cuss me -but I’m proud of yer acquaint. Who mowt it be I kn call yer, sir?” - -“Vance of New Orleans,” was the reply. - -“Mr. Vance, I’m yourn. I know’d yer mus’ be from the South. Yer mus’ -liquor with me, Mr. Vance. Sir, ye’r a high-tone gemmleman. I’m Kunnle -Hyde,—Kunnle Delancy Hyde. Virginia-born, be Gawd! An’ I’m not ashamed -ter say it! My ahnces’tors cum over with the caval’yers in King James’s -time,—yes, sir-r-r! My father was one of the largest slave-owners in the -hull State of Virginia,—yes, sir-r-r! Lost his proputty, every damned -cent of it, sir, through a low-lived Yankee judge, sir!” - -“I could have sworn, Colonel Hyde, there was no Puritan blood in your -veins.” - -“That’s a fak!” said the Colonel, grimly smiling his gratification. -Then, throwing his cigar overboard, he remarked: “The Champion’s nowhar, -I reckon, by this time. She ain’t in sight no longer. What say yer to a -brandy-smash? Or sh’l it be a julep?” - -“The bar is crowded just now; let’s wait awhile,” replied Vance. - -Here Mr. Onslow turned away in disgust, and, rejoining the Berwicks, -remarked to the lady, “What think you of your gentleman now?” - -“I shall keep my thoughts respecting him to myself for the present,” she -replied. - -“My wife piques herself on her skill in judging of character by the -physiognomy,” said Mr. Berwick, apologetically; “and I see you can’t -make her believe she is wrong in this case. She sometimes gets -impressions from the very handwriting of a person, and they often turn -out wonderfully correct.” - -“Has Mrs. Berwick the gift of second-sight? Is she a seeress?” - -“Her faculty does not often show itself in soothsaying,” said Berwick. -“But I have a step-mother who now and then has premonitions.” - -“Do they ever find a fulfilment?” - -“One time in a hundred, perhaps,” said Berwick. “If I believed in them -largely, I should not be on board this boat.” - -“Why so?” inquired Onslow. - -“She predicts disaster to it.” - -“But why did you not tell me that before?” asked Mrs. Berwick. - -“Simply, my dear, because you are inclined to be superstitious.” - -“Hear him, Mr. Onslow!” said Mrs. Berwick. “He calls me superstitious -because I believe in spirits, whereas it is that belief which has cured -me of superstition.” - -“I can readily suppose it,” replied Onslow. “The superstitious man is -the _un_believer,—he who thinks that all these phenomena can be produced -by the blind, unintelligent forces of nature, by a mechanical or -chemical necessity.” - -“I may believe in spirits in their proper places,” said Berwick, “and -not believe in their visiting this earth.” - -“But what if their condition is such that they are independent of those -restrictions of space or place which are such impediments to us poor -mortals?” - -“Do you, too, then, believe in ghosts?” asked Berwick. - -“Yes; I am a ghost myself,” said Onslow. - -Berwick started at the abruptness of the announcement, then smiled, and -replied, “Prove it.” - -“That I will, both etymologically and chemically,” rejoined Onslow. “The -words _ghost_ and _gas_ are set down by a majority of the philologists -as from the same root, whether Gothic, Saxon, or Sanscrit, implying -vapor, spirit. The fermenting _yeast_, the steaming _geyser_, are allied -to it. Now modern science has established (and Professor Henry will -confirm what I say) that man begins his earthly existence as a -microscopic vesicle of almost pure and transparent water. It is not true -that he is made of dust. He consists principally of solidified air. The -ashes which remain after combustion are the only ingredient of an earthy -character that enters into the composition of his body. All the other -parts of it were originally in the atmosphere. Nay, a more advanced -science will probably show that even his ashes, in their last analysis, -are an invisible, gaseous substance. Nine tenths of a man’s body, we can -even now prove, are water; and water, we all know, may be decomposed -into invisible gases, and then made to reappear as a visible liquid. -Science tells me, dear madam, that as to my body I am nothing but forty -or fifty pounds of carbon and nitrogen, diluted by five and a half -pailfuls of water. Put me under hydraulic pressure, and you can prove -it. So I do seriously maintain, that I am as much entitled to the -appellation of a ghost (that is, a gaseous body) as was the buried -majesty of Denmark, otherwise known as Hamlet’s father.” - -“And I assert that Mr. Onslow has proved his point admirably,” said Mrs. -Berwick, clapping her little hands. - -“I confess I never before considered the subject in that light,” -rejoined her husband. - -“If science can prove,” continued Mr. Onslow, “that nine tenths of my -present body may be changed to a gaseous, invisible substance (invisible -to mortal eyes), with power to permeate what we call matter, like -electricity, is it so very difficult to imagine that a spirit in a -spiritual body may be standing here by our side without our knowing it?” - -“I see you haven’t the fear of Sir David Brewster and the North British -Review before your eyes, Mr. Onslow.” - -“No, for I do not regard them as infallible either in questions of -physical or of metaphysical science. Rather, with John Wesley, the -founder of Methodism, would I say, ‘With my latest breath will I bear -testimony against giving up to infidels one great proof of the invisible -world, that, namely, of witchcraft and apparitions, confirmed by the -testimony of all ages.’” - -While this discussion was proceeding, Colonel Hyde and his new -acquaintance were pacing the larboard side of the deck, pausing now and -then at the railing forward of the wheel-house and looking down on the -lower deck, where, seated upon a coil of cables, were four negroes, one -of them, and he the most intelligent-looking of the lot, being -handcuffed. - -“How are niggers now?” asked Mr. Vance. - -“Niggers air bringin’ fust-rate prices jest now,” replied the Colonel; -“and Gov’nor Wise he reckons ef we fix Californy and Kahnsas all right, -a prime article of a nigger will fotch twenty-five hunderd dollars, -sure.” - -“What’s the prospect of doing that?” - -“Good. The South ain’t sleeping,—no, not by a damned sight. Californy’s -bound to be ourn, an’ the Missouri boys will take car’ of Kahnsas.” - -“I see the North are threatening to send in armed immigrants,” said -Vance; “and one John Brown swears Kansas shall be free soil.” - -“John Brown be damned!” replied the Colonel. “One common Suthun man is -more’n a match fur five of thar best Yankees, any day. Kahnsas must be -ourn, ef we hev to shoot every white squatter in the hull terrertory. By -the way, that’s a likely yuller gal, sittin’ thar with the bebby. That -gal ud bring sixteen hunderd dollars _sure_ in Noo Orleenz.” - -“Whose niggers are those I see forward there, on the cables?” asked -Vance. - -“Them niggers, Mr. Vance, air under my car’, an’ I’m takin’ ’em to Texas -fur Kunnle Barnwell. The feller yer see han’cuffed thar an’ sleepin’, -run away three or four yars ago. At last the Kunnle heerd, through -Hermin & Co., that Peek (that’s his name) was in New York; an’ so the -Kunnle gits me ter go on fur him; an’ cuss me ef I didn’t ketch him -easy. The other three niggers air a lot the Kunnle’s agent in St. Louis -bowt fur him last week.” - -“How did you dodge the Abolitionists in New York?” inquired Vance. “You -went before the United States Commissioner, I suppose, and proved your -claim to the article.” - -“Damned ef I did! Arter I’d kotched Peek, he said, ef as how I’d let him -go home, an’ settle up, he’d return, so help him Gawd, an’ give hisself -up without no fuss or trial. Wall, I’m a judge of niggers,—kn see right -through ’em,—kn ollerz tell whan a nigger’s lying. I seed Peek was in -airnest, and so I let him go; and may I be shot but he cum back jest at -the hour he said he would.” - -“Very extraordinary!” said Vance, musingly. “You must be a great judge -of character, Colonel Hyde.” - -“Wall, what’s extrordinerer still,” continued the Colonel, “is this: -Peek wanted money ter send ter his wife, and cuss me ef he didn’t offer -ter go the hull way ter Cincinnati without no officers ter guard him, ef -I’d give him twenty-five dollars. In coorse I done it, seein’ as how I -saved fifty dollars by the operation. The minute he got on board this -’ere boat I hahd him han’cuffed, fur I knowed his promise wahn’t good no -longer, anyhow.” - -“Colonel, what’s your address?” asked Mr. Vance. “If ever I lose a -nigger, you’re the man I must send for to help me find him.” - -The Colonel drew forth from his vest pocket a dirty card, and presented -it to Mr. Vance. It contained these words: “Colonel Delancy Hyde, Agent -for the Recovery of Escaped Slaves. Address him, care of J. -Breckenridge, St. Louis; Hermin & Co., New Orleans.” - -“Shall be proud to do yer business, Mr. Vance,” said the Colonel. - -“I must have a talk with that handcuffed fellow of yours by and by,” -remarked Vance. - -“Do!” returned the Colonel. “Yer’ll find him a right knowin’ nigger. He -kn read an’ write, an’ that air’s more ’n we kn say of some white folks -in our part of the kintry.” - -“Do the owners hereabouts lose many slaves now-a-days?” - -“Not sence old Gashface was killed last autumn.” - -“Who’s Gashface? Is it a real name?” asked Vance. - -“Nobody ever knowed his raal name,” returned the Colonel; “an’ so we -called him Gashface, seem’ as he’d a bad gash over his left cheek. He -was a half mulatto, with woolly hair, an’ so short-sighted he weared -specs. Wall, that bloody cuss hahz run off more niggers nor all the -abolitioners in the Northwest,—damned ef he haint! Two millions of -dollars wouldn’t pay fur all the slaves he’s helped across the line. He -guv his hull time ter the work, an’ was crazy mad on that one pint. Last -yar the planters clubbed together an’ made up a pus of five thousand -dollars fur the man that ’ud shoot the cuss. Two gemmlemen from -Vicksburg went inter the job, treed him, shot him dead, an’ tuk the five -thousand dollars. An almighty good day’s work!”[14] - -“How did the planters know they had got the right man?” asked Vance. - -“Wall, there wah n’t much doubt about that, yer see,” said the Colonel. -“Them as shot him war’ high-tone gemmlemen, both on ’em, an’ knowed the -cuss well. So did I, an’ they paid me a cool hunderd,—damned if they -didn’t!—to come on an’ swar ter the body.” - -“Let’s go and have a talk with your smart nigger,” interrupted Vance. - -“Agreed!” replied the Colonel with an oath; and the two descended a -short ladder, and stood on the lower deck in front of Peek, who was -leaning against a green sliding box of stones, used for keeping the boat -rightly trimmed. - -“Wake up here, Peek,” said Hyde, kicking him not very gently; “here’s my -friend, Mr. Vance, come ter see yer.” - -The slave started, and his eyes had a lurid glitter as they turned on -Hyde; but they opened with a wild and pleased surprise as they caught -the quick, intelligible glance of Vance, whose right hand was pointing -to an inner pocket of his coat. The change of expression in the slave -was, however, too subtle and evanescent for any one except Vance himself -to recognize it; and he was not moved by it to take other notice of the -negro than to imitate the Colonel’s example by pushing Peek with his -foot, at the same time saying, “I wish I had you on a sugar-plantation -down in Louisiana, my fine fellow! I’d teach you to run away! You -wouldn’t try it more than once, I’m thinking.” - -“Look he-ah, stranger,” exclaimed Peek, rising to his feet, with a look -of savage irritation, and clenching his fists, in spite of the irons on -his wrists, “you jes’ put yer foot on me agin, and I’ll come at yer, -shoo-ar!” - -“You’ll do that, will you,” said Vance, laying both hands on the slave’s -throat, shaking him, and muttering words audible to him only. - -Peek, seeming to struggle, thrust his fettered hands into the bosom of -his antagonist, as if to knock him down; but Vance pushed him up against -the bulwarks of the boat, and held him there, with his grasp on his -throat, till the slave begged humbly for mercy. Vance then let him go, -and turning to Colonel Hyde, with perfect coolness, said, “That’s the -way to let a nigger know you’re master.” To which the Colonel, unable to -repress his admiration, replied: “I see as how yer understand ’em, from -hide to innards, clar’ through. A nigger’s a nigger, all the world over. -Now let’s liquor.” - -They went to the bar, around which a motley group of smokers and -drinkers were standing. The bar-keeper was a black man, and between him -and Vance there passed a flash of intelligence. - -“What shall it be, Mr. Vance?” asked the Colonel. - -“Gin for me,” was the reply. - -“Make me a whiskey nose-tickler,” said the Colonel, who seemed to be not -unfamiliar with the fancy nomenclature of the bar-room. - -The bar-keeper, with that nimbleness and dexterity which high art alone -could have inspired, compounded a preparation of whiskey, lemon, and -sugar with bitters, crushed ice, and a sprig of mint, and handed it to -the Colonel, at the same time placing a decanter labelled “GIN” before -Vance. The latter poured out two thirds of a tumbler of what seemed to -be the raw spirit, and, adding neither water nor sugar, touched glasses -with the Colonel, and swallowed it off as if it had been a spoonful of -_eau sucré_. So overpowered with admiration at the feat was the Colonel, -that he paused a full quarter of a minute before doing entire justice to -the “nose-tickler” which had been brewed for him. - -Some of the loungers now drew round the Colonel, and asked him to join -them in a game of euchre. He looked inquiringly at Vance, and the latter -said, “Go and play, Colonel; I’ll rejoin you by and by.” Then, in a -confidential whisper, he added, “I must find out about that yellow -girl,—whether she’s for sale.” - -The Colonel winked, and answered, “All right,” and Vance walked away. - -“Who’s that?” asked Mr. Leonidas Quattles, a long-haired, swarthy youth, -who looked as if he might be half Indian. - -“That’s Mr. Vance of Noo Orleenz,” replied the Colonel; “he’s my -partik’lar friend, an’ a perfek high-tone gemmleman, I don’t car’ whar’ -the other is.” - -“How stands the Champion now?” said another of the party. - -“Three miles astern, and thar she’ll stick,” exclaimed Quattles. - -As Vance reascended to the upper deck, he encountered the children at -play. Little Clara Berwick, in high glee, was running as fast as her -infantile feet could carry her, pursued by Master Onslow, while Hattie, -the mulatto woman in attendance, held out the child’s bonnet, and begged -her to come and have it on. But Clara, with her light-brown ringlets -flying on the breeze, was bent on trying her speed, and the boy, fearful -that she would fall, was trying to arrest her. Before he could do this, -his fears were realized. Clara tripped and fell, striking her forehead. -Vance caught her up, and her parents, with Mr. Onslow and Hattie, -gathered round her, while the boy looked on in speechless distress. - -The little girl was so stunned by the blow, that for nearly a minute she -could neither cry nor speak. Then opening her eyes on Mr. Vance, who, -seating himself, held her in his lap, she began to grieve in a low, -subdued whimper. - -“The dear little creature! How she tries to restrain her tears!” said -Vance. “Cry, darling, cry!” he added, while the moisture began to -suffuse his own eyes. - -Then, taking from his pocket a small morocco case, he said to Mrs. -Berwick, “I have some diluted arnica here, madam, the best lotion in the -world for a bruise. With your permission I will apply it.” - -“Do so,” said the mother. “I know the remedy.” - -And, pulling from a side pocket of his coat a fresh handkerchief of the -finest linen, he wet it with the liquid, and applied it tenderly to the -bruise, all the while engaging the child’s attention with prattle suited -to her comprehension, and telling her what a brave good little girl she -was. - -“What is your name?” he asked. - -She tried to utter it, but, failing to make herself understood, the -mother helped her to say, “Clara Aylesford Berwick.” - -“Aylesford!” said Vance, thoughtfully. Then, gazing in the child’s face, -he rejoined: “How strange! Her eyes are dissimilar. One is a decided -gray, the other a blue.” - -“Yes,” said Berwick; “she gets the handsome eye from me; the other from -her mamma.” - -“Conceited man! cease your trifling!” interposed the lady. - -Vance picked up from the deck a little sleeve-button of gold and coral. -It had been dropped in the child’s fall. - -“This must belong to Miss Clara,” said Vance, “for it bears the initials -C. A. B.” - -The mother took it and fixed it in the little dimity pelisse which the -child wore. - -Hattie now offered to receive Miss Clara from Vance’s arms; but, with an -utterance and gesture of remonstrance, the child signified she did not -choose to be parted without a kiss; so he bent down and kissed her, -while she threw her little arms about his neck. Then seeing the boy, who -felt like a culprit for chasing her, she called him to her and gave him -absolution by the same token. Thanking Vance for his service, Mr. -Berwick walked away with Leonora. - -“That’s a noble boy of yours, sir,” said Vance, addressing himself to -Mr. Onslow. - -All the father’s displeasure vanished with the compliment, and he -replied, “Yes, Robert _is_ a noble boy; that’s the true word for him.” - -“I fear,” resumed Vance, “I gave you some cause just now to form a bad -opinion of me because of my conduct to one of the waiters.” - -“To be frank,” replied Onslow, “I _did_ feel surprise that you should -take not only the strong side, but the wrong one.” - -“Mr. Onslow, did you ever read Parnell’s poem of the ‘Hermit’?” - -“Yes, it was one of the favorites of my youth.” - -“And do you remember how many things seemed wrong to the hermit that he -afterwards found to be right?” - -“I perceive the drift of your allusion, sir,” returned Onslow; “but I am -puzzled, nevertheless.” - -“Perhaps one of these days you will be enlightened.” Then, changing the -subject, Vance remarked, “How do you succeed in Texas in your attempt to -substitute free labor for that of slaves?” - -“My success has been all I could have hoped; but the more successful I -am, the more imminent is my failure.” - -“Why so? That sounds like a paradox.” - -“The rich slave-owners look with fear and dislike on my experiment.” - -“What else could you expect, Mr. Onslow? Take a case, publicly vouched -for as true. Not long since a New York capitalist purchased mineral -lands in Virginia, with a view to working them. He went on the ground -and hired some of the white inhabitants of the neighborhood as laborers. -All promised well, when lo! a committee of slaveholders, headed by one -Jenkins,[15] waited on him, and told him he must discharge his hands and -hire _slaves_. The white laborers offered to work at reduced wages -rather than give up their employment, but they were overawed, and their -employer was compelled by the slave despots to abandon his undertaking -and return to a State where white laborers have rights.” - -“And yet,” said Onslow, “there are politicians who try to persuade the -people that the enslaving of a black man removes him from competition -with white labor; whereas the direct effect of slavery is to give to -slaveholders the monopoly and control of the most desirable kinds of -labor, and to enable them to degrade and impoverish the white laboring -man!” - -Here the furious ringing of a bell called the gentlemen to dinner. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - MR. ONSLOW SPEAKS HIS MIND. - - “How faint through din of merchandise - And count of gain - Has seemed to us the captive’s cries! - How far away the tears and sighs - Of souls in pain!” - _Whittier._ - - -An opportunity for resuming the conversation did not occur till long -after sundown, and when many of the passengers were retiring to bed. - -“I have heard, Mr. Onslow,” said Vance, “that since your removal to -Texas you have liberated your slaves.” - -“You have been rightly informed,” replied Onslow. - -“And how did they succeed as freedmen?” - -“Two thirds of them poorly, the remaining third well.” - -“Does not such a fact rather bear against emancipation, and in favor of -slavery?” - -“Quite the contrary. I am aware that the enthusiastic Mr. Ruskin -maintains that slavery is ‘not a political institution at all, but an -inherent, natural, and eternal inheritance of a large portion of the -human race.’ But as his theory would involve the enslaving of white men -as well as black, I think we may dismiss it as the sportive extravagance -of one better qualified to dogmatize than argue.” - -“But is he not right in the application of his theory to the black -race?” - -“Far from it. Look at the white men you and I knew some twenty-five -years ago. How many of them have turned out sots, gluttons, thieves, -incapables! Shall the thrifty and wise, therefore, enslave the imprudent -and foolish? Assuredly not, whatever such clever men as Mr. Ruskin and -Mr. Thomas Carlyle may say in extenuation of such a proceeding.” - -“Do not escaped or emancipated negroes often voluntarily return to -slavery?” - -“Not often, but occasionally; and so occasionally a white man commits an -offence in order that he may be put in the penitentiary. A poor negro is -emancipated or escapes. He goes to Philadelphia or New York, and has a -hard time getting his grub. In a year or two he drifts back to his old -master’s plantation, anxious to be received again by one who can insure -to him his rations of mush; and so he declares there’s no place like -‘old Virginny for a nigger.’ Then what pæans go up in behalf of the -patriarchal system! What a conclusive argument this that ‘niggers will -be niggers,’ and that slavery is right and holy! Slave-drivers catch at -the instance to stiffen up their consciences, and to stifle that inner -voice that is perpetually telling them (in spite of the assurances of -bishops, clergymen, and literary _dilettanti_ to the contrary) that -slavery is a violation of justice and of that law of God written on the -heart and formulized by Christ, that we must do unto others as we would -have them do unto us, and that therefore liberty is the God-given right -of every innocent and able-minded man. Instances like that I have -supposed, instead of being a palliation of slavery, are to my mind new -evidences of its utter sinfulness. A system that can so degrade humanity -as to make a man covet repression or extinction for his manhood must be -devilish indeed.” - -“But, Mr. Onslow, do not statistics prove that the blacks increase and -multiply much more in a state of slavery than in any other? Is not that -a proof they are well treated and happy?” - -“That is the most hideous argument yet in favor of the system. In -slavery women are stimulated by the beastly ambition of contending which -shall bear ‘the most little nigs for massa’! Among these poor creatures -the diseases consequent upon too frequent child-bearing are dreadfully -prevalent. Surely the welfare of a people must be measured, not by the -mere amount of animal contentment or of rapid breeding with which they -can be credited, but by the sum of manly acting and thinking they can -show. A whole race of human beings is not created merely to eat mush, -hoe in cotton-fields, and procreate slaves. The example of one such -escaped slave as Frederick Douglas shows that the blacks are capable of -as high a civilization as the whites.” - -“Do they not seem to you rather feeble in the moral faculty?” - -“No more feeble than any race would be, treated as they have been. The -other day there fell into my hands a volume of sermons for pious -slaveholders to preach to their slaves. It is from the pen of the -excellent Bishop Meade of Virginia. The Bishop says to poor Cuffee: -‘Your bodies, you know, are not your own; they are at the disposal of -those you belong to; _but your precious souls are still your own_.’ What -impious cajolery is this? The master has an unlimited, irresponsible -power over the slave, from childhood up,—can force him to act as he -wills, however conscience may protest! The slave may be compelled to -commit crimes or to reconcile himself to wrongs, familiarity with which -may render his soul, like his body, the mere unreasoning, impassive tool -of his master. And yet a bishop is found to try to cozen Cuffee out of -the little common sense slavery may have left him, by telling him he is -responsible for that soul, which may be stunted, soiled, perverted in -any way avarice or power may choose.” - -“Well, Mr. Onslow, will you deny that slavery has an ennobling effect in -educating a chivalrous, brave, hospitable aristocracy of whites, -untainted by those meannesses which are engendered by the greed of gain -in trading communities?” - -“I will not deny,” replied Onslow, “that the habit of irresponsible -command may develop certain qualities, sometimes good, sometimes bad, in -the slave-driver; and so the exercise of the lash by the overseer may -develop the extensor muscles of the arm; but the evils to the whites -from slavery far, far outbalance the benefits. First, there are the five -millions of mean, non-slaveholding whites. These the system has reduced -to a condition below that of the slave himself, in many cases. Slavery -becomes at once their curse and their infatuation. It fascinates while -it crushes them; it drugs and stupefies while it robs and degrades.” - -“But may we not claim advantages from the system for the few,—for the -upper three hundred thousand?” - -“That depends on what you may esteem advantages. Can an injustice be an -advantage to the perpetrator? The man who betrays a moneyed trust, and -removes to Europe with his family, may in one sense derive an advantage -from the operation. He may procure the means of educating and amusing -himself and his children. So the slaveholder, by depriving other men of -their inherent rights, may get the means of benefiting himself and those -he cares for. But if he is content with such advantages, it must be -because of a torpid, uneducated, or perverted conscience. Patrick Henry -was right when he said, ‘Slavery is inconsistent with the religion of -Christ.’ O’Connell was right when he declared, ‘No constitutional law -can create or sanction slavery.’ I have often thought that -Mississippians would never have been reconciled to that stupendous -public swindle, politely called repudiation, if slavery had not first -prepared their minds for it by the robbery of labor. And yet we have men -like Jefferson Davis,[16] who not only palliate, but approve the cheat. -O the atrocity! O the shame! With what face can a repudiating community -punish thieves?” - -“Shall we not,” asked Vance, “at least grant the slaveholder the one -quality he so anxiously claims,—that which he expresses in the word -_chivalry_?” - -Mr. Onslow shrugged his shoulders, and replied: “Put before the -chivalrous slaveholder a poor fanatic of an Abolitionist, caught in the -act of tampering with slaves, and then ask this representative of the -chivalry to be magnanimous. No! the mean instincts of what he deems -self-interest will make him a fiend in cruelty. He looks upon the -Abolitionist very much as a gunpowder manufacturer would look upon the -wandering Celt who should approach his establishment with a lighted pipe -in his mouth; and he cheerfully sees the culprit handed over to the -tender mercies of a mob of ignorant white barbarians.” - -“Do you, then, deny that slavery develops any high qualities in the -master?” - -“And if it did, what right have I to develop my high qualities at -another’s expense? Yes! Jefferson is right when he says: ‘The whole -commerce between master and slave is a perpetual exercise of the most -boisterous passions; the most unremitting despotism on the one part and -degrading submissions on the other. The man must be a prodigy who can -retain his manners and his morals undepraved by such circumstances.’” - -Mr. Onslow paced the deck for a moment, and then, returning, exclaimed: -“O the unspeakable crimes, barbarities, and deviltries to which the -system has educated men here at the South during the last thirty years! -Educated not merely the poor and ignorant, but the rich and refined! The -North knows hardly a tithe of the actual horrors. Worse than the wildest -religious fanaticism, slavery sees men tortured, hung, mutilated, -subjected to every conceivable indignity, cruelty, agony, simply because -the victim is unsound, or suspected to be unsound, on the one supreme -question. I myself have been often threatened, and sometimes the -presentiment is strong upon me that my end will be a bloody one. I -should not long be safe, were it not that in our region there are brave -men who, like me, begin to question the divinity of the obscene old -hag.” - -Mr. Onslow again walked away, and then, coming close up to Vance, said -in low tones: “But retribution must come,—as sure as God lives, -retribution must come, and that speedily! Slavery must die, in order -that Freedom and Civilization may live. I see it in all the signs of the -times, in all the straws that drift by me on the current of events. -Retribution must come,—come with bloodshed, anguish, and desolation to -both North and South,—to Slavery, with spasms of diabolical cruelty, -violence, and unholy wrath, and to Freedom with trials long and -doubtful, but awaking the persistent energy which a righteous cause will -inspire, and leading ultimately to permanent triumph and to the -annihilation on this continent of the foul power which has ruled us so -long, and which shall dare to close in deadly combat with the young -genius of universal Liberty.” - -Vance grasped Onslow by the hand, but seemed too excited to speak. Then, -as if half ashamed of his emotion, he said, “Will there be men at the -South, think you, to array themselves on the side of freedom, in the -event of a collision?” - -“There will be such men, but, until the slave-power shall be annihilated -forever, they will be a helpless minority. A few rich leaders control -the masses which Slavery has herself first imbruted. Crush out slavery, -and there will be regenerators of the land who will spring up by -thousands to welcome their brethren of the North, whose interests, like -theirs, lie in universal freedom and justice.” - -“You do not, then, believe those who tell us there is an eternal -incompatibility between the people of the slaveholding and -non-slaveholding States?” - -“Bah! These exaggerations, the rhetoric of feeble spirits, and the logic -of false, are stuff and rubbish to any true student of human nature. -There is no incompatibility between North and South, except what slavery -engenders and strives to intensify. Strike away slavery, and the people -gravitate to each other by laws higher than the bad passions of your -Rhetts, Yanceys, and Maurys. The small-beer orators and forcible-feeble -writers of the South, who are eternally raving about the mean, low-born -Yankees, and laboring to excite alienation and prejudice, are merely the -tools of a few plotting oligarchs who hope to be the chiefs of a -Southern Confederacy.” - -“And must civil war necessarily follow from a separation?” - -“As surely as thunder follows from the lightning-rent! Yes, Webster is -undoubtedly right: there can be no such thing as peaceable secession, -and I rejoice that there cannot be.” - -“But would not a civil war render inevitable that alienation which these -Richmond scribblers are trying to antedate?” - -“No. Enmity would be kept up long enough for the slave-power to be -scotched and killed, and then the people of both sections would see that -there was nothing to keep them apart, that their interests are -identical. The true people of the South would soon realize that the -three hundred thousand slaveholders are even more _their_ enemies than -enemies of the North. A reaction against our upstart aristocracy (an -aristocracy resting on tobacco-casks and cotton-bales) would ensue, and -the South would be republicanized,—a consummation which slavery has thus -far prevented. South Carolina was Tory in the Revolution, just as she is -now. Abolish slavery, and we should be United States in fact as well as -in name. Abolish slavery, and you abolish sectionalism with it. Abolish -slavery, and you let the masses North and South see that their welfare -lies in the preservation of the republic, one and indivisible.” - -“And do you anticipate civil war?” - -“Yes, such a civil war as the world has never witnessed.[17] The devil -of slavery must go out of us, and as it is the worst of all the devils -that ever afflicted mankind, it can go out only through unprecedented -convulsions and tearings and agonies. The North must suffer as well as -the South, for the North shares in the guilt of slavery, and there are -thousands of men there who shut their eyes to its enormities. Believe -me, their are high spiritual laws underlying national offences; and the -Nemesis that must punish ours is near at hand. Slavery must be -destroyed, and war is the only instrumentality that I can conceive of -energetic enough to do it. Through war, then, must slavery be -destroyed.” - -“And I care not how soon!” said Vance. Then, lowering his tone, he -remarked: “Have you not been imprudent in confiding your views to a -stranger, who could have you lynched at the next landing-place by -reporting them?” - -“Perhaps. But I bide the risk; you have not been so shrewd an actor, -sir, that I have not seen behind the mask.” - -Vance started at the word _actor_, then said, looking up at the stars: -“What a beautiful night! Does not the Champion seem to be gaining on -us?” - -“I have been thinking so for some minutes,” replied Onslow. “Good night, -Mr.——. Excuse me. I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name.” - -“And yet we have met before, Mr. Onslow, and under circumstances that -ought to make me remembered.” - -“To what do you allude?” - -“I was once brought before you for horse-stealing, and, what is more, -you found me guilty of the charge, and rightly.” - -“Then my recollection was not at fault, after all!” exclaimed Onslow, -astonished. “But were you indeed guilty?” - -“I certainly took a horse, but it was a case of necessity. A friend of -mine, a colored man, in defence of his liberty, had wounded his master, -so called, and was flying for life. To save him I robbed the -robber,—took his horse and gave it to his victim, enabling the latter to -get off safely. The fact of my taking the horse was clearly proved, but -my motive was not discovered. If it had been, Judge Lynch would surely -have relieved you of the care of me. You, as justice of the peace, -remanded me to prison for trial. That night I escaped. In an outer room -of the jail I found a knife and half of a slaughtered calf. The knife I -put in my pocket. The carcass I threw over my shoulder, and ran. In the -morning I found five valuable bloodhounds on my track. I climbed a tree, -and when they came under it, I fed them till they were all tame, and -allowed me to descend; and then I cut their throats, lest they should be -used to hunt down fugitives from slavery. Two days afterwards I was safe -on board a steamboat, on my way North.” - -“Who, then, _are_ you, sir?” asked Onslow. - -Vance whispered a word in reply. - -Mr. Onslow seemed agitated for a moment, and then exclaimed, “But I -thought he was dead!” - -“The report originated with those who took the reward offered for his -head. Mr. Onslow, I have repaid your frankness with a similar frankness -of my own. To-morrow morning, at ten o’clock, meet me here, and you -shall hear more of my story. Good night.” - -The gentlemen parted, each retiring to his state-room for repose. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - THE STORY OF ESTELLE. - - “Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, - Tears from the depth of some divine despair, - Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, - In looking on the happy autumn-fields - And thinking of the days that are no more.” - _Tennyson._ - - -Balmy, bright, and beautiful broke the succeeding morning. Every -passenger as he came on deck looked astern to see what had become of the -Champion. She still kept her usual distance, dogging the Pontiac with -the persistency of a fate. Captain Crane said nothing, but it was -noticeable that he puffed away at his cigar with increased vigor. - -Mr. Vance encountered the Berwicks once more on the hurricane deck and -interchanged greetings. Little Clara recognized her friend of the day -before, and, jumping from Hattie’s lap, ran and pulled his coat, looking -up in his face, and pouting her lips for a kiss. - -“I fancy I see two marked traits in your little girl, already,” said -Vance to the mother, after he had saluted the child; “she is strong in -the affections, and has a will-power that shows itself in self-control.” - -“You are right,” replied the mother; “I have known her to bite her lips -till the blood came, in her effort to keep from crying.” - -“Such is her individuality,” continued Vance. “I doubt if circumstances -of education could do much to misshape her moral being.” - -“Ah! that is a fearful consideration,” said the lady; “we cannot say how -far the best of us would have been perverted if our early training had -been unpropitious.” - -“I knew your father, Mrs. Berwick. He found me, a stranger stricken down -by fever, forsaken and untended, in a miserable shanty called a tavern, -in Southern Illinois, in the sickly season. He devoted himself to me -till I was convalescent. I shall never forget his kindness. Will you -allow mg to look at that little seal on your watch-chain? It ought to -bear the letters ‘W. C. to R. A.’ Thank you. Yes, there they are! I sent -him the seal as a memento. The cutting is my own.” - -“I shall regard it with a new interest,” said Mrs. Berwick, as she took -it back. - -Mr. Onslow here appeared and bade the party good morning. - -“I feel that I am among friends,” said Vance. “I last night promised Mr. -Onslow a story. Did you ever hear of the redoubtable Gashface, Mr. -Berwick?” - -“Yes, and I warn you, sir, that I am quite enough of an Abolitionist to -hold his memory in a sort of respect.” - -“Bold words to utter on the Southern Mississippi! But do not be under -concern: I myself am Gashface. Yes. The report of his being killed is a -lie. Are you in a mood to hear his story, Mrs. Berwick?” - -“I shall esteem it a privilege, sir.” - -“The last time I told it was to your father. Be seated, and try and be -as patient as he was in listening.” - -The party arranged themselves in chairs; and Mr. Vance was about to take -up his parable, when the figure of Colonel Delancy Hyde was seen -emerging from the stairs leading from the lower deck. - -“Hah! Mr. Vance, I’m yourn,” exclaimed the Colonel, with effusion. “Been -lookin’ fur yer all over the boat. Introduce yer friends ter me.” - -Vance took from his pocket the Colonel’s card, and read aloud the -contents of it. - -“From Virginia, ma’am,” supplemented the Colonel, who was already -redolent of Bourbon; “the name of Delancy Hyde hahz been in the family -more ’n five hunderd yarz. Fak, ma’am! My father owned more slaves nor -he could count. Ef it hahdn’t been fur a damned Yankee judge, we sh’d -hahv held more land nor you could ride over in a day. Them low-born -Yankees, ma’am, air jes’ fit to fetch an’ carry for us as air the master -race; to larn our childern thar letters an’ make our shoes, as the -Greeks done fur the Romans, ma’am. Ever read the Richmond newspapers, -ma’am? John Randolph wunst said he’d go out of his way to kick a sheep. -I’d go out of my way, ma’am, to kick a Yankee.” - -“If you’re disposed to listen to a story, Colonel,” said Vance, “take a -chair.” And he pointed to one the furthest from Mrs. Berwick. “I am -about to read an autobiography of the fellow Gashface, of whom you have -heard.” - -And Vance drew from his pocket a small visiting card crowded close with -stenographic characters in manuscript. - -“An’ that’s an auter—what d’ yer call it,—is it?” asked the Colonel. -“Cur’ous!” - -The Colonel reinforced himself with a plug of tobacco, and Vance began -to recite what he called, for the occasion, “The Autobiography of -Gashface.” But we prefer to name it - - =The Story of Estelle.= - -I was born in New Orleans, and am the son of William Carteret. He was a -Virginian by birth, the younger son of a planter, whose forefather, a -poor Yorkshire gentleman, came over from England with Sir Thomas Dale in -the year 1611. You might think me false to my father’s native State if I -did not vindicate my claim to a descent from one of the first Virginia -families. You must be aware that all the gentle blood that flowed from -Europe to this continent sought Virginia as its congenial reservoir. It -would be difficult to find a low-born white man in the whole eastern -section of the State. - -[“That’s a fak!” interposed the Colonel.] - -My grandfather died in 1820, leaving all his property to his eldest son, -Albert. (Virginia then had her laws of primogeniture.) Albert generously -offered to provide for my father, but the latter, finding that Albert -could not do this without reducing the provision for his sisters, -resolved to seek fortune at the North. He went to New York, where he -studied medicine. But here he encountered Miss Peyton, a beautiful girl -from Virginia, nobly supporting herself by giving instruction in music. -He married her, and they consoled themselves for their poverty by their -fidelity and devotion to each other. The loss of their first child, in -consequence, as my father believed, of the unhealthy location of his -house, induced him to make extraordinary efforts to earn money. - -After various fruitless attempts to establish himself in some lucrative -employment, he made his _début_, under an assumed name, at the Park -Theatre, in the character of Douglas, in Home’s once famous tragedy of -that name. My father’s choice of this part is suggestive of the moderate -but respectable character of his success. He played to the judicious -few; but their verdict in his favor was not sufficiently potent to make -him a popular actor. He soon had to give up the high starring parts, and -to content himself with playing the gentleman of comedies or the second -part in tragedies. In this humbler line he gained a reputation which has -not yet died out in theatrical circles. He could always command good -engagements for the theatrical season in respectable stock-companies. He -was fulfilling one of these engagements in New Orleans when I was born. - -A month afterwards he ended his career in a manner that sent a thrill -through the public heart. He was one evening playing Othello for his own -benefit. Grateful for a crowded house, he was putting forth his best -powers, and with extraordinary success. Never had such plaudits greeted -and inspired him. The property-man, whose duty it is to furnish all the -articles needed by the actor, had given him at rehearsal a blunted -dagger, so contrived with a spring that it seemed to pierce the breast -when thrust against it. At night this false dagger was mislaid, and the -property-man handed him a real one, omitting in the hurry of the moment -to inform him of the change. In uttering the closing words of his part,— - - “I took by the throat the circumci-sed dog, - And smote him _thus_,”— - -my father inflicted upon himself, not a mimic, but a real stab, so -forcible that he did not survive it ten minutes. - -Great was my mother’s anguish at her loss. She was not left utterly -destitute. My father had not fallen into the besetting sins of the -profession. He saw in it a way to competence, if he would but lead a -pure and thrifty life. In the seven years he had been on the stage he -had laid up seven thousand dollars. Pride would not let him allow my -mother to labor for her support. But now she gladly accepted from the -manager an offer of twenty-five dollars a week as “walking lady.” On -this sum she contrived for seventeen years to live decently and educate -her son liberally. - -At last sickness obliged her to give up her theatrical engagement. She -had invested her seven thousand dollars in bonds of the Planters’ Bank -of Mississippi, to the redemption of which the faith of that State was -pledged. The repudiation of the bonds by the State authorities, under -the instigation of Mr. Jefferson Davis, deprived her of her last -resource. Impoverished in means, broken in health, and unable to labor, -she fell into a decline and died. - -The humane manager gave me a situation in his company. I became an -actor, and for seven years played the part of second young gentleman in -comedies and melodramas; also such parts as Horatio in “Hamlet” or -Macduff in “Macbeth.” But my heart was not in my vocation. It had -chagrins which I could not stomach. - -One evening I was playing the part of a lover. The _dramatis persona_ of -whom I was supposed to be enamored was represented by Miss B——, rather a -showy, voluptuous figure, but whom I secretly disliked for qualities the -reverse of those of Cæsar’s wife. Instead of allowing my aversion to -appear, I played with the appropriate ardor. In performing the -“business” of the part, I was about to _kiss_ her, when I heard a loud, -solitary hiss from a person in an orchestra box. He was a man of a full -face, very fair red-and-white complexion, and thick black -whiskers,—precisely what a coarse feminine taste would call “a handsome -fellow.” Folding my arms, I walked towards the foot-lights, and asked -what he wanted. “None of your business, you damned stroller!” replied -he; “I have a right to hiss, I suppose.” “And I have a right to -pronounce you a blackguard, I suppose,” returned I. The audience -applauded my rebuke, and laughed at the handsome man, who, with scarlet -cheeks, rose and left the house. I learned he was a Mr. Ratcliff, a rich -planter, and an admirer of Miss B——. - -Soon after this adventure I quitted the profession, and for some time -gave myself up to study. My tastes were rather musical than histrionic; -and having from boyhood been a proficient on the piano-forte, I at last, -when all my money was exhausted, offered my services to the public as a -teacher. - -My first pupil was Henri Dufour, the only son of the widow of a French -physician. It was soon agreed that, for the greater convenience of -Henri, and in payment for his tuition, I should become a member of the -family, which was small, consisting only of himself, his mother, Jane, a -black slave, and Estelle, a white girl who occupied the position of a -humble companion of the widow. - -[At this point in the narrative, Mr. Quattles appeared at the head of -the stairs, and, with his forefinger placed on the side of his long -nose, winked expressively at Colonel Hyde. The latter rose, and said, -“Sorry to go, Mr. Vance; but the fak is, I’m in fur a hahnd at euchre, -an’ jest cum up ter see ef you’d jine us.” - -“You’re too gallant a man, Colonel Delancy Hyde,” replied Vance, “not to -agree with me, when I say, Duty to ladies first.” - -“Yer may bet yer pile on that, Mr. Vance; the ladies fust ollerz; but -Madame will ’scuze _me_, I reckon. Hahd a high old time, ma’am, last -night, an’ an almighty bahd streak of luck. Must make up fur it -somehow.” - -“Business before pleasure, Colonel,” said Vance. “We’ll excuse you.” - -And the Colonel, with a lordly sweep of his arm, by way of a bow, joined -his companion, Quattles, to whom he remarked, “A high-tone Suthun -gemmleman that, and one as does credit to his raisin’.” The companions -having disappeared, Vance proceeded with his story.] - -Let me call up before you, if I can, the image of Estelle. In person -about three inches shorter than I (and I am five feet six), slender, -lithe, and willowy, yet compactly rounded, straight, and singularly -graceful in every movement; a neck and bust that might have served -Powers for a model when the Greek Slave was taking form in his brain; a -head admirably proportioned to all these symmetries; a face rather -Grecian than Roman, and which always reminded me of that portrait of -Beatrice Cenci by Guido, made so familiar to us through copies and -engravings; a portrait tragic as the fate of the original in its serene -yet mournful expression. But Estelle’s hair differed from that of -Beatrice in not being auburn, but of a rare and beautiful olive tint, -almost like the bark of the laburnum-tree, and exquisitely fine and -thick. In complexion she could not be called either a blonde or a -brunette; although her dark blue eyes seemed to attach her rather to the -former classification. She was one of the few beautiful women I have -seen, whose beauty was not marred by a besetting self-consciousness of -beauty, betrayed in every look and movement, and even in the tones of -the voice. In respect to her personal charms Estelle was as unconscious -as a moss-rose. - -Mrs. Dufour was an invalid, selfish, parsimonious, and exacting; but -Estelle, in devotion to that lady’s service and in adaptation to her -caprices, showed a patience and a tact so admirable that it was -difficult to guess whether they were the result of sincere affection or -of a simple sense of duty. - -Henri, my pupil in music, was a youth of sixteen, who inherited not only -his mother’s morbid constitution, but her ungenerous qualities of heart -and temper. Arrogant and vain, he seemed to regard me in the light of a -menial, and I could not find in him intellect enough to make him -sensible of his folly. - -I spent my last twenty dollars in advertising; but no new pupil appeared -in answer to my insinuating appeal. My wardrobe began to get impaired; -my broadcloth to lose its nap, and my linen to give evidence of -premeditated poverty. One day I marvelled at finding in my drawer a -shirt completely renovated, with new wristbands, bosom, and collar. The -next week the miracle was repeated. Had Mrs. Dufour opened her heart and -her purse? Impossible! Had Jane, my washerwoman, slyly performed the -service? She honestly denied it. I pursued my investigations no further. - -The next Sunday, in putting on my best pantaloons, I found in the right -pocket two gold quarter-eagles. Yes! There could now be no doubt. I had -misjudged Mrs. Dufour. Her stinginess was all a pretence. Touched with -gratitude, yet humiliated, I went to return the gold. It was plain that -Madame knew nothing about it. I looked at Estelle, who sat at a window -mending a muslin collar. - -“Can you explain, Mademoiselle?” I asked. - -“Explain what?” she inquired, as if she had been too absorbed in her own -thoughts to hear a word of the conversation. - -“Can you explain how those gold pieces came into my pocket?” - -Without the least sign of guilt, she replied, “I cannot explain, sir.” - -Was she deceiving me? I thought not. Though we had met twice a day at -meals for weeks, her demeanor towards me had been always distant and -reserved. - -It was my habit daily, after giving a morning lesson to my pupil, to -walk a couple of hours on the Levee. One forenoon, on account of the -heat of the weather, I returned home an hour earlier than usual. Henri -and his mother were out riding. As I entered the house I heard the sound -of the piano, and stopped in the hall to listen. It was Estelle at the -instrument. - -I had left on the music-stand a rough score of my arrangement of that -remarkable composition, then newly published in Europe, the music and -words of which Colonel Pestal wrote with a link of his fetters on his -prison-wall the day before his execution. I had translated the original -song, and written it on the same page with the music. What was my -astonishment to hear the whole piece,—this new _De Profundis_, this -mortal cry from the depths of a proud, indignant heart,—a cry condensed -by music into tones the most apt and fervid,—now reproduced by Estelle -with such passionate power, such reality of emotion, that I was struck -at once with admiration and with horror. - -They were not, then, for Pestal so much as for Estelle,—those utterances -of holy wrath and angelic defiance! The words by themselves are -simple,—commonplace, if you will.[18] But, conveyed to the ear through -Pestal’s music and Estelle’s voice, they seemed vivid with the very -lightning of the soul. As she sang, the victim towered above the -oppressor like an archangel above a fiend. The prison-walls fell -outward, and the welcoming heavens opened to the triumphant captive. - -I entered the room. She turned suddenly. Her face had not yet recovered -from the expression of those emotions which the song had called up. She -rose with the air of an avenging goddess. Then, seeing me, she drew up -her clasped hands to her bosom with a gesture full of grace and eloquent -with deprecation, and said, “Forgive me if I have disturbed your -papers.” - -“Estelle!” I began. Then, seeing her look of surprise, I said, “Excuse -me if the address is too familiar; but I know you by no other name.” - -“Estelle is all sufficient,” she replied. - -“Well, then, Estelle, you have moved me by your singing as I was never -moved before,—so terribly in earnest did you seem! What does it mean?” - -“It means,” she replied, “that you have adapted the music to a faithful -translation of the words.” - -“I have heard you play,” said I, “but why have you kept me in ignorance -of your powers as a singer?” - -“My powers, such as they are,” she said, “have been rarely used since I -left the convent. I can give little time now to music. Indeed, the hour -I have given to it this morning was stolen, and I must make up for it. -So good by.” - -“Stay, Estelle,” said I, seizing her hand. “There is a mystery which -hangs over you like a cloud. Tell me what it is. Your eyes look as if a -storm of unshed tears were brooding behind them. Your expression is -always sad. Can I in any way help you? Can I render a true brother’s -service?” - -She stood, looking me in the face, and it was plain, from a certain -convulsed effort at deglutition, that she was striving to swallow back -the big grief that heaved itself up from her heart. She wavered as if -half inclined to reveal something. There was the noise of a carriage at -the door; and, pressing my hand gently, she said, with an effort at a -smile that should have been a sob, “Thank you; you cannot—help me; my -mistress is at the door; good by.” And dropping my hand, she glided out -of the room. - -I can never forget her as she then appeared in her virginal, spring-like -beauty, with her profuse silky hair parted plainly in front, and folded -in a classic knot behind, with her dress of a light gauze-like material, -and an unworked muslin collar about her neck having a simple blue ribbon -passing under it and fastened in front with a little cross of gold. How -unpretending and unadorned,—and yet what a charm was lent to her whole -attire by her consummate grace of person and of action! - -Mrs. Dufour entered, and I did not see Estelle again that day. - - ---------- - -It was that fearful summer when the fever seemed to be indiscriminate in -its ravages. Not only transient visitors in the city, but old residents -long acclimated, natives of the city, physicians and nurses, were -smitten down. Many fled from the pest-ridden precincts. Whole blocks of -houses were deserted. There were few doors at which Death did not knock -for one or more of the inmates. - -My pupil, Henri Dufour, was taken ill on a Saturday, and on Wednesday -his mortal remains were conveyed to the cemetery. I had tended him day -and night, and was much worn down by watchings and anxiety. Jane, a -hired black domestic, was wanted by her owner, and left us. All the work -of our diminished household now fell on Estelle. As for Madame Dufour, -she lived in a hysterical fear lest the inevitable summoner should visit -her next. She was continually imagining that the symptoms were upon her. -One day she fell into an unusual state of alarm. I was alone with her in -the house. Estelle had gone out without asking permission,—an -extraordinary event. I did what I could for the invalid, and, by her -direction, called in a physician whose carriage she had seen standing at -a neighboring door. - -The poor little doctor seemed flurried and overworked, and an odor of -brandy came from his breath. He assured Mrs. Dufour that her symptoms -were wholly of the imagination, and that if she would keep tranquil, all -danger would speedily pass. He administered a dose of laudanum. It -afterwards occurred to me that he had given three times the usual -quantity. He received his fee and departed; and I sat down behind the -curtain of an alcove so as to be within call. - -Three minutes had not elapsed when Estelle burst into the room, and in a -voice low and husky, as if with overpowering agitation, exclaimed: “You -have deceived me, Madame! Mr. Semmes tells me you never gave him any -orders about a will. Do you mean to cheat me? Beware! Tell me this -instant! tell me! Will you do it? Will you do it?” - -“Estelle! how can you?” whined Mrs. Dufour. “At such a time, when the -slightest agitation may bring on the fever, how can you trouble me on -such a subject?” - -“No evasion!” exclaimed Estelle, in imperious tones. “I demand it,—I -exact it,—now—this instant! You shall—you shall perform it!” - -Madame had some vague superstitious notion connected with the signing of -a will, and she murmured: “I shall do nothing at present; I’m not in a -state to sign my name. The doctor said I must be tranquil. How can you -be so selfish, Estelle? Do you imagine I’m going to die, that you are so -urgent just now?” - -“You told me three months ago,” replied Estelle, “that the will had been -regularly signed and witnessed. You lied! If you now refuse to make -amends, do not hope for peace either in this world or the next. No -priest shall attend you here, and my curses shall pursue you down to -hell to double the damnation your sin deserves! Will you sign, if I -bring the notary?” - -Mrs. Dufour began to moan, and complain of her symptoms, while I could -hear Estelle pacing the room like a caged tigress. Suddenly she stood -still, and cried, “Do you still refuse?” - -The moaning of the invalid had been succeeded by a stertorous breathing, -as if she had been suddenly overcome by sleep. - -“She is stone,—stone! She sleeps!—she has no heart!” groaned Estelle. - -I now left the alcove. Estelle knelt weeping with her face on the sofa. -I touched her on the head, and she started up alarmed. She saw tears of -sympathy on my cheek. I drew her away with my arm about her waist, and -said, “Come! come and tell me all.” - -She let me lead her down-stairs into the parlor. I placed her in an -arm-chair, and sat on a low ottoman at her feet. “Tell me all, Estelle,” -I repeated. “What does it mean?” - -I then drew from her these facts. Her mother, though undistinguishable -from a white woman, had been a slave belonging to a Mr. Huger, a -sugar-planter. She was _reputed_ to be the daughter of what the Creoles -call a _meamelouc_, that is, the offspring of a white man and a metif -mother, a metif being the offspring of a white and a quarteron. This -account of the genealogy of Estelle’s mother I never had occasion to -doubt till years afterwards. The father of Estelle was Albert Grandeau, -a young Parisian of good family. Being suddenly called home from -Louisiana to France by the death of his parents, he left America, -promising to return the following winter, and purchase the prospective -mother of his child and take her to Paris. This he honestly intended to -do; but alas for good _intentions_! It is good _deeds_ only that are -secure against the caprices of Fate. The vessel in which Grandeau sailed -foundered at sea, and he was among the lost. Estelle’s mother died in -child-birth. - -And then Estelle,—on the well-known principle of Southern law, “_proles -sequitur ventrem_,”—in spite of her fair complexion, was a slave. Mr. -Huger dying, she fell to the portion of his unmarried daughter, Louise, -who was a member of the newly established Convent of St. Vivia. She took -Estelle, then a mere child, with her to bring up. Fortunately for -Estelle, there were highly accomplished ladies in the convent, to whom -it was at once a delight and a duty to instruct the little girl. French, -English, and Italian were soon all equally familiar to her, and before -she was seventeen she surpassed, in needlework and music, even her -teachers. But the convent of St. Vivia had been cheated in the title of -its estate; and through failure of funds, it was at length broken up. -Soon afterwards, Louise Huger, whose health had always been feeble, died -suddenly, leaving Estelle to her sister, Mrs. Dufour, with the request -that measures should be at once taken to secure the maiden’s freedom, in -the contingency of Mrs. Dufour’s demise. It was the failure of the -latter to take the proper steps for Estelle’s manumission that now -roused her anger and anxiety. - -These disclosures on the part of Estelle awoke in me conflicting -emotions. - -Shall I confess it? Such was the influence of education, of inherited -prejudice, and of social proscription, that when she told me she was a -slave, I shuddered as a high-caste Brahmin might when he finds that the -man he has taken by the hand is a Pariah. Estelle was too keen of -penetration not to detect it; and she drew her robe away from my touch, -and moved her chair back a little. - -My ancestors, with the exception of my father, had been slaveholders -ever since 1625. I had lived all my life in a community where slavery -was held a righteous and a necessary institution. I had never allowed -myself to question its policy or its justice. Skepticism as to a God or -a future state was venial, nay, rather fashionable; but woe to the youth -who should play the Pyrrhonist in the matter of slavery! - -Yet it was not fear, it was not self-interest, that made me acquiesce; -it was simply a failure to exercise my proper powers of thought. I took -the word of others,—of interested parties, of social charlatans, of -sordid, self-stultified fanatics,—that the system was the best possible -one that could be conceived of, both for blacks and whites. From the -false social atmosphere in which I had grown up I had derived the -accretions that went to build up and solidify my moral being. - -And so if St. Paul or Fenelon, Shakespeare or Newton, had come to me -with ebonized faces, I should have refused them the privileges of an -equal. To such folly are we shaped by what we passively receive from -society! To such outrages on justice and common sense are we reconciled -simply by the inertness of our brains, not to speak of the hollowness of -our hearts! - -Estelle paused, and almost despaired, when she saw the effect upon me of -her confession. But I pressed her to a conclusion of her story, and then -asked, “Who has any claim upon you, in the event of Madame Dufour’s -dying intestate?” - -“Nearly all her property,” replied Estelle, “is mortgaged to her nephew, -Carberry Ratcliff, and he is her only heir.” - -“Give me some account of him.” - -“He is a South Carolinian by birth. Some years ago he married a Creole -lady, by whom he got a fine cotton-plantation on the Red River, stocked -with several hundred slaves. He has a house and garden in Lafayette, but -lives most of the time on his plantation at Loraine.” - -“Have you ever seen him?” - -“Yes; the first time only ten days ago, and he has been here four times -since to call on Madame Dufour, though he rarely used to visit her -oftener than twice a year.” - -As Estelle spoke, her eyes flashed, and her breast heaved. - -“How did he behave to you, Estelle?” - -“How should the lord of a plantation behave to a comely female slave? Of -course he insulted me both with looks and words. What more could you -expect of such a connoisseur in flesh and blood as the planter who -recruits his gangs at slave-auctions? Do not ask me how he behaved.” - -I rose, deeply agitated, and paced the room. - -“What sort of a looking man is this Mr. Ratcliff?” - -She went to an _étagère_ in a corner, opened a little box, and took from -it a daguerrotype, which she placed in my hand. - -Looking at the likeness, I recognized the man who once insulted me at -the theatre. - -“I must go and attend to Madame Dufour,” said Estelle. - -“Let me accompany you,” said I. - -She made no objection. We went together into the chamber. Estelle rushed -to the bedside,—shook the invalid,—called her aloud by name,—put her ear -down to learn if she breathed,—put her hand on the breast to find if the -heart beat,—then turned to me, and shrieked, “She is dead!” - -What was to be done? - -I led Estelle into the parlor. She sat down. Her face was of a frightful -pallor; but there was not the trace of a tear in her eyes. The -expression was that of blank, unmitigated despair. - -“Poor, poor child!” I murmured. “What can I do for her? Estelle, you -must be saved,—but how?” - -My words and my look seemed to inspire her with a hope. She rose, sank -upon both knees before me, lifted up her clasped hands, and said: “O -sir! O Mr. Carteret! as you are a man, as you reverence the recollection -of your mother, save me,—save me from the consequences of this death! I -am now the slave of Mr. Ratcliff; and what that involves to me you can -guess, but I, without a new agony, cannot explain. Save me, dear sir! -Good sir, kind sir, for God’s love, save me!” And then, with a wild cry -of despair, she added: “I will be yours,—body and soul, I will be yours, -if you will only save me! I will be your slave,—your _anything_,—only -let me belong to one I can love and respect. Do not, do not cast me -off!” - -“Cast you off, dear child? Never!” said I, and, raising her to her feet, -I kissed her forehead. - -That first kiss! How shall I analyze it? It was pure and tender as a -mother’s, notwithstanding the utter abandonment signified in the -maiden’s words. That very self-surrender was her security. Had she been -shy, I might have been less cold. But her look of disappointment showed -she attributed that coldness to some less flattering cause,—plainly to -indifference, if not to personal dislike. She could not detect in me the -first symptom of what she instinctively knew would be a guaranty of my -protection, stronger than duty. - -Like all the slaves and descendants of slaves in Louisiana, of all -grades of color, she had been bred up to a knowledge that it was a -consequence of her condition that there could be no marriage union -between her and a respectable white man. Impressed with this conviction, -she had pleaded to be allowed to remain in some convent, though it were -but as a servant, for the remainder of her life. The selfishness of her -mistress and owner, Miss Huger, put it out of her power to make this -choice effectual. Her kind-hearted Catholic instructors consoled her, as -well as they could, by the assurance that, being a slave, the sin of any -mode of life to which she might be forced would be attended with -absolution. But she had the horror which every pure nature, strong in -the affections, must feel, under like circumstances, at the prospect of -constraint. Since her life was to be that of a slave, O that her master -might be one she could love, and who could love her! The first part of -the dream would be realized if I could buy her. What misery to think -that the latter part must remain unfulfilled! - -I led her to a chair. She sat down and burst into a passion of tears. In -vain I tried to console her by words. Supporting her head with one hand, -I then with the other smoothed back the beautiful hair from her -forehead. Gradually she became calm. I knelt beside her, and said: -“Estelle, compose yourself. I promise you I will risk everything, life -itself, to save you from the fate you abhor. Now summon your best -faculties, and let us together devise some plan of proceeding.” - -She lifted my hand to her lips in gratitude, made me take a seat by her -side, and said: “Mr. Ratcliff or his agent may be here any minute, and -then you would be powerless. The first step is to leave this house, and -seek concealment.” - -“Do you know any place of refuge?” - -“Yes; I know a mulatto woman, named Mallet, who has a little stall on -Poydras Street for the sale of baskets. She occupies a small tenement -near by, and has two spare rooms. I think we can trust her, for I once -tended one of her children who died; and she does not know that I am a -slave.” - -“But, Estelle, I grieve to say it,—I am poor, almost destitute. My -friends are chiefly theatrical people, poor like myself, and most of -them are North at this season.” - -“Do not let that distress you,” she said; “I am the owner of a gold -watch, for which we can get at least fifty dollars.” - -“And mine will bring another fifty,” returned I. “Let us go, then, at -once, since here you are in danger.” - -An old negro, well known to the family, and who carried round oranges -for sale, at this moment stopped at the door. I gave him a dollar, on -condition that he would occupy and guard the house till some one should -come to relieve him. I then, at Estelle’s suggestion, sent a letter to -the Superintendent of Burials, announcing Madame Dufour’s death, and -requesting him to attend to the interment. I also enclosed the address -of Mr. Ratcliff and Mr. Semmes as the persons who would see all expenses -paid. To this I signed my real name. - -It was agreed that Estelle should leave at once. She gave me written -directions for finding our place of rendezvous. There was before it an -old magnolia-tree which I was particularly to note. I was to follow soon -with such articles of attire, belonging to her and to myself, as I could -bring, and I was to return for more if necessary. We parted, and I think -she must have read something not sinister in the expression of my face, -for her own suddenly brightened, and, with a smile ineffably sweet in -its thankfulness, she said, “_Au revoir!_” - -Our plans were all successfully carried out. The wardrobe of neither of -us was extensive. Two visits to the house enabled me to remove all that -we required. My letter to the Superintendent of Burials I had dropped -into his box, and that afternoon I saw him enter the house, so that I -knew the proper attentions to the dead would not be wanting. - -Mrs. Mallet gladly received us on our own terms. Estelle had -appropriated for me the better of the two little rooms, and had arranged -and decked it so as to wear an appearance of neatness and comfort, if -not of luxury. I expostulated, but she would not listen to my occupying -the inferior apartment. Her own preferences must rule. - -Ever dear to memory must be that first evening in our new abode! There -was one old fauteuil in her room, and, placing Estelle in that, I sat on -a low trunk by her side, where I could lean my elbow on the arm of the -chair. It was a warm, but not oppressive July evening, with a bright -moon. The window was open, and in the little area upon which it looked a -lemon-tree rustled as the breeze swelled, now and then, to a whisper. - -We were alone. I asked a thousand questions. I extorted the secret of my -mended clothes and the mysterious gold pieces. That air of depression -which had always been so marked in Estelle had vanished. She spoke and -looked like a new being. I put a question in French, and she answered in -that language with a fluency and a purity of accent that put me to the -blush for my own lingual shortcomings. I spoke of books, and was -surprised to find in her a bold, detective taste in recognizing the -peculiarities, and penetrating to the spiritual life, of the higher -class of thinkers and literary artists, whether French, English, or -American. - -I asked her to sing. In subdued tones, but with an exquisite accuracy, -she sang some of the favorite airs by Mozart, Bellini, and Donizetti, -using the Italian as if it were her native tongue. - -And there, in that atmosphere of death, while the surrounding population -were being decimated by the terrible pestilence, I drank in my first -draughts of an imperishable love. - -I looked at my watch. It was half an hour after midnight. How had the -hours slipped by! We must part. - -“Estelle!” I exclaimed with emotion; but I could not put into words what -I had intended to say. Then, taking her hand, I added, “You have given -me the most delightful evening of my life.” - -No light was burning in the room, but by the moonbeams I could see her -face all luminous with joy and triumph. My second kiss was bestowed; but -this time it was on her lips,—brief, but impassioned. “Good night, -Estelle!” I whispered; and, forcing myself instantly away, I closed the -door. - -I entered my apartment, and went to bed, but not to sleep. Tears that I -could not repress gushed forth. A strange rapture possessed me. Nature -had proved itself stronger than convention. The impulsive heart was more -than a match for the calculating head. For the first time in my life I -saw the new heavens and the new earth which love brings in. Estelle now -seemed all the dearer to me for her very helplessness,—for the -degradation and isolation in which slavery had placed her. Were she a -princess, could I love her half as well? But she shall be treated with -all the consideration due to a princess! Passion shall take no advantage -of her friendlessness and self-abandonment. - -Then came thoughts of the danger she was in,—of what I should do for her -rescue; and it was not till light dawned in the east that I fell into a -slumber. - -We gave up nearly the whole of the next day to the discussion of plans. -In pursuance of that on which we finally fixed, Estelle wrote a letter -to Mr. Ratcliff in these words:— - - “TO CARBERRY RATCLIFF, Esq.:—Sir: By the time this letter reaches you - I shall be out of your power, and with my freedom assured. Still I - desire to be at liberty to return to New Orleans, if I should so - elect, and therefore I request you to name the sum in consideration of - which you will give me free papers. A friend will negotiate with you. - Let that friend have your answer, if you please, in the form of an - advertisement in the Picayune, addressed to - - ESTELLE.” - -Two days afterwards we found the following answer in the newspaper -named:— - - “TO ESTELLE: For fifty dollars, I will give you the papers you desire. - - C. R.” - -Long and anxiously we meditated on this reply. I dreaded a trap. Was it -not most likely that Ratcliff, in naming so low a figure, hoped to -secure some clew to the whereabouts of Estelle? - -While I was puzzling myself with the question, Estelle suggested an -expedient. The answer to the advertisement undoubtedly came from -Ratcliff, and we had a right to regard it as valid. Why not address a -letter, with fifty dollars, to Ratcliff, and have it legally registered -at the post-office? - -“Admirable!” exclaimed I, delighted at her quickness. - -“No, it is not admirable,” she replied. “An objection suggests itself. -Some one will have to go to the post-office to register the letter, and -he may be known or tracked.” - -I reflected a moment, and then said: “I think I can guard against such a -danger. Having been an actor, I am expert at disguises. I will go as an -old man.” - -The plan was approved and put into effect. The two watches were disposed -of at a jeweller’s for a hundred and ten dollars. In an altered hand I -wrote Ratcliff a letter, enclosed in it a fifty-dollar bill, and bade -him direct his answer simply to Estelle Grandeau, Cincinnati, Ohio. I -added one dollar for the purpose of covering any expense he might be at -for postage. Then, at the shop of a theatrical costumer, I disguised -myself as a man of seventy, and went to the post-office. There I had the -letter and its contents of money duly registered. - -As I was returning home in my disguise, I saw the old negro I had left -in charge at Mrs. Dufour’s. He did not recognize me, and was not -surprised at my questions. From him I learned, that before he left the -house a gentleman (undoubtedly Ratcliff) had called, and had seemed to -be in a terrible fury on finding that Estelle had gone away some hours -before; but his rage had redoubled when he further ascertained that a -young man was her attendant. - -The interesting question now was, Had Ratcliff any clew to my identity? -My true name, William Carteret, under which I had been known at Mrs. -Dufour’s, was not the name I had gone by on the stage. Here was one -security. Still it was obvious the utmost precaution must be used. - -My plans were speedily laid. Not having money enough to pay the passage -of both Estelle and myself up the Mississippi, I decided that Estelle -should go alone, disguised as an old woman. I engaged a state-room, and -paid for it in advance. I had much difficulty in persuading her to -accede to the arrangement, so painful was the prospect of a separation; -but she finally consented. At my friend the costumer’s I fitted her out -in a plain, Quaker-like dress. She was to be Mrs. Carver, a -schoolmistress, going North. The next morning I covered her beautiful -hair with a grayish wig; and then, by the aid of a hare’s foot and some -pigments, added wrinkles and a complexion suitable to a maiden lady of -fifty. With a veil over her face, she would not be suspected. - -The hour of parting came. I put a plain gold ring on her finger. “Be -constant,” I said. “Forever!” she solemnly replied, pressing the ring to -her lips with tears of delight. The carriage was at the door. The -farewell kiss was exchanged. Her little trunk was put on the driver’s -foot-board. Mrs. Mallet entered and took a seat, and Estelle was about -to follow, when suddenly a faintness seized me. She detected it at once, -turned back, and exclaimed in alarm: “You are not well. What is the -matter?” - -“Nothing, that a glass of wine will not cure,” I replied. “There! It is -over already. Do not delay. Your time is limited. Driver! Fast, but -steady! Here’s a dollar for you! There! Step in, Estelle.” - -She looked at me hesitatingly. I summoned all my will to check my -increasing faintness. Urging her into the carriage, I closed the door, -and the horses started. Estelle watched me from the window, till an -angle in the street hid me from her view. Then, staggering into the -house, I crawled up-stairs to my chamber, and sank upon the bed. - - ---------- - -The next ten days were a blank to consciousness. Fever and delirium had -the mastery of my brain. On the eleventh morning I seemed to wake -gradually, as if from some anxious dream. I lay twining my hands feebly -one over the other. Then suddenly a speck in the ceiling fixed my -attention. Raising myself on the pillow, I looked around. Very gently -and slowly recollection came back. The appearance of Mrs. Mallet soon -seemed a natural sequence. She smiled, gave an affirmative shake of the -head, as if to tell me all was well, and at her bidding, I lay down and -slept. The following day I was strong enough to inquire after Estelle. - -“Be good, and you shall see her,” was the reply. - -“What! Did she not take passage in the boat?” - -“There! Do not be alarmed; she will explain it all.” - -And as she spoke, Estelle glided in, held up her forefinger by way of -warning, and, smiling through her tears, kissed my forehead. I felt a -shock of joy, followed by anxiety. “Why did you not go?” I asked. - -“I found I could dispose of my state-room, and I did it, for I was too -much concerned about your health to go in peace. It was fortunate I -returned. You have had the fever, but the danger is over.” - -“How long have I lain thus?” - -“This is the twelfth day.” - -“Have I had a physician?” - -“No one but Estelle; but then she is an expert; she once walked the -hospitals with the Sisters of Charity.” - -My convalescence was rapid. By the first of September I was well enough -to take long strolls in the evening with Estelle. On the fifth of that -month, early one starlit night, I said to her, “Come, Estelle, put on -your bonnet and shawl for a walk.” - -She brought them into my room, and placed them on the bed. - -“Where shall we go?” she inquired. - -“To the Rev. Mr. Fulton’s,” I replied; “that is, if you will consent to -be—” - -“To be what?” she asked, not dreaming of my drift. - -“To be married to me, Estelle!” - -The expressions that flitted over her face,—expressions of doubtful -rapture, pettish incredulity, and childlike eagerness,—come back vividly -to my remembrance. - -“You do not mean it!” at length she murmured, reproachfully. - -“From my inmost heart I mean it, and I desire it above all earthly -desires,” I replied. - -She sank to the floor, and, clasping my knees with her arms, bowed her -head upon them, and wept. Then, starting up, she said: “What! Your wife? -Really your wife? Mistress and wife in one? Me,—a slave? Can it be, -William, you desire it?” - -It was the first time she had called me by my first name. - -“Have you considered it well?” she continued. “O, I fear it would be -ungenerous in me to consent. Such an alliance might jeopard all your -future. You are young, well-connected, and can one day command all that -the best society of the country can offer. No, William, not for me,—not -for me the position of your wife!” - -I replied to these misgivings by putting on her shawl, then her bonnet, -the tying of which I accompanied with a kiss that brought the roses to -her cheeks. - -“Estelle,” I said, “unless we are very different from what we believe, -the step is one we shall not regret. I must be degenerate indeed, if I -can ever find anything in life more precious than the love you give and -inspire. But perhaps you shrink from so binding a tie.” - -“Shrink from it?” she repeated, in a tone of abandonment to all that was -rapturous and delightful in her conceptions, though the tears gushed -from her eyes. “O, generous beyond my dreams! Would I might prove to you -of what my love is capable, and how you have deepened its unfathomable -depths by this last proof of your affection!” - -We went forth under the stars that beautiful evening to the well-known -minister’s house. He received us kindly, asked us several questions, -and, having satisfied himself of our intelligence and sincerity, united -us in marriage. We gave him our real names,—William Carteret and Estelle -Grandeau,—and he promised to keep the secret. - -Six weeks flew by, how swiftly! The pressure which circumstances had put -upon Estelle’s buoyancy of character being taken away, she moved the -very embodiment of joy. It was as if she was making up for the past -repression of her cheerfulness by an overflow, constant, yet gentle as -the superflux of a fountain. Her very voice grew more childlike in its -tones. A touching gratitude that never wearied of making itself felt -seemed added to an abounding tenderness towards me. - -She had a quick sense of the humorous which made hers an atmosphere of -smiles. She would make me laugh by the odd and childish, yet charming -pet phrases she would lavish upon me. She would amuse me by her anxiety -in catering for me at meal-time, and making her humble fare seem -sumptuous by her devices of speech, as well as by her culinary arts. The -good nuns with whom she had lived had made her a thorough housekeeper, -and a paragon of neatness. She wanted further to be my valet, my very -slave, anticipating my wants, and forestalling every little effort which -I might put forth. - -My object now was to raise the sum necessary for our departure from the -city. I took pupils in music among the humblest classes,—among the free -blacks and even the slaves. I would be absent from nine o’clock in the -morning till five in the afternoon. Estelle aided me in my purpose. She -learned from Mrs. Mallet the art of making baskets, and contrived some -of a new pattern which met a ready sale. We began to lay up five, -sometimes six dollars a day. - -Once I met Mr. Ratcliff in Carondelet Street. He evidently recognized -me, for he turned on me a glance full of arrogance and hate. The -encounter made me uneasy, but, thinking the mention of it might produce -needless anxiety, I said nothing about it to Estelle. We were sitting -that very evening in our little room. Estelle, always childlike, was in -my lap, questioning me closely about all the incidents of the day,—what -streets I had walked through; what persons I had seen; if I had been -thinking of her, &c. I answered all her questions but one, and she -seemed content; and then whispered in my ears the intelligence that she -was likely to be the mother of my child. Delightful announcement! And -yet with the thrill of satisfaction came a pang of solicitude. - -“Do you believe,” prattled Estelle, “there ever were two people so -happy? I can’t help recalling those words you read me the other night -from your dear father’s last part, ‘If it were now to die, ’t were now -to be most happy.’ It seems to me as if the felicity of a long life had -been concentrated into these few weeks, and as if we were cheating our -mortal lot in allowing ourselves to be quite so happy.” - -Was this the sigh of her presaging heart? - -I resolved on immediate action. The next day (a Wednesday) I passed upon -the Levee. After many inquiries, I found a ship laden with cotton that -would sail the following Sunday for Boston. The captain agreed to give -up his best state-room for a hundred dollars. It should be ready for our -occupancy on Saturday. I closed with his offer at once. Estelle rejoiced -at the arrangement. - -“What has happened to-day?” I asked her. - -“Nothing of moment,” she replied. “Two men called to get names for a -Directory.” - -“What did you tell them?” - -“That if they wanted my husband’s name, they must get it from him -personally.” - -“You did well. Were they polite?” - -“Very, and seemed to seek excuses for lingering; but, getting no -encouragement, they left.” - -Could it be they were spies? The question occurred to me, but I soon -dismissed it as improbable. - -And yet they were creatures employed by Carberry Ratcliff to find out -what they could about the man who had offended him. - -Ratcliff was the type of a class that spring from slavery as naturally -as certain weeds spring from a certain quality of manure. He was such a -man as only slavery could engender. The son of a South Carolina planter, -he was bred to believe that his little State—little in respect to its -white population—was yet the master State of the Union, and that his -family was the master family of the State. The conclusion that he was -the master man of his family, and consequently of the Union, was not -distant or illogical. As soon as he could lift a pistol he was taught to -fire at a mark, and to make believe it was an Abolitionist. Before he -was twelve years old he had fired at and wounded a free negro, who had -playfully answered an imperious order by mimicking the boy’s strut. Of -this achievement the father was rather proud. - -Accustomed to regard the lives and persons of slaves as subject to his -irresponsible will, or to the caprices of his untrained and impure -passions, he soon transferred to the laboring white man and woman the -contempt he felt for the negro. We cannot have the moral sense impaired -in one direction without having it warped and corrupted throughout. - -Wrong feeling must, by an inexorable law, breed wrong thinking. And so -Ratcliff looked upon all persons, whether white or black, who had to -earn their bread by manual labor, as (in the memorable words of his -friend Mr. Hammond, United States Senator from South Carolina) “Mudsills -and slaves.” For the thrifty Yankee his contempt was supreme, bitter, -almost frantic. - -By mismanagement and extravagance his family estate was squandered, and, -the father having fallen in a duel with a political adversary, Ratcliff -found himself at twenty-one with expensive tastes and no money. He -borrowed a few hundred dollars, went to Louisiana, and there married a -woman of large property, but personally unattractive. Revengeful and -unforgetting as a savage where his pride was touched, and more cruel -than a wolf in his instincts, Ratcliff had always meant to requite me -for the humiliation I had made him experience. He had lost trace of me -soon after the incident at the theatre. No sooner had I passed him in -Carondelet Street than he put detectives on my track, and my place of -abode was discovered. He received such a report of my wife’s beauty as -roused him to the hope of an exquisite revenge. Doubtless he found an -opportunity of seeing Estelle without being seen; and on discovering in -her his slave, his surprise and fury reached an ungovernable height. - -Let me not dwell on the horrors of the next few days. We had made all -our arrangements for departure that Saturday morning. - -Estelle, in her simple habit, never looked so lovely. A little -cherry-colored scarf which I had presented her was about her neck, and -contrasted with the neutral tint of her robe. The carriage for our -conveyance to the ship was at the door. Our light amount of luggage was -put on behind. We bade our kind hostess good by. Estelle stepped in, and -I was about to follow, when two policemen, each with a revolver in his -hand, approached from a concealment near by, shut the carriage door, -and, laying hands upon me, drew me back. At the same moment, from the -opposite side of the street, Ratcliff, with two men wearing official -badges, came, and, opening the opposite door of the coach, entered and -took seats. So sudden were these movements, that they were over before -either Estelle or I could offer any resistance. - -The coachman at once drove off. An imploring shriek from Estelle was -followed by a frantic effort on her part to thrust open the door of the -coach. I saw her struggling in the arms of the officers, her face wild -with terror, indignation, rage. Ratcliff, who had taken the seat -opposite to her, put his head out of the coach, and bowed to me -mockingly. - -One of my stalwart captors held a pistol to my head, and cautioned me to -be “asy.” For half a minute I made no resistance. I was calculating how -I could best rescue Estelle. All the while I kept my eyes intently on -the departing carriage. - -My captors held me as if they were prepared for any struggle. But I had -not been seven years on the stage without learning something of the -tricks of the wrestler and the gymnast. Suddenly both policemen found -their legs knocked from under them, and their heads in contact with the -pavement. A pistol went off as they fell, and a bullet passed through -the crown of my hat; but before they could recover their footing, I had -put an eighth of a mile between us. - -Where was the carriage? The street into which it had turned was -intersected by another which curved on either side like the horns of a -crescent. To my dismay, when I reached this curve, the carriage was not -to be seen. It had turned into the street either on the right or on the -left, and the curve hid it from view. Which way? I could judge nothing -from the sound, for other vehicles were passing. I stopped a man, and -eagerly questioned him. He did not speak English. I put my question in -French. He stopped to consider,—believed the carriage had taken the left -turning, but was not quite certain. I ran leftward with all my speed. -Carriages were to be seen, but not one with the little trunk and valise -strapped on behind. I then turned and ran down the right turning. -Baffled! At fault! In the network of streets it was all conjecture. -Still on I ran in the desperate hope of seeing the carriage at some -cross street. But my efforts were fruitless. - -Panting and exhausted, I sought rest in a “magasin” for the sale of -cigars. A little back parlor offered itself for smokers. I entered. A -waiter brought in three cigars, and I threw a quarter of a dollar on the -table. But I was no lover of the weed. The tobacco remained untouched. I -wanted an opportunity for summoning my best thoughts. - -Even if I had caught the coach, would not the chances have been against -me? Clearly, yes. Further search for it, then, could be of no avail. -Undoubtedly Ratcliff would take Estelle at once to his plantation, for -there he could have her most completely in his power. Let that -calculation be my starting-point. - -How stood it in regard to myself? Did not my seizure by the policemen -show that legal authority for my arrest had been procured? Probably. If -imprisoned, should I not be wholly powerless to help Estelle? Obviously. -Perhaps the morning newspapers would have something to say of the -affair? Nothing more likely. Was it not, then, my safest course to keep -still and concealed for the present? Alas, yes! Could I not trust -Estelle to protect her own honor? Ay, she would protect it with her -life; but the pang was in the thought that her life might be sacrificed -in the work of protection. - -The “magasin” was kept by Gustave Leroux, an old Frenchman, who had been -a captain under Napoleon, and was in the grand army in its retreat from -Moscow. A bullet had gone through his cheeks, and another had taken off -part of his nose. - -I must have sat with the untouched cigars before me nearly three hours. -At last, supposing I was alone, I bowed my forehead on my hand, and -wept. Suddenly I looked up. The old Frenchman, with his nose and cheek -covered with large black patches, was standing with both hands on the -table, gazing wistfully and tenderly upon me. - -“What is it, my brave?” he asked in French, while tears began to fill -his own eyes. I looked up. There was no resisting the benignity of that -old battered face. I took the two hands which he held out to me in my -own. He sat down by my side, and I told him my story. - -After I had finished, he sat stroking his gray moustache with forefinger -and thumb, and for ten minutes did not speak. Then he said: “I have seen -this Mr. Ratcliff. A bad physiognomy! And yet what Mademoiselle -Millefleurs would call a pretty fellow! Let us see. He will carry the -girl to Lorain, and have her well guarded in his own house. As he has no -faith in women, his policy will be to win her by fine presents, jewels, -dresses, and sumptuous living. He will try that game for a full month at -least. I think, if the girl is what you tell me she is, we may feel -quite secure for a month. That will give us time to plan a campaign. -Meanwhile you shall occupy a little room in my house, and keep as calm -as you can. My dinner will be ready in ten minutes. You must try to coax -an appetite, for you will want all your health and strength. _Courage, -mon brave!_” - -This old soldier, in his seventieth year, had done the most courageous -act of his life. Out of pure charity he had married Madame Ponsard, five -years his elder, an anti-Bonapartist, and who had been left a widow, -destitute, and with six young parentless grandchildren. Fifty years back -he had danced with her when she was a belle in Paris, and that fact was -an offset for all her senile vanity and querulousness. It reconciled -him, not only to receiving the lady herself, large, obese, and rubicund, -and, worst of all, anti-Bonapartist, but to take her encumbrances, four -girls and two boys, all with fearful appetites and sound lungs. But the -old Captain was a sentimentalist; and the young life about him had -rejuvenated his own. After all, there was a selfish calculation in his -lovely charities; for he knew that to give was to receive in larger -measure. - -I accepted his offer of a shelter. The next morning he brought me a copy -of the Delta. It contained this paragraph: - -“We regret to learn that Mr. Julian Talbot, formerly an actor, and well -known in theatrical circles, was yesterday arrested in the atrocious act -of abducting a female slave of great personal beauty, belonging to the -Hon. Carberry Ratcliff. The slave was recovered, but Talbot managed to -escape. The officers are on his track. It is time an example was made of -these sneaking Abolitionists.” - - ---------- - -“O insupportable, O heavy hour!” I tried to reconcile myself to delay. I -stayed a whole fortnight with Leroux. At last I procured the dress of a -laboring Celt, and tied up in a bundle a cheap dress that would serve -for a boy. I then stuck a pipe through my hat-band, and put a shillelah -under my arm. A mop-like red wig concealed a portion of my face. -Lamp-black and ochre did the rest. Leroux told me I was premature in my -movements, but, without heeding his expostulations, I took an -affectionate leave of him and of Madame, whose heart I had won by -talking French with her, and listening to her long stories of the -ancient _régime_. - -I went on board a Red River boat. One of the policemen who arrested me -was present on the watch; but I stared him stupidly in the face, and -passed on unsuspected. - -Ratcliff was having a canal dug at Lorain for increasing the facilities -of transporting cotton; and as the work was unhealthy, he engaged -Irishmen for it. The killing an Irishman was no loss, but the death of a -slave would be a thousand dollars out of the master’s pocket. I easily -got a situation among the diggers. How my heart bounded when I first saw -Ratcliff! He came in company with his superintendent, Van Buskirk, and -stood near me some minutes while I handled the spade. - -For hours, every night during the week, I watched the house to discover -the room occupied by Estelle. On Sunday I went in the daytime. From the -window of a room in the uppermost story a little cherry-colored scarf -was flaunting in the breeze. I at once recognized its meaning. Some -negroes were near by under a tree. I approached, and asked an ancient -black fellow, who was playing on an old cracked banjo, what he would -take for the instrument. - -“Look yere, Paddy,” said he, “if yer tink to fool dis chile, yer’ll fine -it airn’t to be did. So wood up, and put off ter wunst, or yer’ll kotch -it, shoo-ah.” - -“But, Daddy, I’m in right earnest,” replied I. “If you’ll sell that -banjo at any price within reason, I’ll buy it.” - -“It’ll take a heap more’n you kn raise ter buy dis yere banjo; so, -Paddy, make tracks, and jes’ you mine how yer guv dis yere ole nigger -any more ob yer sarss.” - -“I’ll pay you two dollars for that banjo, Daddy. Will you take it?” said -I, holding out the silver. - -The old fellow looked at me incredulously; then seized the silver and -thrust the banjo into my hand, uttering at the same time such an -expressive “Wheugh!” as only a negro can. Then, unable to restrain -himself, he broke forth: “Yah, yah, yah! Paddy’s got a bargain dis time, -shoo-ah. Yah, yah, yah! Look yere, Paddy. Dat am de most sooperfinest -banjo in dese parts; can’t fine de match ob it in all Noo Orleenz. Jes’ -you hole on ter dem air strings, so dey won’t break in two places ter -wonst, and den fire away, and yer’ll ’stonish de natives, shoo-ah. Yah, -yah, yah! Takes dis ole nigg to sell a banjo. Yah! yah!” - -Every man who achieves success finds his penalty in a train of -parasites; and Daddy’s case was not exceptional. As he started in a bee -line for his cabin, to boast of his acuteness in trade to an admiring -circle, he was followed by his whole gang of witnesses. - -All this time I could see Ratcliff with a party of gentlemen on his -piazza. They were smoking cigars; and, judging from the noise they made, -had been dining and drinking. I slipped away with the banjo under my -arm. - -That night I returned and played the air of “Pestal” as near to the -house as I deemed it prudent to venture. I would play a minute, and then -pause. I had not done this three times, when I heard Estelle’s voice -from her chamber, humming these words in low but audible tones: - - “Hark! methinks I hear celestial voices sing, - Soon thou shalt be free, child of misery,— - Rest and perfect joy in heaven are waiting thee; - Spirit, plume thy wings and flee!” - -I struck a few notes, by way of acknowledgment, and left. - -The next night I merely whistled the remembered air in token of my -presence. A light appeared for a moment at the window, and then was -removed. I crept up close to the house. On that side of it where Estelle -was confined there were no piazzas. I had not waited two minutes when -something touched my head and bobbed before my eyes. It was a little -roll of paper. I detached it from the string to which it was tied; and -then, taking from my pocket an old envelope, I wrote on it in the dark -these words: “To-morrow night at ten o’clock down the string. If -prevented, then any night after at the same hour. Love shall find a way. -Forever.” - -The letter which I found folded in the paper lies yet in my pocket-book, -but I need not look at it in order to repeat it entire. It is in these -words:—‚Î - - “What shall I call thee? Dearest? But that word implies a comparative; - and whom shall I compare with thee? Most precious and most beloved? O, - that is not a tithe of it! Idol? Darling? Sweet? Pretty words, but - insufficient. Ah! life of my life, there are no superlatives in - language that can interpret to thee the unspeakable affection which - swells in my heart and moistens my eyes as I commence this letter! Can - we by words give an idea of a melody? No more can I put on paper what - my heart would be whispering to thine. Forgive the effort and the - failure. - - “I have the freedom of the upper story of the house, and my room is - where you saw the scarf. Two strong negro women, with sinister faces, - and employed as seamstresses, watch me every time I cross the - threshold. At night I am locked in. The windows, as you may see, are - always secured by iron bars. - - “Ratcliff hopes to subdue me by slow approaches. O, the unutterable - loathing which he inspires! He has placed impure books in my way. He - sends me the daintiest food and wines. I confine myself to bread, - vegetables, and cream. He cannot drug me without my knowledge. Twice - and sometimes three times a day he visits me, and, finding me firm in - my resolve, retires with a self-satisfied air which maddens me. He - evidently believes in my final submission. No! Sooner, death! on my - knees I swear it. - - “Yesterday he sent splendid dresses, laces, jewels, diamonds. He - offers me a carriage, an establishment, and to settle on me enough to - make me secure for the future. How he magnifies my hate by all these - despicable baits! - - “Sweet, be very prudent. While steadily maintaining towards this - wretch, whom the law calls my master, the demeanor that may best - assure him of my steadfast resolve, I take care not to arouse his - anger; for I know what you want is opportunity. He may any time be - called off suddenly to New Orleans. Be wary. Tell me what you propose. - A string shall be let down from my window to-morrow night at ten by - stealth, for I am watched. God keep thee, my husband, my beloved! How - I shudder at thought of all thy dangers! Be sure, O William, tender - and true, my heart will hold eternally one only image. Adieu! - - ESTELLE.” - -The next night I put her in possession of a rope and a boy’s dress, also -of two files, with directions for filing apart the iron bars. I saw it -would not be difficult to enable her to get out of the house. The -dreadful question was, How shall we escape the search which will at once -be made? For a week we exchanged letters. At last she wrote me that -Ratcliff would the next day leave for New Orleans for his wife. I wrote -to Estelle to be ready the ensuing night, and on a signal from me to let -herself down by the rope. - -These plans were successfully carried out. Disguised as a laboring boy, -Estelle let herself down to the ground. Once more we clasped each other -heart to heart. I had selected a moonless night for the escape. In order -to baffle the scent of the bloodhounds that would be put on our track, I -took to the river. In a canoe I paddled down stream some fifteen miles -till daylight. There, at a little bend called La Coude, we stopped. It -now occurred to me that our safest plan would be to take the next boat -up the river, and return on our course instead of keeping on to the -Mississippi. Our pursuers would probably look for us in any direction -but that. - -The Rigolette was the first boat that stopped. We went on board, and the -first person we encountered was Ratcliff! He was returning, having -learnt at the outset of his journey that his wife had left New Orleans -the day before. Estelle was thrown off her guard by the suddenness of -the meeting, and uttered a short, sharp cry of dismay which betrayed -her. Poor child! She was little skilled in feigning. Ratcliff walked up -to her and removed her hat. - -I had seen men in a rage, but never had I witnessed such an infuriated -expression as that which Ratcliff’s features now exhibited. It was -wolfish, beastly, in its ferocity. His smooth pink face grew livid. -Seizing Estelle roughly by the arm, he—whatever he was about to do, the -operation was cut short by a blow from my fist between his eyes which -felled him senseless on the deck. - -The spectacle of a rich planter knocked down by an Irishman was not a -common one on board the Rigolette. We were taken in custody, Estelle and -I, and confined together in a state-room. - -Ratcliff was badly stunned, but cold water and brandy at length restored -him. At Lorain the boat stopped till Van Buskirk and half a dozen low -whites, his creatures and hangers-on, could be summoned to take me in -charge. Ratcliff now recognized me as his acquaintance of the theatre, -and a new paroxysm of fury convulsed his features. I was searched, -deprived of my money, then handcuffed; then shackled by the legs, so -that I could only move by taking short steps. Estelle’s arms were -pinioned behind her, and in that state she was forced into an open -vehicle and conveyed to the house. - -I was placed in an outbuilding near the stable, a sort of dungeon for -refractory slaves. It was lighted from the roof, was unfloored, and -contained neither chair nor log on which to sit. For two days and nights -neither food nor drink was brought to me. With great difficulty, on -account of my chain, I managed to get at a small piece of biscuit in my -coat-pocket. This I ate, and, as the rain dripped through the roof, I -was enabled to quench my thirst. - -On the third day two men led me out to an adjoining building, and -down-stairs into a cellar. As we entered, the first object I beheld sent -such a shock of horror to my heart that I wonder how I survived it. Tied -to a post, and stripped naked to her hips, her head drooping, her breast -heaving, her back scored by the lash and bleeding, stood Estelle. Near -by, leaning on a cotton-bale, was Ratcliff smoking a cigar. Seated on a -block, his back resting against the wall, with one leg over the other, -was a white man, holding a cowskin, and apparently resting from his -arduous labors as woman-whipper. Forgetting my shackles, and uttering -some inarticulate cry of anguish, I strove to rush upon Ratcliff, but -fell to the ground, exciting his derision and that of his creatures, the -miserable “mean” whites, the essence of whose manhood familiarity with -slavery had unmoulded till they had become bestial in their feelings. - -Estelle, roused by my voice, turned on me eyes lighted up by an -affection which no bodily agony could for one moment enfeeble, and said, -gaspingly: “My own husband! You see I keep my oath!” - -“Husband indeed! We’ll see about that,” sneered Ratcliff. “Fool! do you -imagine that a marriage contracted by a slave without the consent of the -master has any validity, moral or legal?” - -I turned to him, and uttered—I know not what. The frenzy which seized me -lifted me out of my normal state of thought, and by no effort of -reminiscence have I ever since been able to recall what I said. - -I only remember that Ratcliff, with mock applause, clapped his hands and -cried, “Capital!” Then, lighting a fresh cigar, he remarked: “There is -yet one little ceremony more to be gone through with. Bring in the -bridegroom.” - -What new atrocity was this? - -A moment afterwards a young, lusty, stout, and not ill-looking negro, -fantastically dressed, was led in with mock ceremony, by one of the mean -whites, a whiskey-wasted creature named Lovell. I looked eagerly in the -face of the negro, who bowed and smirked in a manner to excite roars of -laughter on the part of Ratcliff and his minions. - -“Well, boy, are you ready to take her for better or for worse?” asked -the haughty planter. - -The negro bowed obsequiously, and, jerking off his hat, scratched his -wool, and, with a laugh, replied: “’Scuze me, massa, but dis nigger -can’t see his wife dat is to be ’xposed in dis onhan’some mahnner to de -eyes of de profane. If Massa Ratcliff hab no ’jection, I’ll jes’ put de -shawl on de bride’s back. Yah, yah, yah!” - -“O, make yourself as gallant as you please now,” said the planter, -laughing. “Let’s see you begin to play the bridegroom.” - -Gracious heavens! Was I right in my surmises? Under all his harlequin -grimaces and foolery, this negro, to my quickened penetration, seemed to -be crowding back, smothering, disguising, some intense emotion. His -laugh was so extravagantly African, that it struck me as imitative in -its exaggeration. I had heard a laugh much like it from the late Jim -Crow Rice on the stage. Was the negro playing a part? - -He approached Estelle, cut the thongs that bound her to the post, threw -her shawl over her shoulders, and then, falling on one knee, put both -hands on his heart, and rolled up his eyes much after the manner of -Bombastes Furioso making love to Distaffina. The Ratcliffites were in -ecstasies at the burlesque. Then, rising to his feet, the negro -affectedly drew nearer to Estelle, and, putting up his hand, whispered, -first in one of her ears, then in the other. I could see a change, -sudden, but instantly checked, in her whole manner. Her lips moved. She -must have murmured something in reply. - -“Look here, Peek, you rascal,” cried Ratcliff, “we must have the benefit -of your soft words. What have you been saying to her?” - -“I’ze been tellin’ her,” said the negro, with tragic gesticulation, -pointing to himself and then at me, “to look fust on dis yere pikter, -den on dat. Wheugh!” - -Still affecting the buffoon, he came up to me, presenting his person so -that his face was visible only to myself. There was a divine pity in his -eyes, and in the whole expression of his face the guaranty of a high and -holy resolve. “She will trust me,” he whispered. “Do you the same.” - -To the spectators he appeared to be mocking me with grimace. To me he -seemed an angel of deliverance. - -“Now, Peek, to business!” said Ratcliff. “You swear, do you, to make -this woman your wife in fact as well as in name; do you understand me, -Peek?” - -“Yes, massa, I understan’.” - -“You swear to guard her well, and never to let that white scoundrel -yonder come near or touch her?” - -“Yes, massa, I swar ter all dat, an’ ebber so much more. He’ll kotch -what he can’t carry if he goes fur to come nare my wife.” - -“Kiss the book on it,” said Ratcliff, handing him a Bible. - -“Yes, massa, as many books as you please,” replied Peek, doing as he was -bidden. - -“Then, by my authority as owner of you two slaves, and as justice of the -peace, I pronounce you, in presence of these witnesses, man and wife,” -said Ratcliff. “Why the hell, Peek, don’t you kiss the bride?” - -“O, you jes’ leeb dis chile alone for dat air, Massa Ratcliff,” replied -the negro; and, concealing his mouth by both hands, he simulated a kiss. - -“Now attend to Mrs. Peek while another little ceremony takes place,” -said Ratcliff. - -At a given signal I was stripped of my coat, waistcoat, and shirt, then -dragged to the whipping-post, and bound to it. I could see Estelle, her -face of a mortal paleness, her body writhing as if in an agony. The -first lash that descended on my bare flesh seemed to rive her very -heart-strings, for she uttered a loud shriek, and was borne out -senseless in the negro’s arms. - -“All right!” said Ratcliff. “We shall soon have half a dozen little -Peeks toddling about. Proceed. Vickery.” - -A hundred lashes, each tearing or laying bare the flesh, were inflicted; -but after the first, all sensibility to pain was lost in the intensity -of my emotions. Had I been changed into a statue of bronze I could not -have been more impenetrable to pain. - -“Now, sir,” said the slave lord, coming up to me, “you see what it is to -cross the path of Carberry Ratcliff. The next time you venture on it, -you won’t get off so easy.” - -Then, turning to Vickery, he said: “I promised the boys they should have -a frolic with him, and see him safely launched. They have been longing -for a shy at an Abolitionist. So unshackle him, and let him slide.” - -My handcuffs and shackles were taken off. My first impulse on being -freed, was to spring upon Ratcliff and strangle him. I could have done -it. Though I stood in a pool of my own blood, a preternatural energy -filled my veins, and I stepped forth as if just refreshed by sleep. But -the thought of Estelle checked the vindictive impulse. A rope was now -put about my neck, so that the two ends could be held by my conductors. -In this state I was led up-stairs out of the building, and beyond the -immediate enclosure of the grounds about the house to a sort of trivium, -where some fifty or sixty “mean whites” and a troop of boys of all -colors were assembled round a tent in which a negro was dealing out -whiskey gratis to the company. Near by stood a kettle sending forth a -strong odor of boiling tar. A large sack, the gaping mouth of which -showed it was filled with feathers, lay on the ground. - -There was a yell of delight from the assembly as soon as I appeared. -Half naked as I was, I was dragged forward into their midst, and tied to -a tree near the kettle. I could see, at a distance of about a quarter of -a mile, Ratcliff promenading his piazza. - -There was a dispute among the “chivalry” whether I should be stripped of -the only remaining article of dress, my pantaloons, before being “fitted -to a new suit.” The consideration that there might be ladies among the -distant spectators finally operated in my favor. A brush, similar to -that used in whitewashing, was now thrust into the bituminous liquid; -and an illustration of one of “our institutions, sir,” was entered upon -with enthusiasm. Lovell was the chief operator. The brush was first -thrust into my face till eyelids, eyebrows, and hair were glued by the -nauseous adhesion. Then it was vigorously applied to the bleeding seams -on my back, and the intolerable anguish almost made me faint. My entire -person at length being thickly smeared, the bag of feathers was lifted -over me by two men and its contents poured out over the tarred surface. - -I will not pain you, my friends, by suggesting to your imagination all -that there is of horrible, agonizing, and disgusting in this operation, -which men, converted into fiends by the hardening influences of slavery, -have inflicted on so many hundreds of imprudent or suspected persons -from the Northern States. I see in it all now, so far as I was -concerned, a Providential martyrdom to awake me to a sense of what -slavery does for the education of white men. - -O, ye palliators of the “institution”!—Northern men with Southern -principles,—ministers of religion who search the Scriptures to find -excuses for the Devil’s own work,—and ye who think that any system under -which money is made must be right, and of God’s appointment,—who hate -any agitation which is likely to diminish the dividends from your -cotton-mills or the snug profits from your Southern trade,—come and -learn what it is to be tarred and feathered for profaning, by thought or -act, or by suspected thought or act, that holy of holies called slavery! - -After the feathers had been applied, a wag among my tormentors fixed to -my neck and arms pieces of an old sheet stretched on whalebone to -imitate a pair of wings. This spectacle afforded to the spectators the -climax of their exhilaration and delight. I was then led by a rope to -the river’s side and put on an old rickety raft where I had to use -constant vigilance to keep the loose planks from disparting. Two men in -a boat towed me out into the middle of the stream, and then, amid mock -cheers, I was left to drift down with the current or drown, just as the -chances might hold in regard to my strength. - -Two thoughts sustained me; one Estelle, the other Ratcliff. But for -these, with all my youth and power of endurance, I should have sunk and -died under my sufferings. For nearly an hour I remained within sight of -the mocking, hooting crowd, who were especially amused at my efforts to -save myself from immersion by keeping the pieces of my raft together. At -length it was floated against a shallow where some brushwood and loose -sticks had formed a sort of dam. The sun was sinking through wild, -ragged clouds in the west. My tormentors had all gradually disappeared. -For the last thirty-six hours I had eaten nothing but a cracker. My eyes -were clogged with tar. My efforts in keeping the raft together had been -exhaustive. No sooner was I in a place of seeming safety than my -strength failed me all at once. I could no longer sit upright. The wind -freshened and the waves poured over me, almost drowning me at times. -Thicker vapors began to darken the sky. A storm was rising. Night came -down frowningly. The planks slipped from under me. I could not lift an -arm to stop them. I tried to seize the brushwood heaped on the sand-bar, -but it was easily detached, and offered me no security. I seemed to be -sinking in the ooze of the river’s bottom. The spray swept over me in -ever-increasing volume. I was on the verge of unconsciousness. - -Suddenly I roused myself, and grasped the last plank of my raft. I had -heard a cry. I listened. The cry was repeated,—a loud halloo, as if from -some one afloat in an approaching skiff. I could see nothing, but I -lifted my head as well as I could, and cried out, “Here!” Again the -halloo, and this time it sounded nearer. I threw my whole strength into -one loud shriek of “Here!” and then sank exhausted. A rush of waves -swept over me, and my consciousness was suspended. - - ---------- - -When I came to my senses, I lay on a small cot-bedstead in a hut. A -negro, whom I at once recognized as the man called Peek, was rubbing my -face and limbs with oil and soap. A smell of alcohol and other volatile -liquids pervaded the apartment. Much of my hair had been cut off in the -effort to rid it of the tar. - -“Estelle,—where is she?” were my first words. - -“You shall see her soon,” replied the negro. “But you must get a little -strength first.” - -He spoke in the tones, and used the language, of an educated person. He -brought me a little broth and rice, which I swallowed eagerly. I tried -to rise, but the pain from the gashes left by the scourge on my back was -excruciating. - -“Take me to my wife,” I murmured. - -He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the open door of an adjoining -cabin. Here on a mattress lay Estelle. A colored woman of remarkable -aspect, and with straight black hair, was kneeling by her side. This -woman Peek addressed as Esha. The little plain gold cross which Estelle -used to wear on the ribbon round her neck was now made to serve as the -emblem of one of the last sacraments of her religion. At her request, -Esha held it, pinned to the ribbon, before her eyes. On a rude table -near by, two candles were burning. Estelle’s hands were clasped upon her -bosom, and she lay intently regarding the cross, while her lips moved in -prayer. - -“Try to lib, darlin’,” interrupted Esha; “try to lib,—dat’s a good -darlin’! Only try, an’ yer kn do it easy.” - -Estelle took the little cross in her hand and kissed it, then said to -Esha, “Give this, with a lock of my hair, to—” - -Before she could pronounce my name, I rallied my strength, and, with an -irrepressible cry of grief, quitted Peek’s support, and rushed to her -side. I spoke her name. I took her dear head in my hands. She turned on -me eyes beaming with an immortal affection. A celestial smile irradiated -her face. Her lips pouted as if pleading for a kiss. I obeyed the -invitation, and she acknowledged my compliance by an affirmative motion -of the head; a motion that was playful even in that supreme moment. - -“My own darling!” she murmured; “I knew you would come. O my poor, -suffering darling!” - -Then, with a sudden effort, she threw her arms about my neck, and, -drawing me closer down to her bosom, said, in sweet, low tones of -tenderness: “Love me still as among the living. I do not die. The body -dies. I do not die. Love cannot die. Who believes in death, never loved. -You may not see _me_, but I shall see _you_. So be a good boy. Do good -to all. Love all; so shall you love me the better. I do not part with my -love. I take it where it will grow and grow, so as to be all the more -fit to welcome my darling. Carrying my love, I carry my heaven with me. -It would not be heaven without my love. I have been with my father and -mother. So beautiful they are! And such music I have heard! There! Lay -your cheek on my bare bosom. So! You do not hurt me. Closer! closer! -_Carissime Jesu, nunc libera me!_”[19] - -Thus murmuring a line from a Latin poem which she had learnt in the -convent where her childhood was passed, her pure spirit, without a -struggle or a throe of pain, disentangled itself from its lovely mortal -mould, and rose into the purer ether of the immortal life. - - ---------- - -I afterwards learnt that Ratcliff, finding Estelle inexorable in her -rejection of his foul proffers, was wrought to such a pitch of rage that -he swore, unless she relented, she should be married to a negro slave. -He told her he had a smart nigger he had recently bought in New Orleans, -a fellow named Peek, who should be her husband. Goaded to desperation by -his infamous threats, Estelle had replied, “Better even a negro than a -Ratcliff!” This reply had stung him to a degree that was quite -intolerable. - -To be not only thwarted by a female slave, but insulted,—he, a South -Carolinian, a man born to command,—a man with such a figure and such a -face rejected for a strolling actor,—a vagabond, a fellow, too, who had -knocked him down,—what slave-owner would tamely submit to such -mortification! He brooded on the insult till his cruel purpose took -shape and consistency in his mind; and it was finally carried out in the -way I have described. - -It may seem almost incredible to you who are from the North, that any -man not insane should be guilty of such atrocities. But Mr. Onslow need -not be told that slavery educates men—men, too, of a certain -refinement—to deeds even more cowardly and fiendish. Do not imagine that -the tyrant who would not scruple to put a black skin under the lash, -would hesitate in regard to a white; and the note-book of many an -overseer will show that of the whippings inflicted under slavery, more -than one third are of women.[20] - -For three weeks I was under Peek’s care. Thanks to his tenderness and -zeal, my wounds were healed, my strength was restored. Early in December -I parted from him and returned to New Orleans. I went to my old friends, -the Leroux. They did not recognize me at first, so wasted was I by -suffering. Madame forgot her own troubles in mine, and welcomed me with -a mother’s affection. The grandchildren subdued their riotous mirth, and -trod softly lest they should disturb me. The old Captain wept and raved -over my story, and uttered more _sacr-r-r-rés_ in a given time than I -supposed even a Frenchman’s volubility could accomplish. I bade these -kind friends good by, and went northward. - -In Cincinnati and other cities I resumed my old vocation as a -play-actor. In two years, having laid up twenty-five hundred dollars, I -returned to the Red River country to secure the freedom of the slave to -whom I owed my life. He had changed masters. It had got to Ratcliff’s -ears that Peek had cheated him in sparing Estelle and rescuing me. He -questioned Peek on the subject. Peek, throwing aside all his habitual -caution, had declared, in regard to Estelle, that if she had been the -Virgin Mary he could not have treated her with more reverence; that he -had saved my life, and restored me to her arms. Then, shaking his fist -at Ratcliff, he denounced him as a murderer and a coward. The result -was, that Peek, after having been put through such a scourging as few -men could endure and survive, had been sold to a Mr. Barnwell in Texas. - -I followed Peek to his new abode, and proposed either to buy and free -him, or to aid him to escape. He bade me save my money for those who -could not help themselves. He meant to be free, but did not mean to pay -for that which was his by right. At that time he was investigating -certain strange occurrences produced by some invisible agency that -claimed to be spiritual. He must remain where he was a while longer. I -was under no serious obligations to him, he said. He had simply done his -duty. - -We parted. I tried to find the woman Esha, who had been kind to my wife, -but she had been sold no one knew to whom. I went to New Orleans, and -assuming, by legislative permission, the name of William Vance, I -entered into cotton speculations. - -My features had been so changed by suffering, that few recognized me. My -operations were bold and successful. In four years I had accumulated a -little fortune. Occasionally I would meet Ratcliff. Once I had him -completely in my power. He was in the passage-way leading to my office. -I could have dragged him in and—— - -No! The revenge seemed too poor and narrow. I craved something huge and -general. The mere punishing of an _individual_ was too puny an -expenditure of my hoarded vengeance. But to strike at the “institution” -which had spawned this and similar monsters, that would be some small -satisfaction. - -Closing up my affairs in New Orleans, I entered upon that career which -has gained me such notoriety in the Southwest. I have run off many -thousand slaves, worth in the aggregate many millions of dollars. My -theatrical experience has made me a daring expert in disguising myself. -At one time I am a mulatto with a gash across my face; at another time, -an old man; at another, a mean whiskey-swilling hanger-on of the -chivalry. My task is only just begun. It is not till we have given -slavery its immedicable wound, or rather till it has itself committed -suicide in the house of its friends, that I shall be ready to say, _Nunc -dimittas, domi-ne!_[21] - - - CHAPTER XIII. - FIRE UP! - -“What is the end and essence of life? It is to expand all our faculties -and affections. It is to grow, to gain by exercise new energy, new -intellect, new love. It is to hope, to strive, to bring out what is -within us, to press towards what is above us. In other words, it is to -be Free. Slavery is thus at war with the true life of human -nature.”—_Channing._ - - -At the conclusion of Vance’s narrative, Mr. Onslow rose, shook him by -the hand, and walked away without making a remark. - -Mrs. Berwick showed her appreciation by her tears. - -“What a pity,” said her husband, “that so fine a fellow as Peek did not -accept your proposal to free him!” - -“Peek freed himself,” replied Vance. “He escaped to Canada, married, -settled in New York, and was living happily, when a few days ago, rather -than go before a United States Commissioner, he surrendered himself to -that representative of the master race, Colonel Delancy Hyde, to whom -you have had the honor to be introduced. Peek is now on board this boat, -and handcuffed, lest he should jump overboard and swim ashore. If you -will walk forward, I will show him to you.” - -Greatly surprised and interested, the Berwicks followed Vance to the -railing, and looked down on Peek as he reclined in the sunshine reading -a newspaper. - -“But he must be freed. I will buy him,” said Berwick. - -“Don’t trouble yourself.” returned Vance. “Peek will be free without -money and without price, and he knows it. Those iron wristbands you see -are already filed apart.” - -“Are there many such as he among the negroes?” - -“Not many, I fear, either among blacks or whites,” replied Vance. “But, -considering their social deprivations, there are more good men and true -among the negroes—ay, among the slaves—than you of the North imagine. -Your ideal of the negro is what you derive from the Ethiopian minstrels -and from the books and plays written to ridicule him. His type is a low, -ignorant trifler and buffoon, unfit to be other than a slave or an -outcast. Thus, by your injurious estimate, you lend yourselves to the -support and justification of slavery.” - -“Would you admit the black to a social equality?” - -“I would admit him,” replied Vance, “to all the civil rights of the -white. There are many men whom I am willing to acknowledge my equals, -whose society I may not covet. That does not at all affect the question -of their rights. Let us give the black man a fair field. Let us not -begin by declaring his inferiority in capacity, and then anxiously -strive to prevent his finding a chance to prove our declaration untrue.” - -“But would you favor the amalgamation of the races?” - -“That is a question for physiologists; or, perhaps, for individual -instincts. Probably if all the slaves were emancipated in all the Cotton -States, amalgamation would be much less than it is now. The French -Quadroons are handsome and healthy, and are believed to be more vigorous -than either of the parent races from which they are descended.” - -“Many of the most strenuous opponents of emancipation base their -objections on their fears of amalgamation.” - -“To which,” replied Vance, “I will reply in these words of one of your -Northern divines, ‘_What a strange reason for oppressing a race of -fellow-beings, that if we restore them to their rights we shall marry -them!_’ Many of these men who cry out the loudest against amalgamation -keep colored mistresses, and practically confute their own protests. To -marriage, but not to concubinage, they object.” - -“I see no way for emancipation,” said Berwick, “except through the -consent of the Slave States.” - -“God will find a way,” returned Vance. “He infatuates before he -destroys; and the infatuation which foreruns destruction has seized upon -the leading men of the South. Plagiarizing from Satan, they have said to -slavery, ‘Evil, be thou our good!’ They are bent on having a Southern -Confederacy with power to extend slavery through Mexico into Central -America. That can never be attempted without civil war, and civil war -will be the end of slavery.” - -“Would you not,” asked Berwick, “compensate those masters who are -willing to emancipate their slaves?” - -“I deny,” said Vance, “that property in slaves can morally exist. No -decision of the State can absolve me from the moral law. It is a sham -and a lie to say that man can hold property in man. The right to make -the black man a slave implies the right to make you or me a slave. No -legislation can make such a claim valid. No vote of a majority can make -an act of tyranny right,—can convert an innocent man into a chattel. All -the world may cry out it is right, but they cannot make it so. The -slaveholder, in emancipating his slave, merely surrenders what is not -his own. I would be as liberal to him in the way of encouragement as the -public means would justify. But the loss of the planter from -emancipation is greatly over estimated. His land would soon double in -value by the act; and the colored freedmen would be on the soil, -candidates for wages, and with incentives to labor they never had -before.” - -The bell for dinner broke in upon the conversation. It was not till -evening that the parties met again on the upper deck. - -“I have been talking with Peek,” said Berwick, “and to my dismay I find -he was betrayed by the husband of my step-mother. You must help me -cancel this infernal wrong.” - -“I have laid my plans for taking all these negroes ashore at midnight at -our next stopping-place,” replied Vance. “I am to personate their owner. -The keepers of the boat, who have seen me so much with Hyde, will offer -no opposition. He is already so drunk that we have had to put him to -bed. He begged me to look after his niggers. Whiskey had made him -sentimental. He wept maudlin tears, and wanted to kiss me.” - -“Here’s a check,” said Berwick, “for twenty-five hundred dollars. Give -it to Peek the moment he is free.” - -Vance placed it in a small water-proof wallet. - -What’s the matter? - -A rush and a commotion on the deck! Captain Crane left the wheel-house, -and jumped over the railing down to the lower deck forward, his mouth -bubbling and foaming with oaths. - -There had been a slackening of the fires, and the Champion was all at -once found to be fast gaining on the Pontiac. - -“Fire up!” yelled the Captain. “Pile on the turpentine splinters. Bring -up the rosin. Blast yer all for a set of cowardly cusses! I’m bound to -land yer either in Helena or hell, ahead of the Champion.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - WAITING FOR THE SUMMONER. - - “So every spirit, as it is more pure, - And hath in it the more of heavenly light, - So it the fairer body doth procure, - To habit in, and it more fairly dight - With cheerful grace and amiable sight. - For of the soul the body form doth take, - For soul is form, and doth the body make.” - _Edmund Spenser._ - - -In the best chamber of the house of Pierre Toussaint in Franklin Street, -looking out on blossoming grape-vines and a nectarine-tree in the area, -sat Mrs. Charlton in an arm-chair, and propped by pillows. Her wasted -features showed that disease had made rapid progress since the glance we -had of her in the mirror. - -A knock at the door was followed by the entrance of Toussaint. - -“Well, Toussaint, what’s the news to-day?” asked the invalid. - -Toussaint replied in French: “I do not find much of new in the morning -papers, madame. Is madame ready for her breakfast?” - -“Yes, any time now. I see my little Lulu is washing himself.” - -Lulu was the canary-bird. Toussaint quitted the room and returned in a -few minutes, bringing in a tray, spread with the whitest of napkins, and -holding a silver urn of boiling water, a pitcher of cream, and two -little shining pots, one filled with coffee, the other with tea. The -viands were a small roll, with butter, an omelette, and a piece of -fresh-broiled salmon. - -“Sit down and talk with me, Toussaint, while I eat,” said the invalid. -“Have you seen my husband lately?” - -“Not, madame, since he called to recover the box.” - -“Has he sent to make inquiry in regard to my health?” - -“Not once, to my knowledge.” - -“I cannot reconcile my husband’s indifference with his fondness for -money. He must know that my death will deprive him of twelve hundred a -year. How do you account for it, Toussaint?” - -“Pardon me, madame, but I would rather not say.” - -“And why not?” - -“My surmise may be uncharitable, or it might give you pain.” - -“Do not fear that, Toussaint. I have surrendered what they say is the -last thing a woman surrenders,—all personal vanity. So speak freely.” - -“Mr. Charlton is young and good-looking, madame, and he is probably well -aware that, in the event of his being left a widower, it would not be -difficult for him to form a marriage connection that would bring him a -much larger income than that you supply.” - -“Nothing more likely, Toussaint. How strange that I can talk of these -things so calmly,—eating my breakfast, thus! They say that a woman who -has once truly loved must always love. What do you think, Toussaint?” - -“This, madame, that if we love a thing because we think it good, and -then find, on trial, that it is not good, but very bad, our love cannot -continue the same.” - -“But do we not, in marriage, promise to love, honor, and obey?” - -“Not by the Catholic form, madame. Try to force love, you kill it. It is -like trying to force an appetite. You make yourself sick at the stomach -in the attempt.” - -Here there was a ring at the door-bell, and Toussaint left the room. On -his return he said: “The husband of madame is below. He wishes to speak -with madame.” - -Surprised and disturbed, Mrs. Charlton said, “Take away the breakfast -things.” - -“But madame has not touched the salmon nor the omelette, and only a poor -little bit of the crust of this roll,” murmured Toussaint. - -“I have had enough, my good Toussaint. Take them away, and let Mr. -Charlton come in.” - -Then, as if by way of contradicting what she had said a moment before, -she began smoothing her hair and arranging her shawl. The inconsistency -between her practice and her profession seemed to suggest itself to her -suddenly, for she smiled sadly, and murmured, “After all, I have not -quite outlived my folly!” - -Charlton entered unaccompanied. His manner was that of a man who has a -big scheme in his head, which he is trying to disguise and undervalue. -Moved by an unwonted excitement, he strove to appear calm and -indifferent, but, like a bad actor, he overdid his part. - -“I have come, Emily,” said he, “to ask your pardon for the past.” - -“Indeed! Then you want something. What can I do for you?” - -“You misapprehend me, my dear. Affairs have gone wrong with me of late; -but my prospects are brightening now, and my wish is that you should -have the benefit of the change.” - -“My time for this world’s benefits is likely to be short,” said the -invalid. - -“Not so, my dear! You are looking ten per cent better than when I saw -you last.” - -“My glass tells me you do not speak truly in that. Come, deal frankly -with me. What do you want?” - -“As I was saying, my love,” resumed Charlton, “my business is improving; -but I need a somewhat more extended credit, and you can help me to it.” - -“I thought there was something wanted,” returned the invalid, with a -scornful smile; “but you overrate my ability. How can I help your -credit? The annuity allowed by Mr. Berwick ends with my life. I have no -property, real or personal,—except my canary-bird, and what few clothes -you can find in yonder wardrobe.” - -“But, my dear,” urged Charlton, “many persons imagine that you have -property; and if I could only show them an authenticated instrument -under which you bequeath, in the event of your death, all your estate, -real and personal, to your husband, it would aid me materially in -raising money.” - -“That, sir, would be raising money under false pretences. I shall lend -myself to no such attempt. Why not tell the money-lenders the truth? Why -not tell them your wife has nothing except what she receives from the -charity of her step-son?” - -Enraged at seeing how completely his victim had thrown off his -influence, and at the same time indulging a vague hope that he might -recover it, Charlton’s lips began to work as if he were hesitating -whether to try his old game of browbeating or to adopt a conciliatory -course. A suspicion that the lady was disenchanted, and no longer -subject to any spell he could throw upon her, led him to fall back on -the more prudent policy; and he replied: “I have concealed nothing from -the parties with whom I am negotiating. I have told them the precise -situation of our affairs; but they have urged this contingency: your -wife, it is true, is dependent, but her rich relatives may die and leave -her a bequest. We will give you the money you want, if you will satisfy -us that you are her heir.” - -“You fatigue me,” said the invalid. “You wish me to make a will in your -favor. You have the instruments all drawn up and ready for my signature -in your pocket; and on the opposite side of the street you have three -men in waiting who may serve as witnesses.” - -“But who told you this?” exclaimed Charlton, confounded. - -“Your own brain by its motions told it,” replied the wife. “I am rather -sensitive to impressions, you see. Strike one of the chords of a musical -instrument, and a corresponding chord in its duplicate near by will be -agitated. Your drift is apparent. The allusions under which I have -labored in regard to you have vanished, never, never to return! How I -deferred the moment of final, irrevocable estrangement! How I strove, by -meekness, love, and devotion, to win you to the better choice! How I -shut my eyes to your sordid traits! But now the infatuation is ended. -You are powerless to wound or to move me. The love you spurned has -changed, not to hate, but to indifference. Free to choose between God -and Mammon, you have chosen Mammon, and nothing I can say can make you -reconsider your election.” - -“You do me injustice, my wife, my dearest—” - -“Psha! Do not blaspheme. We understand each other at last. Now to -business. You want me to sign a will in your favor, leaving you all the -property I may be possessed of at the time of my death. Would you know -when that time will be?” - -“Do not speak so, Emily,” said Charlton, in tones meant to be pathetic. - -“It may be an agreeable surprise to you,” continued the invalid, “to -learn that my time in this world will be up the tenth of next month. I -will sign the will, on one condition.” - -“Name it!” said Charlton, eagerly. - -“The condition is, that you pay Toussaint a thousand dollars cash down -as an indemnity for the expense he has been at on my account, and to -cover the costs of my funeral.” - -With difficulty Charlton curbed his rage so far as to be content with -the simple utterance, “Impossible!” - -“Then please go,” said the invalid, taking up a silver bell to ring it. - -“Stop! stop!” cried Charlton. “Give me a minute to consider. Three -hundred dollars will more than cover all the expenses,—medical -attendance, undertaker’s charges,—all. At least, I know an undertaker -who charges less than half what such fellows as Brown of Grace pile on. -Say three hundred dollars.” - -With a smile of indescribable scorn, the invalid touched the bell. - -“Stop! We’ll call it five hundred,” groaned the conveyancer. - -A louder ring by the lady, and the old negro’s step was heard on the -stairs. - -“Seven hundred,—eight hundred: O, I couldn’t possibly afford more than -eight hundred!” said Charlton, in a tone the pathos of which was no -longer feigned. - -The invalid now rang the bell with energy. - -“It shall be a thousand, then!” exclaimed Charlton, just as Toussaint -entered the room. - -“Toussaint,” said the invalid, “Mr. Charlton has a paper he wishes me to -sign. I have promised to do it on his paying you a thousand dollars. -Accept it without demur. Do you understand?” - -Toussaint bowed his assent; and Charlton, leaving the room, returned -with his three witnesses. The sum stipulated was paid to Toussaint, and -the will was duly signed and witnessed. Possessed of the document, -Charlton’s first impulse was to vent his wrath upon his wife; but he -discreetly remembered that, while life remained, it was in her power to -revoke what she had done; so he dismissed his witnesses, and began to -play the fawner once more. But he was checked abruptly. - -“There! you weary me. Go, if you please,” said she. “If I have occasion, -I will send for you.” - -“May I not call daily to see how you are getting on?” whined Charlton. - -“I really don’t see any use in it,” replied the invalid. “If you will -look in the newspapers under the obituary head the eleventh or twelfth -of next month, you will probably get all the information in regard to me -that will be important.” - -“Cruel and unjust!” said the husband. “Have you no forgiveness in your -heart?” - -“Forgiveness? Trampled on, my heart has given out love and duty in the -hope of finding some spot in your own heart which avarice and -self-seeking had not yet petrified. But I despair of doing aught to -change your nature. I must leave you to God and circumstance. Neither -you nor any other offender shall lack my forgiveness, however; for in -that I only give what I supremely need. Farewell.” - -“Good by, since you will not let me try to make amends for the past,” -said Charlton; and he quitted the room. - -Half sorry for her own harshness, and thinking she might have misjudged -her husband’s present feelings, the invalid got Toussaint to help her -into the next room, where she could look through the blinds. No sooner -was Charlton in the street than he drew from his pocket the will, and -walked slowly on as if feasting his eyes on its contents. With a gesture -of exultation, he finally returned the paper to his pocket, and strode -briskly up the street to Broadway. - -“You see!” said the invalid, bitterly. “And I loved that man once! And -there are worthy people who would say I ought to love him still. Love -him? Tell my little Lulu to love a cat or a hawk. How can I love what I -find on testing to be repugnant to my own nature? Tell me, Toussaint, -does God require we should love what we know to be impure, unjust, -cruel?” - -“Ah, madame, the good God, I suppose, would have us love the wicked so -far as to help them to get rid of their wickedness.” - -“But there are some who will not be helped,” said the invalid. “Take the -wickedness out of some persons, and we should deprive them of their very -individuality, and practically annihilate them.” - -“God knows,” replied Toussaint; “time is short, and eternity is -long,—long enough, perhaps, to bleach the filthiest nature, with -Christ’s help.” - -“Right, Toussaint. What claim have I to judge of the capacities for -redemption in a human soul? But there is a terrible mystery to me in -these false conjunctions of man and woman. Why should the loving be -united to the unloving and the brutal?” - -“Simply, madame, because this is earth, and not heaven. In the next life -all masks must be dropped. What will the hypocrite and the impostor do -then? Then the loving will find the loving, and the pure will find the -pure. Then our bodies will be fair or ugly, black or white, according to -our characters.” - -“I believe it!” exclaimed the invalid. “Yes, there is an infinite -compassion over all. God lives, and the soul does not die, and the -mistakes, the infelicities, the shortcomings of this life shall be as -fuel to kindle our aspirations and illumine our path in another stage of -being.” - -Here a clamorous newsboy stopped on the other side of the way to sell a -gentleman an Extra. - -“What is that boy crying?” asked the invalid. - -“A great steamboat accident on the Mississippi,” replied Toussaint. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - WHO SHALL BE HEIR? - - “I care not, Fortune, what you me deny, - You cannot rob me of free Nature’s grace; - You cannot shut the windows of the sky, - Through which Aurora shows her brightening face.” - _Thomson._ - - -When we parted from Mr. Pompilard, he was trying to negotiate a mortgage -for thirty thousand dollars on some real estate belonging to his wife. -This mortgage was effected without recourse to the Berwicks, as was also -a second mortgage of five thousand dollars, which left the property so -encumbered that no further supply could be raised from it. - -The money thus obtained Mr. Pompilard forthwith cast upon the waters of -that great financial maelstrom in Wall Street which swallows so many -fortunes. This time he lost; and our story now finds him and his family -established in the poorer half of a double house, wooden, and of very -humble pretensions, situated in Harlem, some seven or eight miles from -the heart of the great metropolis. Compared with the princely seat he -once occupied on the Hudson, what a poor little den it was! - -A warm, almost sultry noon in May was brooding over the unpaved street. -The peach-trees showed their pink blossoms, and the pear-trees their -white, in the neighboring enclosures. All that Mr. Pompilard could look -out upon in his poor, narrow little area was a clothes-line and a few -tufts of grass with the bald soil interspersed. Yet there in his little -back parlor he sat reading the last new novel. - -Suddenly he heard cries of murder in the other half of his domicil. -Throwing down his book, he went out through the open window, and, -stepping on a little plank walk dignified with the name of a piazza, put -his legs over a low railing and passed into his neighbor’s house. That -neighbor was an Irish tailor of the name of Pat Maloney, a little fellow -with carroty whiskers and features intensely Hibernian. - -On inquiring into the cause of the outcry, Pompilard learned that -Maloney was only “larruping the ould woman with a bit of a leather -strap, yer honor.” Mrs. Maloney excused her husband, protesting that he -was the best fellow in the world, except when he had been drinking, -which was the case that day; “and not a bad excuse for it there was, -your honor, for a band of Irish patriots had landed that blessed -morning, and Pat had only helped wilcom them dacently, which was the -cause of his taking a drap too much.” - -With an air of deference that he might have practised towards a -grand-duchess, Pompilard begged pardon for his intrusion, and passed -out, leaving poor Pat and his wife stunned by the imposing vision. - -No sooner had Pompilard resumed his romance, than the dulcet strains of -a hand-organ under the opposite window solicited his ear. Pompilard was -a patron of hand-organs; he had a theory that they encouraged a taste -for music among the humbler classes. The present organ was rich-toned, -and was giving forth the then popular and always charming melody of -“Love Not.” Pompilard grew sentimental, and put his hand in his pocket -for a quarter of a dollar; but no quarter responded to the touch of his -fingers. He called his wife. - -Enter a small middle-aged lady, dressed in white muslin over a blue -under-robe, with ribbons streaming in all directions. She was followed -by Antoinette, or Netty, as she was generally called, a little -elfish-looking maiden, six or seven years old, with her hands thrust -jauntily into the pockets of her apron, and her bright beady eyes -glancing about as if in search of mischief. - -“Lend me a quarter, my dear, for the organ-man,” said Pompilard. - -“Ah! there you have me at a disadvantage, husband,” said the lady. “Do -you know I don’t believe ten cents could be raised in the whole house?” - -And the lady laughed, as if she regarded the circumstance as an -excellent joke. The child, taking her cue from the mother, screamed with -delight. Then, imitating the sound of a bumble-bee, she made her father -start up, afraid he was going to be stung. This put the climax to her -merriment, and she threw herself on the sofa in a paroxysm. - -“What a little devil it is!” exclaimed Pompilard, proudly smiling on his -offspring. “Is it possible that no one in the house has so much as a -quarter of a dollar? Where are the girls? Girls!” - -His call brought down from up-stairs his two eldest, children of his -first wife,—one, Angelica Ireton, a widow, whose perplexity was how to -prevent herself from becoming fat, for she was already fair and forty; -the other, Melissa (by Netty nicknamed Molasses), a sentimentalist of -twenty-five, affianced, since her father’s last financial downfall, to -Mr. Cecil Purling, a gentleman five years her senior, who labored under -the delusion that he was born to be an author, and who kept on ruining -publishers by writing the most ingeniously unsalable books. Angelica had -a son with the army in Mexico, and two little girls, Julia and Mary, -older than Netty, but over whom she exercised absolute authority by -keeping them constantly informed that she was their aunt. - -Angelica was found to have in her purse the sum required for the -organ-man. Pompilard took it, and started for the door, when a prolonged -feline cry made him suppose he had trodden on the kitten. “Poor Puss!” -he exclaimed; “where the deuce are you?” He looked under the sofa, and -an outburst of impish laughter told him he had been tricked a second -time by his little girl. - -“That child will be kidnapped yet by the circus people,” said Pompilard, -complacently. “Where did she learn all these accomplishments?” - -“Of the children in the next house, I believe,” said Mrs. Pompilard; “or -else of the sailors on the river, for she is constantly at the -water-side watching the vessels, and trying to make pictures of them.” - -Pompilard went to the door, paid the organ-grinder, and re-entered the -room with an “Extra” which the grateful itinerant had presented to him. - -“What have we here?” said Pompilard; and he read from the paper the -announcement of a terrible steamboat accident, which had occurred on the -night of the Wednesday previous, on the Mississippi. - -“This is very surprising,—very surprising indeed,” he exclaimed. “My -dear, it appears from—” - -The noise of a dog yelping, as if his leg had been suddenly broken by a -stone, here interrupted him. He rushed to the window. No dog was there. - -“Will that little goblin never be out of mischief? Take her away, -Molasses,” said the secretly delighted father. Then, resuming his seat, -he continued: “It appears from this account, wife, that among the -passengers killed by this great steamboat explosion were your niece -Leonora Berwick, her husband, and child. Did she have more than one -child?” - -“Not that I know of,” said Mrs. Pompilard. “Is poor Leonora blown up? -That is very hard indeed. But I never set eyes on her,—though I have her -photograph,—and I shall not pretend to grieve for one I never saw. My -poor brother could never get over our elopement, you wicked Albert.” - -“Your poor brother thought I was cheating you, when I said I loved you -to distraction. Now put your hand on your heart, Mrs. Pompilard, and -say, if you can, that I haven’t proved every day of my life that I fell -short of the truth in my professions.” - -“I sha’n’t complain,” replied the lady, smiling; “but we were shockingly -imprudent, both of us; and I tell Netty I shall disown her if she ever -elopes.” - -“Of course Netty mustn’t take our example as a precedent.” - -Buoyed up on her husband’s ever-sanguine and cheerful temperament, Mrs. -Pompilard had looked upon their fluctuations from wealth to poverty as -so many piquant variations in their way of life. This moving into a -little mean house in Harlem,—what was it, after all, but playing poor? -It would be only temporary, and was a very good joke while it lasted. -Albert would soon have his palace on the Fifth Avenue once more. There -was no doubt of it. - -And so Mrs. Pompilard made the best of the present moment. Her -step-daughters (she was the junior of one of them) used to treat her as -they might a spoiled child, taking her in their laps, and petting her, -and often rocking her to sleep. - -The news Pompilard had been reading suggested to him a not improbable -contingency, but he exhibited the calmness of the experienced gambler in -considering it. - -“My dear,” said he, “if this news is true, it is not out of the range of -possibilities that the extinction of this Berwick family may leave you -the inheritrix of a million of dollars.” - -“That would be quite delightful,” exclaimed Mrs. Pompilard; “for then -that poor pining Purling could marry Melissa at once. Not that I wish my -niece and her husband any harm. O no!” - -“Yes, it wouldn’t be an ill wind for Purling and Melissa, that’s a -fact,” said Pompilard. “The chances stand thus: If the mother died the -last of the three, the property comes to you as her nearest heir. If the -child died last, at least half, and perhaps all the property, must come -to you. If the child died first (which is most probable), and then the -father and the mother, or the mother and the father, still the property -comes to you. If the father died first, then the child, and then the -mother, the property comes to you. But if the mother died first, then -the child, and then the father, the money all goes to Mrs. Charlton, by -virtue of her kinship as aunt and nearest relative to Mr. Berwick. So -you see the chances are largely in your favor. If the report is true -that the family are all lost, I would bet fifteen thousand to five that -you inherit the property. I shall go to the city to-morrow, and perhaps -by that time we shall have further particulars.” - -Pompilard then plunged anew into his novel, and the wife returned to her -task of trimming a bonnet, intended as a wedding present to a girl who -had once been in her service, and who was now to occupy one of the -houses opposite. - -The next day, Pompilard, fresh, juvenile, and debonair, descended from -the Harlem cars at Chambers Street, and strolled down Broadway, swinging -his cane, and humming the Druidical chorus from Norma. Encountering -Charlton walking in the same direction, he joined him with a “Good -morning.” Charlton turned, and, seeing Pompilard jubilant, drew from the -spectacle an augury unfavorable to his own prospects. “Has the old -fellow had private advices?” thought he. - -Pompilard spoke of the opera, of Maretzek, the Dusseldorf gallery, and -the Rochester rappings. At length Charlton interposed with an allusion -to the great steamboat disaster. Pompilard seemed to dodge the subject; -and this drove Charlton to the direct interrogatory, “Have you had any -information in addition to what the newspapers give?” - -“O nothing,—that is, nothing of consequence,” said Pompilard. “Did you -hear Grisi last night?” - -“It appears,” resumed Charlton, “that your wife’s niece, Mrs. Berwick, -was killed outright, that the child was subsequently drowned, and that -Mr. Berwick survived till the next day at noon.” - -“Nothing more likely!” replied Pompilard, who had not yet seen the -morning papers. - -“Do you know any of the survivors?” asked Charlton, - -“I haven’t examined the list yet,” said Pompilard. - -And they parted at the head of Fulton Street. - -Charlton built his hopes largely on the fact that Colonel Delancy Hyde -was among the survivors. If, fortunately, the Colonel’s memory should -serve him the right way, he might turn out a very useful witness. At any -rate, he (Charlton) would communicate with him by letter forthwith. - -In one of the reports in the Memphis Avalanche, telegraphed to the -morning papers, was the following extract:— - - “Judge Onslow, late of Mississippi, and his son saved themselves by - swimming. Among the bodies they identified was that of Mrs. Berwick of - New York, wounded in the head. From the nature of the wound, her death - must have been instantaneous. Her husband was badly scalded, and, on - recognizing the body of his wife, and learning that his child was - among the drowned, he became deeply agitated. He lingered till the - next day at noon. The child had been in the keeping of a mulatto - nurse. Mr. Burgess of St. Louis, who was saved, saw them both go - overboard. It appears, however, that the nurse, with her charge in her - arms, was seen holding on to a life-preserving stool; but they were - both drowned, though every effort was made by Colonel Hyde, aided by - Mr. Quattles of South Carolina, to save them. - - “We regret to learn that Colonel Hyde is a large loser in slaves. One - of these, a valuable negro, named Peek, is probably drowned, as he was - handcuffed to prevent his escape. The other slaves may have perished, - or may have made tracks for the underground railroad to Canada. The - report that Mr. Vance of New Orleans was lost proves to be untrue. The - night was dark, though not cloudy. The river is very deep, and the - current rapid at the place of the explosion (a few miles above - Helena), and it is feared that many persons have been drowned whose - bodies it will be impossible to recover.” - -Pompilard read this account, and felt a million of dollars slipping away -from his grasp. But not a muscle of his face betrayed emotion. -Impenetrable fatalist, he still had faith in the culmination of his -star. - -“We must wait for further particulars,” thought Pompilard; “there is -hope still”; and, stopping at a stall to buy the new novel of “Monte -Cristo” by Dumas, he made his way to the cars, and returned to Harlem. - -Weeks glided by. Mrs. Charlton passed away on the day she had predicted, -and Toussaint, after seeing her remains deposited at Greenwood, gave -away in charity the thousand dollars which she had extorted for him from -her husband. - -Melissa Pompilard began to fear that the marriage-day would never come -round. Cecil Purling, her betrothed, had made a descent on a young -publisher, just starting in business, and had induced him to put forth a -volume of “playful” essays, entitled “Skimmings and Skippings.” The -result was financial ruin to the publisher, and his rapid retreat back -to the clerkship from which he had emerged. - -But Purling was indomitable. He began forthwith to plan another -publication, and to look round for another victim; comforting Melissa -with the assurance that, though the critics were now in a league to keep -him in obscurity, he should make his mark some day, when all his past -works would turn out the most profitable investments he could possibly -have found. - -To whom should the Aylesford-Berwick property descend? That was now a -question of moment, both in legal and financial circles. Pompilard read -novels, made love to his wife, and romped with his daughters and -grandchildren. Charlton groaned and grew thin under the horrible state -of suspense in which the lawyers kept him. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - THE VENDUE. - -“A queen on a scaffold is not so pitiful a sight as a woman on the -auction-block.”—_Charles Sumner._ - -“Slavery gratifies at once the love of power, the love of money, and the -love of ease; it finds a victim for anger who cannot smite back his -oppressor, and it offers to all, without measure, the seductive -privileges which the Mormon gospel reserves for the true believers on -earth, and the Bible of Mahomet only dares promise to the saints in -heaven.”—_O. W. Holmes._ - - -About a month after the explosion of the Pontiac, a select company were -assembled, one beautiful morning in June, under a stately palmetto-tree -in front of the auction store of Messrs. Ripper & Co. in New Orleans, -and on the shady side of the street. There was to be a sale of prime -slaves that day. A chair with a table before it, flanked on either side -by a bale of cotton, afforded accommodations for the ceremony. Mr. -Ripper, the auctioneer, was a young man, rather handsome, and well -dressed, but with that flushed complexion and telltale expression of the -eyes which a habit of dissipation generally imparts to its victims. - -The company numbered some fifty. They were lounging about in groups, and -were nearly all of them smoking cigars. Some were attired in thin -grass-cloth coats and pantaloons, some in the perpetual black broadcloth -to which Americans adhere so pertinaciously, even when the thermometer -is at ninety. There was but one woman present; and she was a -strong-minded widow, a Mrs. Barkdale, who by the death of her husband -had come into the possession of a plantation, and now, instead of -sending her overseer, had come herself, to bid off a likely field-hand. - -The negroes to be sold, about a dozen in number, were in the warehouse. -Mr. Ripper paced the sidewalk, looking now and then impatiently at his -watch. The sale was to begin at ten. Suddenly a tall, angular, -ill-formed man, dressed in a light homespun suit, came up to Ripper and -drew him aside to where a young man, dressed in black and wearing a -white neckcloth, stood bracing his back up against a tree. His swarthy -complexion, dark eyes, and long nose made it doubtful whether the -Caucasian, the Jewish, or the African blood predominated in his veins. A -general languor and unsteadiness of body showed that he had been -indulging in the “ardent.” - -To this individual the tall man led up the auctioneer, and said: “The -Reverend Quattles, Mr. Ripper; Mr. Ripper, the Reverend Quattles. -Gemmlemen, yer both know _me_. I’m Delancy Hyde,—Virginia-born, be Gawd. -(’Scuze me, Reverend sir.) None of your Puritan scum! My ahnces’tor, -Delancy Hyde, kum over with Pocahontas and John Smith; my gra’ffther -owned more niggers nor ’ary other man in the county; my father was -cheated and broke up by a damned Yankee judge, sir; that’s why the -family acres ain’t mine.” - -“I’ve but five minutes more,” interposed Mr. Ripper, impatiently. - -“Wall, sir,” continued the Colonel, “this gemmleman, as I war tellin’ -yer, is the Reverend Quattles of Alabamy.” - -The Reverend Quattles bowed, and, with fishy eyes and a maudlin smile, -put his hand on his heart. - -“The little nig I’ve brung yer ter sell, Mr. Ripper, b’longs ter the -Reverend Quattles’s brother, a high-tone gemmleman, who lives in Mobile, -but has been unfortnit in business, and has had ter sell off his -niggers. An’ as I was goin’ ter Noo Orleenz, he puts this little colored -gal in my hands ter sell. The Reverend Quattles wanted ter buy her, but -was too poor. He then said he’d go with me ter see she mowt fall inter -the right hahnds. In puttin’ her up, yer must say ’t was a great -’fliction, and all that, ter part with her; that the Reverend Quattles, -ruther nor see her fall inter the wrong hands, would sell his library, -and so on; that she’s the child of a quadroon as has been in the family -all her life, and as is a sort of half-sister of the Reverend Quattles.” - -“O yes! I understand all that game,” said Ripper, knocking with his -little finger the ashes from his cigar. - -The Colonel, in an _aside_ to the auctioneer, now remarked: “The -Reverend Quattles, in tryin’ to stiddy his narves for the scene, has tuk -too stiff a horn, yer see.” - -“Yes; take him where he can sleep it off. It’s time for the sale to -begin. Remember your lot is Number 12, and will be struck off last.” - -The auctioneer then made his way across the street, jumped on one of the -cotton-bales, and thence into the chair placed near the table. - -“Come, Quattles,” said Hyde, “we’ve time for another horn afore we’re -wanted.” - -“No yer don’t, Kunnle!” exclaimed Quattles, throwing off that worthy’s -arm from his shoulder. “I tell yer this is too cussed mean a business -for any white man; I tell yer I won’t give inter it.” - -“Hush! Don’t bawl so,” pleaded the Colonel. - -“I _will_ bawl. Yer think yer’ve got me so drunk I hain’t no conscience -left. But I tell yer, I woan’t give in. I tell yer, I’ll ’xpose the hull -trick!” - -“Hush! hush!” said the Colonel, patting him as he might a restive beast. -“Arter the sale’s over, we’ll have a fust-rate dinner all by ou’selves -at the St. Charles. Terrapin soup and pompinoe! Champagne and juleps! -Ice-cream and jelly! A reg’lar blow-out! Think of that, Quattles! Think -of that!” - -“Cuss the vittles! O, I’m a poor, mis’able, used-up, good-for-northin’ -creetur, wuss nor a nigger!—yes, wuss nor a nigger!” said Quattles, -bursting into maudlin sobs and weeping. The Colonel walked him away into -a contiguous drinking-saloon. - -“Brandy-smashes for two,” said the Colonel. - -The decoctions were brewed, and the tumblers slid along the marble -counter, with the despatch of a man who takes pride in his vocation. -They were as quickly emptied. Quattles gulped down his liquor eagerly. -The Colonel then hired a room containing a sofa, and, seeing his -companion safely bestowed there, made his own way back to the auction. - -On one of the cotton-bales stood a prime article called a negro-wench. -This was Lot Number 3. She was clad in an old faded and filthy calico -dress that had apparently been made for a girl half her size. A small -bundle containing the rest of her wardrobe lay at her feet. Her bare -arms, neck, and breasts were conspicuously displayed, and her knees were -hardly covered by the stinted skirt. Without shame she stood there, as -if used to the scene, and rather flattered by the glib commendations of -the auctioneer. - -“Look at her, gentlemen!” said he. “All her pints good. Fust-rate stock -to breed from. Only twenty-three years old, and has had five children -already. And thar’s no reason why she shouldn’t have a dozen more. I’m -only bid eight hunderd dollars for this most valubble brood-wench. Only -eight hunderd dollars for this superior article. Thank you, sir; you’ve -an eye for good pints. I’m offered eight hunderd and twenty-five. Only -eight hunderd and twenty-five for this most useful hand. Jest look at -her, sir. Limbs straight; teeth all sound; wool thick, though she has -had five children. All livin’, too; ain’t they, Portia?” - -“Yes, massa, all sole ter Massa Wade down thar in Texas. He’m gwoin’ ter -raise de hull lot.” - -“You hear, gentlemen. Thar’s nothin’ vicious about her. Makes no fuss -because her young ones are carried off. Knows they’ll be taken good care -of. A good, reasonable, pleasant-tempered wench as ever lived. And now -I’m offered only eight hunderd and—Did I hear fifty? Thank you, sir. -Eight hunderd and fifty dollars is bid. Is thar nary a man har that -knows the valoo of a prime article like this? Eight hunderd and fifty -dollars. Goin’ for eight hunderd and fifty! Goin’! Gone! For eight -hunderd and fifty dollars. Gentlemen, you must be calculating on the -opening of the slave-trade, if you’ll stand by and see niggers -sacrificed in this way. Pass up the next lot.” - -The next “lot” was a man, a sulky, discontented-looking creature, but -large, erect, and with shoulders that would have made his fortune as a -hotel-porter. Laying down his bundle, he mounted the cotton-bale with a -weary, desponding air, as if he had begun to think there was no good in -reserve for him, either on the earth or in the heavens. - -“Lot Number 4 is Ike,” said the auctioneer. “A fust-rate field-hand. -Will hoe more cotton in three hours than a common nigger will in ten. -Ike is pious, and has been a famous exhorter among the niggers; belongs -to the Baptist church. You all know, gentlemen, the advantage of piety -in a nigger. Ike’s piety ought to add thirty per cent to his wuth. I’m -offered nine hunderd dollars for Ike. Nine hunderd dollars!” - -Here a squinting, hatchet-faced fellow in a broad-brimmed straw hat, who -had been making quite a puddle of tobacco-juice on the ground, leaped -upon the bale, and lifted the slave’s faded baize shirt so as to get a -look at his back. Then, putting his finger on the side of his nose, the -examiner winked at Ripper, and jumped down. - -“Scored?” asked an anxious inquirer. - -“Scored? Wall, stranger, he’s been scored, then put under a harrer, then -paddled an’ burnt. A hard ticket that.” - -The nine hundred dollar bid was as yet in the imagination of the -auctioneer. But, with the quick penetration of his craft, he saw the -strong-minded widow standing on tiptoe, her face eager with the -excitement of bidding, and her words only checked by the desire to judge -from the amount of competition whether the article were a desirable one. - -“A thousand and ten! Thank you, sir, thank you!” said Ripper, bowing to -a gentleman he had seen only in his mind’s eye. Nobody could dispute the -bid, all eyes being directed toward the auctioneer. - -“A thousand and twenty-five,” continued Ripper, turning in an opposite -direction, and bowing to an equally imaginary bidder. Then, apparently -catching the eye of the competing customer, “A thousand and forty!” he -exclaimed; and so, see-sawing from one chimerical gentleman to the -other, he carried the sham bidding up to a thousand and seventy-five. - -At this point Mrs. Barkdale, pale, and following with swayings of her -own body the motions of the auctioneer, her heart in her mouth almost -depriving her of speech, waved her hand to attract his attention, and, -rising on tiptoe, gasped forth, “A thousand and eighty!” - -“Thank you, madam,” said Ripper, politely touching his hat. Then, -apparently catching the eye of his imaginary bidder on the right, -“Monsieur Dupré,” he said, “you won’t allow such a bargain to slip -through your hands, will you? _Voyez! Où trouverez-vous un mieux?_ Thank -you, sir; thank you! A thousand and ninety,—I’m offered a thousand and -ninety for this superior field-hand. Goin’,—goin’. Thank you, madam. -Eleven hunderd dollars; only eleven hunderd dollars for this most -valubble piece of property. I assure you, gentlemen, ‘t is not often -you’ve such a chance. Goin’ for eleven hunderd dollars! Are you all -done? Eleven hunderd dollars. Goin’! Gone! You were too late, sir. To -Mrs. Barkdale for eleven hunderd dollars.” - -The widow, almost ready to faint, made her way to her carriage, and was -driven off. Some of the company shrugged their shoulders, while others -uttered a low, significant whistle. Ike, who maintained his dogged, -sulky look, picked up his bundle, and was remanded to the warehouse, -there to be kept till claimed. - -“Now, gentlemen,” said the auctioneer, “I have to call your attention to -the primest fancy article that it has ever been my good fortin to put -under the hammer. Lot Number 5 is the quadroon gal, Nelly. Bring her -on.” - -Here a negro assistant led out, with his hand on her shoulder, a girl -apparently not more than eighteen years of age, and helped her on the -cotton-bale. She was modestly clad in an old but neatly-fitting black -silk gown, and, notwithstanding the heat, wore round her shoulders a -checked woollen shawl. Her hair was straight. Evidently she derived her -blood chiefly from white ancestors. She was very pretty; and had a neat, -compact figure, in which the tendency to plumpness, common among the -quadroons, was not yet too marked for grace. - -It was apparently the first time she had ever been put up for sale; for -she had a scared, deprecatory look, strangely accompanied with a smile -put on for the purpose of propitiating some well-disposed master, if -such there might be among the crowd. - -“Now, gentlemen,” said Ripper, “here is Lot Number 5. It speaks for -itself, and needs no puffin’ from me. But thar is a little story -connected with Nelly. She was the property of Miss Pettigrew, down in -Plaquemine, and always thought she’d be free as soon as her missis died. -But her missis fell under conviction jest afore her death, and ordered -in her will that Nelly should be sold, and the proceeds paid over to the -fund for the support of indigent young men studyin’ for the ministry. -So, gentlemen, in biddin’ lib’rally for this superior lot, you’ll have -the satisfaction of forruding a most-er praiseworthy and pious objek.” - -“Make her drop her shawl,” said a gray-haired man, with a blotched, -unwholesome skin, and with dirty deposits of stale tobacco-juice at the -corners of his mouth. - -“Certainly, Mr. Tibbs,” said Ripper, pulling off the girl’s shawl as if -he had been uncovering a sample of Sea-Island cotton. - -“She has been a lady’s maid, and nothin’ else, I can assure you, -gentlemen. Small hands and feet, yer see. Look at that neck and them -shoulders! Her missis has kept her very strict; and the executor, by -whose order she is sold, warrants you, gentlemen, she has never been -_enceinte_. A very nice, good-natured, correct, and capable gal. Will -never give her owner any trouble, and will ollerz do her best to please. -Shall I start her at a thousand dollars?” - -Here Mr. Tibbs and two other men jumped on the bale, and began to give a -closer examination to the article. One pinched the flesh of its smooth -and well-rounded shoulders. Another stretched its lips apart so as to -get a sight of its teeth. Mr. Tibbs pulled at the bosom of its dress in -order to draw certain physiological conclusions as to the truth of the -auctioneer’s warranty. - -“Please don’t,” expostulated the girl, putting away his hand, and with -her scared look trying hard to smile, but showing in the act a set of -teeth that at once added twenty per cent to her value in the estimation -of the beholder. - -“You see her, gentlemen,” said Ripper. “She’s just what she appears to -be. No sham about her. No paddin’. All wholesome flesh and blood. What -shall I have for Nelly?” - -“A thousand dollars,” said Tibbs. - -“You hear the bid, gentlemen. I’m offered a thousand dollars for this -_very_ superior article. Only a thousand dollars.” - -“Eleven hundred,” said Jarvey, the well-known keeper of a -gambling-saloon. - -Tibbs glanced angrily at the audacious competitor, then nodded to the -auctioneer. - -“Eleven hundred and fifty is what I’m offered for Lot Number 5. -Gentlemen, bar in mind, that you air servin’ a pious cause in helpin’ me -to git the full valoo of this most-er excellent article. Remember the -proceeds go to edicate indigent young men for the ministry. Mr. Jarvey, -can’t you do su’thin’ for the church?” - -“Twelve hundred,” said Jarvey. - -“Twelve fifty,” exclaimed Tibbs, abruptly, in a tone sharp with -exasperation and malevolence. - -Nelly, seeing that the bidding was confined to these two, looked from -the one to the other with an expression of deepest solicitude, as if -scanning their countenances for some way of hope. Alas! there was not -much to choose. To Jarvey, as the less ill-favored, she evidently -inclined; but Tibbs had plainly made up his mind to “go his pile” on the -purchase, and the article was finally knocked down to him for fifteen -hundred dollars. - -“You owt to be proud to bring sich a price as that, my gal,” said -Ripper, in a tone of congratulation. Nelly made a piteous, frightened -attempt at a smile, then burst into tears, and got down from the bale, -stumbling in her confusion so as to fall on her hands to the ground, -much to the amusement of the spectators. - -The lots from six to eleven inclusive did not excite much competition. -They were mostly field-hands, coarse and stolid in feature, and showing -a cerebral development of the most rudimental kind. They brought prices -ranging from seven hundred to nine hundred dollars. - -“Now, gentlemen,” said Ripper, “I have one little fancy article to offer -you, and then the sale will be closed. Bring on Number 12.” - -The colored assistant here issued from the warehouse and crossed the -street, bearing a little quadroon girl and her bundle in his arms. -Simultaneously a new and elegant barouche, drawn by two sleek horses, -and having two blacks in livery on the driver’s box, stopped in the rear -of the crowd. The occupant got out, and strolled toward the stand. He -was a middle-aged man, with well-formed features, a smooth, florid -complexion, and a figure inclining to portliness. Apparently a -gentleman, were it not for that imperious, aggressive air, which the -habit of domineering from infancy over slaves generally imparts. He -carried a riding-whip, with which he carelessly switched his legs. - -As he drew near the stand, the auctioneer’s assistant placed on the -cotton-bale the little quadroon girl. She was almost an infant, -evidently not three years old, with very black hair and eyebrows, though -her eyes did not harmonize with the hue. She was naked even to her feet, -with the exception of a little chemise that did not reach to her thighs. -Her figure promised grace and health for the future. In the shape of her -features there was no sign of the African intermixture indicated in the -hue of her skin. With a wondering, anxious look she regarded the scene -before her, and was making an obvious effort to keep from crying. - -“Now here is Number 12, gentlemen,” said Ripper. “Jest look at the -little lady! Thar she is. Fust-rate stock. Look at her hands and feet. -Belonged to the Quattles family of Mobile, and I’m charged by the Rev. -Mr. Quattles to knock her down to himself (though he can’t afford to buy -her), rather than have her go into the wrong hands. She’s the child of -his half-sister, yer see, gentlemen. What am I offered for this little -lady?” - -“A hundred dollars,” said a voice from the crowd. - -“I’m offered two hunderd dollars for this little tidbit,” said Ripper, -pretending to have misunderstood the bid. - -Colonel Delancy Hyde stepped forward, and, taking a position at the side -of the auctioneer, addressed the crowd: “I know the Quattles family, -gentlemen. It’s an unfort’nit family, and they’d never have put this -yere child under the hammer if so be they hadn’t been forced right up -ter it by starn necessity.” - -“Who the hell are you?” asked a tall, lank, defiant-looking gentleman, -who seemed to be disgusted at the Colonel’s interference. - -“Who am I? I’ll tell yer who am I,” cried the latter. “I’m Colonel -Delancy Hyde. Anything to say agin that? Virginia-born, be Gawd! My -father was Virginia-born afore me, and his father afore him, and they -owned more niggers nor you ever looked at. Anything to say agin that, -yer despisable corn-cracker, yer!” - -“Hold yer tongue, Colonel; you’re drivin’ off a bidder,” whispered -Ripper. The Colonel collapsed at once, quelling his indignation. - -“I’m offered two hunderd dollars for Number 12,” exclaimed the -auctioneer, putting his hand on the little girl’s head. “If there’s any -good judge here of figger an’ face, he won’t see this article sacrificed -for such a trifle.” - -“Two twenty-five,” said Tibbs. - -The gentleman who had descended from the barouche here drew nearer, and -examined the form and features of the little girl with a closer -scrutiny. - -“Two fifty,” said he, as the result of his inspection. - -Tibbs, irritated by the competition, made his bid three hundred. - -“Four hundred!” said the man with the riding-whip. - -“Five hundred!” retorted Tibbs, ejecting the words with a vicious snort. - -“Six hundred,” returned his competitor, with perfect nonchalance. - -“Seven hundred and fifty,” shrieked Tibbs. - -“A thousand,” said the other, playing with his whip. - -Tibbs did not venture further. Mortified and angry, he turned away, and -consoled himself with an enormous cut of tobacco. - -“Cash takes it,” said the successful bidder, putting his finger to his -lips by way of caution to the auctioneer, and then beckoning him to come -down. Ripper exchanged a few words with him in a whisper, and told his -assistant to put the little girl with her bundle into the barouche, and -throw a carriage-shawl over her. - -As the barouche drove off, Hyde asked, “Who is he?” - -“Cash,” replied Ripper. “Didn’t you hear? I reckon you see more of -overseers than of planters. You’ve done amazin’ well, Colonel, gittin’ -such a price fur that little concern.” - -“Yes,” said Hyde; “Mr. Cash is a high-tone one, that’s a fak. I should -know him agin ’mong a thousand.” - -The company dispersed, the auctioneer settled with his customers, and -Hyde went to find Quattles, and give him the jackal’s share of the -spoils. - -Let us follow the barouche. Leaving the business streets, it rolled on -till, in about a quarter of an hour, it stopped before a respectable -brick house, on the door of which was the sign, “Mrs. Gentry’s Seminary -for Young Ladies.” Here the gentleman got out and rang the bell. - -“Is Mrs. Gentry at home?” - -“Yes, sir. Walk in. I will take your card.” - -He was ushered into a parlor. In five minutes the lady appeared,—a tall, -erect person with prominent features, a sallow complexion, and dry puffs -of iron-gray hair parted over her forehead. A Southern judge’s daughter -and a widow, Mrs. Gentry kept one of the best private schools in the -city. On seeing the name of Carberry Ratcliff on the card, which -Tarquin, the colored servant, had handed to her, she went with alacrity -to her mirror, and, after a little pranking, descended to greet her -distinguished visitor. - -“Perhaps you have heard of me before,” began Mr. Ratcliff. - -“Often, sir. Be seated,” said the lady, charmed at the idea of having a -visit from the lord of a thousand slaves. - -“I have in my barouche, madam, a little girl I wish to leave with you. -She is my property, and I want her well taken care of. Can you receive -her?” - -Mrs. Gentry looked significantly at the gentleman, and he, as if -anticipating her interrogatory, replied: “The child came into my -possession only within this hour. I bought her quite accidentally at -auction. She has none of my blood in her veins, I assure you.” - -“Can I see her?” - -“Yes”; and, walking to the window, Ratcliff motioned to one of his -negroes to bring the child in. This was done; and the infant was placed -on the floor with her little bundle by her side, and nude as she was -when exposed on the auction-block. - -“A quadroon, I should think,” said Mrs. Gentry. - -“I really don’t know what she is,” replied Ratcliff. “I want you, -however, to take her into your family, and raise her as carefully as if -you knew her to be my daughter. You shall be liberally paid for your -trouble.” - -“Is she to know that she is a slave?” - -“As to that I can instruct you hereafter. Meanwhile keep the fact a -secret, and mention my name to no one in connection with her. You can -occasionally send me a daguerrotype, that I may see if her looks fulfil -her promise. I wish you to be particular about her music and French, -also her dancing. Let her understand all about dress too. You can draw -upon me as often as you choose for the amount we fix upon; and the -probability is, I shall not wish to see her till she reaches her -fifteenth or sixteenth year. I rely upon you to keep her strictly, and, -as she grows older, to guard her against making acquaintances with any -of the other sex. Will seven hundred dollars a year pay you for your -trouble?” - -“Amply, sir,” said the gratified lady. “I will do my best to carry out -your wishes.” - -“You need not write me oftener than once a year,” said Ratcliff. - -“Not if she were dangerously ill?” - -“No; not even then. You could take better care of her than I; and all my -interest in her is _in futuro_.” - -“I think I understand, sir,” said Mrs. Gentry; “and I will at once make -a note of what you say.” - -“Here is payment for the first half-year in advance,” said Ratcliff. - -“Thank you, sir,” returned the lady, quite overwhelmed at the great -planter’s munificence. “Shall I write you a receipt?” - -“It is superfluous, madam.” - -All this while the child, with a seriousness strangely at variance with -her infantile appearance, sat on the floor, looking intently first at -the woman, then at the man, and evidently striving to understand what -they were saying. Ratcliff now took his leave; but Mrs. Gentry called -him back before he had reached the door. - -“Excuse me, sir, there is something I wished to ask you? What was it? -Oh! By what name shall we call the child?” - -“Upon my word,” said Ratcliff, “I have forgotten the name the auctioneer -gave her. No matter! Call her anything you please.” - -“Well, then, Estelle is a pretty name. Shall I call her Estelle?” - -Ratcliff started, came close up to Mrs. Gentry, looked her steadily in -the face, and asked, “What put that name into your head?” - -“I don’t know. Probably I have seen it in some novel.” - -“Well, don’t call her Estelle. Call her Ellen Murray.” - -“I will remember.” - -And the interview closed. - -After the gentleman had gone, the child, with an anxious and grieved -expression of face, tried to articulate an inquiry which Mrs. Gentry -found it difficult to understand. At last she concluded it was an -attempt to say, “Where’s Hatty?” - -Mrs. Gentry rang the bell, and it was answered by a colored woman of -large, stately figure, whose peculiar hue and straight black hair showed -that she was descended from some tribe distinct from ordinary Africans. - -“Where’s the chambermaid?” asked Mrs. Gentry. - -“O missis, dat Deely’s neber on de spot when she’s wanted. De Lord lub -us, what hab we here?” - -“A new inmate of the family, Esha. I’ve taken her to bring up.” - -“Some rich man’s lub-child, I reckon, missis. But ain’t she a little -darlin’?” And Esha took her up from the floor, and kissed her. The -child, feeling she had at last found a friend, threw its arms about the -woman’s neck, and broke into a low, plaintive sobbing, as if her little -heart were overfull of long-suppressed grief. - -“Thar! thar!” said Esha, soothing her; “she mustn’t greeb nebber no -more. Ole Esha will lub her dearly!” - -Mrs. Gentry opened the bundle, and was surprised to see several articles -of clothing of a rich and fine texture, all neatly marked, though -somewhat soiled. - -“There, Esha,” she said, “take the poor little thing and her bundle -up-stairs, and dress her. To-morrow I’ll get her some new clothes.” - -Esha obeyed, and the child thenceforth clung to her as to a mother. To -the servant’s surprise, when she came to wash away the little one’s -tears, the skin parted with its tawny hue, and showed white and fair. On -examining the child’s hair, too, it was found to be dyed. What could be -the object of this? It never occurred to Esha that the little waif might -be a slave, and that a white slave was not so salable as a colored. - -Mrs. Gentry communicated the phenomenon at once to Mr. Ratcliff, but he -never alluded to it in any subsequent letter or conversation. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - SHALL THERE BE A WEDDING? - - “Ah! spare your idol; think him human still; - Charms he may have, but he has frailties too! - Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire.” - _Young._ - - -The question as to the inheritance of the Aylesford-Berwick property was -not decided without a lawsuit. The case was put into the courts, and -kept there many months. The heavy legal expenses to which Charlton was -subjected, and his reluctance to meet them, protracted the contest by -alienating his lawyers. Pompilard went straight to the point by -promising his counsel a fee of a hundred thousand dollars in the event -of success; and thus he enlisted and kept active the best professional -aid. Still the prospect was doubtful. - -But even the _law’s_ delay must finally have an end. The hour of the -final settlement of the great case by the ultimate court of appeal had -come at last. The judges had entered and taken their seats. Charlton, -pale and haggard, sat by the side of his lawyer, Detritch. Pompilard, -still masking his age, entered airy as a maiden just stepping forth into -Broadway in her new spring bonnet. He wore a paletot of light gray, a -choker girt by a sky-blue silk ribbon, a white vest, checked pantaloons, -and silk stockings under low-cut patent-leather shoes. Taking a seat at -a little semicircular table near his lawyers, he exchanged repartees -with them, and then tranquilly abided his fate. Charlton looked with -anguish on the composure of his antagonist. - -Just as the case was expected to come on, one of the judges was found to -have left a certain document at home. They all retired, and a messenger -was sent for the important paper. Hence a delay of an hour. Charlton -could not conceal his agitation. Pompilard took up the morning journal, -and read with sorrow of the death of an old friend. - -“Poor old Toussaint! I see he has left us,” said Pompilard. - -“Yes,” replied Girard, “All-Saint has gone. He was well named. He has -never held up his head since he lost his wife.” - -“Toussaint was a gentleman, every inch of him,” said Pompilard. “He -believed in the elevation of the black man, not by that process of -absorption or amalgamation which some of our noodles recommend, but by -his showing in his life and character that a negro can be as worthy and -capable of freedom as a white man. He was for keeping the blacks -socially separate from the whites, though one before the law, and -teaching them to be content with the color God had given them. A brave -fellow was Toussaint. I remember—that was before your day—when the -yellow fever prevailed here. Maiden Lane and the lower parts of the city -were almost deserted. But Toussaint used to cross the barricades every -day to tend on the sick and dying, and carry them food and medicine.” - -“Did you know him well?” asked Girard. - -“Intimately, these thirty years. In his demeanor exquisitely courteous -and respectful, there was never the slightest tinge of servility. You -could not have known him as I did without forgetting his color and -feeling honored in the companionship of a man so thoroughly generous, -pious, and sincere. He would sometimes make playful allusions to his -color. He seemed much amused once by my little Netty, who, when she was -about three years old, said to him, after looking him steadily in the -face for some time, ‘Toussaint, do you live in a black house?’ The other -day, knowing he was quite ill, my wife called on him, and while by his -bedside asked him if she should close a window, the light of which shone -full in his face. ‘O non, madam,’ he replied, ‘car alors je serai trop -noir.’”[22] - -Here Pompilard ceased, and looked up. There was a stir in the -court-room. Their Honors had re-entered and taken seats. The messenger -with the missing paper had returned. The presiding judge, after a long -and tantalizing preamble, in the course of which Charlton was -alternately elevated and depressed, at length summed up, in a few -intelligible words, the final decision of the court. Charlton fainted. - -Pompilard’s lawyers bent down their heads, as if certain papers suddenly -demanded their close scrutiny; but Pompilard himself was radiant. -Everybody stared at him, and handsomely did he baffle everybody by his -imperturbable good humor. It is not every day that one has an -opportunity of seeing how a fellow-being is affected by the winning or -the losing of a million of dollars. No one could have guessed from -Pompilard’s appearance whether he had won or lost. Unfortunately he had -lost; and Charlton had reached the acme of his hopes, mortal or -immortal,—he was a millionnaire. - -Pompilard took the news home to his wife in the little old double house -at Harlem; and her only comment was: “Poor dear Melissa! I had hoped to -make her a present of a furnished cottage on the North River.” - -The conversation was immediately turned to the subject of Toussaint, and -one would have thought, hearing these strange foolish people talk, that -the old negro’s exit saddened them far more than the loss of their -fortune. Angelica, Pompilard’s widowed daughter, entered. After her came -Netty, the elf, now almost a young lady. She carried under her arm a -portfolio, filled with such drawings of ships, beaches, and rocks as she -could find in occasional excursions to Long Island, under the patronage -of Mrs. Maloney, the tailor’s wife. - -Julia and Mary Ireton, daughters of Angelica, came in. - -“Which of my little nieces will take my portfolio up-stairs?” asked -Netty. - -“I will, aunt,” said the dutiful Mary; and off she ran with it. - -“Poor Melissa! We shall now have to put off the wedding,” sighed -Angelica, on learning the result of the lawsuit. - -“No such thing! It sha’n’t be put off!” said Pompilard. - -Netty threw her arms round the old man’s neck, kissed him, and -exclaimed: “Bravo, father of mine! Stick to that! It isn’t half lively -enough in this house. We want a few more here to make it jolly. Why -can’t we have such high times as they have in at the Maloneys’? There we -made such a noise the other night that the police knocked at the door.” - -Maloney, by the way, be it recorded, had, under the pupilage of -Pompilard, given up strong drink and wife-beating, and risen to be a -tailor of some fashionable note. Pompilard had found out for him an -excellent cutter,—had kept him posted in regard to the fashions,—and -then had gone round the city to all the clubs, hotels, and opera-houses, -blowing for Maloney with all his lungs. He didn’t “hesitate to declare” -that Maloney was the only man in the country who could fit you decently -to pantaloons. Pantaloons were his _specialité_. His cutter was a born -genius,—“an Englishman, sir, whose grandfather used to cut for the -famous Brummel,—you’ve heard of Brummel?” The results of all this -persistent blowing were astonishing. Soon the superstition prevailed in -Wall Street and along the Fifth Avenue, that if one wanted pantaloons he -must go to Maloney. Haynes was excellent for dress-coats and sacks; but -don’t let him hope to compete with Maloney in pantaloons. You would hear -young fops discussing the point with intensest earnestness and -enthusiasm. - -How many fortunes have a basis quite as airy and unsubstantial! Soon -Maloney’s little shop was crowded with customers. He was obliged to take -a large and showy establishment in Broadway. Here prosperity insisted on -following him. Wealth began to flow steadily in. He found himself on the -plain, high road to fortune; and by whom but Pompilard had he been led -there? The consequence was perpetual gratitude on the tailor’s part, -evinced in daily sending home, with his own marketing, enough for the -other half of the house; evinced also in the determination to stick to -Harlem till his benefactor would consent to leave. - -While the Pompilards were discussing the matter of the wedding, Melissa -and Purling entered from a walk. Melissa carried her years very well; -though hope deferred had written anxiety on her amiable features. -Purling was a slim, gentlemanly person, always affecting good spirits, -though certain little silvery streaks in the side-locks over his ears -showed that time and care were beginning their inevitable work. In -aspiring to authorship he had not thought it essential that he should -consume gin like Byron, or whiskey like Charles Lamb, or opium like De -Quincey. But if there be an avenging deity presiding over the wrongs of -undone publishers, Purling must be doomed to some unquiet nights. There -was something sublime in the pertinacity with which he kept on writing -after the public had snubbed him so repeatedly by utter neglect; -something still more sublime in the faith which led publishers to fall -into the nets he so industriously wove for them. - -The result of the lawsuit being made known to the newcomers, Melissa, -hiding her face, at once left the room, and was followed by her sisters -and step-mother. - -Purling keenly felt the embarrassment of his position. Pompilard came to -his relief. “We have concluded, my dear fellow,” said he, “not to put -off the wedding. Don’t concern yourself about money-matters. You can -come and occupy Melissa’s room with her till I get on my legs once more. -I shall go to work in earnest now this lawsuit is off my hands.” - -“My dear sir,” said Purling, “you are very generous,—very indulgent. The -moment my books begin to pay, what is mine shall be yours; and if you -can conveniently accommodate me for a few months, till the work I’m now -writing is—” - -“Accommodate you? Of course we can! The more the merrier,” interrupted -Pompilard. “So it’s settled. The wedding comes off next Wednesday.” - -And the wedding came off according to the programme. It took place in -church. Pompilard was in his glory. Cards had been issued to all his -friends of former days. Many had conveniently forgotten that such a -person existed; but there were some noble exceptions, as there generally -are in such cases. Presents of silver, of dresses, books, furniture, and -pictures were sent in from friends both of the bride and bridegroom; so -that the _trousseau_ presented a very respectable appearance; but the -prettiest gift of the occasion was a little porte-monnaie, containing a -check for two thousand dollars signed by Pat Maloney. - -As for Charlton, young in years, if not in heart, good-looking, a -widower unencumbered with a child, what was there he might not aspire to -with his twelve hundred thousand dollars? - -He was taken in charge by the J——s, and the M——s, and the P——s, and -introduced into “society.” Yes, that is the proper name for “our set.” A -competition, outwardly calm, but internally bitter and intense, was -entered upon by fashionable mothers having daughters to provide for. -Charlton became the sensation man of the season. “Will he marry?” That -was now the agitating question that convulsed all the maternal councils -within a mile’s radius of the new Fifth Avenue Hotel. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - THE UNITIES DISREGARDED. - - “Blessed, are they who see, and yet believe not! - Yea, blest are they who look on graves, and still - Believe none dead; who see proud tyrants ruling, - And yet believe not in the strength of Evil.” - _Leopold Schefer._ - - -The admirers of Aristotle must bear with us while we take a little -liberty: that, namely, of violating all the unities. - -Fourteen years had slipped by since the great steamboat accident; -fourteen years, pregnant with forces, and prolific of events, to the -far-reaching influence of which no limit can be set. - -In those years a mechanic named Marshall, while building a saw-mill for -Captain Sutter in California, had noticed a glistening substance at the -bottom of the sluice. Thence the beginning of the great exodus from the -old States, which soon peopled the auriferous region, and in five years -made San Francisco one of the world’s great cities. - -In those years the phenomena, by some called spiritual, of which our -friend Peek had got an inkling, excited the attention of many thousand -thinkers both in America and Europe. In France these manifestations -attracted the investigation of the Emperor himself, and won many -influential believers, among them Delamarre, editor of La Patrie. In -England they found advocates among a small but educated class; while the -Queen’s consort, the good and great Prince Albert, was too far advanced -on the same road to find even novelty in what Swedenborg and Wesley had -long before prepared him to regard as among the irregular developments -of spirit power. - -“Humbug and idiocy!” cried the doctors. - -“A cracking of the toe-joints!” said Conjurer Anderson. - -“A scientific trick!” insisted Professor Faraday. - -“Spirits are the last thing I’ll give into,” said Sir David Brewster. - -“O ye miserable mystics!” cried the eloquent Ferrier, “have ye bethought -yourselves of the backward and downward course which ye are running into -the pit of the bestial and the abhorred?” - -“How very undignified for a spirit to rap on tables and talk -commonplace!” objected the transcendentalists, who looked for Orphic -sayings and Delphian profundities. - -To all which the investigators replied: We merely take facts as we find -them. The conjurers and the professors fail to account for what we see -and hear. Sir David may give or refuse what name he pleases: the -phenomena remain. Professor Ferrier may wax indignant; but his -indignation does not explain why tables, guitars, and tumblers of water -are lifted and carried about by invisible and impenetrable intelligent -forces. We are sorry the manifestations do not please our transcendental -friends. Could we have our own way, these spirits, forces, -intelligences—call them what you will—should talk like Carlyle and -deport themselves like Grandison. Could we have our own way, there -should be no rattlesnakes, no copperheads, no mad dogs. ’T is a great -puzzle to us why Infinite Power allows such things. We do not see the -use of them, the _cui bono_? Still we accept the fact of their -existence. And so we do of what, in the lack of a name less vague, we -call _spirits_. There are many drunkards, imbeciles, thieves, -hypocrites, and traitors, who quit this life. According to the -transcendental theory, these ought to be converted at once, by some -magical _presto-change!_ into saints and sages, their identity wholly -merged or obliterated. If the All-Wise One does not see it in that -light, we cannot help it. If He can afford to wait, we shall not -impatiently rave. It would seem that the Eternal chariot-wheels must -continue to roll and flash on, however professors, conjurers, and -quarterly reviewers may burn their poor little hands by trying to catch -at the spokes. - -“I did not bargain for this,” grumbles the habitual novel-reader, -resentfully throwing down our book. - -Bear with us yet a moment longer, injured friend. - -During these same fourteen years of which we have spoken, the Slave -Power of the South having, through the annexation of Texas, plunged the -country into a war with Mexico for the extension of the area of slavery, -met its first great rebuff in the establishment of California as a Free -State of the Union. - -The Fugitive-Slave Bill was given in 1850 to appease the slaveholding -caste. Soon afterwards followed the repeal of that Missouri Compromise -which had prohibited slavery north of a certain line. It was hoped that -these two concessions would prove such a tub thrown to the whale as -would divert him from mischief. - -Then came the deadly struggle for supremacy in Kansas; pro-slavery -ruffianism, on the one side, striving to dedicate the virgin soil to the -uses of slavery; and the spirit of freedom, on the other side, resisting -the profanation. The contest was long, doubtful, and bloody; but -freedom, thank God! prevailed in the end. Slavery thus came to grief a -second time; for the lords of the lash well knew that to circumscribe -their system was to doom it, and that without ever new fields for -extension it could not live and prosper. - -One John Brown, of Ossawatomie in Kansas, during these years having -learnt what it was to come under the ban of the Slave Power,—having been -hunted, hounded, shot at, and had a son brutally murdered by the -devilish hate, born of slavery, and engendering such dastardly butchers -as Quantrell,—resolved to do what little service he could to God and -man, by trying to wipe out an injustice that had long enough outraged -heaven and earth. With less than fifty picked men he rashly seized on -Harper’s Ferry, held it for some days, and threw old Virginia into fits. -He was seized and hung; and many good men approved the hanging; but in -little more than a year afterwards, John Brown’s soul was “marching on” -in the song of the Northern soldiery going South to battle against -rebellion, until the very Charlestown where his gallows was set up was -made to ring with the terrible refrain in his honor, the echoes of which -are now audible in every State, from Maine to Louisiana. - -Slavery first showed its ungloved hand at the Democratic Convention at -Charleston in 1860 for the nomination of President. Here it was that -Stephen A. Douglas, the very man who had given to the South as a boon -the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, was rejected by the Southern -conspirators against the Union, and John C. Breckenridge, the potential -and soon actual traitor, was put in nomination as the extreme -pro-slavery candidate against Douglas. And thus the election of Abraham -Lincoln, the candidate pledged against slavery extension, was secured. - -This election “is not the cause of secession, but the opportunity,” said -Mr. Robert Barnwell Rhett of South Carolina. “Slavery shall be the -corner-stone of our new Confederacy,” said Mr. A. H. Stephens, -Confederate Vice-President, who a few weeks before, namely, in January, -1861, had said in the Georgia Convention: “For you to attempt to -overthrow such a government as this, under which we have lived for more -than three quarters of a century, with unbounded prosperity and rights -unassailed, is the height of madness, folly, and wickedness, to which I -can neither lend my sanction nor my vote.” - -After raising armies for seizing Washington and for securing the Border -States to slavery, Mr. Jefferson Davis, President of the improvised -Confederacy, proclaimed to an amused and admiring world, “All we want is -to be let alone.” - -Peaceful reader of the year 1875 (pardon the presumption that bids us -hope such a reader will exist), bear with us for these digressions. In -your better day let us hope all these terrible asperities will have -passed away. But, while we write, our country’s fate hangs poised. It is -her great historic hour. Daily do our tears fall for the wounded or the -slain. Daily do we regret that we, too, cannot give something better -than words, thicker than tear-drops, to our country. But thus, through -blood and anguish and purifying sufferings, is God leading us to that -better future which you shall enjoy. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - THE WHITE SLAVE. - - “Because immortal, therefore is indulged - This strange regard of deities to dust! - Hence, Heaven looks down on Earth with all her eyes; - Hence, the soul’s mighty moment in her sight; - Hence, every soul has partisans above, - And every thought a critic in the skies.” - _Young._ - -“The creature is great, to whom it is allowed to imagine questions to -which only a God can reply.”—_Aimé Martin._ - - -No one who has travelled largely through the Southern States will -require to be told that the slave system sanctions the holding in -slavery of persons who are undistinguishable in complexion from the -whitest Anglo-Saxons. Several carefully authenticated cases, analogous -to that developed in our story, though surpassing it in unspeakable -baseness, have been recently brought to light. We need only hint at them -at this stage of our narrative. - -The reader has already divined that the little girl sold at the -slave-auction, and placed under Mrs. Gentry’s care, was no other than -the unfortunate child whose parents were lost in the disaster of the -Pontiac. - -There is a class of minds which, either from inertness or lack of -leisure, never revise the opinions they have received from others. If we -might borrow a fresh illustration from Mrs. Gentry’s copy-books, we -might say that in her mental growth the tree was inclined precisely as -the twig had been bent. She honestly believed that there was no appeal -from what her sire, the judge, had once laid down as law or gospel. -Having been bred in the belief that slavery was a wholesome and sacred -institution, she would probably have seen her own sister dragged under -it to the auction-block, and not have ventured to question the -righteousness of the act. - -There were only two passions which, should they ever come in direct -collision with her veneration for slavery, might possibly override it; -but even on this there seemed to rest much uncertainty. Her -acquisitiveness, as the phrenologists would have called it, was large; -and then, although she was fast declining into the sere and yellow leaf, -she had not surrendered all hope of one day finding a successor to the -late Mr. Gentry in her affections. - -Regarding poor little Clara Berwick (or Ellen Murray) as a slave, she -could never be so far moved by the child’s winning presence and ways as -to look on her as entitled to the same atmosphere and sun as herself. No -infantile grace, no solicitation of affection, could ever melt the icy -barrier with which the pride and self-seeking, fostered by slavery, had -encircled the heart, not naturally bad, of the schoolmistress. And yet -she did her duty by the child to the best of her ability. Though not a -highly educated person, Mrs. Gentry was shrewd enough to employ for her -pupils the most accomplished teachers; and in respect to Clara she -faithfully carried out Mr. Ratcliff’s directions. True, she always -exacted an obedience that was unquestioning and blind. She did not care -to see that the child could have been led by a silken thread, only -satisfy her reason or appeal to her affections. And so it was to Esha -that Clara would always have to go for sympathy, both in her sorrows and -her joys; and it was Esha whose influence was felt in the very depths of -that fresh and sensitive nature. - -From her third to her fourteenth year Clara gave little promise of -beauty. Ratcliff, on receiving her photographs, used to throw them aside -with a “Psha! After all, she’ll be fit only for a household drudge.” - -But as she emerged into her sixteenth year, and features and form began -to develop the full meaning of their outlines, she all at once appeared -in the new and startling phase of a rare model of incipient womanhood. -Her hair, thick and flowing, was of a softened brown tint, which yet was -distinct from that cognate hue, _abrun_ (a-brown) or auburn, a shade -suggestive of red. Her complexion was clear and pure, though not of that -brilliant pink and white often associated with delicacy of constitution. -A profile, delicately cut as if to be the despair of sculptors; a -forehead not high, but high enough to show Mind enthroned there; eyes—it -was not till you drew quite near that you marked the peculiarity already -described in the infant of the Pontiac. The mouth and lips were small -and passionate, the chin bold, yet not protrusive, the nostrils having -that indescribable curve which often makes this feature surpass all the -others in giving a character of decision to a face. A man of the turf -would have summed up his whole description of the girl in the one word -“blood.” - -Such a union of the sensuous nature with pure will and intellect might -well have made a watchful parent tremble for her future. - -Ratcliff had been for more than a year in South Carolina, helping to -fire the Southern heart, and forward the secession movement. Early in -January, 1861, he made a flying visit to New Orleans, and called on Mrs. -Gentry. - -After some conversation on public affairs, the lady asked, “Would you -like to see my pupil?” - -“Not if she resembles the photographs you’ve sent me,” replied Ratcliff. -Then, looking at his watch, he added: “I leave for Charleston this -afternoon, and haven’t time to see her now. Early in March I shall be -back, and will call then.” - -“You must see her a minute,” said Mrs. Gentry. “I think you’ll admit she -does no discredit to my bringing up.” And she rang the bell. - -“Tell Miss Murray, I desire her presence in the parlor.” - -Clara entered. She was attired in a plain robe of slate-colored muslin, -exquisitely fitted, and had a book in her hand, as if just interrupted -in study. She stood inquiringly before the schoolmistress, and seemed -unconscious of another’s presence. - -“I wish you, Miss Murray, to play for this gentleman. Play the piece you -last learnt.” - -Without the slightest shyness, Clara obeyed, seating herself at the -piano, and performing Schubert’s delectable “Lob der Throenen,” (Eulogy -of Tears,) with Liszt’s arrangement. This she did with an executive -facility and precision of touch that would have charmed a competent -judge, which Ratcliff was not. - -And yet astonishment made him speechless. He had expected an -undeveloped, awkward, homely girl. Lo a beautiful young woman whose -perfect composure and grace were such as few queens of society could -exhibit! And all that youth and loveliness were his! - -He looked at his watch. Not another moment could he remain. He drew near -to Clara and took her hand, which she quickly withdrew. “Only maiden -coyness,” thought he, and said: “We must be better acquainted. But I -must now hasten from your dangerous society, or I shall miss the -steamer. Good by, my dear. Good by, Mrs. Gentry. You shall hear from me -very soon.” - -And Mrs. Gentry rang the bell, and black Tarquin opened the door for -Ratcliff. As it closed upon him, “Who is that old man?” asked Clara. - -“Old? Why, he does doesn’t look a year over forty,” replied Mrs. Gentry. -“That’s the rich Mr. Ratcliff.” - -“Well, I detest him,” said Clara, emphatically. - -“Detest!” exclaimed Mrs. Gentry, horror-stricken; for it was not often -that Clara condescended to speak her mind so freely to that lady. -“Detest? Is this the end of all my moral and religious teachings? O, but -you’ll be _come up with_, if you go on in this way. Retire to your room, -Miss.” - -Swiftly and gladly Clara obeyed. - -_Apropos_ of the aforesaid teachings, Ratcliff was very willing that his -predestined victim should be piously inclined. It would rather add to -the piquancy of her degradation. He wavered somewhat as to whether she -should be a Protestant or a Catholic, but finally left the whole matter -to Mrs. Gentry. That profound theologian had done her best to lead Clara -into her own select fold, and, as she thought, had succeeded; but Clara -was pretty sure to take up opinions the reverse of those held by her -teacher. So, after sitting in weariness of spirit under the ministry of -the Rev. Dr. Palmer in the morning, the perverse young lady would -ventilate her religious conceptions by reading Fenelon, Madame Guyon, or -Zschokke in the evening. - -Mrs. Gentry believed in secession, and raved like a Pythoness against -the cowardly Yankees. Clara, seeing a United States flag trampled on and -torn in the street, secured a rag of it, secretly washed it, and placed -it as a holy symbol on her bosom. Mrs. Gentry expatiated to her pupils -on the righteousness and venerableness of slavery. Clara cut out from a -pictorial paper a poor little dingy picture of Fremont, and concealed it -between two leaves of her Bible, underlining on one of them these words: -“Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all the inhabitants -thereof.” - -Esha, the colored cook, a slave, was Clara’s fast friend in all her -youthful troubles. Esha had passed through all degrees of slavery,—from -toiling in a cotton-field to serving as a lady’s maid. Having had a -child, a little girl, taken from her and sold, she ever afterwards -refused to be again a mother. The straight hair, coppery hue, and -somewhat Caucasian cast of features of this slave showed that she -belonged to a race different from that of the ordinary negro. She had -been named Ayesha, after one of Mahomet’s wives. She generally wore a -Madras handkerchief about her head, and showed a partiality for -brilliant colors. Many were the stealthy interviews that she and Clara -enjoyed together. - -Said Esha, on one of these occasions: “Don’t b’leeb ’em, darlin’, whan -dey say de slabe am berry happy, an’ all dat. No slabe dat hab any sense -am happy. He know, he do, dat suffn’s tuk away from him dat God gabe -him, and meant he sh’d hole on ter; and so he feel ollerz kind o’ mean -afore God an’ man too; an’ I ’fy anybody, white or black, to be happy -who feel dat ar way.” - -“But it isn’t the slave’s fault, Esha, that he’s a slave.” - -“It’s de slabe’s fault dat he stay a slabe, darlin’,” said the old -woman, with a strange kindling of the eyes. “But den de massa hab de -raisin’ ob him, an’ so take good car’ ter break down all dar am of de -man in de poor slabe; an’ de poor slabe hab no larnin’, and dunno whar’ -to git a libbin’ or how to sabe hisself from starvin’. An’ if he run -away, de people Norf send him back.” - -On studying Esha further, Clara discovered that she was half Mahometan, -and could speak Arabic. Her mixed notions she had got partly from her -father, Amri, who belonged to one of those African tribes who cultivate -a pure deism, tempered only by faith in the mission of Mahomet as an -inspired prophet. Amri had been captured by a hostile tribe and sold -into slavery. He lived long enough to teach his little Esha some things -which she remembered. She could repeat several Arabic poems, and Clara -first became familiar with the Arabian Nights through this old household -drudge. One of these poems had a mystical charm for Clara. Through the -illiterate garb which the slave’s English gave it, Clara detected a -significance that led her to write out a paraphrase in the following -words:— - - “The sick man lay on his bed of pain. ‘Allah!’ he moaned; and his - heart grew tender, and his eyes moist, with prayer. - - “The next morning the tempter said to him: ‘No answer comes from - Allah. Call louder, still no Allah will hear thee or ease thy pain.’ - - “The sick man shuddered. His heart grew cold with doubt and - inquietude; when suddenly before him stood Elias. - - “‘Child!’ said Elias, ‘why art thou sad? Dost think thy prayers are - unheard and unanswered; that thy devotion is all in vain?’ - - “And the sick man replied: ‘Ah! so often, and with such tears I have - called on Allah! I call _Allah!_ but never do I hear his “Here am I!”’ - - “And Elias left the sick man; but God said to Elias: ‘Go to the - tempted one; lift him up from his despair and unbelief. - - “‘Tell him that his very longing is its own fulfilment; that his very - prayer, “Come, Allah!” is Allah’s answer, “Here am I!”’ - - “Yes, every good aspiration is an angel straight from God. Say from - the heart, ‘O my Father!’ and that very utterance is the Father’s - reply, ‘Here, my child!’” [23] - -Like many native Africans, Esha was fully assured of the existence of -spirits, and of their power, in exceptional cases, to manifest -themselves to mortals. And she related so many facts within her own -experience, that Clara became a believer on human testimony,—the more -readily because Esha’s faith in demonism was unmixed with superstition. - -“Tell me, Esha,” said Clara, at one of their secret midnight -conferences, “were you ever whipped?” - -“Never badly, darlin’. It ain’t de whippins and de suf’rins dat make de -wrong ob slavery. De mos kindest thing dey could do de slabe would be -ter treat him so he wouldn’t stay a slabe no how. But dey know jes how -fur to go, widout stirrin’ up de man inside ob him. An’ dat’s the cuss -ob slabery.” - -“But, Esha, don’t they generally treat the women well on the -plantations?” - -“De breedin’ women dey treat well,—speshilly jes afore dar time,[24]—but -I’ze known a pregnant woman whipped so she died de same night. O de poor -bressed lily ob de world! O de angel from hebbn! O de sweet lubly chile! -Nebber, no, nebber, nebber shall I disremember how I held de little gole -cross afore dat chile’s eyes, an’ how she die wid de smile on her sweet -face, and her own husband’s head on her bosom.” - -And the old woman burst into a passion of tears, rocking herself to and -fro, and living over again the sorrow of that death-bed scene to which -she and Peek and one other, years before, had been witnesses. - -Clara pacified her, and Esha said, “You jes stop one minute, darlin’, -and I’ll show yer suff’n.” She went to her garret-closet, and returned -with a small silk bag, from which she took a package done up in fine -linen. This she unpinned, and displayed a long strand of human hair, -thick, silky, soft, and of a peculiarly beautiful color, hardly olive, -yet reminding one of that hue. Holding it up, she said: “Dar! Dat’s de -hair I cut from de head of dat same bress-ed chile I jes tell yer -’bout.” - -“But that is the hair of a white woman,” said Clara. - -“Bress yer, darlin’, she war jes as white as you am dis minute.” - -After some seconds of silence, Clara said, “Tell me of her.” - -And Esha related many, though not all, of the particulars already -familiar to the reader in the story of Estelle. - -“Esha, you must give me some of that hair,” said Clara. - -“Yes, darlin’, I ’ll change half of it fur some ob yourn.” - -The exchange was made, Clara wrapping her portion in the little strip of -bunting torn from the American flag. - -On the subject of her birth Clara had put to Mrs. Gentry some searching -questions, but had learnt simply that her parentage was unknown. For her -concealed benefactor she had conceived a romantic attachment; and -gratitude incited her to make the best of her opportunities, and to -patiently bear her chagrins. - -A month after the late interview with Ratcliff, Mrs. Gentry received a -letter which caused Clara to be summoned to her presence. - -“Sit down. I’ve something important to communicate,” said the -schoolmistress. “You’ve often asked me to whom you are indebted for your -support. Learn now that you belong to Mr. Carberry Ratcliff, whom you -met here some weeks ago. He is the rich planter whose house and grounds -in Lafayette you’ve often admired.” - -“_Belong_ to him?” cried Clara. “What do you mean? Am I his daughter? Am -I in any way related?” - -“No, you’re his slave. He bought you at auction.” - -Impulsive as her own mocking-bird by nature, Clara had learned that -cruel lesson, which gifted children are often compelled to acquire when -subjected to the rule of inferior minds,—the art, namely, of checking -and disguising the emotions. - -Excepting a quivering of her lips, a flushing of her brow, a slight -heaving of her bosom, and a momentary expression as of deadly sickness -in her face, she did not betray, by outward signs, the intensity of that -feeling of disgust, hate, and indignation which Mrs. Gentry’s -communication had aroused. - -“Did Mr. Ratcliff request you to inform me that he considered me his -slave?” she asked, in a tone which, by a strenuous effort, she divested -of all significance. - -“Yes; he concluded you are now of an age to understand the -responsibilities of your real situation. He not only paid a price for -you when you were yet an infant, but he has maintained you ever since. -But for him you might have been toiling in the sun on a plantation. But -for him you might never have got an education. But for him you might -never have heard of salvation through Christ. But for him you might -never have had the privilege of attending the Rev. Dr. Palmer’s Sunday -school. Is there any sacrifice too great for you to make for such a -master? Would it be too much for you to lay down your life for him? -Speak!” - -Mrs. Gentry, it will be seen, pursued the Socratic method of impressing -truth upon her pupils. As Clara made no reply to her interrogatories, -she continued: “As your instructress, it has been my object to make you -feel sensibly the importance of doing your duty in whatever sphere you -may be cast.” - -“And what, madame, may be the duty of a slave?” interposed Clara, -stifling down and masking the rage of her heart. - -“The duty of a slave,” said Mrs. Gentry, “is to obey her master. Prompt -and unhesitating obedience, that is her duty.” - -“Obedience to any and every command,—is that what you mean, madame?” - -“Unquestionably, it is.” - -“And must I not exercise my reason as to what is right or wrong?” - -“Your reason, under slavery, is subordinated to another’s. You must not -set up your own reason against your master’s.” - -“Supposing my master should order me to stab or poison you,—ought I to -do it?” - -The judge’s daughter, like all who venture to vindicate the leprous -wrong on moral grounds, found herself nonplussed. - -“You suppose a ridiculous and improbable case,” she replied. - -“Well, madame, let me state a fact. One of your pupils had a letter -yesterday from a sister in Alabama, who wrote that a slave woman had -killed herself under these circumstances: her master had compelled her -to unite herself in so-called marriage with a black man, though she -fully believed a former husband still lived. To escape the abhorred -consequence, she put an end to her life. Was that woman right or wrong -in opposing her master’s will?” - -“How can you ask?” returned Mrs. Gentry, reproachfully. “’T is the -slave’s duty to marry as the master orders.” - -“Even though her husband be living, do I understand you?” - -“Undoubtedly. Ministers of the Gospel will tell you, if there’s wrong in -it, the master, not the slave, is to blame.”[25] - -“I thank you for making the slave’s duty so clear. You’re quite sure Dr. -Palmer would approve your view?” - -“Entirely. All his preaching on the subject convinces me of it.” - -“And the woman, you think, who killed herself rather than be false to -her husband, went straight to hell?” - -“I can hope nothing better for her. She must have been a poor heathen -creature, wholly ignorant of Scripture. Paul commands slaves to obey; -and the woman who wilfully violates his injunction does it at the peril -of her soul.” - -Clara was silent; and Mrs. Gentry, felicitating herself on the powerful -moral lesson adapted to her pupil’s “new sphere of duty,” resumed, “By -the way, your master—” - -“Master!” shrieked Clara, running with upraised hands to Mrs. Gentry, as -if to dash them down on her. Then suddenly checking herself, she said -pleasantly: “You see I’m a little unused to the name. What were you -going to say?” - -“Really, child, one would think you were out of your wits. It isn’t as -if you were going to be consigned to a master who’d abuse you. There’s -many a poor girl in our first society who’d be glad to be taken care of -as you’ll be. Only think of it! Here’s a beautiful diamond ring for you. -And here’s a check for five hundred dollars for you to spend in dresses, -and you’re to have the selecting of them all yourself,—think of -that!—under my superintendence of course; but Madame Groux tells me your -taste is excellent, and I shall not interfere. ’T is now nine o’clock. -We’ll drive out this very forenoon to see what there is in the shops; -for Mr. Ratcliff may be here any hour now. Run and get ready, that’s a -good girl. The carriage shall be here at half past ten.” - -Without touching, or even looking at, the ring, Clara ran up-stairs to -her room, and, locking the door, knelt, with flushed, burning brow and -brain, at a little _prie-dieu_ in the corner. She did not try to put her -prayer in words, for the emotions which swelled within her bosom were -all unspeakable. Clara was intellectually a mystic, but the current of -her individualism was too strong to be diverted from its course by -ordinary influences, whether from spirits _in_ or _out_ of the flesh. -She was too positive to be constrained by other impulses than those -which her own will, enlightened by her own reason, had generated. So, -while she felt assured that angelic witnesses were round about her, and -that her every thought “had a critic in the skies,”—and while she -believed that, in one sense, nothing of mind or body was truly her -own,—that she was but a vessel or recipient,—she keenly experienced the -consciousness that she was a free, responsible agent. O mystery beyond -all fathoming! O reconcilement of contrarieties which only Omnipotence -could effect, and only Omnipotence can explain! - -She paced the floor of her little room,—looked her situation -unflinchingly in the face,—and resolved, with God’s help, to gird -herself for the strife. Her unknown benefactor, whom her imagination had -so exalted, ah! how poor a thing, hollow and corrupt, he had proved! -Could she ever forgive the man who had dared claim her as his slave? - -And yet might she not misjudge him? Might he not be plotting some -generous surprise? She recalled a single expression of his face, and -felt satisfied she did him no injustice. How hateful now seemed all -those accomplishments she had acquired! They were but the gilding of an -abhorred chain. - -In the midst of her whirling thoughts, her mocking-bird, which had been -pecking at some crumbs in his cage, burst into such a wild _jubilate_ of -song, that Clara’s attention was withdrawn for a moment even from her -own great grief. Opening the door of the cage, she said: “Come, Dainty, -you too shall be free. The window is open. Go find a pleasant home among -the trees and on the plantations.” - -The bird flew about her head, and alighted on her forefinger, as it had -been accustomed. Clara pressed the down of its neck to her cheek, and -then, taking the little songster to the window, threw it off her finger. -Dainty flew back into the room, and, alighting on Clara’s head, pecked -at her hair. - -“Naughty Dainty! Good by, my pet! We must part. Freedom is best for both -you and me.” And, putting her head out of the window, Clara brushed -Dainty off into the airy void, and closed the glass against the bird’s -return. - -She now summoned Esha, and said: “Esha, we’ve often wondered as to my -true place in the world. The mystery is solved to-day. Mrs. Gentry -informs me I’m a slave.” - -“What! Wha-a-a-t! You? You, too, a slabe? My little darlin’ a slabe? O, -de good Lord in hebbn won’t ’low dat!” - -“We’ve but a moment for talk, Esha. Help me to act. My owner (owner!) -may be here any minute.” - -“Who am dat owner?” - -“Mr. Carberry Ratcliff.” - -“No,—no,—no! Not dat man! Not him! De Lord help de dare chile if dat -born debble wunst git hole ob her!” - -“What do you know of him?” - -“He war de cruel massa ob dat slabe gal whom you hab de hair ob in yer -bosom.” - -“I’m glad of it!” cried Clara, throwing her clenched hand in the air, -and looking up as if to have the heavens hear her. - -“O, darlin’ chile, what am dar ole Esha kn do for her?” - -Clara stopped short, and, pressing both hands on her forehead, stood as -if calling her best thoughts to a council of war, and then said, “Can -you get me a small valise, Esha?” - -“Hab a carpet-bag I kn gib her. You jes wait one minute.” And Esha -returned with the desired article. - -“Now help me pack it with the things I shall most need. Mrs. Gentry -expects me soon to go a-shopping with her. When she calls for me, I -shall be missing. I’ve not yet made up my mind where to go. I shall -think on that as I walk along. What’s the matter, Esha? What do you -stare at?” - -“Look dar! What yer see dar, darlin’?” - -“A pair of little sleeve-buttons. How pretty! Gold with a setting of -coral. And on the inside, in tiny letters, C. A. B.” - -“Wall, dat’s de ’stonishin’est ting I’ze seen dis many a day. Ten—no, -’lebben—no, fourteen yars ago, as I war emptyin’ suds out ob de -wash-tub, I see dese little buttons shinin’ on de groun’. ’T was de -Monday arter you was browt here. Your little underclose had been in de -wash. So what does I do but put de buttons in my pocket, tinkin’ I’d gib -’em ter missis ter keep fur yer. But whan I look for ’em, dey was clean -gone,—couldn’t fine ’em nowhar. So I say noting t’ all ’bout it. Jes -now, as I tuk up fro’ my trunk a little muslin collar dat de dare saint -I tell yer ’bout used ter wear, what sh’d drop from de foles but dis -same little pair ob buttons dat I hab’nt seen fur all dese yars. Take -’em, darlin’, fur dey ’long ter you an’ ter nobody else.” - -“Thank you, Esha. I’ll keep them with my other treasures”; and Clara -fastened them with a pin to the piece of bunting in her bosom. “And now, -good by. Pray for me, Esha.” - -“Night and day, darlin’. But Esha mus gib suffn more ’n prayers. Take -dese twenty dollars in gold, darlin’. Yer’ll want ’em, sure. Don’t ’fuze -’em.” - -“How long have you been saving up this money, Esha?” - -“Bress de chile, only tree muntz. Dat’s nuffn. You jes take ’em. Dar! -Dat’s right. Tie ’em up safe in de corner ob yer hankerchy.” - -“But, Esha, you may not be paid back till you get to heaven.” And Clara -put on her bonnet, and spoke rapidly to choke down a sob. - -“So much de better. Dar! Put ’em safe in yer pocket. Dat’s a good -chile.” - -Fearing a refusal would only grieve the old woman, Clara received and -put away the gold-pieces. Then, closing the spring of the carpet-bag, -she kissed Esha, and said, “If they inquire for me, balk them as well as -you can.” - -“Leeb me alone fur dat, darlin’. An’ now yer mus’ go. De Lord an’ his -proppet bless yer! Allah keep yer! De mudder ob God watch ober yer!” - -In these ejaculations Esha would hardly have been held as orthodox -either by a mufti or a D.D. But what if, in the balance of the -All-Seeing, the sincere heart should outweigh the speculative head? Poor -old Esha was Mahometan through reverence for her father; Catholic -through influences from the family with whom she lived when a child; and -Protestant through knowledge of many good men and women of that faith. -She cared not how many saints there were in her calendar. The more the -merrier. All goodness in man or woman, of whatever race or sect, was -deified in her simple and semi-barbarous conceptions. Poor, ignorant, -sinful, unregenerate creature! - -“God bless you, Esha!” said Clara. “Look! There is poor Dainty perched -on the window-sill. Plainly he is no Abolitionist. He prefers slavery. -Take care of him.” - -“Dat I will, if only for your sake, darlin’.” - -And the old woman let the bird in and closed the window; and then—her -bronzed face wet with tears—she conducted Clara to a back door of the -house, from which the fugitive could issue, without being observed, into -an obscure carriage-way. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - ENCOUNTERS AT THE ST. CHARLES. - -“Hail, year of God’s farming! Hail, summer of an emancipated continent, -which shall lay up in storehouse and barn the great truths that were -worth the costly dressing of a people’s blood!”—_Rev. John Weiss._ - - -In one of the rooms of the St. Charles Hotel in New Orleans a man sat -meditating. The windows looked out on a street where soldiers were going -through their drill amid occasional shouts from by-standers. As the -noise grew louder, the man rose and went to a window. He was hardly -above the middle stature, slim and compact, but as lithe as if jointed -like an eel. His hair was slightly streaked with gray. His features, -though not full, spoke health, vigor, and pure habits of life; while his -white, well-preserved teeth, neatly trimmed beard, and well-cut, -well-adjusted clothes showed that, as he left his youth behind him, his -attention to his personal appearance did not decrease. Fourteen years -had made but little change in Vance. It had not tamed the fire of his -eyes nor slackened the alertness of his tread. - -As he caught sight of the “stars and bars” waving in the spring -sunlight, an expression of scorn was emitted in his frown, and he -exclaimed: “Detested rag! I shall yet live to trample you in the dirt on -that very spot where you now flaunt so bravely. Shout on, poor fools! -Continue, ye unreasoning cattle, to crop the flowery food, and lick the -hand just raised to shed your blood. And you, too, leaders of the rank -and file, led, in your turn, by South Carolina fire-eaters, go on and -overtake that fate denounced by the prophet on evil-doers. Hug the -strong delusion and believe the lie! Declare, with the smatterers of the -Richmond press, that Christian civilization is a mistake, and that the -new Confederacy is _a God-sent missionary to the nations_ to teach them -that pollution is purity, and incest a boon from heaven. The time is not -far distant when you shall learn how far the Eternal Powers are the -allies of human laziness, arrogance, and lust!” - -Suddenly the soliloquist seemed struck by the appearance of some one in -the crowd; for, taking from his pocket an opera-glass, and regulating -the focus, he looked through it, then muttered: “Yes, it is he! Poor -maggot! What haughtiness in his look!” - -Just then a man on horseback, in the dress of a civilian, and followed -by a slave, also mounted, rode forward nearer to where Vance sat at his -window. A multitude gathered round the foremost equestrian, and called -for a speech. “The Kunnle is jest frum South Kerlinay,” exclaimed a -swarthy inebriate, who seemed to be spokesman for the mob. “A speech -frum Kunnle Ratcliff! Hoorray!” - -Ratcliff, with a gesture of annoyance, rose in his stirrups, and said: -“Friends, I’ve nothing to tell you that you can’t find better told in -the newspapers. This is no time for talk. We want action now. All’s -right at Charleston. Sumter has fallen. That’s the first great step. The -Yankees may bluster, but they’ll never fight. The meanest white man at -the South is more than a match for any five Yankees. We’ll have them -begging to be let into our Southern Confederacy before Christmas. But we -won’t receive ’em. No! As Jeff Davis well says, sooner hyenas than -Yankees! But we must whip them into decency. And so, before the next -Fourth of July, we mean to have our flag flying over Faneuil Hall. We -are the master race, my friends! We must show these nigger stealing, -beggarly Yankees that they must stand cap in hand when they venture to -come into our presence. Don’t believe the croakers who tell you slavery -will be weakened by secession. It’s going to be strengthened. So -convinced am I of it, that I’ve doubled my number of slaves; and if any -of you wish to sell, bring on your niggers! Do you see that flag? Well, -that flag has got to wave over all Mexico, Cuba, and Central America. In -five years from now every man of you shall own his score of niggers and -his hundred acres of land. So go ahead, and aim low when you sight a -Yankee.” - -The speech was received with cheers, and Ratcliff started his horse; but -the leading loafer of the crowd seized the reins, and said: “Can’t let -yer off so, Kunnle,—can’t no how you kun fix it. We want a reg’lar game -speech, sich as you kun make when you dam please. So fire up, and do -your prettiest. Be n’t we the master race?” - -“Pshaw! Let go those reins,” said Ratcliff, cutting the vagabond over -his face with the but-end of a riding-whip. - -The crowd laughed, and the loafer, astonished and sobered, dropped the -reins, and put his hand to his eye, which had been badly hit. Ratcliff -rode on, but a muttered curse went after him. - -Seeing the loafer stand feeling of his eye as if had been hurt, Vance -said to him from the window: “Go to the apothecary’s, and tell him to -give you something to bathe it in.” - -“Go ter the ’pothecary’s! With nary a red in my pocket! Strannger, don’t -try to fool this child.” - -“Here’s money, if you want it.” - -“Money? I should like ter see the color of it, strannger.” - -“Hold your hat, then.” - -And Vance dropped into the hat something wrapped in a newspaper which -the loafer incredulously unfolded. Finding in it a five-dollar -gold-piece, he stared first at the money, then at Vance, and said: -“Strannger, I’d say, God bless yer, if I didn’t think, what a poor cuss -like I could say would rayther harm than help. Haven’t no influence with -God A’mighty, strannger. But you’re a man,—you air,—not a sneakin’ -’ristocrat as despises a poor white feller more ’n he does a nigger. -I’ve seen yer somewhar afore, but can’t say whar.” - -“Go and attend to your eye, my friend,” said Vance. - -“I will. An’ if ever I kun do yer a good turn, jes call on——” - -Vance could not hear the name; but he bowed, and the loafer moved on. -Looking in another direction, Vance saw Ratcliff dismount, throw the -reins to his attendant, and disappear in a vestibule of the hotel. Vance -rose and wildly paced the room. His whole frame quivered to the very -tips of his fingers, which he stretched forth as if to clutch some -invisible antagonist. He muttered incoherent words, and, smiting his -brow as if to keep back thoughts that struggled too tumultuously for -expression, cried: “O that I had him here,—here, face to -face,—weaponless, both of us! Would I not—The merciless villain! The -cowardly miscreant! To lash a woman! That moment of horror! Often as -I’ve lived it over, it is ever new. Can eternity make it fade? Again I -see her,-pale, very pale and bleeding,—and tied,—tied to the stake. O -Ratcliff! When shall this bridled vengeance overtake thee? Pshaw! What -is _he_,—an individual,—what is the sum of pain that _he_ can suffer? -Would that be a requital? Will not his own devices work better for me -than aught _I_ can do?” - -Seating himself in an arm-chair, Vance calmed his vindictive thoughts. -In memory he went back to that day when he first heard Estelle sing; -then to their first evening in Mrs. Mallet’s little house; then to the -old magnolia-tree before it. That house he had bought and given in -keeping to Mrs. Bernard, a married granddaughter of old Leroux, the -Frenchman. Every tree and shrub in the area had been reverently cared -for. Had not Estelle plucked blossoms from them all? - -He thought of his marriage,—of his pleasant walks with Estelle in -Jackson Square,—of their musical enjoyments,—of all her little devices -to minister to his comfort and delight,—and then of the sudden clouding -of this brief but most exquisite sunshine. - -Vance took from the pocket of his vest a little circular box of -rosewood. Unscrewing the cover, he revealed a photograph of Estelle, -taken after her marriage. There was such a smile on the countenance as -only the supreme happiness of a loving heart could have created. On the -opposite circle was a curl of her hair of that strangely beautiful -neutral tint which Vance had often admired. This he pressed to his lips. -“Dear saint,” he murmured, “I have not forgotten thy parting words. For -thy sake will I wrestle with this spirit that would seek a _paltry_ -revenge. Thy smile, O my beloved! shall dispel the remembrance of thy -agony, and thy love shall conquer all earth-born hate. For thy dear sake -will I still calmly meet thy murderer. O, lend me of thy divine patience -to endure his presence! Sweet child, affectionate and pure, I can dream -of nothing in heaven more precious than thyself. If from thee, O my -beloved! come this spiritual refreshing and reinforcement,—if from thee -these tender influences, so bright and yet so gentle,—then must thy -sphere be one within which the angels delight to come.” - -There was a knock at the door. Vance shut the box, replaced it in his -pocket, and cried, “Come in!” - -“Colored man down stars, sar, wants to see yer.” - -“Did he give his name?” - -“Yes, sar, he say his name is Jacobs.” - -“Show him up.” - -A negro now entered wearing green spectacles, and a wig of gray wool. -Across his cheek there was a scar. No sooner was the door closed upon -the waiter, than Vance exclaimed: “Is it possible? Can this be you, -Peek?” - -Peek threw off his disguises, and Vance seized him by the hand as he -might have seized a returning brother. - -“What of your wife and child? Have you found ’em?” - -“No, Mr. Vance, I’m still a wanderer over the earth in search of them. I -shall find them in God’s good time.” - -“Sit down, Peek.” - -“Excuse me, Mr. Vance, I’d rather stand.” - -“Very well. Then I’ll stand too.” - -“Since you make it a point of politeness, sir, I’ll sit.” - -“That’s right. And now, my dear fellow, tell me what you’ve been about -these many years. Surely you’ve discovered some traces of the lost -ones?” - -“None that have been of much use, Mr. Vance. I’m satisfied that Flora -was lured on to Baltimore by some party who deceived her with the -expectation of meeting me there. From Baltimore she and her child were -taken to Richmond by the agent of her old master, and sold at auction to -a dealer, who soon afterwards died. There the clew breaks.” - -“My poor Peek, your not finding her has probably saved you from a deeper -disappointment.” - -“What do you mean, Mr. Vance?” - -“The chance is, she has been forced to marry some other man.” - -“I know, sir, that would be the probability in the case of ninety-nine -slave-women out of a hundred. But Flora once swore to me on the -crucifix, she would be true to me or die. And I feel very certain she -will keep her oath.” - -“Ah! slavery is so crafty and remorseless in working on human passions,” -sighed Vance. “But you are right, my dear Peek, in hoping on. Tell me of -your adventures.” - -“When you and I parted at Memphis, Mr. Vance, I went to Montreal. Flora -had left there some weeks before. At New York I sought out Mr. Charlton; -also the policemen. But I could get nothing out of them. At length a -Canadian told me he had met Flora on board the Baltimore boat. I -followed up the clew till it broke, as I’ve told you. Since then I’ve -been seeking my wife and boy through all the Cotton States. The money -you gave me from Mr. Berwick lasted me seven years; and then I had to -work to get the means of continuing my search. There are not many -counties in the Slave States which I have not visited.” - -“During your travels, Peek, you must have had opportunities of helping -on the good cause.” - -“Yes, Mr. Vance. I needed some strong motive to send me far and wide -among my poor brethren. Without it I might have led a selfish life, -content with my own comforts. But God has ordered it all right. I bought -a pass as an old slave preacher, and thus was able to visit the -plantations, and establish secret societies in the cause of freedom. -Give the slaves arms, treat them like men, and they will fight. But they -will not rise unarmed in useless insurrection. As soon as the North will -give them the means of defending their freedom, they will break their -fetters. It is the North, and not the South, that now holds the slave in -check.” - -“Yes, Peek; public sentiment is almost as much poisoned at the North as -at the South, by this slavery virus.” - -“And what have _you_, sir, been about all these years?” - -“Much of my time has been spent in Kansas. I’ve been a border ruffian.” - -“A sham one, I suppose?” - -“Well, Peek, so seriously did I play my part, that perhaps I shall go -down in history as one of the pro-slavery leaders. John Brown of -Ossawatomie would at one time have shot me on sight. He afterwards -understood me better,—understood that, if I fraternized with the -pro-slavery crew, it was to thwart their schemes. The rascals were -continually astounded at finding their bloodiest secrets revealed to the -Abolitionists, and little suspected that one of their most trusted -advisers was the informer. Yes! I helped on the madness which God sends -to those he means to destroy. Baffled in California, the devil of -slavery set his heart on establishing his altars in Kansas. How -effectually we have headed him off! And now the frenzied idiot wants -secession and a slave empire. Heaven forbid I should arrest him in his -fatuity! Let me rather help it on.” - -“Are you, then, a secessionist, Mr. Vance?” - -“In one sense: I’m for secession from slavery by annihilating it, -holding on to the Union. I was at the great Nashville convention. I’ve -been the last few months watching things here in conservative Louisiana. -She will have to follow South Carolina. That little vixen among States -cracks the overseer’s whip over our heads, and threatens us with her -sovereign displeasure for our timidity. She has nearly frightened poor -Governor Moore out of his boots.” - -“I’ve been thinking much lately,” said Peek, “of our adventure on board -the Pontiac. What ever became of Colonel Delancy Hyde?” - -“The Colonel,” replied Vance, “for a time wooed fortune in Kansas, but -didn’t win her. Since then I’ve lost him.” - -“The last I heard of him,” said Peek, “he had quarrelled with a fellow -at a cock-fight in Montgomery, and been wounded; and his sister, a -decent woman, was tending on him.” - -“I confess I’ve a weakness for the Colonel,” said Vance, “though -unquestionably he’s a great scoundrel.” - -“Did you ever learn, Mr. Vance, what became of that yellow girl he -coveted?” - -“She and the child were drowned,” was the reply. - -“What proof of that did you ever have?” - -“My first endeavor, after the accident,” said Vance, “was to serve the -man to whom I had owed my own life; and it was not till I saw you secure -from Hyde, and your scalds taken care of, I learnt from Judge Onslow -that the Berwicks, husband and wife, had died from their wounds.” - -“Were their bodies ever recovered?” - -“Those of the husband and wife I saw and recognized. But not half the -bodies of the drowned were recovered, so strong was the current. It was -not surprising, therefore, that the child and nurse should be of this -number. Two of the passengers testified to seeing them in the -river,—tried ineffectually to save them, and saw them go under.” - -“Did you ever learn who those passengers were?” - -“No. But I satisfied myself, so far as I could from human testimony, -that the child was not among the saved. Business called me suddenly to -New Orleans. Why do you ask?” - -“Excuse me. Were you never summoned as a witness on the trial which gave -Mr. Charlton the Berwick property?” - -“Never. Perhaps one of the inconveniences of my _aliases_ is, that my -friends do not often know where to find me, or how to address me. I was -not aware there had been a trial.” - -“Nor was I,” said Peek, “until a few weeks ago. At the Exchange Hotel in -Montgomery, I waited on Captain Ireton of the army, who, learning that I -had had dealings with Charlton, informed me that his (Ireton’s) -grandfather had been a party to a lawsuit growing out of the loss of the -Pontiac, but that the case had been decided in Charlton’s favor. When -Captain Ireton learned that I, too, had been on the Pontiac, he put me -many questions, in the course of which I learned that the evidence as to -the death of the child and her nurse rested solely on the testimony of -Colonel Delancy Hyde and his friend, Leonidas Quattles.” - -Vance started up and paced the floor, striking both palms against his -forehead. “Dupe and fool that I’ve been!” he exclaimed. “Deep as I -thought myself, this thick-skulled Hyde has been deeper still. I’ve been -outwitted by a low rascal and blockhead. In all my talk with Hyde about -the explosion, he never intimated to me that he had ever testified as a -witness in a suit growing out of the accident. Never would he have kept -silent on such a point if he hadn’t been guilty. He and Quattles and -Charlton! What possible rascality might not have been hatched among the -three! Of course there was knavery! What was the amount of property in -suit?” - -“More than a million of dollars,—so Ireton told me.” - -“A million? The father and mother dead,—then prove that the child—But -stop. I’m going too fast. _Hyde_ couldn’t have been interested in having -it supposed that the child was dead. How could he have known about the -Berwick property?” - -“But might he not have tried to kidnap the yellow girl?” - -“There you hit it, Peek! Dolt that I’ve been not to think of that! I -remember now that Hyde once said to me, the yellow girl would bring -sixteen hundred dollars in New Orleans. Well, supposing he took the -yellow girl, what could he do with the white child?” - -“Can you, of all men, Mr. Vance, not guess? He could sell the child as a -slave. Or, if he wanted to make her bring a little better price, he -could tinge her skin just enough to give it a slight golden hue.” - -Vance wet a towel in iced water, and pressed it on his forehead. - -“But you pierce my heart, Peek, by the bare suggestion of such things,” -he said. “That poor child! Clara was her name,—a bright, affectionate -little lady! Should Hyde have given false testimony in regard to her -death, I shudder to think what may have become of her. She, born to -affluence, may be at this moment a wretched menial, or worse, a trained -Cyprian, polluted, body and soul. Why was I not more thorough in my -investigations? But perhaps ’t is not too late to prove the villany, if -villany there has been.” - -“Hyde may be able to put you on the right track,” suggested Peek. - -Vance sat down, and for five minutes seemed lost in meditation. Then, -starting up, he said: “Where would you next go in pursuit of your wife -and child?” - -“To Texas,” replied Peek. - -“To Texas you shall go. Would you venture to face Colonel Hyde?” - -“With these green goggles I would face any of my old masters; and the -scalds upon my face would alone prevent my being known.” - -“I can get you a pass from the Mayor himself, so that you’d not be -molested. Find Hyde, and bring him to me at any cost. Money will do it. -When can you start?” - -“By the next boat,—in half an hour.” - -“All right. Make your home at Bernard’s when you return. The house is -mine. Here’s the direction. Here’s a pass from the Mayor which I’ve -filled up for you. And here’s money, which you needn’t stop to count. -Good by!” - -And, with a grasp of the hand, they parted, and Peek quitted the hotel -to take the boat for Galveston. - -He had no sooner gone than Vance went down-stairs to the dining-hall. -Most of the guests had finished their dinners; but at a small table near -that at which he took his seat were a company of four, lingering over -the dessert. - -Senator Wigman, a puffy, red-faced man, had been holding forth on the -prospective glories of the Confederacy. - -“Yes, sir,” said he, refilling his glass with Burgundy, “with the rest -of the world we’ll trade, but never, never with the Yankees. Not one -pound of cotton shall ever go from the South to their accursed cities; -not one ounce of their steel or their manufactures shall ever cross our -borders.” And Wigman emptied his glass at a single gulp. - -“Good for Wigman!” exclaimed Mr. Robson, a round, full-faced young man, -rather fat, and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles. “But what about Yankee -ice, Wigman? Will you deprive us of that also? And tell me, my Wigman, -why is it that, since you despise these Yankees so intensely, you allow -your children to remain at school in Massachusetts? Isn’t that a little -inconsistent, my Wigman?” - -Wigman was obliged to refill his glass before he could summon his -thoughts for a reply. - -“Mr. Robson,” he then said, “you’re a scholar, and must be aware that -the ancient Spartans, in order to disgust their children with -intemperance, used to make their slaves drunk. If I send my children -among the Yankees, it is that they may be struck by the superiority of -the Southern character when they return home.” - -“So you’ve no faith in the old maxim touching evil communications,” said -Robson, taking a bottle of Champagne, and easing the cork so as to send -it to the ceiling with a loud pop. “Now, gentlemen, bumpers all round! -Onslow, let me fill your glass; Kenrick, yours. Drink to my sentiment. -Here’s confusion to the old concern!” - -Vance was just lifting a spoonful to his lips; but he returned it to his -plate as he heard the name of Onslow, and looked round. Yes, it was -surely he!—the boy of the Pontiac, now a handsome youth of twenty-four. -On his right sat the young man addressed as Kenrick. At the latter Vance -hardly looked, so intent was he on Onslow’s response. - -Wigman spoke first. Holding up his glass, and amorously eyeing the -salmon hue of the wine, he exclaimed: “Agreed! Here’s confusion to the -old con-hiccup-concern!” - -The Senator’s unfortunate hiccup elicited inextinguishable laughter from -the rest, until Robson rapped with the handle of his knife on the table, -and cried: “Order! order! Gentlemen, I consider that man a sneaking -traitor who’ll not get drunk in behalf of sentiments like those our -friend the Senator has been uttering.” - -“Look here, young man, do you mean to insinuate that I’m getting drunk,” -said Wigman, angrily. - -“Far from it, Wigman. Any one can see you’re _not getting_ drunk.” - -“I accept the apology,” said Wigman, with maudlin dignity. - -“Well, then, gentlemen,” cried Robson, “now for the previous question! -Confusion to the old concern!” - -Wigman and Onslow drank to the sentiment, but Kenrick, calling a negro -waiter, handed the glass to him, and said: “Throw that to the pigs, and -bring me a fresh glass.” - -“Halloo! What the deuce do you mean by that?” cried Robson. “Have we a -Bourbon among us? Have we a Yankee sympathizer among us? Is it possible? -Does Mr. Charles Kenrick of Kenrick, son of Robert Kenrick, Esq., -Confederate M. C., and heir to a thousand niggers, refuse to drink to -the downfall of Abolitionism, and those other isms against which we’ve -drawn the sword and flung away the scabbard?” - -“Yes, by Jove!” interposed Wigman. “And we’ll welcome our invaders -with—with—” - -“With bloody hands to hospitable graves,” said Robson. “Speak quick, my -Wigman. That’s the Southern formula, I believe, invented, like the new -song of _Dixie_, by an impertinent Yankee. It’s devilish hard we have to -import from these blasted Yankees the very slang and music we turn -against them.” - -“Answer me, Mr. Charles Kenrick,” said Wigman, assuming a front of -judicial severity, “did you mean any offence to the Confederacy by -dishonoring the sentiment of hostility to its enemy?” - -“Damn the Confederacy!” said Kenrick. - -“Hear him,” said Robson. “Was there ever such blasphemy? Please write it -down, Onslow, that he damns the Confederacy. And write Wigman down an—No -matter for that part of it! We shall hear Kenrick blaspheming slavery by -and by.” - -“Damn slavery!” said Kenrick. - -“Kenrick is joking,” said Onslow. - -“Kenrick was never more serious in his life, Mr. Onslow!” - -“Look here, my dear fellow,” said Robson, “there _are_ sanctities which -must not be invaded, even under the privilege of Champagne. Insult the -Virgin Mary, traduce the Holy Trinity, profane the Holy of holies, say -that Jeff Davis isn’t a remarkable man, as much as you please, but -beware how you speak ill of the peculiar institution. We’ll twist the -noose for you with a pleased alacrity unless you retract those wicked -words, and do penance in two tumblers of Heidsieck drunk in expiation of -your horrible levity.” - -“Damn slavery!” reiterated Kenrick. - -“He’s a subject for the Committee of Safety,” suggested Wigman. - -“Kenrick is playing with us all this while,” said Onslow. “Come! Confess -it, old schoolfellow! You honor the new flag as much as I do.” - -“I’ll show you how much I honor it,” said Kenrick; and, going to a table -where a small Confederate flag was stuck in a leg of bacon, he tore off -the silken emblem, ripped it in four parts, and, casting it on the -floor, put his foot on the fragments and spat on them. - -Wigman drew a small bowie-knife from a pocket inside of his vest, and, -starting to his feet, kicked back his chair, and rushed with somewhat -tortuous motion towards Kenrick; but, having miscalculated his powers of -equilibrium, the Senator fell helplessly on the floor, and dropped his -knife. Robson kicked it to a distant part of the room, and, helping -Wigman to his feet, placed him in his chair, and counselled him not to -try it again. - -“It is to me that Mr. Kenrick must answer for this insult to the flag,” -said Onslow. - -Kenrick bowed. Then, resuming his seat, he took a fresh glass, and, -filling it till it overflowed with Champagne, rose and exclaimed: “The -Union! not as it _was_, but as it _shall_ be, with universal -freedom,—from the St. Croix to the Rio Grande,—from Cape Cod to the -Golden Gate!” Kenrick touched his lips reverently to the wine, then put -it down, and, taking from his bosom a beautiful American flag made of -silk, shook it out, and said, “Here, gentlemen, is _my_ religion.” - -Onslow made a snatch at it, but Kenrick warded off his grip, and, -folding and returning the flag to the inner pocket of his vest, calmly -took his seat as if nothing had happened. - -All this while Vance had been gazing on Kenrick intently, as if -wrestling in thought with some inexplicable mystery. “Strange!” he -murmured. “The very counterpart of my own person as I was at -twenty-three! My very features! My very figure! The very color of my -hair! And then,—what my mother often told me was a Carteret -peculiarity,—when he smiles, that fan-like radiation of fine wrinkles -under the temples from the outer corner of the eye! What does it all -mean? I know of no relation of the name of Kenrick.” - -“I shall not sit at table with a traitor,” cried Onslow. - -“Then keep standing all the time,” said Kenrick. - -“Nonsense! I thought we were all philosophers in this company,” -interposed Robson, who, having had large commercial dealings with the -elder Kenrick, was in no mood to see the son harmed. “Sit down, Onslow! -Wigman, keep your seat. Now, waiter, green glasses all round, and a -bottle of that sparkling Moselle. They’ll know at the bar what I mean.” - -Onslow resumed his seat. Wigman stiffened himself up and drew nearer to -the table, fired at the prospect of a fresh bottle. - -At this juncture Mr. George Sanderson, a Northern man with Southern -principles, in person short, vulgar, and flashily dressed, the very -_beau ideal_ of a bar-room rowdy, having heard the clink of glasses, and -sighted from the corridor an array of bottles, was seized with one of -his half-hourly attacks of thirstiness, and entered to join the party, -although Wigman was the only one he knew. The latter introduced him to -the rest. Robson uncorked the Moselle, and asked, “Now that Sumter has -fallen, what’s next on the programme?” - -“Washington must be taken,” said Sanderson. - -“We must winter in Philadelphia,” said Wigman. - -“In what capacity? As conquerors or as captives?” said Kenrick. - -“Is the gentleman at all shaky?” asked Sanderson. - -“He has been shamming Abolitionism,” replied Onslow. - -“He damns slavery,” cried the indignant Wigman. - -“He’s sure to go to hell for that,” said Robson; “intercession can’t -save him. He has committed the unpardonable sin. The Rev. Dr. Palmer has -recently made researches in theology which satisfy himself and me and -the rest of the saints, that the sin against the Holy Ghost is in truth -nothing less than to be an Abolitionist.” - -“What is your private opinion of the Yankees, Mr. Sanderson?” asked -Kenrick. “Do you think they’ll fight?” - -“No, sir-r-r. Fifty thousand Confederates could walk through the -Northern States, and plant their colors on every State capital north of -Mason and Dixon’s line. They could whip any army the Yankees could bring -against them.” - -“Then you think the Yankees are cowards, eh?” - -“Compared with the Southerners,—yes!” said Sanderson, holding up his -glass for the waiter to refill. - -“His opinion is that of an expert. He’s himself a Yankee!” cried Robson. - -“I see Mr. Sanderson soars far above the spirit of the old proverb -touching the bird that fouls its nest,” said Kenrick. - -“Order!” cried Robson. “Mr. Sanderson is a philosopher. He disdains -vulgar prejudices. To him the old nest is straw and mud, and the old -flag is a bit of bunting. Isn’t it so, Sanderson?” - -“Exactly so,” said Sanderson, a little puzzled by Robson’s persiflage, -and seeking relief from it in another glass of wine. But, finding the -Moselle bottle empty, he applied himself to a decanter labelled Old -Monongahela. - -A sudden snore from Wigman, who had fallen asleep in his chair, startled -the party once more into laughter. - -“Happy Wigman!” said Robson. “He smiles. He is dreaming of slavery -extension into benighted, slaveless Mexico,—of Cuba annexed, and her -stupidly mild slave-code reformed,—of tawny-hued houries, metifs, and -quarteroons fanning him while he reposes,—of unnumbered Yankees howling -over their lost trade, and kneeling vainly for help to him,—to Wigman! -Profound Wigman! Behold the great man asleep! Happy Texas in having such -a representative! Happy Jeff Davis in having such a counsellor! -Gentlemen, my feelings grow too effusive. I must leave you. The dinner -has been good. The wine has been good. I must make one criticism, -however. The young gentlemen are degenerate. They do not drink. Look at -them. They are perfectly sober. What is the world coming to? At our -hotels, where twenty years ago we used to see fifty—yes, a -hundred—champagne bottles on the dinner-table, we now don’t see ten. And -yet men talk of the progress of the age! ’T is all a delusion. The day -of juleps has gone by. We are receding in civilization. Wigman is a type -of the good old times,—a landmark, a pattern for the rising generation. -To his immortal honor be it recorded, that after that most heroic -achievement of this or any other age, the subjugation of Anderson’s -little starving garrison in Sumter by Beauregard, Wigman started in a -small boat for the fort. Wigman landed. Wigman was the first to land. He -entered one of the bomb-proofs. The first thought of a vulgar mind would -have been to fly the victorious flag. Not so Wigman. On a shelf he saw a -bottle. With a sublime self-abandonment he saw nothing else. He seized -it; he uncorked it; he drank from it. And it was not till he had -exhausted the last drop, that he learnt from the surgeon it was poison. -O posterity! don’t be ungrateful and forget this picture when you think -of Sumter. Our Wigman was saved to us by an emetic. Hand him down, ye -future Hildreths and Motleys of America. Unconscious Wigman! He responds -with another rhoncus. Mr. Sanderson, I leave him to your generous care. -Gentlemen, good by!” And without waiting for a reply, Robson received -his hat from the attentive waiter, waved a bow to the party, and waddled -out of the hall. - -Mr. Sanderson, seeing that a bottle of Chateau Margaux was but half -emptied, sighed that he had not detected it sooner. Filling a goblet -with the purple fluid, he drained it in long and appreciative draughts, -rolling the smooth juice over his tongue, and carefully savoring the -bouquet. Having emptied this bottle, he sighted another nearly two -thirds full of champagne. Sanderson felt a pang at the thought that -there was a limit to man’s ability to quaff good liquor. He, however, -went up to the attack bravely, and succeeded in disposing of two full -tumblers. Then a spirit of meek content at his bibulous achievements -seemed to come over him. He put his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, -leaned back, and benignantly said, “This warm weather has made me a -trifle thirsty.” - -Wigman suddenly started from his sleep, wakened by the cessation of -noise. Sanderson rose, and assisted the Senator to his feet. “Come, my -dear fellow,” said he, “it’s time to adjourn. Good by, young gentlemen!” -And arm in arm the two worthies staggered out of the hall, each under -the impression that the other was the worse for liquor, and each -affectionately counselling the other not to expose himself. - -Vance still sat at his table, and from behind a newspaper glanced -occasionally at the two young men who had so excited his interest. - -“Now, Kenrick,” said Onslow, “now that Robson the impenetrable, and -Wigman the windy, and Sanderson the beastly, are out of the way, tell me -what you mean by your incomprehensible conduct. When we met at table -to-day, the first time for five years, I did not dream that you were -other than you used to be, the enthusiastic champion of the South and -its institutions.” - -“You wonder,” replied Kenrick, “that I should express my detestation of -the Rebellion and its cause,—of the Confederacy and its -corner-stone,—that I should differ from my father, who believes in -slavery. How much more reasonably might I wonder at _your_ apostasy from -truths which such a man as your father holds!” - -“My father is an honorable man,—an excellent man,” said Onslow; “but—” - -“But,” interrupted Kenrick, “if you were sincere just now in the epithet -you flung at me, you consider him also a traitor. Now a traitor is one -who betrays a trust. What trust has your father betrayed?” - -“He does not stand by his native State in her secession from the old -Union,” answered Onslow. - -“But what if he holds that his duty to the central government is -paramount to his duty to his State?” asked Kenrick. - -“That I regard as an error,” replied Onslow. - -“Then by your own showing,” said Kenrick, “all that you can fairly say -is, that your father has erred in judgment,—not that he has been guilty -of a base act of treason.” - -“No, I didn’t mean that, Charles,—your pardon,” said Onslow, holding out -his hand. - -Kenrick cordially accepted the proffered apology, and then asked: “May I -speak frankly to you, Robert,—speak as I used to in the old times at -William and Mary’s?” - -“Certainly. Proceed.” - -“Your father literally obeyed the Saviour’s injunction. He gave up all -he had, to follow where truth led. Convinced that slavery was a wrong, -he ruined his fortunes in the attempt to substitute free labor for that -of slaves. Through the hostility of the slave interest the experiment -failed.” - -“I think,” said Onslow, “my father acted unwisely in sacrificing his -fortunes to an abstraction.” - -“An abstraction! The man who tries to undo a wrong is an abstractionist, -is he? What a world this would be if all men would be guilty of similar -abstractions. To such a one I would say, ‘Master, lead on, and I will -follow thee, to the last gasp, with truth and loyalty!’ Strange! -unaccountably strange, that his own son should have deserted him for the -filthy flesh-pots of slavery!” - -“May not good men differ as to slavery?” asked Onslow. - -“Put that question,” replied Kenrick, “to nine tenths of the -slaveholders,—men in favor of lynching, torturing, murdering, those -opposed to the institution. Put it to Mr. Carson, who, the other day, in -his own house, shot down an unarmed and unsuspecting visitor, because he -had freely expressed views opposed to slavery. Abolitionists don’t hang -men for not believing with them,—do they? But the whole code and temper -of the South reply to you, that men may _not_ differ, and _shall_ not -differ, on the subject of slavery. Onslow, give me but one thing,—and -that a thing guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States, though -never tolerated in the Slave States,—give me _liberty of the press_ in -those States, and I, as a friend of the Union, would say to the -government at Washington, ‘Put by the sword. Wait! I will put down this -rebellion. I have the pen and the press! Therefore is slavery doomed, -and its days are numbered.’” - -“Why is it,” asked Onslow, “if slavery is wrong, that you find all the -intelligence, all the culture, at the South, and even in the Border -States, on its side?” - -“Ah! there,” replied Kenrick, “there’s the sunken rock on which you and -many other young men have made wreck of your very souls. Your æsthetic -has superseded your moral natures. To work is in such shocking bad -taste, when one can make others work for one!” - -“Nine tenths of the men at the South of any social position,” said -Onslow, “are in favor of secession.” - -“I know it,” returned Kenrick, “and the sadder for human nature that it -should be so! In Missouri, in Kentucky, in Virginia, in Baltimore, all -the young men who would be considered fashionable, all who thoughtlessly -or heartlessly prize more their social _status_ than they do justice and -right, follow the lead of the pro-slavery aristocracy. I know from -experience how hard it is to break loose from those social and family -ties. But I thank God I’ve succeeded. ’T was like emerging from mephitic -vapors into the sweet oxygen of a clear, sun-bright atmosphere, that -hour I resolved to take my lot with freedom and the right against -slavery and the wrong!” - -“How was your conversion effected?” asked Onslow. “Did you fall in love -with some Yankee schoolmistress? I wasn’t aware you’d been living at the -North.” - -“I’ve never set foot in a Free State,” replied Kenrick. “My life has -been passed here in Louisiana on my father’s plantation. I was bred a -slaveholder, and lived one after the most straitest sect of our religion -until about six months ago. See at the trunkmaker’s my learned papers in -De Bow’s Review. They’re entitled ‘Slave Labor _versus_ Free.’ -Unfortunately for my admirers and disciples, there was in my father’s -library a little stray volume of Channing’s writings on slavery. I read -it at first contemptuously, then attentively, then respectfully, and at -last lovingly and prayerfully. The truth, almost insufferably radiant, -poured in upon me. Convictions were heaved up in my mind like volcanic -islands out of the sea. I was spiritually magnetized and possessed.” - -“What said your father?” - -“My father and I had always lived more as companions than as sire and -son. There is only a difference of twenty-two years in our ages. My own -mother, a very beautiful woman who died when I was five years old, was -six years older than my father. From her I derived my intellectual -peculiarities. Of course my father has cast me off,—disowned, -disinherited me. He is sincere in his pro-slavery fanaticism. I wish I -could say as much of all who fall in with the popular current.” - -“But what do you mean to do, Charles? ’T is unsafe for you to stay here -in New Orleans, holding such sentiments.” - -“My plans are not yet matured,” replied Kenrick. “I shall stand by the -old flag, you may be sure of that. And I shall liberate all the slaves I -can, beginning with my father’s.” - -“You would not fight against your own State?” - -“Incontinently I would if my own State should persist in rebellion -against the Union; and so I would fight against my own county should -that rebel against the State.” - -“Well, schoolfellow,” said Onslow, with a fascinating frankness, “let us -reserve our quarrels for the time when we shall cross swords in earnest. -That time may come sooner than we dream of. The less can we afford to -say bitter things to each other now. Come, and let me introduce you to a -charming young lady. How long do you stay here?” - -“Perhaps a week; perhaps a month.” - -“I shall watch over you while you remain, for I do not fancy seeing my -old crony hung.” - -“Better so than be false to the light within me. Though worms destroy -this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God.” - -Onslow made no reply, but affectionately, almost compassionately, took -Kenrick by the arm and led him away. - -Vance put down his newspaper, and then, immersed in meditation, slowly -passed out of the dining-hall and up-stairs into his own room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - A MONSTER OF INGRATITUDE. - -“Faint hearts are usually false hearts, choosing sin rather than -suffering.”—_Argyle, before his execution._ - - -Mrs. Gentry had attired herself in her new spring costume, a -feuillemorte silk, with a bonnet trimmed to match, of the frightful -coal-hod shape, with sable roses and a bristling ruche. It was just such -a bonnet as Proserpine, Queen of the Shades, might have chosen for a -stroll with Pluto along the shore of Lake Avernus. - -After many satisfactory glances in the mirror, Mrs. Gentry sat down and -trotted her right foot impatiently. Tarquin, entering, announced the -carriage. - -“Well, go to Miss Ellen, and ask when she’ll be ready.” - -Five minutes Mrs. Gentry waited, while the horses, pestered by stinging -insects, dashed their hoofs against the pavements. At last Tarquin -returned with the report that Miss Ellen’s room was empty. - -“Has Pauline looked for her?” - -“Yes, missis.” - -“Ask Esha if she has seen her.” - -Pauline, standing at the head of the stairs, put the question, and Esha -replied testily from the kitchen: “Don’t know nuffin ’bout her. Hab -suffin better ter do dan look af’r all de school-gals in dis house.” - -Pauline turned from the old heathen in despair, and suggested that -perhaps Miss Ellen had stepped out to buy a ribbon or some hair-pins. - -Mrs. Gentry waxed angry. “O, but she’ll be come up with!” This was the -teacher’s favorite form of consolation. The _Abolitionists_ would be -come up with. Abe Lincoln would be come up with. General Scott would be -come up with. Everybody who offended Mrs. Gentry would be come up -with,—if not in this world, why then in some other. - -An hour passed. She began to get seriously alarmed. She sent away the -carriage. Hardly had it gone, when a second vehicle drew up before the -door, and out of it stepped Mr. Ratcliff. She met him in the parlor, -and, fearing to tell the truth, merely remarked, that Ellen was out -making a few purchases. - -“When will she be back?” - -“Perhaps not till dinner-time.” - -“Then I’ll call to-morrow at this hour.” - -Mrs. Gentry passed the day in a state of wretched anxiety. She sent out -messengers. She interested a policeman in the search. But no trace of -the fugitive! Mrs. Gentry was in despair. If Ellen had not been a slave, -her disappearance would have been comparatively a small matter. If it -had been somebody’s free-born daughter who had absconded, it wouldn’t -have been half so bad. But here was a slave! One whose flight would lay -open to suspicion the teacher’s allegiance to _the_ institution! -Intolerable! Of course it was no concern of hers to what fate that slave -was about to be consigned. - -Ah! sister of the South,—(and I have known many, the charms of whose -persons and manners I thought incomparable,)—a woman whose own virtue is -not rooted in sand, cannot, if she thinks and reasons, fail to shudder -at a system which sends other women, perhaps as innocent and pure as she -herself, to be sold to brutal men at auctions. And yet, if any one had -told Mrs. Gentry she was no better than a procuress, both she and the -Rev. Dr. Palmer would have thought it an impious aspersion. - -At the appointed hour Ratcliff appeared. Mrs. Gentry’s toilet that day -was appropriate to the calamitous occasion. She was dressed in a black -silk robe intensely flounced, and decorated around the bust with a -profluvium of black lace that might have melted the heart of a -Border-ruffian. She entered the parlor, tragically shaking out a pocket -handkerchief with an edging of black. - -“O Mr. Ratcliff! Mr. Ratcliff!” she exclaimed, rushing forward, then -checking herself melodramatically, and seizing the back of a chair, as -if for support. - -“Well, madam, what’s the matter?” - -“That heartless,—that ungrateful girl!” - -“What of her?” - -Mrs. Gentry answered by applying her handkerchief to her eyes very much -as Mrs. Siddons used to do in Belvidera. - -“Come, madam,” interrupted Ratcliff, “my time is precious. No damned -nonsense, if you please. To the point. What has happened?” - -Rudely shocked into directness by these words, Mrs. Gentry replied: “She -has disappeared,—r-r-run away!” - -“Damnation!” was Ratcliff’s concise and emphatic comment. He started up -and paced the room. “This is a damned pretty return for my confidence, -madam.” - -“O, she’ll be come up with,—she’ll be come up with!” sobbed Mrs. Gentry. - -“Come up with,—where?” - -“In the next world, if not in this.” - -“Pooh! When did she disappear?” - -“Yesterday, while I was waiting for her to go out to buy her new -dresses. O the ingratitude!” - -“Have you made no search for her?” - -“Yes, I’ve made every possible inquiry. I’ve paid ten dollars to a -police-officer to look her up. O the ingratitude of the world! But -she’ll be come up with!” - -“Did you let her know that I was her master?” - -“Yes, ’t was only yesterday I imparted the information.” - -“How did she receive it?” - -“She was a little startled at first, but soon seemed reconciled, even -pleased with the idea of her new wardrobe.” - -“Have you closely questioned your domestics?” - -“Yes. They know nothing. She must have slipped unobserved out of the -house.” - -“Is there any one among them with whom she was more familiar than with -another?” - -“She used to read the Bible to old Esha, by my direction.” - -“Call up old Esha. I would like to question her.” - -Esha soon appeared, her bronzed face glistening with perspiration from -the kitchen fire,—the never-failing bright-colored Madras handkerchief -on her head. - -“Esha,” said Mr. Ratcliff, “have you ever seen me before?” - -“Yes, Massa Ratcliff, of’n. Lib’d on de nex’ plantation to yourn. I -’longed to Massa Peters wunst. But he’m dead and gone.” - -“Do you know what an oath is, Esha?” - -“Yes, massa, it’s when one swar he know dis or dunno dat.” - -“Very well. Do you know what becomes of her who swears falsely?” - -“O yes, massa; she go to de lake of brimstone and fire, whar’ she hab -bad time for eber and eber, Amen.” - -“Are you a Christian, Esha?” - -“I’ze notin’ else, Massa Ratcliff.” - -“Well, Esha, here’s the Holy Bible. Take it in your left hand, kiss the -book, and then hold up your right hand.” - -Esha went through the required form. - -“You do solemnly swear, as you hope to be saved from the torments of -hell through all eternity, that you will truly answer, to the best of -your knowledge and belief, the questions I may put to you. And if you -lie, may the Lord strike you dead. Now kiss the book again, to show you -take the oath.” - -Esha kissed the book, and returned it to the table. - -“Now, then, do you know anything of the disappearance of this girl, -Ellen Murray?” - -“Nuffin, massa, nuffin at all.” - -“Did she ever tell you she meant to leave this house?” - -“Nebber, massa! She nebber tell me any sich ting.” - -“Did she have any talk with you yesterday?” - -“Not a bressed word did dat chile say to me ’cep ter scole me ’cause I -didn’t do up her Organdy muslin nice as she ’spected. De little hateful -she-debble! How can dis ole nig do eb’ry ting all at wunst, and do’t -well, should like ter know? It’s cook an’ wash an’ iron, an’ iron an’ -wash an’—” - -“There! That will do, Esha. You can go.” - -“Yes, Massa Ratcliff.” - -Stealing into the next room, Esha listened at the folding-doors. - -“She knows nothing,—that’s very clear,” said Ratcliff. He went to the -window, and looked out in silence a full minute; then, coming back, -added: “Stop snivelling, madam. I’m not a fool. I’ve seen women before -now. This girl must be found,—found if it costs me ten thousand dollars. -And you must aid in the search. If I find her,—well and good. If I don’t -find her, you shall suffer for it. This is what I mean to do: I shall -have copies of her photograph put in the hands of the best detectives in -the city. I shall pay them well in advance, and promise five hundred -dollars to the one that finds her. They’ll come to you. You must give -them all the information you can, and lend them your servants to -identify the girl. This old Esha plainly has a grudge against her, and -may be made useful in hunting her up. Let her go out daily for that -purpose. Tell all your pupils to be on the watch. I’ll break up your -school if she isn’t found. Do you understand?” - -“I’ll do all I can, sir, to have her caught.” - -“That will be your most prudent course, madam.” - -And Ratcliff, with more exasperation in his face than his words had -expressed, quitted the house. - -“The brute!” muttered Mrs. Gentry, as through the blinds she saw him -enter his barouche, and drive off. “He treated me as if I’d been a drab. -But he’ll be come up with,—he will!” - -Esha crept down into the kitchen, with thoughts intent on what she had -heard. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - THE YOUNG LADY WITH A CARPET-BAG. - -“Pain has its own noble joy when it kindles a consciousness of life, -before stagnant and torpid.”—_John Sterling._ - - -Children are quick to detect flaws in the genealogy of their associates. -School-girls are quite as exclusive in their notions as our grown-up -leaders of society. Woe to the candidate for companionship on whose -domestic record there hangs a doubt! - -Mrs. Gentry having felt it her duty to inform her pupils that Clara was -not a lady, the latter was thenceforth “left out in the cold” by the -little Brahmins of the seminary. She would sit, like a criminal, apart -from the rest, or in play-hours seek the company, either of Esha or the -mocking-bird. - -One circumstance puzzled the other young ladies. They could not -understand why, in the more showy accomplishments of music, singing, and -dancing, more expense should be bestowed on Clara’s education than on -theirs. The elegance and variety of her toilet excited at once their -envy and their curiosity. - -Clara, finding that she was held back from serious studies, gave her -thoughts to them all the more resolutely, and excelled in them so far as -to shock the conservative notions of Mrs. Gentry, who thought such -acquisitions presumptuous in a slave. The pupils all tossed their little -heads, and turned their backs, when Clara drew near. All but one. Laura -Tremaine prized Clara’s counsels on questions of dress, and defied the -jeers and frowns that would deter her from cultivating the acquaintance -of one suspected of ignoble birth. Something almost like a friendship -grew up between the two. Laura was the only daughter of a wealthy -cotton-broker who resided the greater part of the year in New Orleans, -at the St. Charles Hotel. - -The two girls used to stroll through the garden with arms about each -other’s waist. One day Clara, in a gush of candor, not only avowed -herself an Abolitionist, but tried to convert Laura to the heresy. -_Quelle horreur!_ There was at once a cessation of the intimacy,—-Laura -exacting a recantation which the little infidel proudly refused. - -The disagreement had occurred only a few days before that flight of -Clara’s in which we must now follow her. After parting from Esha, she -walked for some distance, ignorant why she selected one direction rather -than another, and having no clearly defined purpose as to her -destination. She had promenaded thus about an hour, when she saw a -barouche approaching. The occupant, a man, sat leaning lazily back with -his feet up on the opposite cushions. A black driver and footman, both -in livery, filled the lofty front seat. As the vehicle rolled on, Clara -recognized Ratcliff. She shuddered and dropped her veil. - -Fortunately he was half asleep, and did not see her. - -Whither now? Of two streets she chose the more obscure. On she walked, -and the carpet-bag began to be an encumbrance. The heat was oppressive. -Occasionally a passer-by among the young men would say to an -acquaintance, “Did you notice that figure?” One man offered to carry the -bag. She declined his aid. On and on she walked. Whither and why? She -could not explain. All at once it occurred to her she was wasting her -strength in an objectless promenade. - -Her utterly forlorn condition revealed itself in all its desolateness -and danger. She stopped under the shade of a magnolia-tree, and, leaning -against the trunk, put back her veil, and wiped the moisture from her -face. She had been walking more than two hours, and was overheated and -fatigued. What should she do? The tears began to flow at the thought -that the question was one for which she had no reply. - -Suddenly she looked round with the vague sense that some one was -watching her. She encountered the gaze of a gentleman who, with an air -of mingled curiosity and compassion, stood observing her grief. He wore -a loose frock of buff nankin, with white vest and pantaloons; and on his -head was a hat of very fine Panama straw. Whether he was young or old -Clara did not remark. She only knew that a face beautiful from its -compassion beamed on her, and that it was the face of a gentleman. - -“Can I assist you?” he asked. - -“No, thank you,” replied Clara. “I’m fatigued,—that’s all,—and am -resting here a few minutes.” - -“Here’s a little house that belongs to me,” said the gentleman, pointing -to a neat though small wooden tenement before which they were standing. -“I do not live here, but the family who do will be pleased to receive -you for my sake. You shall have a room all to yourself, and rest there -till you are refreshed. Do you distrust me, my child?” - -There are faces out of which Truth looks so unequivocally, that to -distrust them seems like a profanation. Clara did not distrust, and yet -she hesitated, and replied through her tears, “No, I do not distrust -you, but I’ve no claim on your kindness.” - -“Ah! but you _have_ a claim,” said Vance (for it was he); “you are -unhappy, and the unhappy are my brothers and my sisters. I’ve been -unhappy myself. I knew one years ago, young like you, and like you -unhappy, and through her also you have a claim. There! Let me relieve -you of that bag. Now take my arm. Good! This way.” Clara’s tears gushed -forth anew at these words, and yet less at the words than at the tone in -which they were uttered. So musical and yet so melancholy was that tone. - -He knocked at the door. It was opened by Madame Bernard, a spruce little -Frenchwoman, who had married a journeyman printer, and who felt -unbounded gratitude to Vance for his gift of the rent of the little -house. - -“Is it you, Mr. Vance? We’ve been wondering why you didn’t come.” - -“Madame Bernard, this young lady is fatigued. I wish her to rest in my -room.” - -“The room of Monsieur is always in order. Follow me, my dear.” - -And, taking the carpet-bag, Madame conducted her to the little chamber, -then asked: “Now what will you have, my dear? A little claret and water? -Some fruit or cake?” - -“Nothing, thank you. I’ll rest on the sofa awhile. You’re very kind. The -gentleman’s name is Vance, is it?” - -“Yes; is he not an acquaintance?” - -“I never saw him till three minutes ago. He noticed me resting, and, I -fear, weeping in the street, and he asked me in here to rest.” - -“’T was just like him. He’s so good, so generous! He gives me the rent -of this house with the pretty garden attached. You can see it from the -window. Look at the grapes. He reserves for himself this room, which I -daily dust and keep in order. Poor man! ’T was here he passed the few -months of his marriage, years ago. His wife died, and he bought the -house, and has kept it in repair ever since. This used to be their -sleeping-room. ’T was also their parlor, for they were poor. There’s -their little case of books. Here’s the piano on which they used to play -duets. ’T was a hired piano, and was returned to the owner; but Mr. -Vance found it in an old warehouse, not long ago, had it put in order, -and brought here. ’T is one of Chickering’s best; a superb instrument. -You should hear Mr. Vance play on it.” - -“Does he play well?” asked Clara, who had almost forgotten her own -troubles in listening to the little woman’s gossip. - -“Ah! you never heard such playing! I know something of music. My family -is musical. I flatter myself I’m a judge. I’ve heard Thalberg, -Vieuxtemps, Jael, Gottschalk; and Mr. Vance plays better than any of -them.” - -“Is he a professor?” - -“No, merely an amateur. But he puts a soul into the notes. Do you play -at all, my dear?” - -“Yes, I began to learn so early that I cannot recollect the time when.” - -“I thought you must be musical. Just try this instrument, my dear, that -is, if you ’re not too tired.” - -“Certainly, if ’t will oblige you.” - -Seating herself at the piano, Clara played, from Donizetti’s _Lucia_, -Edgardo’s melodious wail of abandonment and despair, “_L’ universo -intero e un deserto per me sensa Lucia_.” - -Mrs. Bernard had opened the door that Vance might hear. At the -conclusion he knocked and entered. “Is this the way you rest yourself, -young pilgrim?” he asked. “You’re a proficient, I see. You’ve been made -to practise four hours a day.” - -“Yes, ever since I can remember.” - -“So I should think. Now let me hear something in a different vein.” - -Clara, while the blood mounted to her forehead, and her whole frame -dilated, struck into the “Star-spangled Banner,” playing it with her -whole soul, and at the close singing the refrain, - - “And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph shall wave - O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” - -“But that’s treason!” cried Mrs. Bernard. - -“Yes, Mrs. Bernard,” said Vance, “run at once to the police-station. -Tell them to send a file of soldiers. We must have her arrested.” - -“O no, no!” exclaimed Clara, deceived by Vance’s grave acting. Then, -seeing her mistake, she laughed, and said: “That’s too bad. I thought -for a moment you were in earnest.” - -“We will spare you this time,” said Vance, with a smile that made his -whole face luminous; “but should outsiders in the street hear you, they -may not be so forbearing. They will tear our little house down if you’re -not careful.” - -“I’ll not be so imprudent again,” returned Clara. “Will you play for me, -sir?” And she resumed her seat on the sofa. - -Vance played some extemporized variations on the Carnival of Venice; and -Clara, who had regarded Mrs. Bernard’s praises as extravagant, now -concluded they were the literal truth. “Oh!” she exclaimed, naively, “I -never heard playing like that. Do not ask me to play before you again, -sir.” - -Mrs. Bernard left to attend to the affairs of the _cuisine_. - -“Now, mademoiselle,” said Vance, “what can I do before I go?” - -“All I want,” replied Clara, “is time to arrange some plan. I left home -so suddenly I’m quite at a loss.” - -“Do I understand you’ve left your parents?” - -“I have no parents, sir.” - -“Then a near relation, or a guardian?” - -“Neither, sir. I am independent of all ties.” - -“Have you no friend to whom you can go for advice?” - -“I had a friend, but she gave me up because I’m an Abolitionist.” - -“My poor little lady! An Abolitionist? You? In times like these? When -Sumter has fallen, too? No wonder your friend has cast you off. Who is -she?” - -“Miss Laura Tremaine. She lives at the St. Charles. Do you know her, -sir?” - -“Slightly. I met her in the drawing-room not long since. She does not -appear unamiable. But why are you an Abolitionist?” - -“Because I believe in God.” - -Vance felt that this was the summing-up of the whole matter. He looked -with new interest on the “little lady.” In height she was somewhat -shorter than Estelle,—not much over five feet two and a half. Not from -her features, but from the maturity of their expression, he judged she -might have reached her eighteenth year. Somewhat more of a brunette than -Estelle, and with fine abundant hair of a light brown. Eyes—he could not -quite see their color; but they were vivid, penetrating, earnest. -Features regular, and a profile even more striking in its beauty than -her front face. A figure straight and slim, but exquisitely rounded, and -every movement revealing some new grace. Where had he seen a face like -it? - -After a few moments of contemplation, he said: “Do not think me -impertinently curious. You have been well educated. You have not had to -labor for a living. Are the persons to whom you’ve been indebted for -support no longer your friends?” - -“They are my worst enemies, and all that has been bestowed on me has -been from hateful motives and calculations.”—“Now I’m going to ask a -very delicate question. Are you provided with money?”—“O yes, sir, -amply.”—“How much have you?”—“Twenty dollars.”—“Indeed! Are you so rich -as that? What’s your name?”—“The name I’ve been brought up under is -Ellen Murray; but I hate it.”—“Why so?”—“Because of a dream.”—“A dream! -And what was it?”—“Shall I relate it?”—“By all means.” - -“I dreamed that a beautiful lady led me by the hand into a spacious -garden. On one side were fruits, and on the other side flowers, and in -the middle a circle of brilliant verbenas from the centre of which rose -a tall fountain, fed from a high hill in the neighborhood. And the lady -said, ‘This is your garden, and your name is not Ellen Murray.’ Then she -gave me a letter sealed with blue—no, gray—wax, and said, ‘Put this -letter on your eyes, and you shall find it there when you wake. Some one -will open it, and your name will be seen written there, though you may -not understand it at first.’ ‘But am I not awake?’ I asked. ‘O no,’ said -the lady. ‘This is all a dream. But we can sometimes impress those we -love in this way.’ ‘And who are you?’ I asked. ‘That you will know when -you interpret the letter,’ she said.” - -“And what resulted from the dream?”—“The moment I waked I put my hand on -my eyes. Of course I found no letter. The next night the lady came -again, and said, ‘The seal cannot be broken by yourself. Your name is -not Ellen Murray,—remember that.’ A third night this dream beset me, and -so forcibly that I resolved to get rid of the name as far as I could. -And so I made my friends call me Darling.” - -“Well, Darling, as you—”—“O, but, sir! _you_ must not call me Darling. -That would never do!”—“What _can_ I call you, then?”—“Call me Miss, or -Mademoiselle.”—“Well, Miss.”—“No, I do not like the sibilation.”—“Will -_Ma’am_ do any better?”—“Not till I’m more venerable. Call me -Perdita.”—“Perdita what?”—“Perdita Brown,—yes, I love the name of -Brown.” - -“Well, Perdita, as you’ve not quite made up your mind to seek the -protection of Miss Tremaine, my advice is that you remain here till -to-morrow. Here is a little case filled with books; and on the shelf of -the closet is plenty of old music,—works of Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, -Mendelssohn, Schubert, and some of the Italian masters. Do you play -Schubert’s Sacred Song?”—“I never heard it.”—“Learn it, then, by all -means. ’T is in that book. Shall I tell Mrs. Bernard you’ll pass the -night here?”—“Do, sir. I’m very grateful for your kindness.”—“Good by, -Perdita! Should anything detain me to-morrow, wait till I come. Keep up -your four hours’ practice. Madame Bernard is amiable, but a little -talkative. I shall tell her to allow you five hours for your studies. -Adieu, Perdita!” - -He held out his hand, and Clara gave hers, and cast down her eyes. -“You’ve told me a true story?” said he. “Yes! I will trust you.” - -“Indeed, sir, I’ve told you nothing but the truth.” - -Yes. She had told the truth, but unhappily not the _whole_ truth. And -yet how she longed to kneel at his feet and confess all! Various motives -withheld her. She was not quite sure how he had received her antislavery -confessions. He might be a friend of Mr. Ratcliff. There was dismay in -the very possibility. And finally a certain pride or prudence restrained -her from throwing herself on the protection of a stranger not of her own -sex. - -And so the golden opportunity was allowed to escape! - -Vance lingered for a moment holding her hand, as if to invite her to a -further confidence; but she said nothing, and he left the room. Clara -opened the music-book at Schubert’s piece, and commenced playing. Vance -stopped on the stairs and listened, keeping time approvingly. “Good!” he -said. Then telling the little landlady not to interrupt Miss Brown’s -studies, he quitted the house, walking in the direction of the hotel. - -Clara practised till she could play from memory the charming composition -commended by Vance. Then she threw herself on the bed and fell asleep. -She had not remained thus an hour when there was a knock. Dinner! Mr. -Bernard had come in; a dapper little man, so remarkably well satisfied -with himself, his wife, and his bill of fare, that he repeatedly had to -lay down knife and fork and rub his hands in glee. - -“Are you related to Mr. Vance?” he asked Clara. - -“Not at all. He saw me in the street, weary and distressed. The truth -is, I had left my home for a good reason. I have no parents, you must -consider. He asked me in here. From his looks I judged he was a man to -trust. I gladly accepted his invitation.” - -“Truly he’s a friend in need, Mademoiselle. I saw him do another kind -thing to-day.” - -“What was it?” - -“It happened only an hour ago in Carondelet Street. A ragged fellow was -haranguing a crowd. He spoke on the wrong side,—in short, in favor of -the old flag. Some laughed, some hissed, some applauded. Suddenly a -party of men, armed with swords and muskets, pushed through the crowd, -and seized the speaker. They formed a court, Judge Lynch presiding, -under a palmetto. They decided that the vagabond should be hung. He had -already been badly pricked in the flank with a bayonet. And now a table -was brought out, he was placed on it, and a rope put round his neck and -tied to a bough. Decidedly they were going to string him up.” - -“Good heavens!” cried Clara, who, as the story proceeded, had turned -pale and thrust away the plate of food from before her. “Did you make no -effort to save him?” - -“What could I do? They would merely have got another rope, and made me -keep him company. Well, the mob were expecting an entertainment. They -were about to knock away the table, when Monsieur Vance pushed through -the crowd, hauled off the hangman, and, jumping on the table, cut the -rope, and lifted the prisoner faint and bleeding to the ground. What a -yell from Judge Lynch and the court! Monsieur Vance, his coat and vest -all bloody from contact with—” - -“What a shame!” interposed Mrs. Bernard. “A coat and vest he must have -put on clean this morning! So nicely ironed and starched!” - -“But my story agitates you, Mademoiselle,” said the typesetter. “You -look pale.” And the little man, not regarding the inappropriateness of -the act, rubbed his hands. - -“Go on,” replied Clara; and she sipped from a tumbler of cold water. - -“There’s little more to say, Mademoiselle. Messieurs, the bullies, drew -their swords on Monsieur Vance. He showed a revolver, and they fell -back. Then he talked to them till they cooled down, gave him three -cheers, and went off. I and old Mr. Winslow helped him to find a -carriage. We put the wounded man into it. He was driven to the hospital, -and his wound attended to. ’T is serious, I believe.” - -And Bernard again rubbed his hands. - -“And was that the last you saw of Mr. Vance?” asked Clara. - -“The last. Shall I help you to some pine-apple, Mademoiselle?” - -“No, thank you. I’ve finished my dinner. You will excuse me.” - -And she returned to the little room assigned to her use. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - WILL YOU WALK INTO MY PARLOR? - - “Sing again the song you sung - When we were together young; - When there were but you and I - Underneath the summer sky. - Sing the song, and o’er and o’er, - Though I know that nevermore - Will it seem the song you sung - When we were together young.” - _George William Curtis._ - - -Vance passed on through the streets, wondering what could be the mystery -which had driven his new acquaintance forth into the wide world without -a protector. Should he speak of her to Miss Tremaine? Perhaps. But not -unless he could do it without betrayal of confidence. - -There was something in Perdita that reminded him of Estelle. Had a -pressure of similar circumstances wrought the peculiarity which awakened -the association? Yet he missed in Perdita that diaphanous simplicity, -that uncalculating candor, which seemed to lead Estelle to unveil her -whole nature before him. But Perdita had not wholly failed in frankness. -Had she not glorified the old flag in her music? And had she not been -outspoken on the one forbidden theme? - -As these thoughts flitted through his mind, excluding for the moment -those graver interests, involving a people’s doom, he heard the shouts -of a crowd, and saw a man, pale and bloody, standing on a table under a -tree, from a branch of which a rope was dangling. Vance comprehended the -meaning of it all in an instant. He darted toward the spot, gliding -swift, agile, and flexuous through the compacted crowd. Yes! The victim -was the same man to whom he had given the gold-piece, some days before. -Vance put a summary stop to Judge Lynch’s proceedings, breaking up the -court precisely as Bernard had related. The wounded man was conveyed to -the hospital. Here Vance saw his wound dressed, hired an extra attendant -to nurse him, and then, in tones of warmest sympathy, asked the sufferer -what more he could do for him. - -The man opened his eyes. A swarthy, filthy, uncombed, unshaven wretch. -He had been so blinded by blood that he had not recognized Vance. But -now, seeing him, he started, and strove to raise himself on his elbow. - -Vance and the surgeon prevented the movement. The patient stared, and -said: “You’ve done it agin, have yer? What’s yer name?” - -“This is Mr. Vance,” replied the surgeon. - -“Vance! Vance!” said the patient, as if trying to force his memory to -some particular point. Then he added: “Can’t do it! And yit I’ve seen -him afore somewhar.” - -“Well, my poor fellow, I must leave you. Good by.” - -“Why, this hand is small and white as a woman’s!” said the patient, -touching Vance’s fingers carefully as he might have touched some fragile -flower. “Yer’ll come agin to see me,—woan’t yer?” - -“Yes, I’ll not forget it.”—“Call to-morrow, will yer?”—“Yes, if I’m -alive I’ll call.”—“Thahnk yer, strannger. Good by.” - -Giving a few dollars to the surgeon for the patient’s benefit, Vance -quitted the hospital. An hour afterwards, in his room at the St. -Charles, he penned and sent this note:— - - “TO PERDITA: I shall not be able to see you again to-day. Content - yourself as well as you can in the company of Mozart and Beethoven, - Bellini and Donizetti, Irving and Dickens, Tennyson and Longfellow. - The company is not large, but you will find it select. Unless some - very serious engagement should prevent, I will see you to-morrow. - - VANCE.” - -This little note was read and re-read by Clara, till the darkness of -night came on. She studied the forms of the letters, the curves and -flourishes, all the peculiarities of the chirography, as if she could -derive from them some new hints for her incipient hero-worship. Then, -lighting the gas, she acted on the advice of the letter, by devoting -herself to the performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. - -Vance meanwhile, after a frugal dinner, eliminated from luxurious -viands, rang the bell, and sent his card to Miss Tremaine. Laura’s -mother was an invalid, and Laura herself, relieved from maternal -restraint, had been lately in the habit of receiving and entertaining -company, much to her own satisfaction, as she now had an enlarged field -for indulging a propensity not uncommon among young women who have been -much admired and much indulged. - -Laura was a predestined flirt. Had she been brought up between the walls -of a nunnery, where the profane presence of a man had never been known, -she would instinctively have launched into coquetry the first time the -bishop or the gardener made his appearance. - -Having heard Madame Brugière, the fashionable widow, speak of Mr. Vance -as the handsomest man in New Orleans, Laura was possessed with the -desire of bringing him into her circle of admirers. So, one day after -dinner, she begged her father to stroll with her through a certain -corridor of the hotel. She calculated that Vance would pass there on his -way to his room. She was right. “Is that Mr. Vance, papa?”—“Yes, my -dear.”—“O, do introduce him. They say he’s such a superb musician. We -must have him to try our new piano.”—“I’m but slightly acquainted with -him.”—“No matter. He goes into the best society, you know.” (The father -didn’t know it,—neither did the daughter,—but he took it for granted she -spoke by authority.) “He’s very rich, too,” added Laura. This was enough -to satisfy the paternal conscience. “Good evening, Mr. Vance! Lively -times these! Let me make you acquainted with my daughter, Miss Laura. We -shall be happy to see you in our parlor, Mr. Vance.” Vance bowed, and -complimented the lady on a tea-rose she held in her hand. “Did you ever -see anything more beautiful?” she asked.—“Never till now,” he -replied.—“Ah! The rose is yours. You’ve fairly won it, Mr. Vance; but -there’s a condition attached: you must promise to call and try my new -piano.”—“Agreed. I’ll call at an early day.” He bowed, and passed on. “A -very charming person,” said Laura.—“Yes, a gentleman evidently,” said -the father.—“And he isn’t redolent of cigar-smoke and whiskey, as nine -tenths of you ill-smelling men are,” added Laura.—“Tut! Don’t abuse your -future husband, my dear.”—“How old should you take Mr. Vance to -be?”—“About thirty-five.”—“O no! Not a year over thirty.”—“He’s too old -to be caught by any chaff of yours, my dear!”—“Now, papa! I’ll not walk -with you another minute!” - -A few evenings afterwards, as Laura sat lonely in her private parlor, a -waiter put into her hand a card on which was simply written in pencil, -“MR. VANCE.” She did not try to check the start of exultation with which -she said, “Show him in.” - -Laura was now verging on her eighteenth year. A little above the -Medicean height, her well-rounded shoulders and bust prefigured for her -womanhood a voluptuous fulness. Nine men out of ten would have -pronounced her beautiful. Had she been put up at a slave-vendue, the -auctioneer, if a connoisseur, would have expatiated thus: “Let me call -your attention, gentlemen, to this _very_ superior article. Faultless, -you see, every way. In limb and action perfect. Too showy, perhaps, for -a field-hand, but excellent for the parlor. Look at that profile. The -Grecian type in its perfection! Nose a little _retroussé_, but what -piquancy in the expression! Hair dark, glossy, abundant. Cheeks,—do you -notice that little dimple when she smiles? Teeth sound and white: open -the mouth of the article and look, gentlemen. Just feel of those arms, -gentlemen. Complexion smooth, brilliant, perfect. Did you ever see a -head and neck more neatly set on the shoulders?—and such shoulders! What -are you prepared to bid, gentlemen, for this very, very superior -article?” - -Laura was attired in a light checked foulard silk, trimmed with -cherry-colored ribbons. Running to the mirror, she adjusted here and -there a curl, and lowered the gauze over her shoulders. Then, resuming -her seat, she took Tennyson’s “In Memoriam” from the table, and became -intensely absorbed in the perusal. - -As Vance entered, Laura said to herself, “I know I’m right as to his -age!” Nor was her estimate surprising. During the last two lustrums of -his nomadic life, he had rather reinvigorated than impaired his physical -frame. He never counteracted the hygienic benefits of his Arab habits by -vices of eating and drinking. Abjuring all liquids but water, sleeping -often on the bare ground under the open sky, he so hardened and purified -his constitution that those constantly recurring local inflammations -which, under the name of “colds” of some sort, beset men in their -ordinary lives in cities, were to him almost unknown. And so he was what -the Creoles called _bien conservé_. - -Laura, with a pretty affectation of surprise, threw down her book, and, -with extended hand, rose to greet her visitor. To him the art he had -first studied on the stage had become a second nature. Every movement -was proportioned, graceful, harmonious. He fell into no inelegant -posture. He did not sit down in a chair without naturally falling into -the attitude that an artist would have thought right. That consummate -ease and grace which play-goers used to admire in James Wallack were -remarkable in Vance, whether in motion or in repose. - -Taking Laura’s proffered hand, he led her to the sofa, where they sat -down. After some commonplaces in regard to the news of the day, he -remarked: “By the way, do you know of any good school in the city for a -young girl, say of fourteen?” - -“Yes. Mrs. Gentry’s school, which I’ve just left, is one of the most -select in the city. Here’s her card.”—“But are her pupils all from the -best families?”—“I believe so. Indeed, I know the families of all except -one.”—“And who is _she_?”—“Her name is Ellen Murray, but I call her -Darling. I think she must be preparing either for the opera or the -ballet; for in music, singing, and dancing she’s far beyond the rest of -us.”—“And behind you in the other branches, I suppose.”—“I’m afraid not. -She won’t be kept back. She must have given twice the time to study that -any of the rest of us gave.”—“Does she seem to be of gentle -blood?”—“Yes; though Mrs. Gentry tells us she is low-born. For all that, -she’s quite pretty, and knows more than Madame Groux herself about -dress. And so Darling and I, in spite of Mrs. Gentry, were getting to be -quite intimate, when we quarrelled on the slavery question, and -separated.”—“What! the little miss is a politician, is she?”—“Oh! she’s -a downright Abolitionist!—talks like a little fury against the wrongs of -slavery. I couldn’t endure it, and so cast her off.”—“Bring her to me. -I’ll convert her in five minutes.”—“O you vain man! But I wish you could -hear her sing. Such a voice!”—“Couldn’t you give me an opportunity? You -shouldn’t have quarrelled with her, Miss Tremaine! It rather amuses me -that she should talk treason. Why not arrange a little musical party? -I’ll come and play for you a whole evening, if you’ll have Darling to -sing.”—“O, that would be so charming! But then Darling and I have -separated. We don’t speak.”—“Nonsense! Miss Laura Tremaine can afford to -offer the olive-branch to a poor little outcast.”—“To be sure I can, Mr. -Vance! And I’ll have her here, if I have to bring her by -stratagem.”—“Admirable! Just send for me as soon as you secure the bird. -And keep her strictly caged till I can hear her sing.”—“I’ll do it, Mr. -Vance. Even the dragon Gentry shall not prevent it.”—“Shall I try the -new piano?”—“O, I’ve been so longing to hear you!” - -And Vance, seating himself at the instrument, exerted himself as he had -rarely done to fascinate an audience. Laura, who had taste, if not -diligence, in music, was charmed and bewildered. “How delightful! How -very delightful!” she exclaimed. Vance was growing dangerous. - -At that moment the servant entered with two cards. - -“Did you tell them I’m in?”—“Yes, Mahmzel.” - -“Well, then,” said Laura, with an air of disappointment, “show them up.” -And handing the cards to Vance, she asked, “Shall I introduce them?” - -“Mr. Robert Onslow,—Charles Kenrick. Certainly.” - -The young men entered, and were introduced. - -Kenrick drew near, and said: “Mr. Vance, allow me the honor of taking -you by the hand. I’ve heard of the poor fellow you rescued from the -halter of Judge Lynch. In the name of humanity, I thank you. That poor -ragged declaimer merely spoke my own sentiments.” - -“Indeed! What did he say?” - -“He said, according to the Delta’s report, that this was the rich man’s -war; that the laboring man who should lift his arm in defence of slavery -was a fool. All which I hold to be true.” - -“Pshaw, Charles! A truce to politics!” said Onslow. “Why will you thrust -it into faces that frown on your wild notions?” - -“Miss Tremaine reigns absolute in this room,” rejoined Vance; “and from -the slavery she imposes we have no desire, I presume, to be free.” - -“And her order is,” cried Laura, “that you sink the shop. Thank you, Mr. -Vance, for vindicating my authority.” - -There was no further jarring. Both the young men were personally fine -specimens of the Southern chivalric race. Onslow was the larger and -handsomer. He seemed to unite with a feminine gentleness the traits that -make a man popular and beloved among men; a charming companion, -sunny-tempered, amiable, social, ever finding a soul of goodness in -things evil, and making even trivialities surrender enjoyments, where to -other men all was barren. Life was to him a sort of grand picnic, and a -man’s true business was to make himself as agreeable as possible, first -to himself, and then to others. - -Far different seemed Kenrick. To him the important world was that of -ideas. All else was unsubstantial. The thought that was uppermost must -be uttered. Not to conciliate, not to please, even in the drawing-room, -would he be an assentator, a flatterer. To him truth was the one thing -needful, and therefore, in season and out of season, must error be -combated whenever met. The times were of a character to intensify in him -all his idiosyncrasies. He could not smile, and sing, and utter -small-talk while his country was being weighed in the balance of the -All-just,—and her institutions purged as by fire. - -And so to Laura he dwindled into insignificance. - -Vance rose to go. - -“One song. Indeed, I must have one,” said Laura. - -Vance complied with her request, singing a favorite song of Estelle’s, -Reichardt’s - - “Du liebes Aug’, du lieber Stern, - Du bist mir nah’, und doch so fern!”[26] - -Then, pressing Laura’s proffered hand, and bowing, he left. - -“What a voice! what a touch!” said Onslow. - -“It was enchanting!” cried Laura. - -“I thought he was a different sort of man,” sighed Kenrick. - ------ - -Footnote 1: - - Having slept under Toussaint’s roof, and seen him often, the writer - can testify to the accuracy of this sketch of one of the most thorough - gentlemen in bearing and in heart that he ever knew. - -Footnote 2: - - A fact. The incident, which occurred literally as related (on Bob - Myers’s plantation in Alabama), was communicated to the writer by an - eye-witness, a respectable citizen of Boston, once resident at the - South. The murder, of course, passed not only unpunished, but - unnoticed. - -Footnote 3: - - See James Sterling’s “Letters from the Slave States.” - -Footnote 4: - - This last paragraph embodies the actual words of Mr. Sterling, - published in 1856. - -Footnote 5: - - Similar occurrences are related by Cotton Mather to have taken place - in Boston in 1693. Six witnesses, whose affidavits he gives, namely, - Samuel Aves, Robert Earle, John Wilkins, Dan Williams, Thomas - Thornton, and William Hudson, testify to having repeatedly seen - Margaret Rule lifted from her bed up near to the ceiling by an - invisible force. It is a cheap way of getting rid of such testimony to - say that the witnesses were false or incompetent. The present writer - could name at least six witnesses of his own acquaintance now living, - gentlemen of character, intelligence, sound senses and sound judgment, - who will testify to having seen similar occurrences. The other - phenomena, related as witnessed by Peek, are such as hundreds of - intelligent men and women in the United States will confirm by their - testimony. Indeed, the number of believers in these phenomena may be - now fairly reckoned at more than three million. - -Footnote 6: - - There are thousands of intelligent persons in the United States who - will testify to the fact of spirit touch. The writer has on several - occasions _felt_, though he has not _seen_, a live hand, guided by - intelligence, that he was fully convinced belonged to no mortal person - present. The conditions were such as to debar trick or deception. - There are several trustworthy witnesses, whom the writer could name, - who have both _seen_ and _felt_ the phenomenon, and tested it as - thoroughly as Peek is represented to have done. - -Footnote 7: - - The phenomenon of _stigmata_ appearing on the flesh of impressible - mediums is one of the most common of the manifestations of modern - Spiritualism. Sometimes written words and sometimes outline - representations of objects appear, under circumstances that make - deception impossible. The writer has often witnessed them. St. - Francis, and many other saints of the Catholic Church, were the - subjects of similar phenomena. The late Earl of Shrewsbury, a Catholic - nobleman, has published a long account of their occurrence during the - present century. The Catholic Church has been always true to the - doctrine of the miraculous. - -Footnote 8: - - Author of “The Uprising of a Great People,” “America before Europe,” - &c.; also of two large volumes on Modern Spiritualism. - -Footnote 9: - - See Alexander Humboldt’s Letters to Varnhagen. - -Footnote 10: - - See Edouard Laboulaye, “De la Personnalité Divine.” - -Footnote 11: - - Tertullian, a devout Christian, when he wrote the following, would - seem to have believed there could be no spirit independent of - substance and form: “Nihil enim, si non corpus. Omne quod est, corpus - est sui generis; nihil est incorporale, nisi quod non est. Quis enim - negabit Deum corpus esse, etsi Deus spiritus est? Spiritus enim corpus - sui generis, sua effigie;”—“For there is nothing, if not body. All - that is, is body after its kind; nothing is incorporeal except what is - _not_. For who will deny God to be body, albeit God is spirit? For - spirit is body of its proper kind, in its proper effigy.” These views - are not inconsistent with those entertained by many modern - Spiritualists. - -Footnote 12: - - In a work published in London by De Foe, in 1722, one of his - characters speaks of the Virginia immigration as being composed either - of “first, such as were brought over by masters of ships, to be sold - as servants; or, second, such as are transported, after having been - found guilty of crimes punishable with death.” - -Footnote 13: - - These passages are from a speech of President Davis at Jackson, Miss., - December, 1862. When he gets in a passion, Mr. Davis repudiates the - truth even as he would State debts. Notorious facts of history are set - aside in his blind wrath. The colonists of New England, he well knows, - were the friends and compatriots of Cromwell and his Parliament; and - the few prisoners of war Cromwell sent over from Ireland and England - as slaves did not constitute an appreciable part of the then resident - population of the North. It is a well-known fact, which no genealogist - will dispute, that not Virginia, nor any other American State, can - show such a purely English ancestry as Massachusetts. The writer of a - paper in the New York Continental Monthly for July, 1863, under the - title of “The Cavalier Theory Refuted,” proves this statistically. - “Let it be avowed,” he says, “that Puritanic New England could always - display a greater array of _gentlemen by birth_ than Virginia, or even - the entire South. This is said deliberately, because we know whereof - we speak.” He gives figures and names. And yet even so judicious a - writer as John Stuart Mill has fallen into the error of supposing that - the South had the advantage of the North in this respect. The anxious - and persistent clamor of the Secessionists on this point, in the hope - to enlist the sympathy of the British aristocracy, has not been wholly - without effect. We would only remark, in conclusion, that Davis and - his brethren, in their over-anxiety to prove that _their_ ancestors - were gentlemen, and _ours_ clodhoppers, show the genuine spirit of the - upstart and the _parvenu_. The true gentleman is content to have his - gentility appear in his acts. - - Mr. Clay of the Confederate Congress has introduced a resolution - proposing that the coat of arms of the Slave Confederacy shall be _the - figure of a cavalier_! Would not a beggar on horseback, riding in a - certain familiar direction, be more appropriate? - -Footnote 14: - - It afterwards appeared that the Vicksburg “gentlemen,” impatient at - their want of success, selected a man who came nearest to the - description of Gashface, shot him, and then marked his body in a way - to satisfy the expectations of those who had formed an imaginative - idea of the personal peculiarities that would identify the celebrated - liberator, so long the terror of masters on the Mississippi. - -Footnote 15: - - Afterwards the notorious proslavery guerilla leader in Virginia. - -Footnote 16: - - The dishonesty of Mr. John Slidell’s attempt to expunge from Davis’s - history the reproach of repudiation is thoroughly and irrefutably - exposed by Mr. Robert J. Walker in the Continental Monthly, 1863. - -Footnote 17: - - This prediction was merely one among many hundred such which every - reader of newspapers will remember. - -Footnote 18: - - We subjoin one of the various translations:— - - “Yes, it comes at last! - And from a troubled dream awaking, - Death will soon be past, - And brighter day around me breaking! - Hark! methinks I hear celestial voices say, - Soon thou shalt be free, child of misery,— - Rest and perfect joy in heaven are waiting thee; - Spirit, plume thy wings and flee! - - “Yes! the strife is o’er, - With all its pangs, with all its sorrow; - Hope shall droop no more, - For heavenly day will dawn to-morrow! - Proud Oppression, vain thy utmost tyranny! - Come and thou shalt see, I can smile at thee! - Mine shall be the triumph, mine the victory,— - Death but sets the captive free!” - -Footnote 19: - - The line is from the following prayer, attributed to Mary, Queen of - Scots:— - - “O domine Deus, speravi in Te; - Carissime Jesu, nunc libera me! - In dura catena, in misera pœna, - Desidero Te! - Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo, - Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me.” - -Footnote 20: - - Some of these note-books have been brought to light by the civil war, - and a quotation from one of them will be found on another page of this - work. - -Footnote 21: - - Should any person question the probability of the incidents in Vance’s - narrative, we would refer him to the “Letter to Thomas Carlyle” in the - Atlantic Monthly for October, 1863. On page 501, we find the - following: “Within the past year, a document has come into my hands. - It is the private diary of a most eminent and respectable slaveholder, - recently deceased. The chances of war threw it into the hands of our - troops.... One item I must have the courage to suggest more - definitely. Having bidden a young slave-girl (whose name, age, color, - &c., with the shameless precision that marks the entire document, are - given) to attend upon his brutal pleasure, and she silently remaining - away, he writes, ‘Next morning ordered her a dozen lashes for - disobedience.’” In a foot-note to the above we are assured by Messrs. - Ticknor and Fields that the author of the letter is “one whose word is - not and cannot be called in question; and he pledges his word that the - above is exact and _proven_ fact.” - -Footnote 22: - - “O no, madam, for then I shall be too black.” A Life of Toussaint, by - Mrs. George Lee, was published in Boston some years since. - -Footnote 23: - - By Dsheladeddin, a famous Mahometan mystic. - -Footnote 24: - - On the contrary, Mrs. Kemble says they are cruelly treated, and that - the forms of suffering are “manifold and terrible” in consequence. - -Footnote 25: - - The Savannah River Baptist Association of Ministers decreed (1836) - that the slave, sold at a distance from his home, was not to be - countenanced by the church in resisting his master’s will that he - should take a new wife. - -Footnote 26: - - “Beloved eye, beloved star, - Thou art so near, and yet so far!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - CONFESSIONS OF A MEAN WHITE. - - “Throw thyself on thy God, nor mock him with feeble denial; - Sure of his love, and O, sure of his mercy at last; - Bitter and deep though the draught, yet drain thou the cup of thy trial, - And in its healing effect smile at the bitterness past.” - _Lines composed by Sir John Herschel in a dream._ - - -After an early breakfast the following morning, Vance proceeded to the -hospital. The patient had been expecting him. - -“He has seemed to know just how near you’ve been for the last hour,” -said the nurse. “He followed—” - -“Sit down, Mr. Vance, please,” interrupted the patient. - -Vance drew a chair near to the pillow and sat down. - -“It all kum ter me last night, Mr. Vance! Now I remember whar ’t was I -met yer. But fust lem me tell yer who an’ what I be. My name’s Quattles. -I was born in South Kerliny, not fur from Columby. I was what the -niggers call a _mean white_, and my father he was a mean white afore me, -and all my brothers they was mean whites, and my sisters they mahrrid -mean whites. The one thing we was raised ter do fiust-rate, and what we -tuk ter kindly from the start, was ter shirk labor. We was taught ’t was -degradin’ ter do useful work like a nigger does, so we all tried hard -ter find su’thin’ that mowt be easy an’ not useful.” - -“My dear fellow,” interrupted Vance, who saw the man was suffering, -“you’re fatiguing yourself too much. Rest awhile.” - -“No, Mr. Vance. You musn’t mind these twitchin’s an’ spazums like. They -airn’t quite as bahd as they look. Wall, as I war sayin’, one cuss of -slavery ar’, it drives the poor whites away from honest labor; makes ’em -think it’s mean-sperretid ter hoe corn an’ plant ’taters. An’ this -feelin’, yer see, ar’ all ter the profit uv the rich men,—the Hammonds, -Rhetts, an’ Draytons,—’cause why? ’cause it leaves ter the rich all the -good land, an’ drives the poor whites ter pickin’ up a mean livin’, any -way they kin, outside uv hard work! Howsomever, I didn’t see this; an’ -so, like other mis’rable fools, I thowt I war a sort uv a ’ristocrat -myself, ’cause I could put on airs afore a nigger. An’ this feelin’ the -slave-owners try to keep up in the mean whites; try to make ’em feel -proud they’re not niggers, though the hull time the poor cusses fare -wuss nor any nigger in a rice-swamp.” - -“My friend,” said Vance, “you’ve got at the truth at last, though I fear -you’ve been long about it.” - -“Yer may bet high on that, Mr. Vance! How I used ter cuss the -Abolishuners, an’ go ravin’ mahd over the meddlin’ Yankees! Wall, what -d’yer think war the best thing South Kerliny could do fur me, after -never off’rin’ me a chance ter larn ter read an’ write? I’ll tell yer -what the _peculiar_ prermoted me ter. I riz to be foreman uv of a -rat-pit.” - -“Of a _what_?” interrogated Vance. - -“Of a rat-pit. There war a feller in Charleston who kept a rat-pit, whar -a little tareyer dog killed rats, so many a minute, to please the -sportin’ gentry an’ other swells. Price uv admission one dollar. The -swells would come an’ bet how many rats the dog would kill in a -minute,—’t was sometimes thirty, sometimes forty, and wunst ’t was -fifty. My bus’ness was ter throw the rats, one after another, inter the -pit. We’d a big cage with a hole in the top, an’ I had ter put my bar -hand in, an’ throw out the rats fast as I could, one by one. The tareyer -would spring an’ break the backs uv the varmints with one jerk uv his -teeth. Great bus’ness fur a white man,—warn’t it? So much more genteel -than plantin’ an’ hoein’! Wall, I kept at that pleasant trade five yars, -an’ then lost my place ’cause both hands got so badly bit I couldn’t -pull out the rats no longer.” - -“You must have seen things from a bad stand-point, my friend.” - -“Bad as ’t was, ’t was better nor the slavery stand-pint I kum ter next. -Yer’v heerd tell uv Jeff McTavish? Wall, Jeff hahd an overseer who got -shot in the leg by a runaway swamp nigger, an’ so I was hired as a sort -uv overseer’s mate. I warn’t brung up ter be very tender ’bout niggers, -Mr. Vance; but the way niggers was treated on that air plantation was -too much even for my tough stomach. I’ve seen niggers shot down dead by -McTavish fur jest openin’ thar big lips to answer him when he was mad. -There warn’t ten uv his slaves out uv a hunderd, that warn’t scored all -up an’ down the back with marks uv the lash.”[27] - -“Did you whip them?” inquired Vance. - -“I didn’t do nothin’ else; but I did it slack, an’ McTavish he found it -out, and begun jawin’ me. An’ I guv it to him back, and we hahd it thar -purty steep, an’ bymeby he outs with his revolver, but I war too spry -for him. I tripped him up, an’ he hahd ter ask pardon uv a mean white -wunst in his life, an’ no mistake. A little tahmrin’ water, please.” - -Vance administered a spoonful, and the patient resumed his story. - -“In coorse, I hahd ter leave McTavish. Then fur five years I’d a tight -time of it keepin’ wooded up. What with huntin’ and fishin’, -thimble-riggin’ an’ stealin’, I got along somehow, an’ riz ter be a sort -uv steamboat gambler on the Misippy. ’T was thar I fust saw you, Mr. -Vance.” - -“On the Mississippi! When and where?” - -“Some fifteen yars ago, on boord the Pontiac, jest afore she blowed up.” - -“Indeed! I’ve no recollection of meeting you.” - -“Don’t yer remember Kunnle D’lancy Hyde?” - -“Perfectly.” - -“Wall, I war his shadder. He couldn’t go nowhar I didn’t foller. If he -took snuff, I sneezed. If he got drunk, I staggered. Don’t yer remember -a darkish, long-haired feller, he called Quattles?” - -“Are you that man?” exclaimed Vance, restraining his emotion. - -“I’m nobody else, Mr. Vance, an’ it ain’t fur nothin’ I’ve got yer here -to har what I’ve ter tell. Ef I don’t stop to say I’m sorry for the mean -things I done, ’taint ’cause I hain’t some shame ’bout it, but ’cause -time’s short. When the Pontiac blowed up, I an’ the Kunnle (he’s ’bout -as much uv a kunnle as I’m uv a bishop), we found ou’selves on that part -uv the boat whar least damage was did. We was purty well corned, for -we’d been drinkin’ some, but the smash-up sobered us. The Kunnle’s fust -thowt was fur his niggers. Says I: ‘Let the niggers slide. We sh’ll be -almighty lucky ef we keep out of hell ou’selves.’ ’T was ev’ry man for -hisself, yer know.” - -“Were you on the forward part of the wreck?” - -“Yes, Mr. Vance, an’ it soon began ter sink. Poor critters, men an’ -women, some scalded, some strugglin’ in the water, war cryin’ for help. -The Kunnle an’ I—” - -“Stop a moment,” said Vance; and, drawing out paper and pencil, he made -copious notes. - -“As I war sayin’, Mr. Vance, the Kunnle an’ I got four life-presarvin’ -stools, lahshed ’em together, an’ begun ter make off for the shore. Says -I, ‘We owt ter save one uv those women folks.’ A yaller gal, with a -white child in her arms, was screamin’ out for us to take her an’ the -child. Jest then she got a blow on the head from a block that fell from -one uv the masts. It seemed ter make her wild, an’ she dropped inter the -water, but held on tight ter the young ’un. Says the Kunnle to me, says -he, ‘Now, Cappn, you take the gal, an’ I’ll take the bebby.’ An’ so we -done it, and all got ashore safe. We lahnded on the Tennessee side. The -sun hahdn’t riz, but ’t was jest light enough ter see. We made tracks -away from the river till we kum ter a nigger’s desarted hut, out of -sight ’t ween two hills. Thar we left the yaller gal and the bebby. The -gal seemed kind o’ crazy; so we fastened ’em in.” - -“And the child?” asked Vance. “Did you know whose it was?” - -“O yes, I knowed it, ’cause I’d seen the yaller gal more ’n a dozen -times, off an’ on, leadin’ the little thing about. The Berwicks, a -North’n family, was the parrents. Wall, the Kunnle an’ I, we went back -ter the river to see what was goin’ on. The sun was up now. The Champion -hahd turned back to give help. Poor critters war dyin’ all round from -scalds and bruises. All at wunst the Kunnle an’ I kum upon a crowd round -Mr. Berwick, who lay thar on the ground bahdly wounded. His wife lay -dead close by. He kept askin’ fur his child. A feller named Burgess told -him he seed the yaller gal an’ child go overboord, an’ that they must -have drownded. Prehaps he did see ’em in the water, but he didn’t see us -pick ’em up. Old Onslow he said he an’ his boy had sarched ev’rywhar, -but couldn’t find the child nowhar. They b’leeved she was drownded. A -drop uv water, Mr. Vance.” - -“And didn’t you undeceive them?” asked Vance, giving the water. - -“No, Mr. Vance. The Kunnle seed a prize in that yaller gal, and the -Devil put an idee inter his head. Says the Kunnle to me, says he, ‘Now -foller yer leader, Cappn.’ (He used ter call me Cappn.) ‘Swar jest as -yer har me swar.’ Then up he steps an’ says to Mr. Onslow, ’Judge, it’s -all true what Mr. Burgess says; the yaller gal, with the child in her -arms, war crowded overboord. This gemmleman an’ I tried ter save them. -Ef we didn’t, may I be shot. We throw’d the gal a life-presarver, but -she couldn’t hold on, no how. Fust the child went under, an’ we was so -chilled we couldn’t save it. Then the gal let go her grip uv the stool -an’ sunk. ’T war as much as we could do ter git ashore ou’selves.’” - -“Did the judge put you to your oaths?” asked Vance. - -“Yes, Mr. Vance. He swar’d us both; then writ down all we said, read it -over ter us, and we put our names ter it, an’ ’t was witnessed all -right. The feller Burgess bahcked us up by sayin’ he see us in the water -jest afore the gal fell, which was all true. It seemed a plain case. The -judge tell’d it all ter Mr. Berwick, an’ he growed sort o’ wild, an’ -died soon arter. What bekummed of _you_ all that time, Mr. Vance?” - -“I landed on the Arkansas side,” said Vance. “I supposed the Berwick -family all lost. The bodies of the parents I saw and identified, and -Burgess told me he’d talked with two men who saw the child go down.” - -“Wall, Mr. Vance. Thar ain’t much more uv a story. We went ter Memphis. -The Kunnle swelled round consid’rable, and got his name inter the -newspapers. But the yuller gal she was sort o’ cracked-brained. She war -no use ter us or ter the child. The Kunnle got low-sperreted. He’d made -a bad spec, ahter all. He’d lost his niggers; an’ the yuller gal, she as -he hoped ter sell in Noo Orleenz fur sixteen hunderd dollars, she turned -out a fool. Howzomever, he found a lightish, genteel sort uv a nigger, a -quack doctor, who took her off our hands. He said as how she mowt be -’panned an’ made as good as noo.” - -“And what did you do with the child?” - -“Wall, another bright idee hahd struck the Kunnle. Says he, ‘Color this -young ’un up a little, and she’d bring risin’ uv four hunderd dollars at -a vahndoo. Any mahn, used ter buyin’ niggers, would see at wunst she’d -grow up ter be a val’able fancy article. Ef I could afford it, I’d hold -her on spekilation till she war fifteen.’ Wall, Mr. Vance, uv all the -mean things I ever done, the meanest was to let the Kunnle, whan we got -ter Noo Orleenz, take that poor little patient thing, as I had toted all -the way down from Memphis, an’ sell her ter the highest bidder.” - -With an irrepressible groan, Vance walked to the window. When he -returned, he looked with pity on Quattles, and said, “Proceed!” - -“Yer see, Mr. Vance, I owed the Kunnle two hunderd dollars, he’d won -from me at euchre. He offered ter make it squar ef I’d give up my -int’rest in the child. Wall, I’d got kind o’ fond uv the little thing; -an’ ’t wasn’t till I got blind drunk on’t that I could bring my mind ter -say yes. The thowt uv what I done that day has kept me drunk most ever -sence. But the Kunnle, he tried to comfort me like. Says he, ‘The child -was fairly ourn, seein’ as how we saved it from drownin’.’ ‘Don’t take -on so, old feller,’ says he. ‘Think yerself lucky ef yer hahvn’t nothin’ -wuss nor that agin yerself.’ But ’t was no go. He never could make me -hold up my head agin like as I used ter; an’ we two cut adrift, an’ -hain’t kept ’count uv each other sence.” - -“How did he dispose of the child?” - -“He stained her skin till she looked like a half mulatter, an’ then he -jest got Ripper, the auctioneer, ter sell her.” - -“Who bought the child?” - -“Wall, Cash bowt her. That’s all I ever could find out. Ef Ripper knowed -more, he wouldn’t tell.” - -“To whom did you sell the yellow girl?” - -“We didn’t sell her at all. Was glad to git her off our hahnds at no -price. The chap what took her called hisself Dr. Davy. He was a free -nigger, a trav’lin’ quack,—one of those fellers that ’tises to cure -ev’ry thing.” - -“When did you last hear of him?” - -“The last I heerd tell uv Davy, he war in Natchez, and that war five -years ago.” - -“What became of the yellow girl?” - -“Wall, thar’s a quar story ’bout that. Whan we fust saw that air gal on -the wreck, she was callin’ out ter us, ‘Take me an’ the child with yer!’ -She said it wunst, an’ hahd jest begun ter say it again, an’ hahd got as -fur as _Take_, whan the block hit her on the head, an’ she fell inter -the water. Wall, six months ahter, Davy took that air gal ter a surgeon -in Philadelphy, an’ hahd her ’panned; an’ jest as the crushed bone war -lifted from the brain, that gal cried out, ‘—me an’ the child with yer!’ -Shoot me ef she didn’t finish the cry she’d begun jest six months -afore.[28] She got back her senses all straight, an’ Davy made her his -wife.” - -“Did you keep anything that belonged to the child?” - -“Jest you feel in the pockets uv them pants under my piller, and git out -my pus.” - -Vance obeyed, and drew forth a small bag of wash-leather. This he -emptied on the coverlet, the contents being a few dimes and five-cent -pieces, a tonga-bean, and a small pill-box covered with cotton-wool and -tied round with twine. - -“Thar! Open that ar’ box,” said the patient. - -Vance opened it, and took out a pair of little sleeve-buttons, gold with -a setting of coral. Examining them, he found on the under surface the -inscription C. A. B. in diminutive characters. - -“I’ll tell you how ’t was,” said the wounded man. “That night of the -’splosion the yuller gal an’ the child must have gone ter bed without -ondressin’; for they’d thar cloze all on. Most like the gal fell asleep -an’ forgot. Soon as we touched the shore, the Kunnle says ter me, says -he, ‘Cap’n, you cahrry the child, an’ I’ll pilot the gal.’ Wall; I took -the child in my arms, an’ as I cahrr’d her, I seed she wore gold buttons -on the sleeves uv her little pelisse,—a pair on each; an’, thinks I, the -Kunnle will pocket them buttons sure. So I pocketed ’em myself; but whan -it kum to partin’ with the child, I jest took one pair uv the buttons, -an sowd ’em on inside uv the bosom uv her little shirt whar they -wouldn’t be seen. The other pair is that thar. Take ’em an’ keep ’em, -Mr. Vance.” - -“Have you any article of clothing belonging to her?” - -“Not a rag, Mr. Vance. They all went with her.” - -“Did you notice any mark on the clothes?” - -“Yes, they was marked C. A. B., in letters worked in hahnsum with white -silk.” - -“Was that the kind of letter?” asked Vance, who, having drawn the cipher -in old English, held it before the patient’s eyes. - -“Yes, them’s um. I remember, ’cause I used ter ondress the child. An’, -now I think uv it, one uv her eyes was bluish, an’ t’ other grayish.” - -“What day was it you parted with the child?” - -“The same day she was sold.” - -“When was that?” - -“It must have been in May follerin’ the ’splosion. Lem me see. ’T was -that day I got the pill-box. I’d been ter the doctor’s fur some -physickin’ stuff. He give me a prescrip, an’ I went an’ got some pills -in that air box, an’ then throwed the pills away an’ kept the box.” - -Vance glanced at the cover. The apothecary’s name and the number of the -prescription were legible. Vance put the box in his pocket. - -“Can’t yer think uv su’thin’ else?” asked Quattles. - -“Only this,” replied Vance: “How shall I manage Hyde?” - -“Wall, ef the Kunnle sh’d hold up his milk, you jest say ter him these -eer words: ‘Dorothy Rusk must be provided for. What kn I do fur her?’ -The widder Rusk is his sister, yer see, an’ that’s the one soft spot the -Kunnle’s got.” - -Vance carefully recorded the mysterious words; then asked, “Do you -remember Peek, the runaway slave Hyde had in charge?” - -“In coorse I do,” said Quattles, twisting with pain from his wound. -“Should you ever see that nigger, Mr. Vance, tell him that Amos Slink, -St. Joseph Street, kn tell him su’thing’ ’bout his wife. Amos wunst -tell’d me how he ’coyed her down from Montreal. ’T was through that same -lawyer chap that kum it over Peek.” - -“Can Amos identify you as the Quattles of the Pontiac?” - -“In coorse he can, for he knowed all ’bout me at the time.” - -“And now, my friend, I wish to have this testimony of yours sworn to and -witnessed; but I’m overtasking your strength.” - -“Do it, Mr. Vance. Help me ter lose my strength, ef yer think I kn do -any good tellin’ the truth.” - -“Can you get along without this opiate two hours longer?” - -“Yes, Mr. Vance, I kn do without it altogether.” - -“Then I’ll leave you for two hours.” - -“One word, Mr. Vance.” - -“What is it?” - -“Did yer ever pray?” - -“Yes; every man prays who tries to do good or undo evil. You’ve been -praying for the last hour, my friend.” - -“How did yer know that? I’ve been thinkin’ of it, that’s a fak. But I’m -not up to it, Mr. Vance. Could you pray for me jest three minutes?” - -“Willingly, my poor fellow.” - -And kneeling at the little cot, Vance, holding a hand of the sufferer, -prayed for him so tenderly, so fervently, and so searchingly withal, -that the poor dying outcast wept as he had never wept before. O precious -tears, parting the mist that hung upon his future (even as clouds are -parted that hide the sunset’s glories), and revealing to his spiritual -eyes new possibilities of being, fruits of repentance, through a mercy -which (God be thanked!) is not measured by the mercy of men. - -Leaving the hospital, Vance stepped into an office, and drew up, in the -form of a deposition, all the facts elicited from Quattles. His next -step was to find Amos Slink. That gentleman had settled down in the -second-hand clothing business. Vance made a liberal purchase of hospital -clothing; and then adverted to the past exploits of Amos in the -“nigger-catching” line. Amos proudly produced letters to authenticate -his prowess. They bore the signature of Charlton. “I want you to lend me -those letters, Mr. Slink.” - -“Couldn’t do it, Mr. Vance. Them letters I mean to hand down to my -children.” - -“Well, it’s of no consequence. I’ll go into the next store for the rest -of my goods.” - -“Don’t think of it. Here! take the letters. Only return ’em.” Vance not -only secured the letters, but got Mr. Slink to go with him to the -hospital to identify Quattles. - -Then, on his way, enlisting three friends who were good Union men, one -of them being a justice of the peace, Vance led them where the wounded -man lay. Slink, who was known to the parties, identified the patient as -the Mr. Quattles of the Pontiac; and the identification was duly -recorded and sworn to. Vance then read his notes aloud to Quattles, -whose competency to listen and understand was formally attested by the -surgeon. The justice administered the oath. Quattles put his name to the -document, and the signature was duly witnessed by all present. - -No sooner was the act completed than the patient sank into -unconsciousness. “He’ll not rally again,” said the surgeon. A quick, -heavy breathing, gradually growing faint and fainter,—and lo! there was -a smile on the face, but the spirit that had left it there had fled! - -Vance first went to the apothecary whose name was on the pill-box. “Did -Mr. Gargle keep the books in which he pasted his prescriptions?” - -“Yes, he had them for twenty years back.” - -“Would he look in the volume for 18—, for a certain number?” - -“Willingly.” - -In two minutes the number was found, and the day of the prescription -fixed. Vance then proceeded to the office of _L’Abeille_, turned to the -newspaper of that day, and there, in the advertising columns, found a -sale advertised by P. Ripper & Co., auctioneers. It was a sale of a -“lot” of negroes; and as a sort of postscript to the specifications was -the following:— - - “Also, one very promising little girl, an orphan, two years old, - almost white; can take care of herself; promises to be very pretty; - has straight, brown hair, regular features, first-rate figure. - Warranted sound and healthy. Amateurs who would like to train up a - companion to their tastes will find this a rare opportunity to - purchase.” - -Not pausing to indulge the emotions which these cruel words awoke, Vance -went in search of Ripper & Co. The firm had been broken up more than ten -years before. Not one of the partners was in the city. They had -disappeared, and left no trace. Were any of their old account-books in -the warehouse? No. The building had been burnt to the ground, and a new -one erected on its site. - -“Where next?” thought Vance. “Plainly to Natchez, to see if I can learn -anything of Davy and his wife.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - MEETINGS AND PARTINGS. - - “I hold it true, whate’er befall,— - I feel it when I sorrow most,— - ’Tis better to have loved and lost - Than never to have loved at all.” - _Tennyson._ - - -It being too late to take the boat for Natchez, Vance proceeded to the -St. Charles. The gong for the fire o’clock ordinary had sounded. -Entering the dining-hall, he was about taking a seat, when he saw Miss -Tremaine motioning to him to occupy one vacant by her side. - -“Truly an enterprising young lady!” But what could he do? - -“I’m so glad to see you, Mr. Vance! I’ve not forgotten my promise. I -called to-day on Mrs. Gentry,—found her in the depths. Miss Murray has -disappeared,—absconded,—nobody knows where!” - -“Indeed! After what you’ve said of her singing, I’m very anxious to hear -her. Do try to find her.” - -“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Vance. There’s a mystery. Of that much I’m -persuaded from Mrs. Gentry’s manner.” - -“You mustn’t mind Darling’s notions on slavery.” - -“O no, Mr. Vance, I shall turn her over to you for conversion.” - -“Should you succeed in entrapping her, detain her till I come back from -Natchez, which will be before Sunday.” - -“Be sure I’ll hold on to her.” - -Mr. Tremaine came in, and began to talk politics. Vance was sorry he had -an engagement. The big clock of the hall pointed to seven o’clock. He -rose, bowed, and left. - -“Why,” sighed Laura, “can’t other gentlemen be as agreeable as this Mr. -Vance? He knows all about the latest fashions; all about modes of fixing -the hair; all about music and dancing; all about the opera and the -theatre; in short, what is there the man doesn’t know?” - -Papa was too absorbed in his terrapin soup to answer. - -Let us follow Vance to the little house, scene of his brief, fugitive -days of delight. He stood under the old magnolia in the tender -moonlight. The gas was down in Clara’s room. She was at the piano, -extemporizing some low and plaintive variations on a melody by Moore, -“When twilight dews are falling soft.” Suddenly she stopped, and put up -the gas. There was a knock at her door. She opened it, and saw Vance. -They shook hands as if they were old friends. - -“Where are the Bernards?” - -“They are out promenading. I told them I was not afraid.” - -“How have you passed your time, Miss Perdita?” - -“O, I’ve not been idle. Such choice books as you have here! And then -what a variety of music!” - -“Have you studied any of the pieces?” - -“Not many. That from Schubert.” - -“Please play it for me.” - -Tacitly accepting him as her teacher, she played it without -embarrassment. Vance checked her here and there, and suggested a change. -He uttered no other word of praise than to say: “If you’ll practise six -years longer four hours a day, you’ll be a player.” - -“I shall do it!” said Clara. - -“Have you heard that famous Hallelujah Chorus, which the Northern -soldiers sing?” - -“No, Mr. Vance.” - -“No? Why, ’tis in honor of John Brown (any relation of Perdita?) You -shall hear it.” - -And he played the well-known air, now appropriated by the hand-organs. -Clara asked for a repetition, that she might remember it. - -“Sing me something,” he said. - -Clara placed on the reading-frame the song of “Pestal.” - -“Not that, Perdita! What possessed you to study that?” - -“It suited my mood. Will you not hear it?” - -“No!... Yes, Perdita. Pardon my abruptness. But that song was the first -I ever heard from lips, O so fair and dear to me!” - -Clara put aside the music, and walked away toward the window. Vance went -up to her. He could see that she was with difficulty curbing her tears. - -O, if this man whose very presence inspired such confidence and hope,—if -it was sweeter to him to _remember_ another than to _listen_ to -_her_,—where in the wide world should she find, in her desperate strait, -a friend? - -There was that in her attitude which reminded Vance of Estelle. Some -lemon-blossoms in her hair intensified the association by their odors. -For a moment it was as if he had thrown off the burden of twenty years, -and was living over, in Clara’s presence, that ambrosial hour of first -love on the very spot of its birth. “For O, she stood beside him like -his youth,—transformed for him the real to a dream, clothing the -palpable and the familiar with golden exhalations of the dawn!” Be wary, -Vance! One look, one tone amiss, and there’ll be danger! - -“Let us talk over your affairs,” he said. “To-morrow I must leave for -Natchez. Will you remain here till I come back?” - -Clara leaned out of the window a moment, as if to enjoy the balmy -evening, and then, calmly taking a seat, replied: “I think ’t will be -best for me to lay my case before Miss Tremaine. True, we parted in a -pet, but she may not be implacable. Yes, I will call on her. To you, a -stranger, what return for your kindness can I make?” - -“This return, Perdita: let me be your friend. As soon as ’t is -discovered you’ve no money, your position may become a painful one. Let -me supply you with funds. I’m rich; and my only heir is my country.” - -“No, Mr. Vance! I’ve no claim upon you,—none whatever. What I want for -the moment is a shelter; and Laura will give me that, I’m confident.” - -Vance reflected a moment, and then, as if a plan had occurred to him by -which he could provide for her without her knowing it, he replied: “We -shall probably meet at the St. Charles. You can easily send for me, -should you require my help. Be generous, and say you’ll notify me, -should there be an hour of need?” - -“I’ll not fail to remember you in that event, Mr. Vance.” - -“Honor bright?” - -“Honor bright, Mr. Vance!” - -“Consider, Perdita, you can always find a home in this house. I shall -give such directions to Mrs. Bernard as will make your presence -welcome.” - -“Then I shall not feel utterly homeless. Thank you, Mr. Vance!” - -“And by the way, Perdita, do not let Miss Tremaine know that we are -acquainted.” - -“I’ll heed your caution, Mr. Vance.” - -“We shall meet again, my dear young lady. Of that I feel assured.” - -“I hope so, Mr. Vance.” - -“And now farewell! I’ll tell Bernard to order a carriage and attend to -your baggage. Good by, Perdita!” - -“Good by, Mr. Vance.” - -Again they shook hands, and parted. Vance gave his directions to the -Bernards, and then strolled home to his hotel. As he traversed the -corridor leading to his room, he encountered Kenrick. Their apartments -were nearly opposite. - -“I was not aware we were such near neighbors, Mr. Kenrick.” - -“To me also ’t is a surprise,—and a pleasant one. Will you walk in, Mr. -Vance?” - -“Yes, if ’t is not past your hour for visitors.” - -They went in, and Kenrick put up the gas. “I can’t offer you either -cigars or whiskey; but you can ring for what you want.” - -“Is it possible you eschew alcohol and tobacco?” - -“Yes,” replied Kenrick; “I once indulged in cigars. But I found the use -so offensive in others that I myself abandoned it in disgust. One sits -down to converse with a person disguised as a gentleman, and suddenly a -fume, as if from the essence of old tobacco-pipes, mixed with odors from -stale brandy-bottles, poisons the innocent air, and almost knocks one -down. It’s a mystery that ladies endure the nuisance of such breaths. My -sensitive nose has made me an anti-rum, anti-tobacco man.” - -“But I fear me you’re a come-outer, Mr. Kenrick! Is it conservative to -abuse tobacco and whiskey? No wonder you are unsound on the slavery -question!” - -“Come up to the confessional, Mr. Vance! Admit that you’re as much of an -antislavery man as I am.” - -“More, Mr. Kenrick! If I were not, I might be quite as imprudent as you. -And then I should put a stop to my usefulness.” - -“You puzzle me, Mr. Vance.” - -“Not as much as you’ve puzzled _me_, my young friend. Come here, and -look in the mirror with me.” - -Vance took him by the hand and led him to a full-length looking-glass. -There they stood looking at their reflections. - -“What do you see?” asked Vance. - -“Two rather personable fellows,” replied Kenrick, laughing; “one of them -ten or twelve years older than the other; height of the two, about the -same; figures very much alike, inclining to slimness, but compact, -erect, well-knit; hands and feet small; heads,—I have no fault to find -with the shape or size of either; hair similar in color; eyes,—as near -as I can see, the two pairs resemble each other, and the crow’s-feet at -the corners are the same in each; features,—nose,—brows—I see why you’ve -brought me here, Mr. Vance! We are enough alike to be brothers.” - -“Can you explain the mystery?” asked Vance, “for I can’t. Can there be -any family relationship? I had an aunt, now deceased, who was married to -a Louisianian. But his name was not Kenrick.” - -“What was it?” - -“Arthur Maclain.” - -“My father! Cousin, your hand! In order to inherit property, my father, -after his marriage, procured a change of name. I can’t tell you how -pleasant to me it is to meet one of my mother’s relations.” - -They had come together still more akin in spirit than in blood. The -night was all too short for the confidences they now poured out to each -other. Vance told his whole story, pausing occasionally to calm down the -excitement which the narrative caused in his hearer. - -When it was finished Kenrick said: “Cousin, count me your ally in -compassing your revenge. May God do so to me, and more also, if I do not -give this beastly Slave Power blood for blood.” - -“I can’t help thinking, Charles,” said Vance, “that your zeal has the -purer origin. _Mine_ sprang from a personal experience of wrong; yours, -from an abstract conception of what is just; from those inner motives -that point to righteousness and God.” - -“I almost wish sometimes,” replied Kenrick, “that I had the spur of a -great personal grievance to give body to my wrath. And yet Slavery, when -it lays its foul hand on _the least of these little ones_ ought to be -felt by me also, and by all men! But now—now—I shall not lack the sting -of a personal incentive. _Your_ griefs, cousin, fall on my own heart, -and shall not find the soil altogether barren. This Ratcliff,—I know him -well. He has been more than once at our house. A perfect type of the -sort of beast born of slavery,—moulded as in a matrix by slavery,—kept -alive by slavery! Take away slavery, and he would perish of inanition. -He would be, like the plesiosaur, a fossil monster, representative of an -extinct genus.” - -“Cousin,” said Vance, “all you lack is to join the serpent with the -dove. Be content to bide your time. Here in Louisiana lies your work. We -must make the whole western bank of the Mississippi free soil. Texas can -be taken care of in due time. But with a belt of freedom surrounding the -Cotton States, the doom of slavery is fixed. Give me to see that day, -and I shall be ready to say, ‘Now, Lord, dismiss thy servant!’” - -“I had intended to go North, and join the army of freedom,” said -Kenrick; “but what you say gives me pause.” - -“We must not be seen together much,” resumed Vance. “And now good night, -or rather, good morning, for there’s a glimmer in the east, premonitory -of day. Ah, cousin, when I hear the braggarts around us, gassing about -Confederate courage and Yankee cowardice, I can’t help recalling an old -couplet I used to spout, when an actor, from a play by Southern,— - - ‘There is no courage but in innocence, - No constancy but in an honest cause!’” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - CLARA MAKES AN IMPORTANT PURCHASE. - -“Allow slavery to be ever so humane. Grant that the man who owns me is -ever so kind. The wrong of him who presumes to talk of owning me is too -unmeasured to be softened by kindness.” - - -Laura Tremaine had just come in from a drive with her invalid mother, -and stood in the drawing-room looking out on a company of soldiers. -There was a knock at the door. A servant brought in a card. It said, -“Will Laura see Darling?” The arrival, concurring so directly with -Laura’s wishes, caused a pleasurable shock. “Show her in,” she said; and -the next moment the maidens were locked in each other’s embrace. - -“O, you dear little good-for-nothing Darling,” said Laura, after there -had been a conflux of kisses. “Could anything be more _apropos_? What’s -the meaning of all this? Have you really absconded? Is it a love affair? -Tell me all about it. Rely on my secrecy. I’ll be close as bark to a -tree.” - -“Will you solemnly promise,” said Clara, “on your honor as a lady, not -to reveal what I tell you?” - -“As I hope to be saved, I promise,” replied Laura. - -“Then I will tell you the cause of my leaving Mrs. Gentry’s. ’T was only -day before yesterday she told me,—look at me, Laura, and say if I look -like it!—she told me I was a slave.” - -“A slave? Impossible! Why, Darling, you’ve a complexion whiter than -mine.” - -“So have many slaves. The hue of my skin will not invalidate a claim.” - -“That’s true. But who presumes to claim you?” - -“Mr. Carberry Ratcliff.” - -“A friend of my father’s! He’s very rich. I’ll ask him to give you up. -Let me go to him at once.” - -“No, Laura, I’ve seen the man. ’T would be hopeless to try to melt him. -You must help me to get away.” - -“But you do not mean,—surely you do not mean to—to—” - -“To what, Laura? You seem gasping with horror at some frightful -supposition. What is it?” - -“You’d not think of running off, would you? You wouldn’t ask me to -harbor a fugitive slave?” - -Clara looked at the door. The color flew to her cheek,—flamed up to her -forehead. Her bosom heaved. Emotions of unutterable detestation and -disgust struggled for expression. But had she not learnt the slave’s -first lesson, duplicity? Her secret had been confided to one who had -forthwith showed herself untrustworthy. Bred in the heartless fanaticism -which slavery engenders, Laura might give the alarm and have her -stopped, should she rise suddenly to go. Farewell, then, white-robed -Candor, and welcome Dissimulation! - -After a pause, “What do you advise?” said Clara. - -“Well, Darling, stay with me a week or two, then go quietly back to Mrs. -Gentry’s, and play the penitent.” - -“Hadn’t I better go at once?” asked Clara, simulating meekness. - -“O no, Darling! I can’t possibly permit that. Now I’ve got you, I shall -hold on till I’ve done with you. Then we’ll see if we can’t persuade Mr. -Ratcliff to free you. Who’d have thought of this little Darling being a -slave!” - -“But hadn’t I better write to Mrs. Gentry and tell her where I am?” - -“No, no. She’ll only be forcing you back. You shall do nothing but stay -here till I tell you you may go. You shall play the lady for one week, -at least. There’s a Mr. Vance in the house, to whom I’ve spoken of your -singing. He’s wild to hear you. I’ve promised him he shall. I wouldn’t -disappoint him on any account.” - -Clara saw that, could she but command courage to fall in with Laura’s -selfish plans, it might, after all, be safer to come thus into the very -focus of the city’s life, than to seek some corner, penetrable to -police-officers and slave-hunters. - -“How will you manage?” asked Clara. - -“What more simple?” replied Laura. “I’ll take you right into my -sleeping-room; you shall be my schoolmate, Miss Brown, come to pass a -few days with me before going to St. Louis. Papa will never think of -questioning my story.” - -“But I’ve no dresses with me.” - -“No matter. I’ve a plenty I’ve outgrown. They’ll fit you beautifully. -Come here into my sleeping-room. It adjoins, you see. There! We’re about -of a height, though I’m a little stouter.” - -“It will not be safe for me to appear at the public table.” - -“Well, you shall be an invalid, and I’ll send your meals from the table -when I send mother’s. Miss Brown from St. Louis! Let me see. What shall -be your first name?” - -“Let it be Perdita.” - -“Perdita? The lost one! Good. How quick you are! Perdita Brown! It does -not sound badly. Mr. Onslow,—Miss Brown,—Miss Perdita Brown from St. -Louis! Then you’ll courtesy, and look so demure! Won’t it be fun?” - -Between grief and anger, Clara found disguise a terrible effort. So! Her -fate so dark, so tragic, was to be Laura’s pastime, not the subject of -her grave and tender consideration! - -Already had some of the traits, congenital with slavery, begun to -develop themselves in Clara. Strategy now seemed to her as justifiable -under the circumstances as it would be in escaping from a murderer, a -lunatic, or a wild beast. Was not every pro-slavery man or woman her -deadly foe,—to be cheated, circumvented, robbed, nay, if need be, slain, -in defence of her own inalienable right of liberty? The thought that -Laura was such a foe made Clara look on her with precisely the same -feelings that the exposed sentinel might have toward the lurking -picket-shooter. - -An expression so strange flitted over Clara’s face, that Laura asked: -“What’s the matter? Don’t you feel well?” - -Checking the exasperation surging in her heart, Clara affected -frivolity. “O, I feel well enough,” she replied. “A little tired,—that’s -all. What if this Mr. Onslow should fall in love with me?” - -“O, but that would be too good!” exclaimed Laura. Between you and me, I -owe him a spite. I’ve just heard he once said, speaking of me, -‘Handsome,—but no depth!’ Hang the fellow! I’d like to punish him. He’s -proud as Lucifer. Wouldn’t it be a joke to let him fall in love with a -poor little slave?” - -“So, you don’t mean to fall in love with him yourself?” - -“O no! He’s good-looking, but poor. Can you keep a secret?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, I mean to set my cap for Mr. Vance.” - -“Possible?” - -“Yes, Perdita. He’s fine-looking, of the right age, very rich, and so -altogether fascinating! Father learnt yesterday that he pays an enormous -tax on real estate.” - -“And is he the only string to your bow?” - -“O no. But our best young men are in the army. Onslow is a captain. O, I -mustn’t forget Charles Kenrick. Onslow is to bring him here. Kenrick’s -father owns a whole brigade of slaves. Hark! Dear me! That was two -o’clock. Will you have luncheon?” - -“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” - -“Then I must leave you. I’ve an appointment with my dressmaker. In the -lower drawers there you’ll find some of my last year’s dresses. I’ve -outgrown them. Amuse yourself with choosing one for to-night. We shall -have callers.” - -Laura hurried off. Clara, terrified at the wrathfulness of her own -emotions, walked the room for a while, then dropped upon her knees in -prayer. She prayed to be delivered from her own wild passions and from -the toils of her enemies. - -With softened heart, she rose and went to the window. - -There, on the opposite sidewalk, stood Esha! Crumpling up some paper, -Clara threw it out so as to arrest her attention, then beckoned to her -to come up. Stifling a cry of surprise, Esha crossed the street, and -entered the hotel. The next minute she and Clara had embraced. - -“But how did you happen to be there, Esha?” - -“Bress de chile, I’ze been stahndin’ dar de last hour, but what for I -knowed no more dan de stones. ’T warn’t till I seed de chile hersef it -’curred ter me what for I’d been stahndin’ dar.” - -“What happened after I left home?” - -“Dar war all sort ob a fuss dat ebber you see, darlin’. Fust de ole -woman war all struck ob a heap, like. Den Massa Ratcliff, he come, and -he swar like de Debble hisself. He cuss’d de ole woman and set her off -cryin’, and den he swar at her all de more. Dar was a gen’ral -break-down, darlin’. Massa Ratcliff he’b goin’ ter gib yer fortygraf ter -all de policemen, an’ pay five hundred dollar ter dat one as’ll find -yer. He sends us niggers all off—me an’ Tarquin an’ de rest—ter hunt yer -up. He swar he’ll hab yer, if it takes all he’s wuth. He come agin -ter-day an’ trow de ole woman inter de highstrikes. She say he’ll be -come up wid, sure, an’ you’ll be come up wid, an’ eberybody else as -doesn’t do like she wants ’em ter, am bound to be come up wid. Yah, yah, -yah! Who’s afeard?” - -“So the hounds are out in pursuit, are they?” - -“Yes, darlin’. Look dar at dat man stahndin’ at de corner. He’m one ob -’em.” - -“He’s not dressed like a policeman.” - -“Bress yer heart, dese ’tektivs go dressed like de best gem’men about. -Yer’d nebber suspek dey was doin’ de work ob hounds.” - -“Well, Esha, I’m afraid to have you stay longer. I’m here with Miss -Tremaine. She may be back any minute. I can’t trust her, and wouldn’t -for the world have her see you here.” - -“No more would I, darlin’! Nebber liked dat air gal. She’m all fur self. -But good by, darlin’! It’s sich a comfort ter hab seed you! Good by!” - -Esha slipped into the corridor and out of the hotel. Clara put on her -bonnet, threw a thick veil over it, and hurried through St. Charles -Street to a well-known cutlery store. “Show me some of your daggers,” -said she; “one suitable as a present to a young soldier.” - -The shopkeeper displayed several varieties. She selected one with a -sheath, and almost took away the breath of the man of iron by paying for -it in gold. Dropping her veil, she passed into the street. As she left -the shop, she saw a man affecting to look at some patent pistols in the -window. He was well dressed, and sported a small cane. - -“Hound number one!” thought Clara to herself, and, having walked slowly -away in one direction, she suddenly turned, retraced her steps, then -took a narrow cross-street that debouched into one of the principal -business avenues. The individual had followed her, swinging his cane, -and looking in at the shop-windows. But Clara did not let him see he was -an object of suspicion. She slackened her pace, and pretended to be -looking for an article of muslin, for she would stop and examine the -fabrics that hung at the doors. - -Suddenly she saw Esha approaching. Moment of peril! Should the old black -woman recognize and accost her, she was lost. On came the old slave, her -eyes wide open and her thoughts intent on detecting detectives. -Suddenly, to her consternation, she saw Clara stop before a “magasin” -and take up some muslin on the shelf outside the window; and almost in -the same glance, she saw the gentleman of the cane, watching both her -and Clara out of the corners of his eyes. A sideway glance, quick as -lightning from Clara, and delivered without moving her head, was enough -to enlighten Esha. She passed on without a perceptible pause, and soon -appeared to stumble, as if by accident, almost into the arms of the -detective. He caught her by the shoulder, and said, “Don’t turn, but -tell me if you noticed that woman there,—there by Delmar’s, with a green -veil over her face?” - -“Yes, massa, I seed a woman in a green veil.” - -“Well, are you sure she mayn’t be the one?” - -“Bress yer, massa, I owt to know de chile I’ze seed grow up from a -bebby. Reckon I could tell her widout seem’ her face.” - -“Go back and take a look at her. There! she steps into the shop.” - -Glad of the opportunity of giving Clara a word of caution, Esha passed -into Delmar’s. Beckoning Clara into an alcove, she said: “De veil, -darlin’! De veil! Dat ole rat would nebber hab suspek noting if’t -hahdn’t been fur de veil. His part ob de play am ter watch eb’ry woman -in a veil.” - -“I see my mistake, Esha. I’ve been buying a dagger. Look there!” - -“De Lord save us!” said Esha, with a shudder, half of horror and half of -sympathy. “Don’t be in de street oftener dan yer kin help, darlin’? -Remember de fotygrafs. Dar! I mus go.” - -Esha joined the detective. “Did you get a good sight of her?” he asked. - -“Went right up an’ spoke ter her,” said Esha. “She’s jes as much dat gal -as she’s Madame Beauregard.” - -The detective, his vision of a $500 _douceur_ melting into thin air, -pensively walked off to try fortune on a new beat. - -Clara, now that the danger was over, began to tremble. Hitherto she had -not quailed. Leaving the shop, she took the nearest way to the hotel. -For the last twenty-four hours agitation and excitement had prevented -her taking food. Wretchedly faint, she stopped and took hold of an iron -lamppost for support. - -An officer in the Confederate uniform, seeing she was ill, said, -“Mademoiselle, you need help. Allow me to escort you home.” - -Dreading lest she should fall, through feebleness, into worse hands, -Clara thanked him and took his proffered arm. “To the St. Charles, sir, -if you please.” - -“I myself stop at the St. Charles. Allow me to introduce myself: Robert -Onslow, Captain in Company D, Wigman Regiment. May I ask whom I have the -pleasure of assisting?” - -“Miss Brown. I’m stopping a few days with my friend, Miss Tremaine.” - -“Indeed! I was to call on her this evening. We may renew our -acquaintance.” - -“Perhaps.” - -Clara suddenly put down her veil. Approaching slowly like a fate, rolled -on the splendid barouche of Mr. Ratcliff. He sat with arms folded and -was smoking a cigar. Clara fancied she saw arrogance, hate, -disappointment, rage, all written in his countenance. Without moving his -arms, he bowed carelessly to Onslow. - -“That’s one of the prime managers of the secession movement.” - -“So I should think,” said Clara; but Onslow detected nothing equivocal -in the tone of the remark. Having escorted her to the door of Miss -Tremaine’s parlor, he bowed his farewell, and Clara went in. Laura had -not yet returned. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - DELIGHT AND DUTY. - -“According to our living here, we shall hereafter, by a hidden -concatenation of causes, be drawn to a condition answerable to the -purity or impurity of our souls in this life: that silent Nemesis that -passes through the whole contexture of the universe, ever fatally -contriving us into such a state as we ourselves have fitted ourselves -for by our accustomary actions. Of so great consequence is it, while we -have opportunity, to aspire to the best things.”—_Henry More_, A.D. -1659. - - -It may seem strange that Onslow and Kenrick, differing so widely, should -renew the friendship of their boyhood. We have seen that Onslow, -allowing the æsthetic side of his nature to outgrow the moral, had -departed from the teachings of his father on the subject of slavery. -Kenrick, in whom the moral and devotional faculty asserted its supremacy -over all inferior solicitings, also repudiated _his_ paternal teachings; -but they were directly contrary to those of his friend, and, in -abandoning them, he gave up the prospect of a large inheritance. - -To Onslow, these thick-lipped, woolly-headed negroes,—what were they fit -for but to be hewers of wood and drawers of water to the gentle and -refined? It was monstrous to suppose that between such and him there -could be equality of any kind. The ethnological argument was conclusive. -Had not Professor Moleschott said that the brain of the negro contains -less phosphorus than that of the white man? Proof sufficient that Cuffee -was expressly created to pull off my boots and hoe in my cotton-fields, -while I make it a penal offence to teach him to read! - -Onslow, too, had been fortunate in his intercourse with slaveholders. -Young, handsome, and accomplished, he had felt the charm of their -affectionate hospitality. He had found taste, culture, and piety in -their abodes; all the graces and all the amenities of life. What wonder -that he should narcotize his moral sense with the aroma of these social -fascinations! Even at the North, where the glamour they cast ought not -to distort the sight, and where men ought healthfully to look the -abstract abomination full in the face, and testify to its deformity,—how -many consciences were drugged, how many hearts shut to justice and to -mercy! - -With Kenrick, brought up on a plantation where slavery existed in its -mildest form, meditation on God’s law as written in the enlightened -human conscience, completely reversed the views adopted from upholders -of the institution. Thenceforth the elegances of his home became -hateful. He felt like a robber in the midst of them. - -The spectacle of some hideous, awkward, perhaps obscene and depraved -black woman, hoeing in the corn-field, instead of awakening in his mind, -as in Onslow’s, the thought that she was in her proper place, did but -move him to tears of bitter contrition and humiliation. How far there -was sin or accountability on her part, or that of her progenitors, he -could not say; but that there was deep, immeasurable sin on the part of -those who, instead of helping that degraded nature to rise, made laws to -crush it all the deeper in the mire, he could not fail to feel in -anguish of spirit. Through all that there was in her of ugliness and -depravity, making her less tolerable than the beast to his æsthetic -sense, he could still detect those traits and possibilities that allied -her with immortal natures, and in her he saw all her sex outraged, and -universal womanhood nailed to the cross of Christ, and mocked by -unbelievers! - -The evening of the day of Clara’s arrival at the St. Charles, Onslow and -Kenrick met by agreement in the drawing-room of the Tremaines. Clara had -told Laura, that, in going out to purchase a few hair-pins, she had been -taken suddenly faint, and that a gentleman, who proved to be Captain -Onslow, had escorted her home. - -“Could anything be more apt for my little plot!” said Laura. “But -consider! Here it is eight o’clock, and you’re not dressed! Do you know -how long you’ve been sleeping? This will never do!” - -A servant knocked at the door, with the information that two gentlemen -were in the drawing-room. - -“Dear me! I must go in at once,” said Laura. “Now tell me you’ll be -quick and follow, Darling.” - -Clara gave the required pledge, and proceeded to arrange her hair. Laura -looked on for a minute envying her those thick brown tresses, and then -darted into the next room where the visitors were waiting. Greeting them -with her usual animation of manner, she asked Onslow for the news. - -“The news is,” said Onslow, “my friend Charles is undergoing conversion. -We shall have him an out-and-out Secessionist before the Fourth of -July.” - -“On what do you base your calculations?” asked Kenrick. - -“On the fact that for the last twelve hours I haven’t heard you call -down maledictions on the Confederate cause.” - -“Perhaps I conclude that the better part of valor is discretion.” - -“No, Charles, yours is not the Falstaffian style of courage.” - -“Well, construe my mood as you please. Miss Tremaine, your piano stands -open. Does it mean we’re to have music?” - -“Yes. Hasn’t the Captain told you of his meeting a young lady,—Miss -Perdita Brown?” - -“I’ll do him the justice to say he _did_ tell me he had escorted such a -one.” - -“What did he say of her?” - -“Nothing, good or bad.” - -“But that’s very suspicious.” - -“So it is.” - -“Pray who is Miss Perdita Brown?” asked Onslow. - -“She’s a daughter of—of—why, of Mr. Brown, of course. He lives in St. -Louis.” - -“Is she a good Secessionist?” - -“On the contrary, she’s a desperate little Abolitionist.” - -“Look at Charles!” said Onslow. “He’s enamored already. I’m sorry she -isn’t secesh.” - -“Think of the triumph of converting her!” said Laura. - -“That indeed! Of course,” said Onslow, “like all true women, she’ll take -her politics from the man she loves.” - -And the Captain smoothed his moustache, and looked handsome as Phœbus -Apollo. - -“O the conceit!” exclaimed Laura. “Look at him, Mr. Kenrick! Isn’t he -charming? Where’s the woman who wouldn’t turn Mormon, or even Yankee, -for his sake? Surely one of us weak creatures could be content with one -tenth or even one twentieth of the affections of so superb an Ali. Come, -sir, promise me I shall be the fifteenth Mrs. Onslow when you emigrate -to Utah.” - -Onslow was astounded at this fire of raillery. Could the lady have heard -of any disparaging expression he had dropped? - -“Spare me, Miss Laura,” he said. “Don’t deprive the Confederacy of my -services by slaying me before I’ve smelt powder.” - -“Where’s Miss Brown all this while?” asked Kenrick. - -Laura went to the door, and called “Perdita!” - -“In five minutes!” was the reply. - -Clara was dressing. When, that morning, she came in from her walk, she -thought intently on her situation, and at last determined on a new line -of policy. Instead of playing the humble companion and shy recluse, she -would now put forth all her powers to dazzle and to strike. She would, -if possible, make friends, who should protest against any arbitrary -claim that Ratcliff might set up. She would vindicate her own right to -freedom by showing she was not born to be a slave. All who had known her -should feel their own honor wounded in any attempt to injure hers. - -Having once fixed before herself an object, she grew calm and firm. When -her dinner was sent up, she ate it with a good appetite. Sleep, too, -that had been a stranger to her so many hours, now came to repair her -strength and revive her spirits. - -No sooner had Laura left to attend to her visitors, than Clara plunged -into the drawers containing the dresses for her choice. With the -rapidity of instinct she selected the most becoming; then swiftly and -deftly, with the hand of an adept and the eye of an artist, she arranged -her toilet. A dexterous adaptation of pins speedily rectified any little -defect in the fit. Where were the collars? Locked up. No matter! There -was a frill of exquisite lace round the neck of the dress; and this -little narrow band of maroon velvet would serve to relieve the bareness -of the throat. What could she clasp it with? Laura had not left the key -of her jewel-box. A common pin would hardly answer. Suddenly Clara -bethought herself of the little coral sleeve-button, wrapped up in the -strip of bunting. That would serve admirably. Yes. Nothing could be -better. It was her only article of jewelry; though round her right wrist -she wore a hair-bracelet of her own braiding, made from that strand -given her by Esha; and from a flower-vase she had taken a small -cape-jasmine, white as alabaster, and fragrant as a garden of -honeysuckles, and thrust it in her hair. A fan? Yes, here is one. - -And thus accoutred she entered the room where the three expectants were -seated. - -On seeing her, Laura’s first emotion was one of admiration, as at sight -of an imposing _entrée_ at the opera. She was suddenly made aware of the -fact that Clara was the most beautiful young woman of her acquaintance; -nay, not only the most beautiful, but the most stylish. So taken by -surprise was she, so lost in looking, that it was nearly a third of a -minute before she introduced the young gentlemen. Onslow claimed -acquaintance, presented a chair, and took a seat at Clara’s side. -Kenrick stood mute and staring, as if a paradisic vision had dazed his -senses. When he threw off his bewilderment, he quieted himself with the -thought, “She can’t be as beautiful as she looks,—that’s one comfort. A -shrew, perhaps,—or, what is worse, a coquette!” - -“When were you last in St. Louis, Miss Brown?” asked Onslow. - -“All questions for information must be addressed to Miss Tremaine,” said -Clara. “I shall be happy to talk with you on things I know nothing -about. Shall we discuss the Dahlgren gun, or the Ericsson Monitor?” - -“So! She sets up for an eccentric,” thought Onslow. “Perhaps politics -would suit you,” he added aloud. “I hear you’re an Abolitionist.” - -“Ask Miss Tremaine,” said Clara. - -“O, she has betrayed you already,” replied Onslow. - -“Then I’ve nothing to say. I’m in her hands.” - -“Is it possible,” said Kenrick, who was irrepressible on the one theme -nearest his heart, “is it possible Miss Brown can’t see it,—can’t see -the loveliness of that divine cosmos which we call slavery? Poor deluded -Miss Brown! I know not what other men may think, but as for me, give me -slavery or give me death! Do you object to woman-whipping, Miss Brown?” - -“I confess I’ve my prejudices against it,” replied Clara. “But these -charges of woman-whipping, you know, are Abolition lies.” - -“Yes, so Northern conservatives say; but we of the plantations know that -nearly one half the whippings are of women.”[29] - -“Come! Sink the shop!” cried Laura. “Are we so dull we can’t find -anything but our horrible _bête noir_ for our amusement? Let us have -scandal, rather; nonsense, rather! Tell us a story, Mr. Kenrick.” - -“Well; once on a time—how would you like a ghost-story?” - -“Above all things. Charming! Only ghosts have grown so common, they no -longer thrill us.” - -“Yes,” said Kenrick,—whose trivial thoughts ever seemed to call up his -serious,—“yes; materialism has done a good work in its day and -generation. It has taught us that the business of this world must go on -just as if there were no ghosts. The supernatural is no longer an -incubus and an oppression. Its phenomena no longer frighten and -paralyze. Let us, then, since we are now freed from their terrors, -welcome the great facts themselves as illumining and confirming all that -there is in the past to comfort us with the assurance of continuous life -issuing from seeming death.” - -“Dear Mr. Kenrick, is this a time for a lecture?” expostulated Laura. -“Aren’t you bored, Perdita?” - -“On the contrary, I’m interested.” - -“What do you think of spiritualism, Miss Brown?” - -“I’ve witnessed none of the phenomena, but I don’t see why the testimony -of these times, in regard to them, shouldn’t be taken as readily as that -of centuries back.” - -“My father is a believer,” said Onslow; “and I have certainly seen some -unaccountable things,—tables lifted into the air,—instruments of music -floated about, and played on without visible touch,—human hands, -palpable and warm, coming out from impalpable air:—all very queer and -very inexplicable! But what do they prove? _Cui bono?_ What of it all?” - -“‘Nothing in it!’ as Sir Charles Coldstream says of the Vatican,” -interposed Laura. - -“You demand the use of it all,—the _cui bono_,—do you?” retorted -Kenrick. “Did it ever occur to you to make your own existence the -subject of that terrible inquiry, _cui bono_?” - -“Certainly,” replied Onslow, laughing; “my _cui bono_ is to fight for -the independence of the new Confederacy.” - -“And for the propagation of slavery, eh?” returned Kenrick. “I don’t see -the _cui bono_. On the contrary, to my fallible vision, the world would -be better off without than with you. But let us take a more extreme -case. These youths—Tom, Dick, and Harry—who give their days and nights, -not to the works of Addison, but to gambling, julep-drinking, and -cigar-smoking,—who hate and shun all useful work,—and are no comfort to -anybody,—only a shame and affliction to somebody,—can you explain to me -the _cui bono_ of their corrupt and unprofitable lives?” - -“But how undignified in a spirit to push tables about and play on -accordions!” - -“Well, what authority have you for the supposition that there are no -undignified spirits? We know there are weak and wicked spirits _in_ the -flesh; why not _out_ of the flesh? A spirit, or an intelligence claiming -to be one, writes an ungrammatical sentence or a pompous commonplace, -and signs _Bacon_ to it; and you forthwith exclaim, ‘Pooh! this can’t -come from a spirit.’ How do you know that? Mayn’t lies be told in other -worlds than this? Will the ignoramus at once be made a scholar,—the -dullard a philosopher,—the blackguard a gentleman,—the sinner a -saint,—the liar truthful,—by the simple process of elimination from this -husk of flesh? Make me at once altogether other than what I am, and you -annihilate me, and there is no immortality of the soul.” - -“But what has the ghost contributed to our knowledge during these -fourteen years, since he appeared at Rochester? Of all he has brought -us, we may say, with Shakespeare, ‘There needs no ghost come from the -grave to tell us that.’” - -“I’ll tell you what the ghost has contributed, not at Rochester merely, -but everywhere, through the ages. He has contributed _himself_. You say, -_cui bono?_ And I might say of ten thousand mysteries about us, _cui -bono?_ The lightning strikes the church-steeple,—_cui bono?_ An idiot is -born into the world,—_cui bono?_ It is absurd to demand as a condition -of rational faith, that we should prove a _cui bono_. A good or a use -may exist, and we be unable to see it. And yet grave men are continually -thrusting into the faces of the investigators of these phenomena this -preposterous _cui bono?_” - -“Enough, my dear Mr. Kenrick!” exclaimed Laura. - -But he was not to be stopped. He rose and paced the room, and continued: -“The _cui bono_ of phenomena must of course be found in the mind that -regards them. ‘I can’t find you both arguments and brains,’ said Dr. -Johnson to a noodle who thought Milton trashy. One man sees an apple -fall, and straightway thinks of the price of cider. Newton sees it, and -it suggests gravitation. One man sees a table rise in the air, and -cries: ‘It can’t be a spirit; ’t is too undignified for a spirit!’ -Mountford sees it, and the immortality of the soul is thenceforth to him -a fact as positive as any fact of science.” - -“Your story, dear Mr. Kenrick, your story!” urged Laura. - -“My story is ended. The ghost has come and vanished.” - -“Is that all?” whined Laura. “Are n’t we, then, to have a story?” - -“In mercy give us some music, Miss Brown,” said Onslow. - -“Play Yankee Doodle, with variations,” interposed Kenrick. - -“Not unless you’d have the windows smashed in,” pleaded Onslow; and, -giving his arm, he waited on Clara to the piano. - -She dashed into a medley of brilliant airs from operas, uniting them by -extemporized links of melody to break the abruptness of the transitions. -The young men were both connoisseurs; and they interchanged looks of -gratified astonishment. - -“And now for a song!” exclaimed Laura. - -Clara paused a moment, and sat looking with clasped hands at the keys. -Then, after a delicate prelude, she gave that song of Pestal, already -quoted.[30] She gave it with her whole soul, as if a personal wrong were -adding intensity to the defiance of her tones. - -Kenrick, wrought to a state of sympathy which he could not disguise, had -taken a seat where he could watch her features while she sang. When she -had finished, she covered her face with her hands, then, finding her -emotion uncontrollable, rose and passed out of the room. - -“What do you think of that, Charles?” asked Onslow. - -“It was terrible,” said Kenrick. “I wanted to kill a slaveholder while -she sang.” - -“But she has the powers of a _prima donna_,” said Onslow, turning to -Laura. - -“Yes, one would think she had practised for the stage.” - -Clara now returned with a countenance placid and smiling. - -“How long do you stay in New Orleans, Miss Brown?” inquired Onslow. - -“How long, Laura?” asked Clara. - -“A week or two.” - -“We shall have another opportunity, I hope, of hearing you sing.” - -“I hope so.” - -“I have an appointment now at the armory. Charles, are you ready to -walk?” - -“No, thank you. I prefer to remain.” - -Onslow left, and, immediately afterwards, Laura’s mother being seized -with a timely hemorrhage, Laura was called off to attend to her. Kenrick -was alone with Clara. Charming opportunity! He drew from her still -another and another song. He conversed with her on her studies,—on the -books she had read,—the pictures she had seen. He was roused by her -intelligence and wit. He spoke of slavery. Deep as was his own -detestation of it, she helped him to make it deeper. What delightful -harmony of views! Kenrick felt that his time had come. The hours slipped -by like minutes, yet there he sat chained by a fascination so new, so -strange, so delightful, he marvelled that life had in it so much of -untasted joy. - -Kenrick was not accustomed to be critical in details. He looked at -general effects. But the most trifling point in Clara’s accoutrements -was now a thing to be marked and remembered. The little sleeve-button -dropped from the band round her throat. Kenrick picked it up,—examined -it,—saw, in characters so fine as to be hardly legible, the letters -C.A.B. upon it. (“B. stands for Brown,” thought he.) And then, as Clara -put out her hand to receive it, he noticed the bracelet she wore. “What -beautiful hair!” he said. He looked up at Clara’s to trace a -resemblance. But his glance stopped midway at her eyes. “Blue and gray!” -he murmured. - -“Yes, can you read them?” asked Clara. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Only a dream I had. There’s a letter on them somebody is to open and -read.” - -“O, that I were a Daniel to interpret!” said Kenrick. - -At last Miss Tremaine returned. Her mother had been dangerously ill. It -was an hour after midnight. Sincerely astounded at finding it so late, -Kenrick took his leave. Heart and brain were full. “Thou art the wine -whose drunkenness is all I can desire, O love!” - -And how was it with Clara? Alas, the contrariety of the affections! -Clara simply thought Kenrick a very agreeable young man: handsome, but -not so handsome as Onslow; clever, but not so clever as Vance! - ------ - -Footnote 27: - - General Ullmann writes from New Orleans, June 6, 1863, to Governor - Andrew: “Every man (freed negro) presenting himself to be recruited, - strips to the skin. My surgeons report to me that _not one in fifteen_ - is free from marks of severe lashing. More than one half are rejected - because of disability from lashing with whips, and the biting of dogs - on calves and thighs. It is frightful. Hundreds have welts on their - backs as large as one of your largest fingers.” - -Footnote 28: - - Abercrombie relates an authenticated case of the same kind. A woodman, - while employed with his axe, was hit on the head by a falling tree. He - remained in a semi-comatose state for a whole year. On being - trepanned, he uttered an exclamation which was found to be the - completion of the sentence he had been in the act of uttering when - struck twelve months before. - -Footnote 29: - - Among the foul records the Rebellion has unearthed is one, found at - Alexandria, La., being a stray leaf from the diary of an overseer in - that vicinity, in the year 1847. It chronicles the whippings of slaves - from April 20 to May 21. Of thirty-nine whippings during that period, - _nineteen were of females_. We give a few extracts from this precious - and authentic document:— - - “April 20. Whipped Adam for cutting cotton too wide. Nat, for thinning - cotton.—21. Adaline and Clem, for being behind.—24. Esther, for - leaving child out in yard to let it cry.—27. Adaline, for being slow - getting out of quarters.—28. Daniel, for not having cobs taken out of - horse-trough.—May 1. Anna, Jo, Hannah, Sarah, Jim, and Jane, for not - thinning corn right. Clem, for being too long thinning one row of - corn. Esther, for not being out of quarters quick enough.—10. Adaline, - for being last one out with row.—15. Esther, for leaving grass in - cotton.—17. Peggy, for not hoeing as much cane as she ought to last - week.—18. Polly, for not hoeing faster.—20. Martha. Esther, and Sarah, - for jawing about row, while I was gone.—21. Polly, for not handling - her hoe faster.” - - A United States officer from Cambridge, Mass., sent home this stray - leaf, and it was originally published in the Cambridge Chronicle. - -Footnote 30: - - See Chapter XII. page 112. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - A LETTER OF BUSINESS. - -“This war’s duration can be more surely calculated from the moral -progress of the North than from the result of campaigns in the field. -Were the whole North to-day as one man on the moral issues underlying -the struggle, the Rebellion were this day crushed. God bids us, I think, -_be just and let the oppressed go free_. Let us do his bidding, and the -plagues cease.”—_Letter from a native of Richmond, Va._ - - -The following letter belongs chronologically to this stage in our -history:— - - _From F. Macon Semmes, New York, to T. J Semmes, New Orleans._ - - “DEAR BROTHER: I have called, as you requested, on Mr. Charlton in - regard to his real estate in New Orleans. Let me give you some account - of this man. He is taxed for upwards of a million. He inherited a good - part of this sum from his wife, and she inherited it from a nephew, - the late Mr. Berwick, who inherited it from his infant daughter, and - this last from her mother. Mother, child, and father—the whole Berwick - family—were killed by a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi some - fifteen or sixteen years ago. - - “In the lawsuit which grew out of the conflicting claims of the - relatives of the mother on the one side, and of the father on the - other, it was made to appear that the mother must have been killed - instantaneously, either by the inhalation of steam from the explosion, - or by a blow on the head from a splinter; either cause being - sufficient to produce immediate death. It was then proved that the - child, having been seen with her nurse alive and struggling in the - water, must have lived after the mother,—thus inheriting the mother’s - property. But it was further proved that the child was drowned, and - that the father survived the child a few hours; and thus the father’s - heir became entitled to an estate amounting to upwards of a million of - dollars, all of which was thus diverted from the Aylesford family (to - whom the property ought to have gone), and bestowed on a man alien in - blood and in every other respect to all the parties fairly interested. - - “This fortunate man was Charlton. The scandal goes, that even the wife - from whom he derived the estate (and who died before he got it) had - received from him such treatment as to alienate her wholly. The - nearest relative of Mrs. Berwick, _née_ Aylesford, is a Mrs. - Pompilard, now living with an aged husband and with dependent - step-children and grandchildren, in a state of great impoverishment. - To this aunt the large property derived from her brother, Mr. - Aylesford, ought to have gone. But the law gave it to a stranger, this - Charlton. I mention these facts, because you ask me to inform you what - manner of man he is. - - “Let one little anecdote illustrate. Mr. Albert Pompilard, now some - eighty years old, has been in his day a great operator in Wall Street. - He has made half a dozen large fortunes and lost them. Five years ago, - by a series of bold and fortunate speculations, he placed himself once - more on the top round of the financial ladder. He paid off all his - debts with interest, pensioned off a widowed daughter, lifted up from - the gutter several old, broken-down friends, and advanced a handsome - sum to his literary son-in-law, Mr. Cecil Purling, who had found, as - he thought, a short cut to fortune. Pompilard also bought a stylish - place on the Hudson; and people supposed he would be content to keep - aloof from the stormy fluctuations of Wall Street. - - “But one day he read in the financial column of the newspaper certain - facts that roused the old propensity. His near neighbor was a rich - retired tailor, a Mr. Maloney, an Irishman, who used to come over to - play billiards with the venerable stock-jobber. Pompilard had made a - visit to Wall Street the day before. He had been fired with a grand - scheme of buying up the whole of a certain stock (in which sellers at - sixty days at a low figure were abundant) and then holding on for a - grand rise. He did not find it difficult to kindle the financial - enthusiasm of poor Snip. - - “Brief, the two simpletons went into the speculation, and lost every - cent they were worth in the world. Simultaneously with their - break-down, Purling, the son-in-law, managed to lose all that had been - confided to his hands. The widowed daughter, Mrs. Ireton, gave up all - the little estate her father had settled on her. Poor Maloney had to - go back to his goose; and Pompilard, now almost an octogenarian, has - been obliged, he and his family, to take lodgings in the cottage of - his late gardener. - - “The other day Mr. Hicks, a friend of the family, learning that they - were actually pinched in their resources, ventured to call upon - Charlton for a contribution for their relief. After an evident inward - struggle, Charlton manfully pulled out his pocket-book, and - tendered—what, think you?—why, a ten-dollar bill! Hicks affected to - regard the tender as an insult, and slapped the donor’s face. Charlton - at first threatened a prosecution, but concluded it was too expensive - a luxury. Thus you see he is a miser. It was with no little - satisfaction, therefore, that I called to communicate the state of his - affairs in New Orleans. - - “He lives on one of the avenues in a neat freestone house, such as - could be hired for twenty-five hundred a year. There is a stable - attached, and he keeps a carriage. Soon after he burst upon the - fashionable world as a millionnaire, there was a general competition - among fashionable families to secure him for one of the daughters. But - Charlton, with all his wealth, did not want a wife who was merely - stylish, clever, and beautiful; she must be rich into the bargain. He - at last encountered such a one (as he imagined) in Miss Dykvelt, a - member of one of the old Dutch families. He proposed, was accepted, - married,—and three weeks afterwards, to his consternation and horror, - he received an application from old D., the father-in-law, for a loan - of a hundred thousand dollars. - - “Charlton, of course, indignantly refused it. He found that he had - been, to use his own words, ‘taken in and done for.’ Old Dykvelt, - while he kept up the style of a prince, was on the verge of - bankruptcy. The persons to whom Charlton applied for information, - knowing the object of the inquiry and the meanness of the inquirer, - purposely cajoled him with stories of Dykvelt’s wealth. Charlton fell - into the trap. Charlotte Dykvelt, who was in love at the time with - young Ireton (a Lieutenant in the army and a grandson of old - Pompilard), yielded to the entreaties of her parents and married the - man she detested. She was well versed in the history of his first - wife, and resolved that her own heart, wrung by obedience to parental - authority, should be iron and adamant to any attempt Charlton might - make to wound it. - - “He soon found himself overmatched. The bully and tyrant was helpless - before the impassive frigidity and inexorable determination of that - young and beautiful woman. He had a large iron safe in his house, in - which he kept his securities and coupons, and often large sums of - money. One day he discovered he had been robbed of thirty thousand - dollars. He charged the theft upon his wife. She neither denied nor - confessed it, but treated him with a glacial scorn before which he - finally cowered and was dumb. Undoubtedly she had taken the money. She - forced him against his inclination to move into a decent house, and - keep a carriage; and at last, by a threat of leaving him, she made him - settle on her a liberal allowance. - - “A loveless home for him, as you may suppose! One daughter, Lucy - Charlton, is the offspring of this ill-assorted marriage; a beautiful - girl, I am told, but who shrinks from her father’s presence as from - something odious. Probably the mother’s impressions during pregnancy - gave direction to the antipathies of the child; so that before it came - into the world it was fatherless. - - “Well, I called on Charlton last Thursday. As I passed the little - sitting-room of the basement, I saw a young and lovely girl putting - her mouth filled with seed up to the bars of a cage, and a canary-bird - picking the food from her lips. A cat, who seemed to be on excellent - terms with the bird, was perched on the girl’s shoulder, and - superintending the operation. So, thought I, she exercises her - affections in the society of these dumb pets rather than in that of - her father. - - “I found Charlton sitting lonely in a sort of library scantily - furnished with books. A well-formed man, but with a face haggard and - anxious as if his life-blood were ebbing irrecoverably with every - penny that went from his pockets. On my mentioning your name, his eyes - brightened; for he inferred I had come with your semiannual - remittances. He was at once anxious to know if rents in New Orleans - had been materially affected by the war. I told him his five houses - near Lafayette Square, excepting that occupied on a long lease by Mr. - Carberry Ratcliff, would not bring in half the amount they did last - year. He groaned audibly. I then told him that your semiannual - collections for him amounted to six thousand dollars, but that you - were under the painful necessity of assuring him that the money would - have to be paid all over to the Confederate government. - - “Charlton, completely struck aghast, fell back in his chair, his face - pale, and his lips quivering. I thought he had fainted. - - “‘Your brother wouldn’t rob me, Mr. Semmes?’ he gasped forth. - - “‘Certainly not,’ I replied; ‘but his obedience is due to the - authorities that are uppermost. The Confederate flag waves over New - Orleans, and will probably continue to wave. All your real estate has - been or will be confiscated.’ - - “‘But it is worth two hundred thousand dollars!’ he exclaimed, in a - tone that was almost a shriek. - - “‘So much the better for the Confederate treasury!’ I replied. - - “I then broached what you told me to in regard to his making a _bona - fide_ sale of the property to you. I offered him twenty thousand - dollars in cash, if he would surrender all claim. - - “‘Never! never!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ll run my risk of the city’s coming - back into our possession. I see through your brother’s trick.’ - - “‘Please recall that word, sir,’ I said, touching my wristbands. - - “‘Well, your brother’s _plan_, sir. Will that suit you?’ - - “‘That will do,’ I replied. ‘My brother will pay your ten thousand - dollars over to the Confederacy. But I am authorized to pay you a - tenth part of that sum for your receipt in full of all moneys due to - you for rents up to this time.’ - - “‘Ha! you Secessionists are not quite so positive, after all, as to - your fortune!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re a little weak-kneed as to your - ability to hold the place,—eh?’ - - “‘The city will be burnt,’ I replied, ‘before the inhabitants will - consent to have the old flag restored. You’d better make the most, Mr. - Charlton, of your opportunity to compound for a fractional part of the - value of your Southern property.’ - - “It was all in vain. I couldn’t make him see it. He hates the war and - the Lincoln administration; but he won’t sell or compound on the terms - you propose. And, to be frank, I wouldn’t if I were he. It would be a - capital thing for us if he could be made to do it. But as he is in no - immediate need of money, we cannot rely on the stimulus of absolute - want to influence him as we wish. I took my leave, quite disgusted - with his obstinacy. - - “The fall of Sumter seems to have fired the Northern heart in earnest. - I fear we are going to have serious work with these Yankees. Secretary - Walker’s cheerful promise of raising the Confederate flag over Faneuil - Hall will not be realized for some time. Nevertheless, we are bound to - prevail—I hope. Of course every Southern man will die in the last - ditch rather than yield one foot of Southern soil to Yankee - domination. We must have Maryland and the Chesapeake, Fortress Monroe, - and all the Gulf forts, Western Virginia, Missouri, Kentucky, - Delaware,—every square inch of them. Not a rood must we part with. We - can whip, if we’ll only think so. We’re the master race, and can do - it. Can hold on to our niggers into the bargain. At least, we’ll talk - as if we believed it. Perhaps the prediction will work its fulfilment. - Who knows? - - “Fraternally yours, - F. M. S.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - THE WOMAN WHO DELIBERATES IS LOST. - -“O North-wind! blow strong with God’s breath in twenty million -men.”—_Rev. John Weiss._ - - “Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o’er the mountains, - Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, - Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy fountains, - Draughts of life to me.”—_Miss Muloch._ - - -On coming down to the breakfast-table one morning, Kenrick was delighted -to encounter Vance, and asked, “What success?” - -“I found in Natchez,” was the reply, “an old colored man who knew Davy -and his wife. They removed to New York, it seems, some three years ago. -I must push my inquiries further. The clew must not be dropped. The old -man, my informant, was formerly a slave. He came into my room at the -hotel, and showed me the scars on his back. Ah! I, too, could have -showed scars, if I had deemed it prudent.” - -“Cousin William,” said Kenrick, “I wouldn’t take the testimony of our -own humane overseer as to slavery. I have studied the usages on other -plantations. Let me show you a photograph which I look at when my -antislavery rage wants kindling, which is not often.” - -He produced the photograph of a young female, apparently a quarteroon, -sitting with back exposed naked to the hips,—her face so turned as to -show an intelligent and rather handsome profile. The flesh was all -welted, seamed, furrowed, and scarred, as if both by fire and the -scourge. - -“There!” resumed Kenrick, “that I saw taken myself, and know it to be -genuine. It is one out of many I have collected. The photograph cannot -lie. It will be terrible as the recording angel in reflecting slavery as -this civil war will unearth it. What will the Carlyles and the -Gladstones say to this? Will it make them falter, think you, in their -Sadducean hoot against a noble people who are manfully fighting the -great battle of humanity against such infernalism as this?” - -“They would probably fall back on the doubter’s privilege.” - -“Yes, that’s the most decent way of escape. But I would pin them with -the sharp fact. That woman (her name was Margaret) belonged to the Widow -Gillespie,[31] on the Black River. Margaret had a nursing child, and, -out of maternal tenderness, had disobeyed Mrs. Gillespie’s orders to -wean it. For this she was subjected to _the punishment of the hand-saw_. -She was laid on her face, her clothes stripped up to around her neck, -her hands and feet held down, and Mrs. Gillespie, sitting by, then -‘paddled,’ or stippled the exposed body with the hand-saw. She then had -Margaret turned over, and, with heated tongs, attempted to grasp her -nipples. The writhings of the victim foiled her purpose; but between the -breasts the skin and flesh were horribly burned.” - -“A favorite remark,” said Vance, “with our smug apologists of slavery, -is, that an owner’s interests will make him treat a slave well. -Undoubtedly in many cases so it is. But I have generally found that -human malignity, anger, or revenge is more than a match for human -avarice. A man will often gratify his spite even at the expense of his -pocket.” - -Kenrick showed the photograph of a man with his back scarred as if by a -shower of fire. - -“This poor fellow,” said Kenrick, “shows the effects of the _corn-husk -punishment_; not an unusual one on some plantations. The victim is -stretched out on the ground, with hands and feet held down. Dry -corn-husks are then lighted, and the burning embers are whipped off with -a stick so as to fall in showers of live sparks on the naked back. Such -is the ‘patriarchal’ system! Such the tender mercies bestowed on ‘our -man-servants and our maid-servants,’ as that artful dodger, Jeff Davis, -calls our plantation slaves.” - -“And yet,” remarked Vance, “horrible as these things are, how small a -part of the wrong of slavery is in the mere _physical_ suffering -inflicted!” - -“Yes, the crowning outrage is mental and moral.” - -“This war,” resumed Vance, “is not sectional, nor geographical, nor, in -a party sense, political: it is a war of eternally antagonistic -principles,—Belial against Gabriel.” - -“I took up a Northern paper to-day,” said Kenrick, “in which the writer -pleads the necessity of slavery, because, he says, ‘white men can’t work -in the rice-swamps.’ Truly, a staggering argument! The whole rice -production of the United States is only worth some four millions of -dollars per annum! A single factory in Lowell can beat that. And we are -asked to base a national policy on such considerations!” - -Here the approach of guests led to a change of topic. - -“And how have _your_ affairs prospered?” asked Vance. - -“Ah! cousin,” replied Kenrick, “I almost blush to tell you what an -experience I’ve had.” - -“Not fallen in love, I hope?” - -“If it isn’t that, ’t is something very near it. The lady is staying -with Miss Tremaine. A Miss Perdita Brown. Onslow took me to see her.” - -“And which is the favored admirer?” - -“Onslow, I fear. I’m not a lady’s man, you see. Indeed, I never wished -to be till now. Give me a few lessons, cousin. Teach me a little -small-talk.” - -“I must know something of the lady first.” - -“To begin at the beginning,” said Kenrick, “there can be no dispute as -to her beauty. But there is a something in her manner that puzzles me. -Is it lack of sincerity? Not that. Is it preoccupation of thought? -Sometimes it seems that. And then some apt, flashing remark indicates -that she has her wits on the alert. You must see her and help me read -her. You visit Miss Laura?” - -“Yes. I’ll do your bidding, Charles. How often have you seen this -enchantress?” - -“Too often for my peace of mind: three times.” - -“Is she a coquette?” - -“If one, she has the art to conceal art. There seems to be something on -her mind more absorbing than the desire to fascinate. She’s an -unconscious beauty.” - -“Say a deep one. Shall we meet at Miss Tremaine’s to-night?” - -“Yes; the moth knows he’ll get singed, but flutter he must.” - -“Take comfort, Charles, in that of thought of Tennyson’s, who tells us, - - ‘That not a moth with vain desire - Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire.’” - -The cousins parted. They had no sooner quitted the breakfast-room than -Onslow entered. After a hasty meal, he took his sword-belt and -military-cap, and walked forth out of the hotel. As he passed Wakeman’s -shop, near by, for the sale of books and periodicals, he was attracted -by a photograph in a small walnut frame in the window. Stopping to -examine it, he uttered an exclamation of surprise, stepped into the -shop, and said to Wakeman, “Where did you get that photograph?” - -“That was sent here with several others by the photographer. You’ll find -his name on the back.” - -“I see. What shall I pay you for it?” - -“A dollar.” - -“There it is.” - -Onslow took the picture and left the shop, but did not notice that he -was followed by a well-dressed gentleman with a cigar in his mouth. This -individual had been for several days watching every passer-by who looked -at that photograph. He now followed Onslow to the head-quarters of his -regiment; put an inquiry to one of the members of the Captain’s company, -and then strolled away as if he had more leisure than he knew what to do -with. But no sooner had he turned a corner, than he entered a carriage -which was driven off at great speed. - -Not an hour had passed when a black man in livery put into Onslow’s -hands this note:— - - “Will you come and dine with me at five to-day without ceremony? - Please reply by the bearer. - - “Yours, - C. RATCLIFF.” - -What can he want? thought Onslow, somewhat gratified by such an -attention from so important a leader. Presuming that the object merely -was to ask some questions concerning military matters, the Captain -turned to the man in livery, and said, “Tell Mr. Ratcliff I will come.” - -Punctually at the hour of five Onslow ascended the marble steps of -Ratcliff’s stately house, rang the bell, and was ushered into a large -and elegantly furnished drawing-room, the windows of which were heavily -curtained so as to keep out the glare of the too fervid sunlight. -Pictures and statues were disposed about the apartment, but Onslow, who -had a genuine taste for art, could find nothing that he would covet for -a private gallery of his own. - -Ratcliff entered, habited in a cool suit of grass-cloth. The light hues -of his vest and neck-tie heightened the contrast of his somewhat florid -complexion, which had now lost all the smoothness of youth. -Self-indulgent habits had faithfully done their work in moulding his -exterior. Portly and puffy, he looked much older than he really was. But -in his manner of greeting Onslow there was much of that charm which -renders the hospitality of a plantation lord so attractive. Throwing -aside all that arrogance which would have made his overseers and -tradespeople keep their distance, he welcomed Onslow like an old friend -and an equal. - -“You’ve a superb house here,” said the ingenuous Captain. - -“’T will do, considering that I sometimes occupy it only a month in the -year,” replied Ratcliff. “I’m glad to say I only hire it. The house -belonged to a Miss Aylesford, a Yankee heiress; then passed into the -possession of a New York man, one Charlton; but I pay the rent into the -coffers of the Confederate government. The property is confiscate.” - -“Won’t the Yankees retaliate?” - -“We sha’n’t allow them to.” - -“After we’ve whipped Yankee-Doo-dle-dom, what then?” - -“Then a strong military government. Having our slaves to work for us, we -shall become the greatest martial nation in the world. Our poor whites, -now a weakness and a burden, we will convert into soldiers and Cossacks; -excepting the artisan and trading classes, and them we must -disfranchise.”[32] - -“Can we expect aid from England?” asked Onslow. - -“Not open aid, but substantial aid nevertheless. Exeter Hall may -grumble. The _doctrinaires_, the Newmans, Brights, Mills, and Cobdens -may protest and agitate. The English clodhoppers, mudsills, and workies -of all kinds will sympathize of course with the low-born Yankees. But -the master race of England, the non-producers, will favor the same class -here. The disintegration of North America into warring States is what -they long to see. Already the English government is swift to hail us as -belligerents. Already it refuses what it once so eagerly proffered,—an -international treaty making privateering piracy. Soon it will let us fit -out privateers in English ports. Yes, England is all right.” - -Here a slave-boy announced dinner, and they entered a smaller but lofty -apartment, looking out on a garden, and having its two open windows -pleasantly latticed with grape-vines. A handsome, richly dressed -quadroon lady sat at the table. In introducing his young guest, Ratcliff -addressed her as Madame Volney. - -Onslow, in his innocence, inquired after Mrs. Ratcliff. - -“My wife is an invalid, and rarely quits her room,” said the host. - -The dinner was sumptuous, beginning with turtle-soup and ending with -ices and fruits. The costliest Burgundies and Champagnes were uncorked, -if only for a sip of their flavors. Madame Volney, half French, was -gracious and talkative, occasionally checking Ratcliff in his eating, -and warning him to be prudent. At last cigars were brought on, and she -left the room. Ratcliff rose and listened at the door, as if to be sure -she had gone up-stairs. Then, walking on tiptoe, he resumed his seat. He -alluded to the opera,—to the ballet,—to the subject of pretty women. - -“And _apropos_ of pretty women,” he exclaimed, “let me show you a -photograph of one I have in my pocket.” - -As he spoke, there was a rustling in the grape-vines at a window. He -turned, but saw nothing. - -Onslow took the photograph, and exclaimed: “But this is astonishing! -I’ve a copy of the same in my pocket.” - -“You surprise me, Captain. Do you know the original?” - -“Quite well; and I grant you she’s beautiful.” - -Onslow did not notice the expression of Ratcliff’s face at this -confession, but another did. Lifting a glass of Burgundy so as to help -his affectation of indifference, “Confess now, Captain,” said Ratcliff, -“that you’re a favorite! That delicate mouth has been pressed by your -lips; those ivory shoulders have known your touch.” - -“O never! never!” returned Onslow, with the emphasis of sincerity in his -tone. “You misjudge the character of the lady. She’s a friend of Miss -Tremaine,—is now passing a few days with her at the St. Charles. A lady -wholly respectable. Miss Perdita Brown of St. Louis! That rascally -photographer ought to be whipped for making money out of her beautiful -picture.” - -“Has she admirers in her train?” asked Ratcliff. - -“I know of but one beside myself.” - -“Indeed! And who is he?” - -“Charles Kenrick has called on her with me.” - -“By the way, Wigman tells me that Charles insulted the flag the other -day.” - -“Poh! Wigman was so drunk he couldn’t distinguish jest from earnest.” - -“So Robson told me. But touching this Miss Brown,—is she as pretty as -her photograph would declare?” - -“It hardly does her justice. But her sweet face is the least of her -charms. She talks well,—sings well,—plays well,—and, young as she is, -has the bearing, the dignity, the grace, of the consummate lady.” - -Here there was another rustling, as if the grape-vine were pulled. -Ratcliff started, went to the window, looked out, but, seeing nothing, -remarked, “The wind must be rising,” and returned to his seat. “I’ve -omitted,” said he, “to ask after your family; are they well?” - -“Yes; they were in Austin when I heard from them last. My father, I -grieve to say, goes with Hamilton and his set in opposition to the -Southern movement. My brother, William Temple, is equally infatuated. My -mother and sister of course acquiesce. So I’m the only faithful one of -my family.” - -“You deserve a colonelcy for that.” - -“Thank you. Is your clock right?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then I must go. I’ve an engagement.” - -“Sorry for it. Beware of Miss Brown. This is the day of Mars, not Venus. -Good by.” - -When Onslow had gone, Ratcliff sat five minutes as if meditating on some -plan. Then, drawing forth a pocket-book, he took out an envelope,—wrote -on it,—reflected,—and wrote again. When he had finished, he ordered the -carriage to be brought to the door. As he was passing through the hall, -Madame Volney, from the stairs, asked where he was going. - -“To the St. Charles, on political business.” - -“Don’t be out late, dear,” said Madame. “Let me see how you look. Your -neck-tie is out of place. Let me fix it. There! And your vest needs -buttoning. So!” And as her delicate hands passed around his person, they -slid unperceived into a side-pocket of his coat, and drew forth what he -had just deposited there. - -“Bother! That will do, Josephine,” grumbled Ratcliff. She released him -with a kiss. He descended the marble steps of the house, entered a -carriage, and drove off. - -Madame passed into the dining-room, the brilliant gas-lights of which -had not yet been lowered, and, opening the pocket-book, drew out several -photographic cards, all containing one and the same likeness of a young -and beautiful girl. As the quadroon scanned that fresh vernal -countenance, that adorably innocent, but earnest and intelligent -expression, those thick, wavy tresses, and that exquisitely moulded -bust, her own handsome face grew grim and ugly by the transmuting power -of anger and jealousy. “So, this is the game he’s pursuing, is it?” she -muttered. “This is what makes him restive! Not politics, as he pretends, -but this smoothed-faced decoy! Deep as you’ve kept it, Ratcliff, I’ve -fathomed you at last!” - -Searching further among his papers, she found an envelope, on which -certain memoranda were pencilled, and among them these: “_First see -Tremaine. Arrange for seizure without scandal or noise. Early in morning -call on Gentry,—have her prepared. Take Esha with us to help._” - -Hardly had Madame time to read this, when a carriage stopped before the -door. Laying the pocket-book with its contents, as if undisturbed, on -the table, she ran half-way up-stairs. Ratcliff re-entered, and, after -looking about the hall, passed into the dining-room. “Ah! here it is!” -she heard him say to the attendant; “I could have sworn I put it in my -pocket.” He then left the house, and the carriage again drove off,—drove -to the St. Charles, where Ratcliff had a long private interview with the -pliable Tremaine. - -While it was going on, Laura and Clara sat in the drawing-room, waiting -for company. Laura having disapproved of the costume in which Clara had -first appeared, the latter now wore a plain robe of black silk; and -around her too beautiful neck Laura had put a collar, large enough to be -called a cape, fastening it in front with an old-fashioned cameo pin. -But how provoking! This dress would insist on being more becoming even -than the other! - -Vance was the earliest of the visitors. On being introduced to Clara, he -bowed as if they had never met before. Then, seating himself by Laura, -he devoted himself assiduously to her entertainment. Clara turned over -the leaves of a music-book, and took no part in the conversation. Yes! -It was plain that Vance was deeply interested in the superficial, but -showy Laura. Well, what better could be expected of a man? - -Once more was Laura summoned to the bed-side of her mother. “How -vexatious!” Regretfully she left the drawing-room. As soon as she had -gone, Vance rose, and, taking a seat by Clara, offered her his hand. She -returned its cordial pressure. “My dear young friend,” he said, “tell me -everything. What can I do for you?” - -O, that she might fling herself on that strong arm and tender heart! -That she might disclose to him her whole situation! Impulses, eager and -tumultuous, urged her to do this. Then there was a struggle as if to -keep down the ready confession. Pride battled with the feminine instinct -that claimed a protector. - -What! This man, on whom she had no more claim than on the veriest -stranger,—should she put upon him the burden of her confidence? This man -who in one minute had whispered more flattering things in the ear of -Laura than he had said to Clara during the whole of their -acquaintance,—should she ask favors from _him_? O, if he would, by look -or word, but betray that he felt an interest in her beyond that of mere -friendship! But then came the frightful thought, “I am a slave!” And -Clara shuddered to think that no honorable attachment between her and a -gentleman could exist. - -“What of that? Surely I may claim from him the help which any true man -ought to lend to a woman threatened with outrage. Stop there! Does not -the chivalry of the plantation reverse the notions of the old -knight-errants, and give heed to no damsel in distress, unless she can -show free papers? Nay, will not the representative of the blood of all -the cavaliers look calmly on, and smoke his cigar, while a woman is -bound naked to a tree and scourged?” - -And then her mind ran rapidly over certain stories which a slave-girl, -once temporarily hired by Mrs. Gentry, had told of the punishments of -female slaves: how, for claiming too long a respite from work after -childbirth, they had been “fastened up by their wrists to a beam, or to -a branch of a tree, their feet barely touching the ground,” and in that -position horribly scourged with a leather thong; perhaps, the father, -brother, or husband of the victim being compelled to officiate as the -scourger![33] - -“But surely this man, whose very glance seems shelter and -protection,—this true and generous _gentleman_,—must belong to a very -different order of chivalry from that of the Davises, the Lees, and the -Toombses. Yes! I’ll stake my life he’s another kind of cavalier from -those foul, obscene, and dastardly woman-whipping miscreants and -scoundrels. Yes! I’ll comply with that gracious entreaty of his, ‘Tell -me everything!’ I’ll confess all.” - -Her heart throbbed. She was on the point of uttering that one name, -_Ratcliff_,—a sound that would have inspired Vance with the power and -wisdom of an archangel to rescue her,—when there were voices at the -door, and Laura entered, followed by Onslow. They brought with them a -noise of talking and laughing. Soon Kenrick joined the party. - -The golden opportunity seemed to have slipped by! - -To Kenrick’s gaze Clara never appeared so transcendent. But there was an -unwonted paleness on her cheeks; and what meant that thoughtful and -serious air? For a sensitive moral barometer commend us to a lover’s -heart! - -Of course there was music; and Clara sang. - -“What do you think of her voice?” asked Laura of Vance. - -“It justifies all your praises,” was the reply; and then, seeing that -Clara was not in the mood for display, he took her place at the piano, -and rattled away just as Laura requested. Onslow tried to engage Clara -in conversation; but a cloud, as if from some impending ill, was -palpably over her. - -Kenrick sat by in silence, deaf to the brilliant music. Clara’s -presence, with its subtle magnetism, had steeped his own thoughts in the -prevailing hue of hers. Suddenly he turned to her, and whispered: “You -want help. What is it? Grant me the privilege of a brother. What can I -do for you?” - -The glance Clara turned upon him was so full of thanks, so radiant with -gratitude, that hope sprang in his heart. But before she could put her -reply in words, Laura had come up, and taken her away to the piano for a -concluding song. Clara gave them Longfellow’s “Rainy Day” to Dempster’s -music. - -The little gilt clock over the mantel tinkled eleven. - -Vance rose to go, and said to Laura, “May I call on Miss Brown to-morrow -with some new music?” - -“I’ll answer for her, yes,” replied Laura. “We shall be at home any time -after twelve.” - -The gentlemen all took leave. Onslow made his exit the last. A rose that -had been fastened in Clara’s waist dropped on the floor. “May I have -it?” he asked, picking it up. - -“Why not? I wish it were fresher. Good night!” And she put out her hand. -Onslow eagerly pressed it; but Clara, lifting his, said, “May this hand -never strike except for justice and human freedom!” - -“Amen to that!” replied Onslow, before he well took in the entire -meaning of what she had said. - -He hastened to rejoin his friends, following them through the corridor. -He seemed to tread on air. “I was the only one she offered to shake -hands with!” he exultingly soliloquized. - -The three parted, after an interchange of good nights. Both Onslow and -Kenrick betook themselves to their rooms, each with no desire for other -companionship than his own rose-colored dreams. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - A FEMININE VAN AMBURGH. - - “She who ne’er answers till a husband cools, - Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules.”—_Pope._ - - -The morning after the dinner, Madame Volney rose at sunrise, and was -stealing on tiptoe into her dressing-room, when Ratcliff, always a late -riser, grumbled, “What’s the matter?” - -“There’s to be an early church-service,” she replied. - -“Bah! You’re always going to church!” - -The quadroon made no reply, but gently retired, dressed, and glided out -of the house into the open air. On through the yet deserted streets she -swiftly passed. A white fog brooded over the city. Heavy-winged -sea-birds were slowly making their way overhead to the marshes of Lake -Ponchartrain, or still farther out to the beaches of the Gulf. The sound -of drums and fifes in the distance occasionally broke the matutinal -stillness. The walls of the streets were covered with placards of -meetings of volunteer companies,—of the Wigman Rifles, the MacMahon -Guards, the Beauregard Lancers, the Black Flag Invincibles. - -After half an hour’s walk, the quadroon paused before a house, on the -door of which was a brass plate presenting the words,—“Mrs. Gentry’s -Seminary for Young Ladies.” While she looked and hesitated, a black girl -came up from some steps leading into the basement, and with a mop and -pail of water proceeded to wash the sidewalk. - -“Is Esha in?” asked the quadroon. - -“Yes, missis, Esha am in. Jes you go down dem steps inter de kitchen, -an’ dar you’ll fine Esha, sure.” And taking the direction pointed out, -Madame found herself in the presence of a large, powerfully built -mulatto woman, who was engaged in preparations for breakfast. - -“Is this Esha?” - -“Yes, missis, dis am nob’dy else.” - -“Esha, I want a few minutes’ talk with you.” - -“Take a char, den, missis, and ’scuse my looks.” - -“You look like a good woman, Esha, so no matter for dress.” - -“Tahnk yer, missis. Esha’s like de res’,—not too good,—but nebdeless -dar’s wuss folks dan she.” - -“Esha, who is this young girl Mr. Ratcliff is after?” - -Esha’s eyes snapped, and she looked sharply at her visitor. “Why you -want ter know?” she asked. - -“Are you a slave, Esha?” - -“Yes, missis, I’se born a slabe,—hab libd a slabe, an’ ’spek to die a -slabe.” - -“I too am a slave, Esha. I belonged to old Etienne La Harpe, who died -six years ago. Though I had had two children, one by him and one by his -son, the old man’s widow sent me to the auction-block. I was sold to the -highest bidder. I was bought by Mr. Carberry Ratcliff.” - -“Ah! by him? by him?” muttered Esha. - -“I was handsome. He made me his favorite. I’ve been faithful to him. -Even his wife, poor thing, blesses the day I came into the house. She -would have died long ago but for my care. The slaves, too, come to me -with their sorrows. I do what I can for their relief. I am not, by -nature, a bad woman. I would continue to serve this man and his -household.” - -“Do yer lub him,—dis Massa Ratcliff?” - -“That’s a hard question, Esha. He has treated me like a lady. I am -practically at the head of his house. I have a carriage at my command. -He gives me all the money I ask for. He prizes me for my prudence and -good temper. I love him so far as this: I should hate the woman who -threatened to step between me and him. Now tell me who this girl is -whose photograph he has.” - -“She, missis? She am a slabe too.” - -“She a slave? Whose slave?” - -“She ’longs to Massa Ratcliff!” - -“And he has kept it a secret from me!” - -Esha, like most slaves, was a quick judge of character. She had an -almost intuitive perception of shams. Convinced of the quadroon’s -sincerity, she now threw a cushion on the floor, and, seating herself on -it after the Oriental fashion, frankly told the whole story of the child -Clara, and disclosed the true nature of her own relations to Ratcliff. -When she had concluded, Madame Volney impulsively kissed her. - -“And are you sure,” she asked, “quite sure that little Darling, as you -call her, will resist Ratcliff to the last?” - -“Dat chile will sooner die dan gib up ter dat ole man. What you ’spose -she went out ter buy dat day I met her last? Wall, missis, she buyed a -dagger.” - -“Good! I love her!” cried Madame Volney, with flushed cheeks. “But Esha, -do you know where she is now?” - -“Yes, missis; but I tink I better not tell eb’n you,—’cause you see—” - -“She’s with Miss Tremaine, at the St. Charles!” - -“De Lord help us! How yer know dat, missis?” cried Esha, alarmed. “Do -Massa Ratcliff know ’bout it?” - -“He knows it all, and has made his preparations for seizing the girl -this very day. He’ll be here this morning to give you your directions. -Now, Esha, don’t make a blunder. Don’t let him see that you’re the -girl’s friend. Say nothing of my visit. I’ll tell you what I suspect: -Ratcliff knows his wife can’t live three months longer. He has never had -a child by her. All his children are mulattoes and illegitimate. The -desire of his heart is for a lawful heir. He means—Are you sure the girl -is white?” - -“I tell yer, missis, whoebber sold her, fust stained her skin to put up -de price. Shouldn’t be ’stonished if dat chile was kidnapped.” - -Madame Volney looked at her watch. “Esha,” she said, “you’ll be employed -by Ratcliff to help secure her person. If, when he comes to you, the -ribbon on his straw hat is _green_, do as he tells you. Should the -ribbon be _black_, tell him to wait ten minutes. Then do you run round -the corner to Aurora Street, where you’ll see a carriage with a white -handkerchief held out at the right-hand window. You’ll find me there. -We’ll drive to the St. Charles, and take the girl with us somewhere out -of Ratcliff’s reach. Can you remember all I’ve told you?” - -“Ebry word ob it, missis! Tahnk de Lord fur sendin’ yer. Watch Massa -Ratcliff sharp. Fix him sure, missis,—fix him sure!” - -“Trust me, Esha! He seizes no young girl to-day, unless I let him. But -be very prudent. You may need money.” - -“No, missis. No pay fur tellin’ de troof.” - -“But you may need it for the child’s sake.” - -“O yis, missis. I’ll take it fur de chile, sure.” - -Madame Volney placed in her hands thirty dollars in gold, then left the -house, and, hailing a carriage at a neighboring stand, told the driver -where to take her. “Double speed, double fare!” she added. In ten -minutes she was at home. - -Ratcliff had not yet come down. He had rung the bell, and given orders -for an early breakfast. Madame went up to her dressing-room, and put on -her most becoming morning attire. We have called her a quadroon; but her -complexion was of that clear golden hue, mixed with olive and a dash of -carnation, which so many Southern amateurs prefer to the pure red and -white of a light-haired Anglo-Saxon. - -When Ratcliff came down, he complimented her on her good looks, and -kissed her. - -“I’ve been to confession,” she said, as she touched the tap of a -splendid silver urn, and let hot water into the cups. - -“And what have you been confessing, Josy?” - -“I’ve been confessing how very foolish I’ve been the last few months.” - -“Foolish in what, Josephine?” - -“Foolish in my jealousy of _you_.” - -“Jealousy? What cause have I given you for jealousy? I’ve been too much -bothered about public matters to have time to think of any woman but -you.” - -“That’s partly true. But don’t I know what you most desire of earthly -things?” - -“Of course! You know I desire the success of the Southern Confederacy, -corner-stone and all.” - -“No, not that. You covet one thing even more than that.” - -“Indeed! What is it?” - -“A legitimate child who may inherit your wealth, and transmit your -name.” - -“Yes, I’d like a child. But we must take things as they come along. You -mustn’t be jealous because now and then I may have dropped a hint of -regret that I’ve no direct heir to my estate.” - -“You’ve not confined yourself to hints. You’ve been provident in act as -well as in thought.” - -“What the deuce do you mean?” - -“Don’t be angry when I tell you, you haven’t planned a plan, the last -three months, of which I haven’t been aware.” - -“Well, I’ve always thought you the keenest woman of my acquaintance; but -I’d like to have it put through my hair what you’re exactly driving at -now. What is it?” - -“This: I know your scheme in regard to Miss Murray, and, what is more, I -highly approve of it.” - -“You’re the Devil!” exclaimed Ratcliff, starting up from his seat. Then, -seeing Josephine’s unaffected smile and evident good humor, he sat down. - -“At first I was a little chagrined,” she said, “especially when I found -Mademoiselle so very pretty. But I’ve reflected much on it since, and -talked with my confessor about it.” - -“The deuce you have! Talked with your confessor, eh?” - -“Yes, with my confessor. And the result is, that, so far from opposing -you in your plan, I’ve concluded to give it my support.” - -“And what do you understand to be my plan?” - -“Perhaps ’ tis vague even in your own mind as yet. But I’ll tell you -what I mean. Your wife is not likely to live many weeks longer. You’ll -inherit from her a large estate. You’ll wish to marry again, and this -time with a view to offspring. Both taste and policy will lead you to -choose a young and accomplished woman. Who more suitable than Miss -Murray?” - -“Why, Josephine, she’s a slave!” - -“A slave, is she? Look me in the face and tell me, if you can, you -believe she has a drop of African blood in her veins. No! That child -must have been kidnapped. And you have often suspected as much.” - -“Where the Devil—Confound the woman!” muttered Ratcliff, half frightened -at what looked like clairvoyance. - -“Yes,” she continued, “her parents must have been of gentle blood. Look -at her hands and feet. Hear her speak.” - -“What is there you don’t find out, Josy?” exclaimed Ratcliff. “Here you -tell me things that have been working in my mind, which I was hardly -aware of myself till you mentioned them!” - -“O, I’ve known all about your search for the girl. ’T was not till after -a struggle I could reconcile it to my mind to lend you my aid. But this -was what I thought: He will soon be a widower. He will desire to marry; -not that he does not love his Josy—” - -“Yes, Josy, you’re right there; you’re a jewel of a woman. Such devilish -good common sense! Go on.” - -“He would marry, not that he does not love his Josy, but because he -wants a legitimate child of his own. That’s but natural and proper. Why -should I oppose it, and thus give him cause to cast me out from his -affections? Why not give him new reason for attachment, by showing him I -am capable of a sacrifice for his sake? Yes, he will love me none the -less for letting him see that without one jealous pang I can help him to -a young and beautiful wife.” - -“But, Josy, would you really recommend my marrying this girl?” - -“Why not? Where will you find her equal?” - -“But just think of it,—she was sold to me at public auction as a slave.” - -“Yes, and the next day Mrs. Gentry wrote you that the coloring stuff had -washed off from her skin, and she was whiter than any one in the school. -You wrote not a word in reply. But did not the thought occur to you, the -child has been kidnapped? Of course it did! In this great city of rogues -and murderers, did you not consider there were plenty of men capable of -such an act? Deny it if you can.” - -“Josy, you’re enough to unsteady a man’s nerves. How did you discover -there was such a being as Miss Murray? and how did you get out of my -mind what I had thought about the kidnapping? and how, what I myself had -hardly dreamed of, the idea, namely, of making her my wife?” - -“When one loves,” replied Josephine, “one is quick to watch, and sharp -to detect. At first, as I’ve told you, I was disposed to be jealous. But -reflection soon convinced me ’ would be for your happiness to take this -young person, now in the false position of a slave, and educate her for -your wife. Even if the world should know her story, what would you care? -You’re above all social criticism. Besides, would it not be comical for -our swarthy Creole ladies to snuff at such a beautiful blonde, whose -very presence would give the lie to all that malice could insinuate as -to her birth?” - -“O, I don’t care for what society may say. I’m out of the reach of its -sneers. And what you urge, Josy, is reasonable,—very. Yes, she’s a -remarkably fine girl, and I’ve certainly taken a strong fancy to her. -Some of our first young men are already deep in love with her. Of course -she’d be eternally grateful, if I were to emancipate her and make her my -wife.” - -Josephine could hardly repress a smile of triumph to see this -thorough-bred tyrant, who knew no law but his own will, thus falling -into the snare she was so delicately spreading for him. Something of the -satisfaction Van Amburgh might have felt when his tiger succumbed, -spread its glow over her cheeks. Never in his coarse calculations had -Ratcliff thought of showing Clara any further mercy than he had shown to -the humblest of his concubines. And yet Josephine, by her apt -suggestions, had half persuaded him, little given as he was to -introspective analysis, that the idea of making the girl his wife had -originated in his own mind! - -“Did he keep the whole story from her because he supposed Josy would be -jealous?” asked the quadroon, with a caress. - -“Why, yes, Josy; to tell the truth, I thought there’d have to be a scene -sure, when you found out I’d been educating such a girl with a view to -her taking your place some time. So I kept dark. But you’re a trump,—you -are! I shouldn’t wonder if you could acquire the same influence over her -that you now have over my wife.” - -“Easily!” said Josephine. “I’ve seen her. I like her. I know we should -agree. When she learns it was my wish you should emancipate and marry -her, she will regard me as her friend. I can teach her not to be jealous -of me.” - -“Capital!” exclaimed Ratcliff. “Josy can remain where she is in the -family. Josy will not have to abdicate. There’ll be no unpleasant row -between the two women. The whole thing can be harmoniously managed.” - -“Why not, Carberry? And let me say ’ would be folly to seize this girl -rudely, wounding her pride and rousing her resentment. The true way is -to decoy her gently till you get her into your possession, and then -secure her by such means as I can suggest.” - -“Hang me, but you’re right again, Josy! I had thought of carrying her -off this very day.” - -“Yes, I supposed so.” - -“Supposed so? Where in the name of all the devils did you get your -information? For there’s but one person beside myself who knows anything -about it.” - -“And that’s Mr. Tremaine!” - -“So it is, by Jove! How did you know it?” - -“I put this and that together, and drew an inference. You mean to place -her again, for the present, at Mrs. Gentry’s.” - -“True! That was my plan. But I hadn’t mentioned it to a soul.” - -“What of that? Where one loves, one has such insight! But is there any -one at Mrs. Gentry’s on whom you can rely to keep watch of the girl?” - -“Yes, there’s an old slave-woman,—Esha. She has a grudge against the -little miss, and isn’t likely to be too indulgent.” - -“But why, Carberry, would you take the little miss to Mrs. Gentry’s -rather than to your own house? I see! You thought I would be in the way; -that I would be jealous of her! Confess!” - -“Yes, Josy, I didn’t think anything else.” - -“Well, now, let me plan for you: first, I, with Esha, will call on her. -Esha can easily persuade her that the best thing she can do will be to -come with us to this house. We’ll have the blue room ready for her. It -being between two other rooms, and having no other exit than through -them, she will not have another chance to abscond. Esha would perhaps be -a suitable person to keep guard. But then probably Mrs. Gentry wouldn’t -part with Esha.” - -“Bah! Gentry will have to do as I order, or see her school broken up as -an Abolition concern. Your plan strikes me favorably, Josy; but what if -the girl should refuse to accompany you?” - -“We can have an officer close by to apply to in case of need.” - -“Of course! What a woman you are for plotting!” - -“Yes, Carberry, give me _carte blanche_ to act for you, and I’ll have -her here before one o’clock. But there’s a condition, Carberry.” - -“Name it, Josy.” - -“It is, that so long as your present wife lives, you shall keep strictly -aloof from the maiden, not even taking the liberty of a kiss. Don’t you -see why? She has been religiously brought up. She is pure, with -affections disengaged. Would it be for your future interests as a -husband to undo all that has been done for her moral education? Surely -no! You mean to make her your wife; and the wife of Carberry Ratcliff -must be intemerate!” - -“Right! right! A thousand times right!” exclaimed the debauchee, his -pride getting the ascendency. - -“For the present, then,” continued the quadroon, “you, a married man, -must hardly look on her. Consent to this, and I’ll take the whole -trouble of the affair off your hands. I’ll bring the girl here, and so -mould her that she will be prepared to be your lawful wife as soon as -decency may permit.” - -Ratcliff rose from the table, and paced the floor. Under Josephine’s way -of presenting the subject, what had seemed rather an embarrassing job -began to assume a new and attractive aspect. How well-judged the whole -arrangement! The idea of elevating Clara to the exalted position of -successor to the present Mrs. Ratcliff was fast becoming more and more -inviting to his contemplation. Wealth in a wife would be of no account. -He would have enough of his own. Family rank was desirable; but did not -the girl give every sign of high blood? It would not be surprising if, -in fact, she were of a stock almost equal to his own in gentility. -Besides, would not he, a Ratcliff, carry, lodged in his own person, -sufficient dignity of pedigree to cover the genealogical shortcomings of -a wife? - -The fact that Onslow and Kenrick admired her did much to enhance the -girl’s value in his eyes; and he could readily see how it would be for -Madame Volney’s interests, since she knew he meant to marry again, to -have the training, to a certain extent, of his future wife, and put her -under a seeming obligation. And so the quadroon’s protestations that she -had conquered all jealousy on the subject seemed to him the most natural -thing in the world. - -“Well, Josy,” said he, after a silence of some minutes, “I accept your -condition; I give the promise you demand.” - -“Honor bright?” - -“Yes; you’ll have me close under your eyes. I commit the girl entirely -to your keeping. I will myself go at once and see Esha, and send her to -you here. I’ll also see Tremaine, and shut up his mouth with a plug that -will be effectual. The fellow owes me money. Then you can take Esha in -the carriage, and go and put your plan in execution.” - -“Good! You’ve decided wisely, Carberry. Shall I order the carriage for -you?” - -“Yes. I’ll send it back to you with Esha, and then myself go on foot to -the St. Charles to see Tremaine.” - -Ratcliff passed out of the breakfast-room, and the quadroon went to the -hat-closet in the hall, and removed the straw hat with a _black_ ribbon -on it, leaving the one distinguished by a _green_ band. She then rang -and ordered the carriage. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - ONE OF THE INSTITUTIONS. - - “Small service is true service while it lasts; - Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.”—_Wordsworth._ - - -On being bought at the auction-block by Ratcliff, and introduced into -his household, Josephine Volney, the quadroon, had devoted herself to -the health of his wife from purely selfish motives. But in natures not -radically perverse, beneficence cannot long be divorced from -benevolence. Josephine believed her interests lay in preventing as long -as possible a second marriage: hence, at first, her sedulous care of the -invalid wife. - -Those who know anything of society in the Slave States are well aware -that concubinage (one of the institutions of _the_ institution) is -there, in many conspicuous instances, as patiently acquiesced in by -wives as polygamy is in Utah. Mrs. Ratcliff had, at first, almost adored -her husband. Very unattractive, personally, she had yet an affectionate -nature, and one of her most marked traits was gratitude for kindness. -Soon Ratcliff dropped the mask by which he had won her; and she, instead -of lamenting over her mistake, accepted as a necessary evil the fact of -his relations to the handsome slave. The latter attempted no deception, -but conducted herself as discreetly as any woman, so educated, could -have done, under such compulsory circumstances. - -Mrs. Ratcliff was soon touched by Josephine’s obvious solicitude to -minister to her happiness and health. The slave-girl’s childlike -frankness begot frankness on the part of the wife. Seeing that their -interests were identical, each was gradually drawn to the other, till a -sincere and tender attachment was the result. The wife was made aware of -her husband’s calculations in regard to a second marriage; and Josephine -found in that wife a faithful and crafty ally, too deep, with all her -shallowness, to be fathomed by the husband. - -No sooner had Ratcliff quitted the house, on the morning of the -breakfast described, than Josephine hurried to the invalid’s room. A -poor diminutive Creole lady, with wrinkled skin, darker even than the -quadroon’s, and with one shoulder higher than the other, she sat, with a -white crape-shawl wrapped round her, in a large arm-chair. Her face, as -Josephine entered, lighted up with a smile of welcome that for a moment -seemed to transfigure even those withered and pain-stricken features. In -half an hour Josephine had put her in possession of all the developments -of the last two days, and of her own plans for controlling the movements -of Ratcliff in regard to the young white woman supposed to be his slave. - -With absorbed interest the invalid listened to the details, and approved -warmly of what Josephine had planned. Her feminine curiosity was pleased -with the idea of having, in her own house and under her own eye, this -young person whom Ratcliff had presumed to think of as a second wife; -while the thought of baffling him in his selfish schemes sent a shock of -pleasure to her heart. Furthermore, the excitement seemed to brace up -her frame anew, and to ruffle into breezy action the torpid tide of her -monotonous existence. - -Esha was announced and introduced. A new and refreshing incident for the -invalid! And now, if Esha had needed any further confirmation of the -quadroon’s story, it was amply afforded. Josephine’s project for the -present security of Ratcliff’s white slave was discussed and approved. - -The carriage was waiting at the door. “Go now,” said Mrs. Ratcliff, “and -be sure you bring the girl right up to see me.” - -In less than twenty minutes afterwards, as Clara, lonely and anxious, -sat in Tremaine’s drawing-room, a servant entered and told her that a -colored woman was in Number 13, waiting to see her. Supposing it could -be no other than Esha, she followed the servant to the room, and, on -entering, recoiled at sight of a stranger. For a moment the quadroon was -so absorbed in scanning the girl’s whole personal outline, that there -was silence on both sides. - -“What’s wanting?” asked Clara, half dreading some trick. - -“Please close the door, and I’ll tell you,” was the reply. Clara did as -she was requested. “Have you any objections to locking the door?” -continued the quadroon. - -“None whatever,” replied Clara, and she locked it. - -“You fear I may be here as an agent of Mr. Ratcliff,” said Josephine. - -“Ah! am I betrayed?” cried Clara, instinctively carrying her hand to her -bosom, where lay the weapon she had bought. The quadroon noticed the -gesture, and smiled. “Sit down,” she said, “and do not consider me an -enemy until I have proved myself such. Listen to what I have to -propose.” Clara took a seat where she could be within reach of the door, -and then pointed to the sofa. - -“Yes, I will sit here,” said the quadroon, complying with the tacit -invitation. “Now, listen, dear young lady, to a proposition I am -authorized to make. Mr. Ratcliff will very soon be a widower. His wife -cannot survive three months. He has seen you, and likes you. He is -willing to lift you from slavery to freedom,—from poverty to -wealth,—from obscurity to grandeur,—on one very easy condition; this, -namely: that, as soon after his wife’s death as propriety will allow, -you will yourself become Mrs. Ratcliff.” - -“Never!” exclaimed Clara, the blood flaming up like red auroras over -neck, face, and brow. - -“But consider, my dear. You will, in the first place, be forthwith -treated with all the respect and consideration due to Mr. Ratcliff’s -future bride. As soon as he has you secure as his wife, he will -emancipate you,—make you a free woman. Think of that! Mr. Ratcliff is -supposed to be worth at least five millions. You will at once have such -a purse as no other young woman in the city can boast. Now why not be -reasonable? Why not say _yes_ to the proposition?” - -“Never! never!” cried Clara, carrying her hand again to her breast with -a gesture she thought significant only to herself. - -Josephine rose and felt of the bosom of Clara’s dress till she -distinguished the weapon of which Esha had spoken. Then a smile, so -sincere as to forbid suspicion, broke over the quadroon’s face, and she -exclaimed: “Let me kiss you! Let me hug you!” And having given vent to -her satisfaction in an embrace, she unlocked the door, and there stood -Esha. - -“What does it all mean, Esha?” asked Clara, bewildered. - -“It mean, darlin’, dat Massa Ratcliff hab tracked you to dis yere place, -an’ we two women mean to pull de wool ober his eyes, so he can’t do yer -no harm no how. You jes do what we want yer to, and we’ll bodder him so -he sha’n’ know his head’s his own.” - -Josephine then communicated all the facts that had come to her knowledge -in regard to Ratcliff’s pursuit of Clara, together with her own -conversation with him that morning, and the plan she had contrived for -his discomfiture. “As soon,” she said, “as such an opportunity offers -that I can be sure you can be put beyond his reach, I will supply you -with money, and help you to escape.” - -Truth beamed from her looks, and made itself musical in her tones, and -Clara gratefully pressed her hand. - -“And shall I have Esha with me?” she asked. - -“Yes; and Mrs. Ratcliff, though an invalid, will also befriend you. ’T -will be strange indeed if we four women can’t defeat one man.” - -“But I shall have all the slave-hunters in the Confederacy after me if I -try to get away.” - -“Do not fear. We have golden keys that open many doors of escape.” - -Clara did not hesitate. She had faith in Esha’s quickness, as well as in -her own, to detect insincerity. And so she was persuaded that her safest -present course would be to go boldly into the house of the very man she -had most cause to dread! - -It was agreed that the three should leave together at once. Clara went -to her sleeping-room, and there, encountering the chambermaid, made her -a present of two dollars, and sent her off. Laura was absent at the -dressmaker’s. - -“I would like,” said Clara, “to find out at the bar what charge has been -made for my stay here, and pay it.” - -“Let me do it for you,” suggested the quadroon. - -“If you would be so kind!” replied Clara. “Here are fifteen dollars. I -don’t think it can come to more than that.” - -Without taking the money, Josephine left the room. In five minutes she -returned with a receipted bill, made out against “Miss Tremaine’s -friend.” This receipt Clara enclosed, together with a five-dollar -gold-piece, in a letter to Laura, containing these words:— - - “I thank you for all the hospitality I have received at your hands. - Enclosed you will find my hotel bill receipted, also five dollars for - the use of such dresses as I have worn. With best wishes for your - mother’s restoration to health and for your own welfare, I bid you - good by. - - P. B.” - -The three women now passed through a side entrance to the street where -the carriage was in waiting; and before half an hour had elapsed, Clara -was established in the blue room of the house in Lafayette Square,—the -invalid lady had seen her and approved,—and Esha, like a faithful hound, -was following her steps, keeping watch, as Ratcliff had directed, though -for other reasons than he had imagined. - -Hardly had Clara left the hotel, before Vance called. He had come, fully -resolved to wring from her, if possible, the secret of her trouble. Much -to his disappointment, he learned she had gone and would not return. He -called a second time, and saw Miss Tremaine. That young lady, warned and -threatened by her father, now displayed such a ready and facile gift for -lying, as would have highly distinguished her in diplomacy. - -“Only think of it, Mr. Vance,” said the intrepid Laura, “it turns out -that Miss Brown has been having a love affair with one of her father’s -clerks, a low-born Yankee. He followed her to New Orleans,—managed to -send a letter to her at Mrs. Gentry’s,—Clara went forth to find him, -but, failing in her search, came to claim hospitality of me. This -morning her father—a very decent man he seems to be—arrived from Mobile -and took her, fortunately before she had been able to meet her lover.” - -The story was plausible. Vance, however, looked the narrator sharply and -searchingly in the face. She met his glance with an expression beaming -with innocence and candor. It was irresistible. The strong man -surrendered all suspicion, and gave in “beat.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - A DOUBLE VICTORY. - -“Whence it is manifest that the soul, speaking in a natural sense, -loseth nothing by Death, but is a very considerable gainer thereby. For -she does not only possess as much body as before, with as full and solid -dimensions, but has that accession cast in, of having this body more -invigorated with life and motion than it was formerly.”—_Henry More_, A. -D. 1659. - - “No, sure, ’t is ever youth there! Time and Death - Follow our flesh no more; and that forced opinion, - That spirits have no sexes, I believe not. - There _must_ be love,—there _is_ love!” - _Beaumont and Fletcher._ - - -“I shall be jealous of this little lady if you go on at this rate,” said -Madame Volney to Mrs. Ratcliff, a week after Clara had been established -in the house. - -“Never fear that I shall love you less, my dear Josephine,” replied the -invalid. Then, pointing to her heart, she added: “I’ve a place here big -enough for both of you. I only wish ’ were in better repair.” - -“Have you had those sharp throbbings to-day?” - -“Not badly. You warn me against excitement. I sometimes think I’m better -under it. Certainly I’ve improved since Esha and Darling have been here. -What should I do now without Darling to play and read to me? What a -touch she has! And what a voice! And then her selection of music and of -books is so good. By the way, she promised to translate a story for me -from the German. I wonder if she has it finished. Go ask her.” - -The answer was brought by Clara herself, and Josephine left the two -together. Yes, Clara had written out the story. It was called _Zu Spat_, -or “Too Late,” and was by an anonymous author. Clara read aloud from it. -She had read about ten minutes, when the following passage occurred:— - - “Selfish and superstitious, the Baroness put out of her mind the - irksome thought of making her will; but now, struck speechless by - disease, and paralyzed in her hands, she was impotent to communicate - her wishes. Her agonized effort to say something in her last moments - undoubtedly related to a will. But she died intestate, and all her - large estate passed into the hands of a comparative stranger. And thus - the humble friends whose kindness had saved and prolonged her life - were left to struggle with the world for a meagre support. If in the - new condition to which she had passed through death she could look - back on her selfishness and its consequences, what poignant regrets - must have been hers!” - -“Read that passage again,” said Mrs. Ratcliff; adding, after Clara had -complied, “You needn’t read any more now.” - -That evening the wife summoned the husband to an interview. Somewhat -surprised at the unusual command, Ratcliff made his appearance and took -a seat at her side. His manner was that of a man who thinks no woman can -resist him, and that his transparent cajoleries are the proper pabulum -for her weak intellect,—poor thing! - -“Well, my peerless one, what is it?” he asked. - -“I wish to talk with you, Ratcliff, about this white slave of yours. -What do you think of her?” - -“Think of her? Nothing! I’ve given no thought to the subject. I’ve -hardly looked at her.” - -“Lie Number 1,” thought the invalid, looking him in the face, but -betraying no distrust in her expression. - -The truth was, that Ratcliff, for the first time in his life, was under -the power of a sentiment which, if not love, was all that there was in -his nature akin to it. Even at political meetings his thoughts would -stray from the public business, from the fulminations of “last-ditch” -orators and curb-stone generals, and revert to that youthful and -enchanting figure. True, Josephine rigidly exacted conformity to the -conditions that kept him aloof from all communication with the girl. But -Ratcliff, through the window-blinds, would now and then see her, in the -pride of youth and beauty, walking with Esha in the garden. He would -hear her songs, too. And once,—when he thought no one knew it,—though -the quadroon had her eye on him,—he overheard Clara’s conversation. “She -has mind as well as beauty,” thought he. - -And that brilliant and dainty creature was _his_,—_his!_ He could, if he -chose, marry her to the blackest of his slaves. Of course he could! -There was no indignity he could not put upon her, under the plea of -upholding his rights as a master. Had he not once proved it in another -case, on his own plantation? And who had ever dared raise a voice -against the just assertion of his rights? Truly, any such rash -malcontents, opening their lips, would have been in danger of being -ducked as Abolitionists! - -Patience! Yes, Josephine was right in her scheme of keeping the young -girl secluded from his too fascinating society. Not a hint must the -maiden have of the favor with which he regarded her,—not an intimation, -until the present Mrs. Ratcliff should considerately “step out.” -Then—Well, what then? Why, then an end to hopes deferred and desires -unfulfilled! Then an immediate private marriage, to be followed by a -public one, after a decent interval. - -Every secret device and cherished anticipation, meanwhile, of that -imperious nature was understood and analyzed by the quadroon. She felt a -vindictive satisfaction in seeing him riot in calculations which she -would task her best energies to baffle. Esha’s stories of his conduct to -Estelle had withered the last bloom of affection which Josephine’s heart -had cherished towards him. - -“I’m glad you’re so indifferent to this white slave,” said Mrs. Ratcliff -to her husband. - -“And why should you be glad, my pet?” - -“Because, Ratcliff, I want you to give her to me.” - -Staggered by the suddenness of the request, and puzzled for an answer, -he replied: “But she may prove a very valuable piece of property. -There’s many a man who would pay ten thousand dollars for her, two or -three years hence.” - -“Well, if you don’t want to _give_ her, then _sell_ her to me. I’ll pay -you twenty thousand dollars for her.” - -“You shall have her for nothing, my dear,” said Ratcliff, after -reflecting that the slave would still be virtually his, inasmuch as no -conveyance of her could be made by his wife without his consent. - -Detecting the trap, the wife at once replied: “Thank you, dear husband. -This generosity is so like you! Can she be freed?” - -“No. There are recent State laws against emancipation. It was found -there were too many weak-minded persons, who, in their last moments, -beginning to have scruples about slave-holding, would think to purchase -heaven by emancipating their slaves. The example was bad, and productive -of discontent among those left in bondage.” - -“Well, then, Ratcliff, there’s one little form you must consent to. The -title-deed must be vested in Mr. Winslow.” - -Ratcliff started as if recoiling from a pitfall. The remark brought home -to his mind the disagreeable consideration that there was nearly half a -million of dollars which ought to come to his wife, but which was -absolutely in the keeping and under the control of Simon Winslow. It -happened in this wise: The father of Mrs. Ratcliff, old Kittler, not -having that entire faith in his son-in-law which so distinguished a -member of the chivalry as the South Carolinian ought to have commanded, -gave into the hands of Winslow a large sum of money, relying solely upon -his honor to use it _in loco parentis_ for the benefit of the lady. But -there were no legal restrictions imposed upon Simon as to the -disposition of the property, and if he had chosen to give or throw it -away, or keep it himself, he might have done it with impunity. - -Winslow acted much as he would have done if Mrs. Ratcliff had been his -own daughter. He invested the money solely for her ultimate benefit and -disposal, seeing that her husband already had millions which she had -brought him. Ratcliff, however, regarded as virtually his the money in -Winslow’s hands, and had several angry discussions with him on the -subject. But Simon was impracticable. The only concession he would make -was to say, that, in the event of Mrs. Ratcliff’s death, he should -respect any _requests_ she might have made. There had consequently been -an informal will, if _will_ it could be called, made by her a year -before, in Ratcliff’s favor. - -Wanting money now to carry out his speculations in slaves, Ratcliff had -again applied to Winslow for this half a million,—had tried wheedlings -and threats, both in vain. He had even threatened to denounce Simon -before the Committee of Safety,—to denounce him as a “damned Yankee and -Abolitionist.” To which Simon had replied by taking a pinch of snuff. - -Simon, though born somewhere in the vicinity of Plymouth Rock, was one -of the oldest residents of New Orleans. He had helped General Jackson -beat off Packenham. He had stood by him in his rough handling of the -_habeas corpus_ act. Simon had been a slaveholder, though rather as an -experiment than for profit; for, finding that the State Legislature were -going to pass a law against emancipation, he took time by the forelock, -and not only made all his slaves free, but placed them where they could -earn their living. - -The invalid wife’s proposal to vest the title to the white slave in -Winslow caused in Ratcliff a visible embarrassment. - -“You know, my dear,” he replied, “I would do anything for your -gratification; but there are particular reasons why—” - -“Why what, husband?” - -“Give me a few days to think the matter over. We’ll talk of it when I -haven’t so much on my mind. Meanwhile I’ll tell you what I _will_ -consent to: Josephine shall be yours to do with just as you please.” - -“Come, that’s something,” said the wife. “What I ask, then, is, that you -convey Josephine to Mr. Winslow to hold in trust for me. Will you do -this the first thing in the morning?” - -“I certainly will,” replied Ratcliff, flattering himself that his ready -compliance with one of his wife’s morbid whims would more than content -her for his evasion of the other. - -“Well, then, good night,” said she, pointing to the door. - -She submitted, with a slight shudder, imperceptible to Ratcliff, to be -kissed by him, and he went down-stairs. Josephine issued from behind a -screen whither the wife had beckoned her to go on his first coming in. -If there had been any remnant of affection for him in the quadroon’s -heart, she was well cured of it by what she had heard. - -The invalid called for writing materials, and penned a note. “Take this, -Josephine,” she said, “early to-morrow to Mr. Winslow. In it I simply -tell him of Ratcliff’s proposition in regard to yourself, and ask him, -the moment that affair is attended to, to come and see me.” - -The clock was striking twelve the next day when Mr. Winslow came, and -Josephine ushered him into the invalid’s presence. - -“You may leave us alone for a while, Josephine,” she said. - -As soon as the quadroon had gone out and shut the door, the invalid -motioned to Winslow to draw near. He was upwards of seventy, tall and -erect, with venerable gray locks, and an expression of face at once -brisk and gentle, benevolent and keen. - -“What’s the state of the property you still hold for me, Mr Winslow?” - -“It is half invested in real estate in Northern cities, and half in -special deposits of gold in Northern banks.” - -“Indeed! Then you must have sent it North long before these troubles -began.” - -“Yes, more than four years ago,—soon after the Nashville Convention.” - -“What’s the amount in your hands?” - -“Half a million; probably it will be seven hundred thousand, if gold -should rise, as I think it will.” - -“And how much, Mr. Winslow, of the property, my father left me has gone -to Mr. Ratcliff?” - -“More than three millions.” - -“Very well. I wish to revoke all previous requests I may have made as to -the disposition of the property in your hands. Now take your pen and -write as I shall dictate.” - -“Let me first explain, Mrs. Ratcliff, that any conveyance of personalty -you might make would be null without your husband’s consent. But in this -case forms are of no account, and even witnesses are unnecessary. -Everything is left to my individual honor and discretion.” - -“I’m aware of that, Mr. Winslow. It is not so much a will as a series of -requests I’ve to make.” - -“I see you understand it, madam. The memoranda you give me I will embody -in the form of a will of my own. Proceed!” - -“Put down,” said the invalid, “a hundred thousand for the Orphan -Asylum.” - -“Excellent; but as the Secessionists are using that sacred fund for war -purposes, I shall take the liberty of withholding the bequest for the -present. Go on.” - -“A hundred thousand to the Lying-in Hospital.” - -“Nothing could be more proper. Proceed.” - -“A hundred thousand to the fund for the Sisters of Charity.” - -“Ah! those dear sisters! Bless you for remembering them, madam.” - -“A hundred thousand to be distributed in sums of five thousand severally -to the persons whose names I have here written down.” - -She handed him a sheet of paper containing the names, and he transcribed -them carefully. - -“And now,” resumed the invalid, “the remainder of the fund in your -possession I wish paid over, when you can safely do it, one half to the -slave Josephine, the other half to the white slave, Ellen Murray, of -whom Josephine will tell you, and whom you must rescue from slavery. -Both must be free before the money can be of any service to them.” - -“Of course. Their owner could at once appropriate any sum you might -leave to them, even though it were a million of dollars.” - -“You have now heard all I have to say, Mr. Winslow.” - -“Then, madam, you will please write under these memoranda with your own -hand something to this effect, and sign your name, with date, place, et -cetera: ‘_This I declare to be my own spontaneous, unbiassed request to -Mr. Winslow, to dispose of the property in his possession, in the manner -hereinabove stated._’ The autograph will have no legal force, but it may -serve to satisfy your husband.” - -The lady wrote, and handed back the paper. - -“Good!” said Winslow. “Before taking another meal, I will draw up and -sign a will by which your requests can be made effectual.” - -“Your hand, Mr. Winslow! My father trusted you as he did no other man, -and I thank you for your loyalty to what you knew to be his wishes.” - -“The task he put upon me has been a very simple one, madam. Good by. We -shall soon meet again, I hope.” - -“Yes. I shall be quite well of my heart-complaint _then_. Good by.” - -Hardly had Winslow left the house than Ratcliff drove up and entered. He -was in a jubilant mood. News had just been received of the Confederate -victory at Bull Run. He knocked at his wife’s door. “Come in!” He -entered. Josephine and Clara were present, trying to soothe the invalid. -One was bathing her forehead with _eau de Cologne_; the other was -kneeling, and rubbing her feet. She had been telling them what she had -done. She had kissed first one and then the other, lavishing on them -profuse tokens of affection. Her eyes gleamed with an unnatural -brightness, and her cheeks were flushed with the glow of a great -excitement. - -As Ratcliff came in she rose, and, standing between Josephine and Clara, -put an arm round the shoulder of each, and looked her husband steadily -in the face. Her expression was that of one who cannot find words -adequate to the utterance of some absorbing emotion. The look was -compounded at once of defiance and of pity. Her lips moved, but no -articulation followed. Then suddenly, with a gasped “Ah!” she -convulsively bowed her body like a tree smitten by the tornado. The -pain, if sharp, was but for a moment. - -The motion was her last. She sank into the faithful arms that encircled -her. The one attenuated chord that bound her to the mortal life had been -snapped. - -Ratcliff started forward, and satisfied himself that his wife was really -dead. Then he looked up at Clara. - -She caught the expression of his countenance, and instinctively -comprehended it, even as the little bird understands the hawk, or the -lamb the wolf. Josephine saw it too. What a triumph now to think that -she was no longer _his_ slave! - -But Clara,—what of _her_? Mrs. Ratcliff’s sudden death seemed to shatter -the last barrier between her and danger. - -Ratcliff did not affect to conceal his satisfaction. Here was a double -victory! The Federals and his wife both disposed of in one day! Youth -and beauty within his grasp! Truly, fortune seemed to be heaping her -good things upon him. That half a million too, in Winslow’s hands, would -come very opportunely; for slaves could be bought cheap, dog-cheap, now -that croakers were predicting ruin to the institution. - -“Josephine,” said he, “I must go at once to see Winslow, the late”—how -readily he seized on that word!—“the late Mrs. Ratcliff’s man of -business. I may not be home to dinner. You’d better not take out the -carriage. The horses would be frightened; for the streets are all in -commotion with salvos for our great victory. Good by till I return.” - -Once more he turned on Clara that look from which she had twice before -shrunk dismayed and exasperated. - -After he had gone, “Help me to escape at once!” she exclaimed. - -“No,” replied Josephine. “This is our safest place for the present. The -avenues of escape from the city are all closed; and we should find it -difficult to go where we would not be tracked. The danger is not -immediate. Do not look so wild, Darling. I swear to you that I will -protect you to the last. Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou -lodgest I will lodge.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - SATAN AMUSES HIMSELF - - “We can die; - And, dying nobly, though we leave behind us - These clods of flesh, that are too massy burdens, - Our living souls fly crowned with living conquests.” - _Beaumont and Fletcher._ - - -Vance sat in his room at the St. Charles. He seemed plunged in -meditation. His fingers were playing with a little gold cross he wore -round his neck; a trinket made very precious by the dying kiss and pious -faith of Estelle. It recalled to him daily those memorable moments of -their last earthly parting. And she now seemed so near to him, so truly -alive to him, in all his perplexities, that he would hardly have been -surprised to see her suddenly standing in immortal youth by his side. -How could he, while thus possessed with her enchanting image, evoke from -his heart any warmer sentiment than that of friendship for any other -woman? - -He thought of the so-called Perdita. He feared he would have to leave -the city without getting any further light than Miss Tremaine had -vouchsafed on the mystery that surrounded that interesting young person. -One thing, on reconsideration, puzzled him and excited his distrust in -Laura’s story. Perdita had pretended that the name Brown was improvised -for the occasion,—assumed while she was conversing with him. Could she -have been deceiving? - -There were still other reflections that brought anxiety. He had not yet -heard from Peek. Could that faithful friend have failed in all his -inquiries for Hyde? - -The immediate matter for consideration, however, was the danger that -began to darken over Vance’s own path. It had been ascertained by -leading Secessionists, interested in providing for the financial wants -of the Rebellion, that Vance had drawn more than a hundred thousand -dollars of special deposits of gold from the banks since the fall of -Sumter. The question was now put to him by the usurpers, What had been -done with that money? He was summoned to appear before the authorities -with an explanation. A committee would be in session that very evening -to hear his statement. - -There was still another subject to awaken his concern. Kenrick had been -called on to set at rest certain unfavorable reports, by appearing -before that same committee, and accepting a captaincy in the confederate -army. Onslow was to be presented with a colonel’s commission. - -Vance had made preparations for the escape of Kenrick and himself. A -little steam-tug called the Artful Dodger, carrying the Confederate -flag, lay in the river. Everybody supposed she was a sort of spy on -United States cruisers. For two days she had lain there with steam all -up, ready to start at a moment’s warning. Her crew appeared to be all -ashore, except the captain, mate, engineer, cook, and two stewards. The -last three were black men. The other three, if they were not Yankees, -had caught some peculiarities of pronunciation which the schoolmaster is -vainly striving to extirpate at the North. These men said _beeyownd_ for -_bounds_ and _neeyow_ for _now_. - -While Vance was meditating on his arrangements, a card was brought to -him. It bore the name “Simon Winslow.” - -“Show him in,” said Vance to the servant. - -As Simon entered, Vance recognized him as the individual who had aided -him the day of the rescue of Quattles from the mob. - -“There’s a sort of freemasonry, Mr. Vance,” said Winslow, “that assures -me I may trust you. Your sympathies, sir, are with the Union.” - -Wary and suspicious, Vance bowed, but made no reply. - -“Do not doubt me,” continued Winslow. “True, I’ve been a slaveholder. -But ’t is now several years since I owned a slave. Mr. Vance, I want -your counsel, and, it may be, your aid. Still distrustful? How shall I -satisfy you that I’m not a traitor knave?” - -“Enough, Mr. Winslow! I’ll trust your threescore years and your loyal -face. Tell me what I can do for you. Be seated.” - -They sat down, and the old man resumed: “I have lived in this city more -than forty years, Mr. Vance, but for some time I’ve foreseen that there -would be little hope for a man of Northern birth unless he would consent -to howl with the pack for secession and a slave confederacy. Now I’m too -old to tune my bark to any such note. The consequence is, I am a marked -man, liable at any moment to be seized and imprisoned. My property here -is nearly all in real estate; so if that is confiscated, as it will be, -I’ve no fear but Uncle Sam will soon come to give it back to me. The -rest of my assets it will be hard for the keenest-scented inquisitor to -find. To-day, by the death of Mrs. Ratcliff—” - -“Of what Mrs. Ratcliff?” inquired Vance. - -“Mrs. Carberry Ratcliff. By her death I become the legally -irresponsible, and therefore all the more _morally_ the responsible, -manager of an estate of more than half a million, of which a -considerable portion is to be used by me for the benefit of two women at -present slaves.” - -“But her husband will never consent to it!” interposed Vance. - -“Fortunately,” replied Winslow, “all the property was some time since -sent North and converted into gold. Well: I’ve just come from an -interview with Ratcliff himself. He came to tell me of his wife’s death. -He brought with him a _quasi_ will, signed a year ago, in which his wife -requests me to hand over to him such property as I may consider at her -disposal. He called on me to demand that I should forthwith surrender my -trust; said he was in immediate need of three hundred thousand dollars. -He did not dream of a rebuff. He was in high spirits. The news from Bull -Run had greatly elated him. His wife’s death he plainly regarded as a -happy relief. Conceive of his wrath, when, in the midst of his lofty -hopes and haughty demands, I handed him a copy of the memoranda, noted -down by me this very day, in which Mrs. Ratcliff makes a very different -disposition of the property.” - -“I know something of the man’s temper,” said Vance. - -“He laughed a scornful laugh,” resumed Winslow, “and, shaking his -forefinger at me, said: ‘You shall swing for this, you damned old -Yankee! Your trusteeship isn’t worth a straw. I’ll have you compelled to -disgorge, this very hour.’ But when I told him that the whole -half-million, left in my hands by his wife’s father, was safely -deposited in gold in a Northern city, the man actually grew livid with -rage. He drew his Derringer on me, and would probably have shot me but -for the sober second thought that told him he could make more out of me -living than dead. In a frenzy he left my office. This was about half an -hour ago. After reflection on our interview I concluded it would be -prudent in me to escape from the city if possible, and I have come to -ask if you can aid me in doing it.” - -“Nothing could be more opportune,” replied Vance, “than your coming. I -have laid all my plans to leave in a small steamer this very night. A -young friend goes with me. You shall accompany us. Have you any -preparations to make?” - -“None, except to find some trustworthy person with whom I can leave an -amount of money for the two slave-women of whom I spoke. For it would be -dangerous, if not impracticable, to attempt to take them with us.” - -“Yes, use your golden keys to unlock their chains in this case,” said -Vance. “Do not show yourself again on the street. Ratcliff will at once -have detectives at your heels. Hark! There’s a knock at the door. Pass -into my chamber, and lock yourself in, and open only to my rapping, -thus,—one, two—one, two—one.” - -Winslow obeyed, and Vance, opening his parlor door, met Kenrick. - -“Well, cousin,” asked Vance, “are you all ready? You look pale, man! -What’s the matter?” - -“Nothing,” replied Kenrick; “that is, everything. I wish I’d never seen -that Perdita Brown! Look here! They’ve got her photograph in the -print-shops. Beautiful, is it not?” - -“Yes; it almost does her justice. Could you draw out from the Tremaines -no remark which would afford a further clew?” - -“After you had failed, what could I hope to do? But I’ll tell you what I -ventured upon. All stratagems in love and war are venial, I suppose. -Seeing that Miss Tremaine was deeply interested in your conquering self, -I tried to pique her by making her think you were secretly enamored of -Miss Brown. She denied it warmly. I then said: ‘Reflect! Hasn’t he been -very inquisitive in trying to find out all he could about her?’ She was -obliged to confess that you had; and at last, after considerable -skirmishing between us, she dropped this remark: ‘Those who would fall -in love with her had better first find out whether she’s a lady.’ ‘She -certainly appears one,’ I replied. ‘Yes,’ said Miss Tremaine, ‘and so -does many a Creole who has African blood in her veins.’” - -“Ah! what could that mean?” exclaimed Vance, thoughtfully. “Can that -story of a paternal Brown be all a lie?” - -Here there was a low knock at the door. Vance opened it, and there stood -Peek. - -“Come in!” said Vance, grasping him by the hand, drawing him in, and -closing the door. “What news?” - -And then, seeing the negro’s hesitation, Vance turned to Kenrick, and -said: “Cousin, this is the man to whom you need no introduction. He was -christened Peculiar Institution; but, for brevity, we call him Peek.” - -Kenrick put out his hand with a face so glowing with a cordial respect -that Peek could not resist the proffer. - -“Now, Peek,” said Vance, “pull off that hot wig and those green -spectacles, and, unless you would keep us standing, sit down and be at -ease. There! That’s right. Now, first of all, did you hit upon any trace -of your wife and boy?” - -“None, Mr. Vance. I think they cannot be in Texas.” - -“Then what of Colonel Delancy Hyde?” - -“The Colonel was said to have attached himself to the fortunes of -General Van Dorn. That’s all I could find out about Hyde.” - -“Pity! I must unearth the fellow somehow. The fate of that poor little -girl of the Pontiac haunts me night and day. My suspicions of foul play -have been fully confirmed. When you have time, read this letter which I -had written to send you. It will tell you of all I learnt from Quattles -and Amos Slink. But you have something to ask. What is it?” - -“Where shall I find Captain Onslow of the Confederate army?” - -Vance pointed to Kenrick, who replied: “I know him well. He is probably -now in this house. ’T is his usual time for dressing for dinner.” - -“I’ve terrible news for him,” said Peek. - -“What has happened?” - -“On my way from Austin to Fort Duncan on the Rio Grande I passed through -San Antonio. You have heard something of the persecutions of Union men -in Western Texas?” - -“Yes. Good Heavens! Is old Onslow among the victims?” - -“He and his whole family—wife, son, and daughter—have been slain by the -Confederate agents.” - -The cousins looked at each other, and each grew paler as he read the -other’s thought. Vance spoke first. “Go on, Peek,” he said. “Tell us -what you know.” - -“The old man, you see,” said Peek, “has been trying for some time to do -without slave labor. He has employed a good many Germans on his lands. -The slaveholders haven’t liked this. At the beginning of the Rebellion -he went with old Houston and others against secession; but when Houston -caved in, Onslow remained firm and plucky. He kept quiet, however, and -did nothing that the Secesh authorities could find fault with. But what -they wanted was an excuse for murdering him and seizing his lands. They -employed three scoundrels, a broken-down lawyer, a planter, and a -horse-jockey, to visit him under the pretence that they were good Union -and antislavery men, trying to escape the conscription. The old man fell -into the trap. Thinking he was among friends, he freely declared, that -‘he meant to keep true to the old flag; that only one of his family had -turned traitor; the rest (thank God!) including the women, were -thoroughly loyal; that secession would prove a failure, and end (thank -God always!) in the breaking up of slavery.’ At the same time he told -them he should make no resistance, either open or clandestine, to the -laws of the State. The scoundrels tried to implicate him in some secret -plot, but failed. They had drawn out of him enough, however, for their -purposes. They left him, and straightway denounced him as an -Abolitionist. A gang of cutthroats, set on by the Rebel leaders, came to -hang him. Well knowing he could expect no mercy, the old man barricaded -his doors, armed his household, and prepared to resist. The women loaded -the guns while the men fired. Several of the assailants were wounded. -The rest grew furious, and at last made an entrance by a back door, -rushed in, and overpowered William Onslow, the son, who had received a -ball in his neck. They dragged him out and hung him to a tree. The -daughter they tried to pinion and lash to the floor, but she fought so -desperately that a ruffian, whose hair she had torn out by the roots, -shot her dead. The mother, in a frantic attempt to save the daughter, -received a blow on the head from which she died. The old man, exhausted -and fatally wounded, was disarmed, and placed under guard in the room -from which he had been firing. It was not till the women and the son -were dead that I arrived on the spot. I claimed to be a Secesh nigger, -and the passes Mr. Vance had given me confirmed my story. The Rebels -regarded me as a friend and helper. I lurked round the room where the -old man was confined, and at last, through whiskey, I persuaded his -guard to lie down and go to sleep. I then made myself known to the -sufferer. I helped him write a letter to his surviving son. Here it is, -stained as you see by the writer’s blood. You can read it, Mr. Vance. It -contains no secrets. Hardly had I concealed it in my pocket, when some -of the Rebels came in, seized the old man, helpless and dying as he was, -and, dragging him out, hung him on a tree by the side of his son.” - -Peek ended his narrative, and Vance, taking the proffered letter, slowly -drew it from the envelope and unfolded it. There dropped out four -strands of hair: one white, one iron-gray, one a fine and thick flaxen, -and one a rich brown-black. - -“I cut off those strands of hair, thinking that Captain Onslow might -prize them,” said Peek. - -“You did well,” remarked Vance. “And since you have authority to permit -it, I will read this letter.” - -He then read aloud as follows:— - - “Stricken down by a death-wound, I write this. When it - reaches you, my son, you will be the last survivor of your - family. The faithful negro who bears this letter will tell you - all. You may rely on what he says. This crafty, this Satanic - Slave Power has—I can use the pen no longer. But I - can dictate. The negro must be my amanuensis.” - -And then, in a different handwriting, the letter proceeded:— - - “This Slave Power, which, for many weeks past, has been hunting down - and hanging Union men, has at last laid its bloody hand on our - innocent household. Should you meet Colonel A. J. Hamilton,[34] he - will tell you something of what the pro-slavery butchers have been - doing. - - “Yesterday three men called on me. They brought forged letters from - one I knew to be my friend. The trick succeeded. I admitted them to my - confidence. They left and denounced me to the Confederate leaders. My - only crime was a secret sympathy with the Union cause. Not a finger - had I lifted or threatened to lift against the ruling powers of the - State. But I did not love slavery,—that was the crime of crimes in the - eyes of Jeff Davis’s immediate partisans and friends. - - “To-day they came with ropes to hang us,—to hang us, remember, not for - resistance to authority, however usurped, not for one imprudent act or - threat against slavery, but simply because we were known at heart to - disapprove of slavery, and consequently to love the old flag. And many - hundreds have been hung here for no other offence. We knew we could - expect no better fate than our neighbors had bravely encountered; and - we resolved, men and women, to sell our lives dearly. Your brother - fell wounded, and was hung; then your sister, resisting outrage, was - slain; then your mother, striving to protect Emily, received a mortal - blow. And I am lying here wounded, soon to be dragged forth and - hung—for what?—for unbelief, not in a God, but in the Southern - Confederacy and its corner-stone! - - “And this is slavery! All these brutalities and wrongs spring from - slavery as naturally as the fruit from the blossom. That which is - inherently wrong must, by eternal laws, still produce and reproduce - wrong. The right to hold one innocent man a slave, implies the right - to enslave or murder any other man! There is no such right. It is a - lie born in the inmost brain of hell. No laws can make it a right. No - clamor of majorities can give it a sanction. In slavery, Satan once - more scales the heavenly heights. - - “Jeff Davis, I hear, has just joined the church. Would he be pardoned, - and _retain_ the offence? If so, not prayers nor sacraments can save - his trembling and perjured soul from the guilt of such wrongs as I and - mine, and hundreds of other true men and women, here in Texas have - fallen under because of slavery. God is not to be cheated by any such - flattering unction as Davis is laying to his heart. The more he seeks - to cover profane with holy things, the deeper will be his damnation in - that world where all shams and self-delusions are dissolved, and the - true man stands revealed, to be judged by his fidelity to Christ’s - golden rule,—to the cause of justice and humanity on earth. - - “Our national agony is the old conflict of the Divine with the Satanic - principle. Believe in God, my son, and you cannot doubt the result. Do - you suppose Eternal Justice will be patient much longer? Think of the - atrocities to which this American slave system has reconciled us! A - free white man can, in any of the Slave States, go into a negro’s - house and beat or kill any of the inmates, and not be prosecuted by - law, except a free white man sees him do it; because _a negro’s - testimony is not taken against a white man_. As for the _marriage_ of - slaves, you well know what a mere farce—what a subject for ribaldry - and laughter—it is among the masters. No tie, whether of affection, of - blood, or of form, is respected.[35] - - “The originators of this rebellion saw that _by inevitable laws of - population_ slavery must go down under a republican form of - government. Their fears and their jealousies of freedom grew - intolerable. The very word _free_ became hateful. They saw that their - property in slaves depended for its duration on the action of - political forces slumbering in the mass of their white population, - which population, though now densely ignorant, would gradually learn - that slavery is adverse to the interests of nine tenths of the whites. - And so this war was originated _even less to separate from the North - than to crush into hopeless subjection, through that separation, the - white masses at the South_. The slave barons dreaded lest this drugged - and stupefied giant should rouse from his ignoble slumber, and, - learning his strength, and opening his eyes to the truth, should, - Samson-like, seize the pillars of their system. To prevent this, a - grand oligarchy of slaveholders must be created, and the liberties of - the whites destroyed! - - “You will see all this now, my son. Yes, I have this comfort in my - extremity: my son will be converted from wrong; the stubborn head will - be reached through the stricken heart; we shall not have died in vain. - And his conversion will be instantaneous. But be prudent, my son. Let - not passion betray you. These Rebel leaders are as remorseless as they - are crafty. All the bad energies of the very prince of devils are - ranged on their side, and will help them to temporary success. - - “Let them see that higher and more persistent energies can spring from - the right. What I most fear for the North is the paralyzing effect of - its prosperity. It will go on thriving on the war, while the South is - learning the wholesome training of adversity. Young men at the North - will be tempted by money-making to stay at home. The voice of Mammon - will be louder than the voice of God in their hearts. This will be - their tremendous peril. But God will not be thwarted. If prosperity - will not make the North do God’s work, then adversity must be called - in. - - “Set your heart on no private vengeance, my son. Take this as my dying - entreaty. Let your revenge be the restoration of the old flag. All the - rest must follow as the night the day.... And now, farewell! May God - bless and guide you. I go to join your mother, brother, and sister. - Their spirits are round me while I speak. Their love goes forth to you - with mine, and my prayer for you is their prayer also. Adieu!” - -There was silence for a full minute after the reading. - -“I’ll wait,” said Kenrick, “till he gets through dinner before I tell -him the news. He’ll need all his strength, poor fellow!” - -“I foresee,” said Vance, “that Onslow will be of our party of escape -this night.” And then, turning to Peek, he remarked: “Your coming, -Peculiar, is timely. I want the help of a trustworthy driver. You are -the man for us. Can you, without exciting suspicion, get the control of -a carriage and two fast, fresh horses?” - -Peek reflected a moment, and then said: “Yes; I know a colored man, -Antoine Lafour, who has the care of two of the best horses in the city. -His master really thinks Antoine would fight any Abolitionist who might -come to free him; but Antoine and I laugh at the old man’s credulity.” - -“There’s yet another service you can render,” said Vance; and he gave -five raps on the door of his chamber. - -The lock was turned from the inside, and Winslow appeared. - -“You’re among friends,” said Vance. “This is my cousin, Mr. Kenrick; and -this is Peculiar Institution, otherwise called Peek. Notwithstanding his -inauspicious name, you may trust him as you would your own right hand.” - -“But I want an agent who can write and keep accounts.” - -“Then Peek is just the man for you. Of his ability you can satisfy -yourself in five minutes. For his _honesty_ I will vouch.” - -“But will he remain in New Orleans the next six months?” - -“I hope so,” replied Vance. “This is my plan for you, Peek: that you -should still occupy that little house of mine with the Bernards. I’ve -spoken to them about it; and they will treat you well for my sake. I -want some one here with whom I may freely communicate; and more, I want -you to pursue your search for Colonel Delancy Hyde, and to secure him -when found, which you can easily do with money. Will you remain?” - -“You know how it is with me, Mr. Vance,” said Peek. “I have two objects -in life: One is to find my wife and child; the other is to help on the -great cause. For both these objects I can have no better head-quarters -than New Orleans.” - -“Good! He will remain, Mr. Winslow. Go now both of you into the next -room. You’ll find writing materials on the table.” - -The old man and the negro withdrew. Kenrick paced the floor, thinking -one moment of Clara, and the next of the dreadful communication he must -make to Onslow. Vance sat down and leaned his head on his hands to -consider if there was anything he had left undone. - -“I hear some one knocking at the door of my room,” said Kenrick. He went -into the corridor, and a servant handed him a card. It was from Onslow, -and pencilled on it was the following:— - - “Come to the dinner-table, Kenrick. Where are you? - Dreaming of Perdita? Or planning impracticable victories - for your Yankee friends? Come and join me in a bottle of - claret. It may be our last together. Only think of it, my - dear fellow, I am to be made a Colonel! But that will not - please you. Sink politics! We will ignore all that is disagreeable. - There shall be no slavery,—no Rebeldom,—no - Yankeedom. All shall be Arcadian. We will talk over old - times, and compare notes in regard to Perdita. I don’t believe - you are a tenth part as much in love as I am. Where has the - enchantress gone? ‘O matchless sweetness! whither art thou - vanished? O thou fair soul of all thy sex! what paradise hast - thou enriched and blessed?’ Come, Kenrick, come; if only - for auld lang syne, come and chat with me; for the day of - action draws near, when there shall be no more chatting!” - -Sick at heart, Kenrick handed the card to Vance, who read it, and said: -“The sooner a disagreeable duty is discharged, the better. Go, cousin, -and let him know the character of that fell Power which he would serve. -Let him know what reason he, of all men, has to love it!” - -“I’d rather face a battery than do it; but it must be done.” - -At the same moment Winslow and the negro entered. - -“I’ve arranged everything with Peek,” said the old man. “I’ve placed in -his hands funds which I think will be sufficient.” - -“That reminds me that I must do the same,” said Vance; and, taking a -large sum in bank-bills from his pocket-book, he gave it to Peek to use -as he might see fit, first for the common cause, and secondly for -prosecuting inquiries in regard to the kidnapped child of the Pontiac, -and his own family. - -Peek carefully noted down dates and amounts in a memorandum-book, and -then remarked, “Now I must see Captain Onslow.” - -“Give me that letter from his father, and I will myself deliver it,” -said Kenrick. - -“But I promised to see him.” - -“That you can do this evening.” - -Peek gave up the letter, and Kenrick darted out of the room. - -Turning to Vance and Winslow, Peek remarked: “I thank you for your -confidence, gentlemen. I’ll do my best to deserve it.” - -“I wish our banks deserved it as well,” said Vance; then he added: “And -now, Peek, make your arrangements carefully, and be with the carriage at -the door just under my window at nine o’clock precisely.” - -Peek compared watches with Vance, promised to be punctual, and took his -leave. - -Vance rang the bell, and ordered a private dinner for two. Unlocking a -drawer, he took from it two revolvers and handed one to Winslow, with -the remark, “You are skilled in the use of the pistol, I suppose?” - -“Though I’ve been a planter and owned slaves, I must say _no_.” - -“Then a revolver would rather be a danger than a security.” - -And Vance thrust the pistols into the side pockets of his own coat. - -Dinner was brought in. - -“Come,” said Vance, “we must eat. My way of life has compelled me to -suffer no excitement to impair my appetite. Indeed, I have passed -through the one supreme excitement, after which all others, even the -prospect of immediate death, are quite tame. Happy the man, Mr. Winslow, -who can say, I cling to this life no longer for myself, but for others -and for humanity!” - -“Such a sentiment would better become a man of my age than of yours,” -replied Winslow. - -“Here’s the dinner,” said Vance. “Now let us talk nothing but nonsense. -Let us think of nothing that requires the effort of a serious thought.” - -“Well then,” replied Winslow. “Suppose we discuss the last number of De -Bow’s Review, or that charlatan Maury’s last lying letter in the London -Times.” - -“Excellent!” said Vance. “For reaching the very sublime of the -superficial, commend me to De Bow or to the Chevalier Maury.” - -Before the dinner was over, each man felt that the day had not been -unprofitable, since he had earned a friend. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - LIGHT FROM THE PIT. - - “There’s not a breathing of the common wind - That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; - Thy friends are exultations, agonies, - And love, and Man’s unconquerable mind.”—_Wordsworth._ - - -Kenrick found Onslow seated at one of the tables of the large -dining-hall and expecting his coming. The chair on his right was tipped -over on its fore legs against the table as a signal that the seat was -engaged. On Onslow’s left sat the scoffer, Robson. - -As Kenrick advanced, Onslow rose, took him by the hand, and placed him -in the reserved seat. Robson bowed, and filled three glasses with -claret. - -“But how grave and pale you look, Charles!” said Onslow. “What the deuce -is the matter? Come on! _Absit atra cura!_ Begone, dull care! Toss off -that glass of claret, or Robson will scorn you as a skulker.” - -“The wine is not bad,” said Robson, “but there should have been ice in -the cooler. May the universal Yankee nation be eternally and immitigably -consigned to perdition for depriving us of our ice. Every time I am -thirsty,—and that is fifty times a day,—my temper is tried, and I wish I -had a plenipotentiary power of cursing. With the thermometer at ninety, -’t is a lie to say Cotton is king. Ice is king. The glory of our juleps -has departed. For my own part, I would grovel at old Abe’s feet if he -would give us ice.” - -Kenrick could not force a smile. He touched his lips with the claret. - -“You will take soup?” inquired Onslow. “It is tomato, and very good.” - -“What you please, I’m not hungry.” - -Onslow ordered the servant to bring a plate of soup. Kenrick stirred it -a moment, tasted, then pushed it from him. Its color reminded him of the -precious blood, dear to his friend, which had been so ruthlessly shed. - -“A plate of pompinoe,” said Onslow. - -The dainty fish was put before Kenrick, and he broke it into morsels -with his fork, then told the servant to take it away. - -“But you’ve no appetite,” complained Onslow. “Is it the Perdita?” - -Kenrick shook his head mournfully. - -“Is it Bull Run?” - -“No. Had not somebody been afraid of hurting slavery, and so played the -laggard, the United States forces would have carried the day; and that -would have been the worst thing for the country that could have -happened!” - -“Did I not promise there should be no politics? Nevertheless, expound.” - -“He laughs best who laughs last. Let that suffice. It is not time yet -for the Union to gain decisive victories; nor will it be time till the -conscience of the people of the North is right and ripe for the -uprooting of slavery. Their conservative politicians,—their Seymours and -Pughs,—who complain of the ‘irrepressible negro,’—must find out it is -the irrepressible God Almighty, and give up kicking against the pricks. -Then when the North as one man shall say, ‘Thy kingdom come,’—Thy -kingdom of justice and compassion,—then, O then! we may look for the -glorious day-star that shall herald the dawn. God reigns. Therefore -shall slavery not reign. I believe in the moral government of the -world.” - -“Isn’t it a pity, Robson, that so good a fellow as Charles should be so -bitter an Abolitionist?” - -“Wait till he’s tempted with a colonelcy in the Confederate army,” -sneered Robson. “Ah! Mr. Kenrick, when you see Onslow charging into -Philadelphia, at the head of his troop of horse, sacking that plethoric -old city of rectangles,—leering at the pretty Quakeresses,—knocking down -his own men for unsoldierly familiarities,—walking into those Chestnut -Street jewelry stores and pocketing the diamond rings,—when you see all -that, you’ll wish you’d gone with the winning side.” - -“As I live,” cried Onslow, “there’s a tear in his eye! What does it -mean, Charley?” - -“If it is a tear, respect its sanctity,” replied Kenrick, gravely. - -“Gentlemen, I must go,” said Robson, who found the atmosphere getting to -be unjoyous and uncongenial. “Good by! I’ve a polite invitation to be -present at a meeting to raise money for the outfit of a new regiment. -Between ourselves, if it were a proposition to supply the alligators in -our bayous with gutta-percha tails, I would contribute my money much -more cheerfully, assured that it would do much more good, and be a far -more profitable investment. Addio!” - -No sooner had he gone than Kenrick said: “Let us adjourn to your room. I -have something to say to you.” - -In silence the friends passed out of the hall and up-stairs into -Onslow’s sleeping apartment. - -“Kenrick,” said he, “your manner is inexplicable. It chills and -distresses me. If I can do anything for you before I go North to fight -for the stars and bars—” - -“Never will you lift the arm for that false flag!” interrupted Kenrick. -“You will join me this very hour in cursing it and spurning it.” - -“Charles, your hate of the Confederacy grows morbid. Let it not make us -private as well as public enemies.” - -“No, Robert, we shall be faster friends than ever.” - -And Kenrick affectionately threw his arms round his friend and pressed -him to his breast. - -“But what does this mean, Charles?” cried Onslow. “There’s a terrible -pity in your eyes. Explain it, I beseech you.” - -Kenrick drew from his pocket a letter-envelope, and, taking from it four -strands of hair, placed them on the white marble of the bureau before -Onslow’s eyes. The Captain looked at them wonderingly; took up one after -another, examined it, and laid it down. His breast began to heave, and -his cheek to pale. He looked at Kenrick, then turned quickly away, as if -dreading some foreshadowing of an evil not to be uttered. For five -minutes he walked the room, and said nothing. Then he again went to the -bureau and regarded the strands of hair. - -“Well,” said he, speaking tremulously and quickly, and not daring to -look at Kenrick, “I recognize these locks of hair. This white hair is my -father’s; this half gray is my mother’s; this beautiful flaxen is my -sister Emily’s; and this brownish black is my brother’s. Why do you put -these before me? A sentimental way of telling me, I suppose, that they -all send their love, and beg I would turn Abolitionist!” - -“Yes,” sighed Kenrick. “From their graves they beg it.” - -With a look of unspeakable horror, his hands pressed on the top of his -head as if to keep down some volcanic throe, his mouth open, his tongue -lolling out, idiot-like, Onslow stood speechless staring at his friend. - -Kenrick led him gently to the sofa, forced him to sit down, and then, -with a tenderness almost womanly in its delicacy, removed the sufferer’s -hands from his head, and smoothed back his thick fine hair from his -brow, and away from his ears. Onslow’s inward groanings began to grow -audible. Suddenly he rose, as if resolved to master his weakness. Then, -sinking down, he exclaimed, “God of heaven, can it be?” And then groans -piteous but tearless succeeded. - -At last, as if bracing himself to an effort that tore his very -heart-strings, he rose and said, “Now, Charles, tell me all.” - -Kenrick handed him the letter which Peek had brought. “Let me leave you -while you read,” he said. Onslow did not object; and Kenrick went into -the corridor, and walked there to and fro for nearly half an hour. Then -he re-entered the chamber. Onslow was on his knees by the sofa; his -father’s letter, smeared with his father’s life-blood, in his hand. The -young man had been praying. And his eyes showed that prayer had so -softened his heart that he could weep. He rose, calm, though very pale. - -“Where can I see this negro?” he asked. - -“He will be here at the hotel this evening,” replied Kenrick. - -“And what,—what,” said Onslow hesitatingly, “what did they do with my -father?” - -“They hung him on the same tree with your brother.” - -“Yes,” said Onslow, with a calmness more terrible than a frantic grief. -“Yes! Of course his gray hairs were no protection.” - -There was a pause; and then, “What do you mean to do?” said Kenrick. - -“Can you doubt?” exclaimed Onslow. - -A servant knocked at the door and left a package. It contained a -complimentary letter and a Colonel’s commission, signed by the -Confederate authorities. “You see these,” said Onslow, handing them to -Kenrick. Then, taking them, he contemptuously tore them, and madly threw -the pieces on the floor. - -“Yes, my father is right,” he cried. “It is Slavery that has done this -horror. On the head of Slavery lies the guilt. O the blind fool, the -abject fawner, that I’ve been! Instead of being by the side of my brave -brother, here I was wearing the detested livery of the brutal Power that -smote down a whole family because they would not kneel at its bloody -footstool! Who ever heard of a man being harmed at the North for -_defending_ Slavery? No! ’t is a foul lie to say that aught but Slavery -can prompt and lend itself to such barbarities! The cowardly butchers! -O, damn them! damn them!” - -And he tore from his shoulders the badges of his military rank, and, -spurning them with his foot, continued: “My noble father! the good, the -devout, the heroic old man! How, even under his mortal agony, his belief -in God, in right, in immortality, shines forth! Did ever an outcast -creature apply to him in vain for help? Quick to resent, how much -quicker he was to forgive! The soul of rectitude and truth! Did you ever -see his seal, Charles? A straight line, with the motto _Omnium -brevissima recta!_ But he could not bow to Slavery as the supreme good. -For that he and his must be slaughtered! And William, the brave and -gentle! And Emily, the tenderly-bred and beautiful! And my sainted—” - -He knelt, and, raising both arms to heaven, cried: “Hear me, O God! -Eternal Justice, hear me! If ever again, in thought or act, I show mercy -to this merciless Slave Power,—if ever again I palliate its crimes or -utter a word in extenuation of its horrors,—that moment annihilate me as -a wretch unfit either for this world or any other!” - -Then, rising, he said, “Kenrick, your hand!” - -“Not yet,” said Kenrick. “My friend, Slavery is no worse to-day than it -was yesterday. You have known for the last three months that these -minions and hirelings of the slave aristocracy were hounding, hanging, -and torturing men throughout Slavedom, for the crime of being true to -their country’s flag.” - -“I knew it, Kenrick; but my heart was hardened, and therefore have God’s -hammers smitten it thrice,—nay, four times, terribly! I saw these -things, but turned away from them! Idle and false to say, Slavery is not -responsible for them! They are the very spawn of its filthy loins. I -know it,—I, who have been behind the scenes, know what the leaders say -as to the means of treading out every spark of Union fire. And -I—heedless idiot that I was!—never once thought that the bloody -instructions might return to plague _me_,—that my own father’s family -might be among the foremost victims! I acknowledge the hand of God in -this stroke! A voice cries to me, as of old to Saul, ‘Why persecutest -thou me?’ And now there fall from my eyes as it were scales, and I arise -and am baptized!” - -“My dear friend,” said Kenrick, “I want your conversion to be, not the -result of mere passion, but of calm conviction. I have been asking -myself, What if a party of Unionists should outrage and murder those who -are nearest and dearest to myself,—would I, therefore, embrace the -pro-slavery cause? And from the very depths of my soul, I can cry _No!_ -Not through passion,—though I have enough of that,—but through the -persuasion of my intellect, added to the affirmation of my heart, do I -array myself against this hideous Moloch of slavery. By a terrible law -of affinity, wrongs and crimes cannot stand alone. They must summon -other wrongs and crimes to their support; and so does murder as -naturally follow in the train of slavery, as the little parasite fish -follows the shark. It is fallacy to say that the best men among -slaveholders do not approve of these outrages; for these outrages are -now the necessary and inseparable attendants of the system.” - -“I believe it,” said Onslow. “O the wickedness of my apostasy from my -father’s faith! O the sin, and O the punishment! It needed a terrible -blow to reach me, and it has come. Kenrick, do not withhold your hand. -Trust me, my conversion is radical. The ‘institution’ shall henceforth -find in me its deadliest foe. ‘_Delenda est!_’ is now and henceforth my -motto!” - -Kenrick clasped his proffered hand, and, looking up, said, “So prosper -us, Almighty Disposer, as we are true to the promises of this hour!” - -“Charles,” said Onslow, “I did not think that Perdita would so soon have -her prayer granted.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Her last words to me were, ‘May this arm never be lifted except in the -cause of right!’ I feel that God has heard her.” - -It jarred on Kenrick’s heart for the moment to see that Onslow, in the -midst of his troubles, still thought of Perdita; but soon, stilling the -selfish tremor, he said: “What we would do we must do quickly. Will you -go North with me and join the armies of the Union?” - -“Yes, the first opportunity.” - -“That opportunity will be this very night.” - -“So much the better! I’m ready. I had but one tie to bind me here; and -that was Perdita. And she has fled. And what would I be to her, were she -here? Nothing! Charles, this day’s news has made me ten years older -already. O for an army with banners, to go down into that bloody region -of the Rio Grande, and right the wrongs of the persecuted!” - -“Be patient. We shall live to see the old flag wave resplendent over -free and regenerated Texas.” - -“Amen! Good heavens, Charles!—it appalls me, when I think what a -different man I am from what I was when I crossed this threshold, one -little hour ago!” - -“In these volcanic days,” said Kenrick, “such changes are not -surprising. These terrible eruptions, ‘painting hell on the sky,’ uptear -many old convictions, and illumine many benighted minds.” - -“Yes,” rejoined Onslow, “in that infernal flash, coming from my own -violated home, I see slavery as it is,—monstrous, bestial, devilish!—no -longer the graceful, genteel, hospitable, and fascinating embodiment -which I—fond fool that I was!—have been wont to think it. The -Republicans of the North were right in declaring that not one inch more -of national soil should be surrendered to the pollutions of slavery.” - -“Time flies,” said Kenrick. “Have you any preparations to make?” - -“Yes, a few bills to pay and a few letters to write.” - -“Can you despatch all your work by quarter to nine?” - -“Sooner, if need be.” - -“That will answer. Have your baggage ready, and let it be compact as -possible. I’ll call for you at your room at quarter to nine. Vance goes -with us.” - -“Is it possible? I supposed him an ultra Secessionist.” - -“He has a stronger personal cause than even you to strike at slavery.” - -“Can that be? Well, he shall find me no tame ally. Do you know, Charles, -you resemble him personally?” - -“Yes, there’s good reason for it. We are cousins.” - -Onslow’s heart was too full to comment on the reply. He took up the -strands of hair, kissed them fervently, and placed them with his -father’s letter in a little silk watch-bag, which he pinned inside of -his vest just over his heart. - -“If ever my new faith should falter,” he said, “here are the mementos -that will revive it. God! Did I need all this for my reformation?” - -“Be firm,—be prudent, my friend,” said Kenrick. “And now good by till we -meet again.” - -Onslow pressed Kenrick’s proffered hand, and replied, “You shall find me -punctual.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - THE COMMITTEE ADJOURNS. - - “Why now, blow, wind; swell, billow; and swim, bark! - The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.”—_Shakspeare._ - - -Vance’s plan was to escape down the river in his little steam-tug, and -join some one of the blockading fleet of the United States, either at -Pass à l’Outre or at the Balize. The unexpected accession of two -fellow-fugitives led him to postpone his departure from the St. Charles -to nine o’clock. His own and Kenrick’s baggage had been providently put -on board the Artful Dodger the day before. Winslow, in order not to -jeopard any of the proceedings, had accepted Vance’s offer to get from -the latter’s supply whatever articles of apparel he might need. - -At ten minutes before nine, the four fugitives met in Vance’s room. -Vance and Onslow grasped each other by the hand. That silent pressure -conveyed to each more than words could ever have told. The sympathy -between them was at once profound and complete. - -“The negro who is to drive us,” said Vance, “is the man to whom your -father confided his last messages.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Onslow; “let me be with him. Let me learn from him all I -can!” - -Vance told him he should ride on the outside with Peek. Then turning to -Winslow, he said: “Those white locks of yours are somewhat too -conspicuous. Do me the favor to hide them under this black wig.” - -The disguise was promptly carried into effect. At nine o’clock Vance put -his head out of the window. A rain-storm had set in, but he could see by -the gas-lights the glistening top of a carriage, and he could hear the -stamping of horses. - -“All right,” said he. “Peek is punctually on the spot. Does that -carpet-bag contain all your baggage, Mr. Onslow?” - -“Yes, and I can dispense with even this, if you desire it.” - -“You have learnt one of the first arts of the soldier, I see,” said -Vance. “There can be no harm in your taking that amount. Now let me -frankly tell you what I conceive to be our chief, if not our only -hazard. My venerable friend, here, Winslow, was compelled, a few hours -since, in the discharge of his duty, to give very dire offence to Mr. -Carberry Ratcliff, of whom we all have heard. Knowing the man as I do, I -am of opinion that his first step on parting with our friend would be to -put spies on his track, with the view of preventing his departure or -concealment. Mr. Winslow thinks Ratcliff could not have had time to do -this. Perhaps; but there’s a chance my venerable friend is mistaken, and -against that contingency I wish to be on my guard. You see I take in my -hand this lasso, and this small cylindrical piece of wood, padded with -india-rubber at either end. Three of us, I presume, have revolvers; but -I hope we shall have no present use for them. You, Mr. Winslow, will go -first and enter the carriage; Kenrick and I will follow at ten or a -dozen paces, and you, Onslow, will bring up the rear. In your soldier’s -overcoat, and with your carpet-bag, it will be supposed you are merely -going out to pass the night at the armory.” - -While this conversation was going on, Peek had dismounted from the -driver’s seat. He had taken the precaution to cover both the horses and -the carriage with oil-cloth, apparently as a protection against the -rain, but really to prevent an identification. No sooner had his feet -touched the side-walk, than a man carrying a bludgeon stepped up to him -and said, “Whose turn-out have you here, darkey?” - -“Dis am massa’s turn-out, an’ nobody else’s, sure,” said Peek, -disguising his voice. - -“Well, who’s massa?” - -“Massa’s de owner ob dis carriage. Thar, yer’v got it. So dry up, ole -feller!” - -The inquirer tried to roll up the oil-cloth to get a sight of the panel. -Peek interposed, telling him to stand off. The man raised his bludgeon -and threatened to strike. Peek’s first impulse was to disarm him and -choke him into silence, but, fearing the least noise might bring other -officers to the spot, he prudently abstained. Just at this moment, -Winslow issued from the side door of the hotel, and was about to enter -the carriage, when the detective who had succeeded in rolling up the -covering of the panel till he could see the coat-of-arms, politely -stopped the old man, and begged permission to look at him closely by the -gaslight, remarking that he had orders from head-quarters to arrest a -certain suspected party. - -“Pooh! Everybody in New Orleans knows me,” said Winslow. - -“I can’t help that, sir,” said the detective, laying his hand on the old -man’s shoulder, “I must insist on your letting—” - -Before the speaker could finish his sentence, his arms were pinioned -from behind by a lasso, and he was jerked back so as to lose his -balance. But one articulation escaped from his lips, and that was half -smothered in his throat. “O’Gorman!” he cried, calling to one of his -companions; but before he could repeat the cry, a gag was inserted in -his mouth, and he was lifted into the carriage and there held with a -power that speedily taught him how useless was resistance. - -Kenrick made Peek and Onslow acquainted, and these two sprang on to the -driver’s seat. The rest of the party took their places inside. - -“Down! down!” cried Peek, thrusting Onslow down on his knees and -starting the horses. The next moment a pistol was discharged, and there -was the whiz of a bullet over their heads. But the horses had now found -out what was wanted of them, and they showed their blood by trotting at -a two-fifty speed along St. Charles Street. - -Peek was an accomplished driver. That very afternoon he had learnt where -the steam-tug lay, and had gone over the route in order to be sure of no -obstructions. He now at first took a direction away from the river to -deceive pursuit. Then winding through several obscure streets, he came -upon the avenue running parallel with the Levee, and proceeded for -nearly two miles till he drew near that part of the river where the -Artful Dodger, with steam all up, was moored against the extensive -embankment, from the top of which you can look down on the floor of the -Crescent City, lying several feet below the river’s level. - -The rain continued to pour furiously, each drop swelling to the size of -a big arrow-head before reaching the earth. It was not unusual to see -carriages driven at great speed through the streets during such an -elementary turmoil: else the policemen or soldiers would have tried to -stop Peek in his headlong career. Probably they had most of them got -under some shelter, and did not care to come out to expose themselves to -a drenching. On and on rolled the carriage. The rain seemed to drown all -noises, so that the occupants could not tell whether or no there was a -trampling of horses in pursuit. - -As the carriage passed on to a macadamized section of the road, “Tell -me,” said Onslow, “what happened after my father gave you the letter?” - -“I hardly had time to conceal it,” replied Peek, “when six of the -ruffians entered the room, and I was ordered out. I pleaded hard to -stay, but ’ was no use. The house was entirely surrounded by armed men, -ready to shoot down any one attempting to escape. Your father had -enjoined it upon me that I should leave him to die rather than myself -run the risk of not reaching you with his letter and his messages.” - -“_Did_ he?” cried Onslow. “Was he, then, more anxious that I should know -all, than that he himself should escape?” - -“He feared life more than death after what had happened,” said Peek. -“The six ruffians tried to get out of him words to implicate certain -supposed Union men in the neighborhood; but he would tell no secrets. He -obstinately resisted their orders and threats, and at last their leader, -in a rage, thrust his sword into the old man’s lungs. The wound did not -immediately kill; but the loss of blood seemed likely to make him faint. -Fearing he would balk them in their last revenge, the ruffians dragged -him out to a tree and hung him.” - -“Did you see it done?” - -“I saw him the moment after it was done. I had been trying to satisfy -myself that there was no life in your mother’s body; and it was not till -I heard the shouts of the crowd that I learnt what was going on below. I -ran out, but your father was already dead. He died, I learnt, without a -struggle, much to the disappointment of the Rebels.” - -“And my mother,” asked Onslow. “Was there any hope?” - -“None whatever, sir. She was undoubtedly dead.” - -“Peek, you have a claim upon me henceforth. At present I’ve but little -money with me, but what I have you must take.” - -“Not a penny, sir! You’ll need it more than I. Mr. Vance and Mr. Winslow -have supplied me with ten times as much as I shall require.” - -Onslow said no more. For the first time in his life he felt that a negro -could be a gentleman and his equal. - -“Peek,” said he, “you may refuse my money, but you must not refuse my -friendship and respect. Promise me you will seek me if I can ever aid -you. Nay, promise me you will visit me when you can.” - -“That I do cheerfully, sir. Here we are close by the steam-tug.” - -Peek pulled up the horses, and he and Onslow jumped to the ground. The -door was opened, and those inside got out. The detective, who was the -principal man of his order in New Orleans (Myers himself), and whose -mortification at being overreached by a non-professional person was -extreme, made a desperate effort to escape. Vance was ready for it. He -simply twisted the lasso till Myers cried out with pain and promised to -submit. Then pitching him on board the steam-tug, Vance left him under -the guard of Kenrick and the Captain. Winslow followed them on board; -and Vance, turning to Peek, said: “Now, Peek, drive for dear life, and -take back your horses. Our danger is almost over; but yours is just -beginning.” - -“Never fear for me, Mr. Vance. I could leave the horses and run, in case -of need. Do not forget the telegraph wires.” - -“Well thought of, Peek! Farewell!” - -They interchanged a quick, strong grasp of the hand, and Peek jumped on -the box and drove off. - -Vance saw a telegraph-pole close by, the wires of which communicated -with the forts on the river below. Climbing to the top of it, he took -from his pocket a knife, having a file on one of its blades, and in half -a minute severed the wire, then tied it by a string to the pole so that -the place of the disconnection might not be at once discovered. - -The next moment he cast off the hawser and leaped on board the tug. -Everything was in readiness. Captain Payson was in his glory. The pipes -began to snort steam, the engines to move, and the little tug staggered -off into the river. Hardly were they ten rods from the levee, however, -when a carriage drove up, and a man issued from it who cried: “Boat -ahoy! Stop that boat! Every man of you shall be hung if you don’t stop -that boat.” - -Captain Payson took up his speaking-trumpet, and replied: “Come and stop -it yourself, you blasted bawler!” - -“By order of the Confederate authorities I call on you to stop that -boat,” screamed the officer. - -“The Confederate authorities may go to hell!” returned old Payson. - -The retort of the officer was lost in the mingled uproar of winds and -waves. - -Confounded at the steam-tug’s defiance, the officer, O’Gorman by name, -stood for a minute gesticulating and calling out wildly, and then, -re-entering the carriage, told the driver to make his best speed to -Number 17 Diana Street. - -Let us precede him by a few minutes and look in upon the select company -there assembled. In a stately apartment some dozen of the principal -Confederate managers sat in conclave. Prominent among them were -Ratcliff, and by his side his lawyer, Semmes, an attenuated figure, -sharp-faced and eager-eyed. Complacent, but inwardly cursing the -Rebellion, sat Robson with his little puffed eyes twinkling through -gold-rimmed spectacles, and his fat cheeks indicating good cheer. It was -with difficulty he could repress the sarcasms that constantly rose to -his lips. Wigman and Sanderson were of the company; and the rest of the -members were nearly all earnest Secessionists and gentlemen of position. - -Ratcliff had communicated his grievances, and it had been decided to -send a messenger to bring Winslow before the conclave to answer certain -questions as to his disposition of the funds confided to him by the late -Mrs. Ratcliff. The messenger having returned once with the information -that Winslow was not at home, had been sent a second time with orders to -wait for him till ten o’clock. - -It had been also resolved to summon Charles Kenrick before the conclave, -and an officer had been sent to the hotel for that purpose. - -There was now a discussion as to Vance. Who knew him? No one intimately. -Several had a mere bowing acquaintance with him. Ratcliff could not -remember that he had ever seen him. Had Vance contributed to the cause? -Yes. He had paid a thousand dollars for the relief of the suffering at -the hospital. Did anybody know what he was worth? A cotton-broker -present knew of his making “thirty thousand dollars clean” in one -operation in the winter of 1858. Did he own any real estate in the city? -His name was not down in the published list of holders. If he owned any, -it was probably held under some other person’s name. Among tax-payers he -was rated at only fifty thousand dollars; but he might have an income -from property in other places, perhaps at the North, on which he ought -to pay his quota in this hour of common danger. It was decided to send -to see why Vance did not come; and a third officer was despatched to -find him. - -“Does any one know,” asked Semmes, “whether Captain Onslow has yet got -the news of this terrible disaster to his family in Texas?” - -“The intelligence has but just reached us at head-quarters,” replied Mr. -Ferrand, a wealthy Creole. “I hope it will not shake the Captain’s -loyalty to the good cause.” - -“Why should it?” inquired Ratcliff. - -“He must be a spooney to let it make any difference,” said Sanderson. - -“Some people are so weak and prejudiced!” replied Robson. “Tell them the -good of the institution requires that their whole family should be -disembowelled, and they can’t see it. Tell them that though their sister -was outraged, yet ’ was in the holy cause of slavery, and it doesn’t -satisfy ’em. Such sordid souls, incapable of grand sacrifices, are too -common.” - -“That’s a fact,” responded George Sanderson, who was getting thirsty, -and adhered to Robson as to the genius of good liquor. - -“Old Onslow deserved his fate,” said Mr. Curry, a fiery little man, -resembling Vice-President Stephens. - -“To be sure he deserved it!” returned Robson. “And so did that heretical -young girl, his daughter, deserve hers. Why, it’s asserted, on good -authority, that she had been heard to repeat Patrick Henry’s remark, -that slavery is inconsistent with the Christian religion!” - -Mr. Polk, who, being related to a bishop, thought it was incumbent on -him to rebuke extreme sentiments, here mildly remarked: “We do not make -war on young girls and women. I’m sorry our friends in Texas should -resort to such violent practices.” - -“Let us have no half-way measures!” exclaimed Robson. “We can’t check -feminine treason by sprinkling rose-water.” - -“The rankest Abolitionists are among the women,” interposed Ratcliff. - -“No doubt of it,” replied Robson. “Or if a woman isn’t an Abolitionist -herself, she may become the mother of one. An ounce of precaution is -worth a pound of cure.” - -“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Polk, “I base my support of slavery on evangelical -principles, and they teach me to look upon rape and murder as crimes.” - -“It will do very well for you and the bishops,” replied Robson, “to tell -the _hoi polloi_,—the people,—that slavery is evangelical; but here in -this snug little coterie, we mustn’t try to fool each other,—’ wouldn’t -be civil. We’ll take it for granted there are no greenhorns among us. We -can therefore afford to speak plainly. Slavery is based on the principle -that _might makes right_, and on no other.” - -“That’s the talk,” said Ratcliff. - -“That being the talk,” continued Robson, “let us face the music without -dodging. The object of this war is to make the slaveholding interest, -more than it has ever been before, the ruling interest of America; to -propagate, extend, and at the same time consolidate slavery; to take -away all governing power from the people and vest it in the hands of a -committee of slaveholders, who will regard the wealth and power of their -order as paramount to all other considerations and laws, human or -divine. I presume there’s nobody here who will deny this.” - -“Is it quite prudent to make such declarations?” asked Mr. Polk, in a -deprecatory tone. - -“Is there any one here, sir, you want to hoodwink?” returned Robson. - -“O no, no!” replied Mr. Polk. “I presume we are all qualified to -understand the esoteric meaning of the Rebellion.” - -“It is no longer esoteric,” said Robson. “The doctrine is openly -proclaimed. What says Spratt of South Carolina? What says Toombs? What -De Bow, Fitzhugh, Grayson, the Richmond papers, Trescott, Cobb? They are -openly in favor of an aristocracy, and against popular rights.” - -Before any reply was made, there was a knock at the door, and Ratcliff -was called out. In three minutes he returned, his face distorted with -anger and excitement. “Gentlemen,” said he, “we are the victims of an -infernal Yankee trick. I have reason to believe that Winslow, aided -perhaps by other suspected parties, has made his escape this very night -in a little steam-tug that has been lying for some days in the river, -ready for a start.” - -“Which way has it gone?” asked Semmes. - -“Down the river. Probably to Pass à l’Outre.” - -“Telegraph to the forts to intercept her,” said Semmes. - -“A good idea!” exclaimed Ratcliff. “I’d do it at once.” He joined -O’Gorman outside, and the next moment a carriage was heard rolling over -the pavements. - -“Gentlemen,” said Robson, “if we expect to see any of the parties we -have summoned here to-night, there is something so touching and amiable -in our credulity that I grieve to harshly dispel it. But let me say that -Mr. Kenrick would see us all in the profoundest depths before he would -put himself in our power or acknowledge our jurisdiction; Mr. Vance can -keep his own counsel and will not brook dictation, or I’m no judge of -physiognomy; Captain Onslow has a foolish sensitiveness which leads him -to resent murder and outrage when practised against his own family; and -as for old Winslow, he hasn’t lived seventy years not to know better -than to place himself within reach of a tiger’s claws. I think we may as -well adjourn, and muse over the mutability of human affairs.” - -Before Robson’s proposition was carried into effect, an errand-boy from -the telegraph-office brought Semmes this letter:— - - “The scoundrels have cut the telegraph wires, and we can’t communicate - with the forts. I leave here at once to engage a boat for the pursuit. - Shall go in her myself. You must do this one thing for me without - fail: Take up your abode at once, this very night, in my house, and - stay there till I come back. Use every possible precaution to prevent - another escape of that young person of whom I spoke to you. Do not let - her move a step out of doors without you or your agents know precisely - where she is. I shall hold you responsible for her security. I may not - be back for a day or two, in which case you must have my wife’s - interment properly attended to. - - “Yours, - RATCLIFF.” - -“I agree with Mr. Robson,” said Semmes, “that we may as well adjourn. -The telegraph wires are cut, and I should not wonder if all the summoned -parties were among the fugitives. Ratcliff pursues.” - -The select assemblage broke up, and above the curses, freely uttered, -rang the sardonic laugh of Robson. “Two to one that Ratcliff doesn’t -catch them!” said he; but no one took up the bet, though it should be -remembered, in defence of Wigman and Sanderson, that they were too busy -in the liquor-closet to heed the offer. - -“Ah! my pious friends,—still at it, I see!” exclaimed Robson, coming in -upon them. “You remind me of a French hymn I learnt in my youth: - - ‘Tous les méchants sont buveurs d’eau; - C’est bien prouvé par le déluge!’ - -Which, for Sanderson’s benefit, I will translate: - - ‘Who are the wicked? Why, water-drinkers! - The deluge proves it to all right thinkers.’” - -Leaving the trio over their cups, let us follow the enraged Ratcliff in -his adventures subsequent to his letter to Semmes. - -The Rebel was a boat armed with a one-hundred-pound rifled gun, and used -for occasional reconnoitring expeditions down the river. Ratcliff had no -difficulty in inducing the captain to put her on the chase; but an hour -was spent hunting up the engineer and getting ready. At last the Rebel -was started in pursuit. The rain had ceased, and the moon, bursting -occasionally from dark drifting clouds, shed a fitful light. Ratcliff -paced the deck, smoking cigars, and nursing his rage. - -It was nearly sunrise before they reached Forts Jackson and St. Philip, -thirty-three miles above the Balize. Nothing could yet be seen of the -steam-tug; but there was a telltale pillar of smoke in the distance. “We -shall have her!” said Ratcliff, exultingly. - -Following in the trail of the Rebel were numerous sea-gulls whom the -storm had driven up the river. The boat now entered that long canal-like -section where the great river flows between narrow banks, which, -including the swamps behind them, are each not more than two or three -hundred yards wide, running out into the Gulf of Mexico. Here and there -among the dead reeds and scattered willows a tall white crane might be -seen feeding. Over these narrow fringes of swampy land you could see the -dark-green waters of the Gulf just beginning to be incarnadined by the -rising sun. With the saltwater so near on either side that you could -shoot an arrow into it, you saw the river holding its way through the -same deep, unbroken channel, keeping unmixed its powerful body of fresh -water, except when hurricanes sweep the briny spray over these long -ribbons of land into the Mississippi. - -Vance had abandoned his original intention of trying the Pass à l’Outre. -Having learned from a pilot that the Brooklyn, carrying the Stars and -Stripes, was cruising off the Southwest Pass, he resolved to steer in -that direction. But when within five miles of the head of the Passes, -one of those capricious fogs, not uncommon on the river, came down, -shrouding the banks on either side. The Artful Dodger crept along at an -abated speed through the sticky vapor. Soon the throb of a steamer close -in the rear could be distinctly heard. The Artful had but one gun, and -that was a 5-inch rifled one; but it could be run out over her after -bulwarks. - -All at once the fog lifted, and the sun came out sharp and dazzling, -scattering the white banks of vapor. The Rebel might be seen not a third -of a mile off. A shot came from her as a signal to the Artful to heave -to. Vance ordered the Stars and Stripes to be run up, and the engines to -be reversed. The Rebel, as if astounded at the audacity of the act on -the part of her contemptible adversary, swayed a little in the current -so as to present a good part of her side. Vance saw his opportunity, -and, with the quickness of one accustomed to deadshots, decided on his -range. The next moment, and before the Rebel could recover herself, he -fired, the shock racking every joint in the little tug. - -The effect of the shot was speedily visible and audible in the issuing -of steam and in cries of suffering on board the Rebel. The boiler had -been hit, and she was helpless. Vance fired a second shot, but this time -over her, as a summons for surrender. The confederate flag at once -disappeared. The next moment a small boat, containing half a dozen -persons, put out from the Rebel as if they intended to gain the bank and -escape among the low willows and dead reeds of the marshy deposits. But -before this could be done, two cutters bearing United States flags, were -seen to issue from a diminutive bayou in the neighborhood, and intercept -the boat, which was taken in tow by the larger cutter. The Artful Dodger -then steamed up to the disabled Rebel and took possession. - -At the mouth of the Southwest Pass they met the Brooklyn. Vance went on -board, found in the Commodore an old acquaintance, and after recounting -the adventures of the last twelve hours, gave up the two steamers for -government use. It was then arranged that he and his companions should -take passage on board the store-ship Catawba, which was to sail for New -York within the hour; while all the persons captured on board the Rebel, -together with the detective carried off by Vance, should be detained as -prisoners and sent North in an armed steamer, to leave the next day. - -“There’s one man,” said Vance,—“his name is Ratcliff,—who will try by -all possible arts and pleadings to get away. Hold on to him, Commodore, -as you would to a detected incendiary. ’T is all the requital I ask for -my little present to Uncle Sam.” - -“He shall be safe in Fort Lafayette before the month is out,” replied -the Commodore. “I’ll take your word for it, Vance, that he isn’t to be -trusted.” - -“One word more, Commodore. My crew on board the little tug are all good -men and true. Old Skipper Payson, whom you see yonder, goes into this -fight, not for wages, but for love. He has but one fault!” - -“What’s that? Drinks, I suppose!” - -“No. He’s a terrible Abolitionist.” - -“So much the better! We shall all be Abolitionists before this war is -ended. ’T is the only way to end it.” - -“Good, my Commodore! Such sentiments from men in your position will do -as much as rifled cannon for the cause.” - -“More, Mr. Vance, more! And now duty calls me off. Your men, sir, shall -be provided for. Good by.” - -Vance and the Commodore shook hands and parted. Vance was rowed back to -the Artful Dodger. On his way, looking through his opera-glass, he could -see Ratcliff in the cutter, gnawing his rage, and looking the -incarnation of chagrin. - -The Catawba was making her toilet ready for a start. She lay at a short -distance from the Artful. Vance, Winslow, Kenrick, and Onslow went on -board, where the orders of the Commodore had secured for them excellent -accommodations. Before noon a northeasterly breeze had sprung up, and -they took their leave of the mouths of the Mississippi. - -Ratcliff no sooner touched the deck of the Brooklyn, than, conquering -with an effort his haughtiness, he took off his hat, and, approaching -the Commodore, asked for an interview. - -The Commodore was an old weather-beaten sailor, not far from his -threescore and ten years. He kept no “circumlocution office” on board -his ship, and as he valued his time, he could not tolerate any tortuous -delays in coming to the point. - -“Commodore,” said Ratcliff, “’t is important I should have a few words -with you immediately.” - -“Well, sir, be quick about it.” - -“Commodore, I have long known you by reputation as a man of honor. I -have often heard Commodore Tatnall—” - -“The damned old traitor! Well sir?” - -“I beg pardon; I supposed you and Tatnall were intimate.” - -“So we were! Loved him once as my own brother. He and I and Percival -have had many a jolly time together. But now, damn him! The man who -could trample on the old flag that had protected and honored and -enriched him all his life is no better than a beast. So damn him! Don’t -let me hear his name again.” - -“I beg pardon, Commodore. As I was saying, we know you to be a -gentleman—” - -“Stop! I’m an officer in the United States service. That’s the only -capacity I shall allow you to address me in. Your salvy compliments make -me sick. What do you want?” - -“It’s necessary I should return at once to New Orleans.” - -“Indeed! How do you propose to get there?” - -“When you hear my story, you’ll give me the facilities.” - -“Don’t flatter yourself. I shall do no such thing.” - -“But, Commodore, I came out in pursuit of an unfaithful agent, who was -running off with my property.” - -“Hark you, sir, when you speak in those terms of Simon Winslow, you lie, -and deserve the cat.” - -Ratcliff grew purple in the struggle to suppress an outburst of wrath. -But, after nearly a minute of silence, he said: “Commodore, my wife died -only a few hours ago. Her unburied remains lie in my house. Surely -you’ll let me return to attend her funeral. You’ll not be so cruel as to -refuse me.” - -“Pah! Does your dead wife need your care any more than my live wife -needs mine? ’T is your infernal treason keeps me here. Can you count the -broken hearts and ruined constitutions you have already made,—the -thousands you have sent to untimely graves,—in this attempt to carry out -your beastly nigger-breeding, slavery-spreading speculation? And now you -presume to whine because I’ll not let you slip back to hatch more -treason, under the pretence that you want to go to a funeral! As if you -hadn’t made funerals enough already in the land! Curse your impudence, -sir! Be thankful I don’t string you up to the yard-arm. Here, Mr. -Buttons, see that this fellow is placed among the prisoners and strictly -guarded. I hold you responsible for him, sir!” - -The Commodore turned on his heel and left Ratcliff panting with an -intolerable fury that he dared not vent. Big drops of perspiration came -out on his face. The Midshipman, playfully addressed as Mr. Buttons, was -a very stern-looking gentleman, of the name of Adams, who wore on his -coat a very conspicuous row of buttons, and whose fourteenth birthday -had been celebrated one week before. Motioning to Ratcliff, and frowning -imperiously, he stamped his foot and exclaimed, “Follow me!” The -slave-lord, with an internal half-smothered groan of rage and despair, -saw that there was no help, and obeyed. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI. - THE OCCUPANT OF THE WHITE HOUSE. - - “They forbore to break the chain - Which bound the dusky tribe, - Checked by the owner’s fierce disdain, - Lured by ‘Union’ as the bribe. - Destiny sat by and said, - ‘Pang for pang your seed shall pay; - Hide in false peace your coward head,— - I bring round the harvest-day.’” - _R. W. Emerson._ - - -In one of the smaller parlors of the White House in Washington sat two -men of rather marked appearance. One of them sat leaning back in his -tipped chair, with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, and his -right ancle resting on his left knee. His figure, though now flaccid and -relaxed, would evidently be a tall one if pulled out like the sliding -joints of a spy-glass; but gaunt, lean, and ungainly, with harsh angles -and stooping shoulders. He was dressed in a suit of black, with a black -satin vest, and round his neck a black silk kerchief tied carelessly in -a knot, and passing under a shirt-collar turned down and revealing a -neck brawny, sinewy, and tanned. - -The face that belonged to this figure was in keeping with it, and yet -attractive from a certain charm of expression. Nose prominent and -assertive; cheek-bones rather obtrusive, and under them the flesh sallow -and browned, though partially covered by thick bristling black whiskers; -eyes dark and deeply set; mouth and lips large; and crowning all these -features a shock of stiff profuse black hair carelessly put aside from -his irregularly developed forehead, as if by no other comb than that -which he could make of his long lank fingers. - -This man was not only the foremost citizen of the Republic, officially -considered, but he had a reputation, exaggerated beyond his deserts, for -homeliness. By the Rebel press he was frequently spoken of as “the ape” -or the “gorilla.” From the rowdy George Sanderson to the stiff, if not -stately Jefferson Davis (himself far from being an Adonis), the -pro-slavery champions took a harmless satisfaction, in their public -addresses, in alluding, in some contemptuous epithet, to the man’s -personal shortcomings. So far from being disturbed, the object of all -these revilings would himself sometimes playfully refer to his personal -attractions, unconscious how much there was in that face to redeem it -from being truly characterized either as ugly or commonplace. - -As he sat now, with eyes bent on vacancy, and his mind revolving the -arguments or facts which had been presented by his visitor, his -countenance assumed an expression which was pathetic in its indication -of sincere and patient effort to grasp the truth and see clearly the way -before him. The expression redeemed the whole countenance, for it was -almost tender in its anxious yet resigned thoughtfulness; in its -profound sense of the enormous and unparalleled responsibilities resting -on that one brain, perplexing it in the extreme. - -The other party to the interview was a man whose personal appearance was -in marked contrast. Although he had numbered in his life nearly as many -years as the President, he looked some ten years younger. His figure was -strikingly handsome, compact, and graceful; and his clothes were nicely -adapted to it, both in color and cut. Every feature of his face was -finely outlined and proportioned; and the whole expression indicated at -once refinement and energy, habits of intellectual culture and of robust -physical exercise and endurance. This man was he who has passed so long -in this story under the adopted name of Vance. - -There had been silence between the two for nearly a minute. Suddenly the -President turned his mild dark eyes on his visitor, and said: “Well, -sir, what would you have me do?” - -“I would have you lead public opinion, Mr. President, instead of waiting -for public opinion to lead you.” - -“Make this allowance for me, Mr. Vance: I have many conflicting -interests to reconcile; many conflicting facts and assertions to sift -and weigh. Remember I am bound to listen, not merely to the men of New -England, but to those of Kentucky, Maryland, and Eastern Tennessee.” - -“Mr. President, you are bound to listen to no man who is not ready to -say, Down with slavery if it stands in the way of the Republic! You -should at once infuse into every branch of the public service this -determination to tear up the bitter root of all our woes. Why not give -me the necessary authority to raise a black regiment?” - -“Impossible! The public are not ripe for any such extreme measure.” - -“There it is! You mean that the public shall be the responsible -President instead of Abraham Lincoln. O, sir, knowing you are on the -side of right, have faith in your own power to mould and quicken public -opinion. When last August in Missouri, Fremont declared the slaves of -Rebels free, one word of approval from you would have won the assent of -every loyal man. But, instead of believing in the inherent force of a -great idea to work its own way, you were biased by the semi-loyal men -who were lobbying for slavery, and you countermanded the righteous -order, thus throwing us back a whole year. Do I give offence?” - -“No, sir, speak your mind freely. I love sincerity.” - -“We know very well, Mr. President, that you will do what is right -eventually. But O, why not do it at once, and forestall the issue? We -know that you will one of these days remove Buell and other generals, -the singleness of whose devotion to the Union as against slavery is at -least questionable. We know that you will put an end to the atrocious -pro-slavery favoritism of many of our officers. We know you will issue a -proclamation of emancipation.” - -“I think not, Mr. Vance.” - -“Pardon me, you will do it before next October. You will do it because -the pressure of an advanced public opinion will force you to do it, and -because God Almighty will interpose checks and defeats to our arms in -order that we of the North may, in the fermentation of ideas, throw off -this foul scum, redolent of the bottomless pit, which apathy or sympathy -in regard to slavery engenders. Yes, you will give us an emancipation -proclamation, and then you will give us permission to raise black -regiments, and then, after being pricked, and urged, and pricked again, -by public opinion, you will offset the Rebel threats of massacre by -issuing a war bulletin declaring that the United States will protect her -fighting men of whatever color, and that there must be life for life for -every black soldier killed in violation of the laws of war.” - -“But are you a prophet, Mr. Vance?” - -“It requires no gift of prophecy, Mr. President, to foretell these -things. It needs but full faith in the operation of Divine laws to -anticipate all that I have prefigured. You refuse now to let me raise a -black regiment. In less than ten months you will give me a _carte -blanche_ to enlist as many negroes as I can for the war.” - -“Perhaps,—but I don’t see my way clear to do it yet.” - -“A great man,” said Vance, “ought to lead and fashion public opinion in -stupendous emergencies like this,—ought to throw himself boldly on some -great principle having its root in eternal justice,—ought to grapple it, -cling to it, stake everything upon it, and make everything give way to -it.” - -“But I am not a great man, Mr. Vance,” said the President, with -unaffected _naïveté_. - -“I believe your intentions are good and great, Mr. President,” was the -reply; “for what you supremely desire is, to do your duty.” - -“Yes, I claim that much. Thank you.” - -“Well, your duty is to take the most energetic measures for conquering a -peace. Under the Constitution, the war power is committed to your hands. -That power is not defined by the Constitution, for it is -imprescriptible; regulated by international usage. That usage authorizes -you to free the slaves of an enemy. Why not do it?” - -“Would not a proclamation of emancipation from Abraham Lincoln be much -like the Pope’s bull against the comet?” - -“There is this difference: in the latter case, the fulmination is -against what we have no reason to suppose is an evil; in the former -case, you would attack with moral weapons what you know to be a wrong -and an injustice immediately under your eyes and within your reach. If -it could be proved that the comet is an evil, the Pope’s bull would not -seem to me an absurdity; for I have faith in the operation of ideas, and -in the triumph of truth and good _throughout the universe_. But the -emancipation proclamation would not be futile; for it would give body -and impulse to an _idea_, and that idea one friendly to right and to -progress.” - -The President rose, and, walking to the window, drummed a moment with -his fingers abstractedly on the glass, then, returning to his chair, -reseated himself and said: “As Chief Magistrate of the Republic, my -first duty is to save it. If I can best do that by tolerating slavery, -slavery shall be tolerated. If I can best do it by abolishing slavery, -you may be sure I will try to abolish it. But I mustn’t be biased by my -feelings or my sentiments.” - -“Why not?” asked Vance. “Do not all great moral truths originate in the -feelings and the sentiments? The heart’s policy is often the safest. Is -not cruelty wrong because the heart proclaims it? Is not despotism to be -opposed because the heart detests it?” - -“Mr. Vance, you eager philanthropists little know how hard it often is -for less impulsive and more conservative men to withstand the urgency of -those feelings that you give way to at once. But you have read history -to little purpose if you do not know that the best cause may be -jeoparded by the premature and too radical movements of its friends. I -have been blamed for listening to the counsels of Kentucky politicians -and Missouri conservatives; and yet if we had not held back Kentucky -from the secession madness, she might have contributed the straw that -would have broken the camel’s back.” - -“O Kentucky!” exclaimed Vance, “I know thy works, that thou art neither -cold nor hot. I would thou wert cold or hot. So then, because thou art -lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth! -Mr. President, the ruling powers in Kentucky would hand her over bound -to Jeff Davis to-morrow, _if they dared_; but they dare not do it. In -the first place, they fear Uncle Sam and his gunboats; in the next -place, they fear Kentuckians, of whom, thank God! there are enough who -do not believe in slavery; and, lastly, they fear the nineteenth century -and the spirit of the age. Better take counsel from the Rhetts and -Spratts of South Carolina than from the selfish politicians of Kentucky! -They will moor you to the platform of a false conservatism till the -golden opportunity slips by, and new thousands must be slaughtered -before it can be recovered.” - -“Well, what would be your programme?” - -“This, Mr. President: accept it as a foregone conclusion that slavery -_must_ be exterminated; and then bend all your energies on accelerating -its extermination. We sometimes hear it said, ‘What! do you expect such -a vast system—so interwoven with the institutions of the South—to be -uprooted and overthrown all at once?’ To which I reply, ‘Yes! _The price -paid has been already proportionate to the magnitude of the overthrow._’ -Before the war is over, upwards of a million of men will have lost their -lives in order that Slavery might try its experiment of establishing an -independent slave empire. A million of men! And there are not four -millions of slaves in the country! We will not take into account the -treasure expended,—the lands desolated,—the taxes heaped upon the -people,—the ruin and anguish inflicted. It strikes me the price we have -paid is big enough to offset the vastness of the social change. And, -after all, it is not such a formidable job when you consider that there -are not forty thousand men in the whole country who severally own as -many as ten slaves. Why, in a single campaign we lose more soldiers than -there are slaveholders having any considerable stake in the institution. -Experience has proved that there could be universal emancipation -to-morrow without bad results to either master or slave,—with advantage, -on the contrary, to both.”[36] - -“Well, Mr. Vance, we will suppose the Mississippi opened; New Orleans, -Mobile, Charleston, and Richmond captured,—the Rebellion on its last -legs;—what then?” - -“With the capture of New Orleans and Vicksburg, and the opening of the -Mississippi, you have Secessia on the hip, and her utter subjugation is -merely a question of time. When she cries _peccavi_, and offers to give -in, I would say to the people of the Rebel States: ‘_First_, Slavery, -the cause of this war, must be surrendered, to be disposed of at the -discretion of the victors. _Secondly_, you must so modify your -constitutions that Slavery can never be re-established among you. -_Thirdly_, every anti-republican feature in your State governments must -be abandoned. _Fourthly_, every loyal man must be restored to the -property and the rights you may have robbed him of. _Fifthly_, no man -offensively implicated in the Rebellion must represent any State in -Congress. _Sixthly_, no man must be taxed against his will for any debt -incurred through rebellion against the United States. Under these easy -and honorable terms, I would readmit the seceded States to the Union; -and if these terms are refused, I would occupy and hold the States as -conquered territory.” - -“And could we reconcile such a course with a due regard to law?” - -“Surely yes; for the people in rebellion are at once subjects and -belligerents. They are public enemies, and as such are entitled only to -such privileges as we may choose to concede. They are subjects, and as -such must fulfil their obligations to the Republic.” - -“But you say nothing of confiscation, Mr. Vance.” - -“I would be as generous as possible in this respect, Mr. President. -Loyal men who have been robbed by the secession fury must of course be -reimbursed, and the families of those who have been hung for their -loyalty must be provided for. I see no fairer way of doing this than by -making the robbers give up their plunder, and by compelling the -murderers to contribute to the wants of those they have orphaned. But -beyond this I would be governed by circumstances as they might develop -themselves. I would practice all the clemency and forbearance consistent -with justice. Those landholders who should lend themselves fairly and -earnestly to the work of substituting a system of paid labor for slavery -should be entitled to the most generous consideration and encouragement, -whatever their antecedents might have been. I would do nothing for -vengeance and humiliation; everything for the benefit of the Southern -people themselves and their posterity. Questions of indemnification -should not stand in the way of a restored Union.” - -“Undoubtedly, Mr. Vance, the interests of the masses, North and South, -are identical.” - -“That is true, Mr. President, but it is what the Rebel leaders try to -conceal from their dupes. The most damnable effect of slavery has been -the engendering at the South of that large class of mean whites, proud, -ignorant, lazy, squalid, and brutally degraded, who yet feel that they -are a sort of aristocracy because they are not niggers. Having produced -this class, Slavery now sees it must rob them of all political rights. -Hence the avowed plan of the Secession leaders to have either a close -oligarchical or a monarchical government. The thick skulls of these mean -whites (or if not of them, of their children) we must reach by help of -the schoolmaster, and let them see that their interests lie in the -elevation of labor and in opposition to the theories of the shallow -_dilettanti_ of the South, who, claiming to be great political thinkers -and philosophers, maintain that capital ought to own labor, and that -there must be a hereditary servile race, if not black, then white, in -whom all mental aspiration and development shall be discouraged and kept -down, in order that they may be content to be hewers of wood and drawers -of water. As if God’s world-process were kept up in order that a few -Epicurean gentlemen may have a good time of it, and send their sons to -Paris to eat sumptuous dinners and attend model-artist entertainments, -while thousands are toiling to supply the means for their base -pleasures. As if a Frederick Douglas must be brutified into a slave in -order that a Slidell may give Sybarite banquets and drive his neat span -through the Champs Elysées!” - -“What should we do with the blacks after we had freed them?” - -“Let them alone! Let them do for themselves. The difficulties in the way -are all those of the imagination.” - -“I like the moderation of your views as to confiscation.” - -“When the mass of the people at the South,” continued Vance, “come to -see, as they will eventually, that we have been fighting the great -battle of humanity and of freedom, for the South even more than for the -North, for the white man even more than for the black, there will be -such a reaction as will obliterate every trace of rancor that -internecine war has begotten. But I have talked too much. I have -occupied too much of your time.” - -“O no! I delight to meet with men who come to me, thinking how they may -benefit, not themselves, but their country. The steam-tugs you gave us -off the mouths of the Mississippi we would gladly have paid thirty -thousand dollars for. I wish I could meet your views in regard to the -enlistment of black troops; but—but—that pear isn’t yet ripe. Failing -that, you shall have any place you want in the Butler and Farragut -expedition against New Orleans. As for your young friends,—what did you -say their names are?” - -“Robert Onslow and Charles Kenrick.” - -“O yes! Onslow, you say, has been a captain in the Rebel service. Both -the young men shall be honorably placed where they can distinguish -themselves. I’ll speak to Stanton about them this very day. Let me make -a note of it.” - -The President drew from his pocket a memorandum-book and hastily wrote a -line or two. Vance rose to take his leave. - -“Mr. President,” said he, “I thank you for this interview. But there’s -one thing in which you’ve disappointed me.” - -“Ah! you think me rather a slow coach, eh?” - -“Yes; but that wasn’t what I alluded to.” - -“What then?” - -“From what I’ve read about you in the newspapers, I expected to have to -hear one of your stories.” - -A smile full of sweetness and _bonhommie_ broke over the President’s -care-worn face as he replied: “Really! Is it possible? Have you been -here all this time without my telling you a story? Sit down, Mr. Vance, -and let me make up for my remissness.” - -Vance resumed his seat. - -The President ran his fingers through his long, carelessly disposed -hair, pushing it aside from his forehead, and said: “Once on a time the -king of beasts, the lion, took it into his head he would travel into -foreign parts. But before leaving his kingdom he installed an old ’coon -as viceroy. The lion was absent just four months to a day; and on his -return he called all the principal beasts to hear their reports as to -the way in which affairs had been managed in his absence. Said the fox, -‘You left an old imbecile to rule us, sire. No sooner were you gone than -a rebellion broke out, and he appointed for our leader a low-born mule, -whose cardinal maxim in military matters was to put off till to-morrow -whatever could be just as well done to-day; whose policy was a masterly -inactivity instead of a straightforward movement on the enemy’s works.’ -Said the sheep, ‘The ’coon could have had peace if he had listened to me -and others who wanted to draw it mild and to compromise. Such a -bloodthirsty wretch as the ’coon ought to be expelled from civilized -society.’ Said the horse, ‘He is too slow.’ Said the ox, ‘He is too -fast.’ Said the jackass, ‘He doesn’t know how to bray; he can’t utter an -inspiring note.’ Said the pig, ‘He is too full of his jokes and -stories.’ Said the magpie, ‘He is a liar and a thief.’ Said the owl, ‘He -is no diplomatist.’ Said the tiger, ‘He is too conservative.’ Said the -beaver, ‘He is too radical.’ ‘Stop!’ roared the king,—‘shut up, every -beast of you!’ At once there was silence in the assembly. Then, turning -to his viceroy, the lion said, ‘Old ’coon, I wish no better proof that -you have been faithful than all this abuse from opposite parties. You -have done so well, that you shall be reinstalled for another term of -four months!’” - -“And what did the old ’coon say to that?” asked Vance. - -“The old ’coon begged to be excused, protesting that he had experienced -quite enough of the charms of office.” - -The President held out his hand. Vance pressed it with a respectful -cordiality, and withdrew from the White House. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII. - COMPARING NOTES. - - “But thou art fled,... - Like some frail exhalation which the dawn - Robes in its golden beams,—ah! thou hast fled; - The brave, the gentle, and the beautiful, - The child of grace and genius!” - _Shelley._ - - -Not many weeks after the conversation (not altogether imaginary) at the -White House, a young man in the uniform of a captain lay on the sofa in -a room at Willard’s Hotel in Washington. He lay reading a newspaper, but -the paleness of his face showed that he had been suffering either from -illness or a serious wound. This young man was Onslow. In a cavalry -skirmish at Winchester, in which the Rebels had been handsomely routed, -he had been shot through the lungs, the ball coming out at his back. -There was one chance in a thousand that the direction taken by the ball -would be such that the wound should not prove fatal; and this thousandth -chance happened in his favor. Thanks to a naturally vigorous -constitution, he was rapidly convalescing. He began to be impatient once -more for action. - -There was a knock at the door, and Vance entered. - -“How is our cavalry captain to-day?” he asked cheerily. - -“Better and better, my dear Mr. Vance.” - -“Let me feel of his pulse. Excellent! Firm, regular! Appetite?” - -“Improving daily. He ate two boiled eggs and a lamb chop for breakfast, -not to speak of a slice of aerated bread.” - -“Come now,—that will do. He will be ready soon for a bullet through his -other lung. But he must not get restless. There’s plenty of fighting in -store for him.” - -“Mr. Vance, I’ve been pondering the strange story of your life; your -interview with my father on board the Pontiac; the loss of the Berwicks; -the supposed loss of their child; the developments by which you were led -to suspect that the child was kidnapped; Peek’s unavailing search for -the rascal Hyde; the interview with Quattles, confirming your suspicion -of foul play; and finally your interview last week in New York with the -mulatto woman, Hattie Davy. Let me ask if Hattie thinks she could still -identify the lost child.” - -“Yes, by certain marks on her person. She at once recognized the little -sleeve-button I got from Quattles.” - -“Please let me look at it.” - -Vance took from his pocket a small circular box which he unscrewed, and -there, in the centre of a circle of hair, lay the button. He handed the -box to the wounded soldier. At this moment Kenrick entered the room. - -“Ha, Lieutenant! What’s the news?” exclaimed Vance. - -“Ask any one but me,” returned Kenrick. “Have I not been all the morning -trying guns at the navy-yard? What have you there, Robert! A lock of -hair? Ah! I have seen that hair before.” - -“Impossible!” said Vance. - -“Not at all!” replied Kenrick. “The color is too peculiar to be -confounded. Miss Perdita Brown wore a bracelet of that hair the last -evening we met her at the St. Charles.” - -“Again I say, impossible,” quoth Vance. “Something like it perhaps, but -not this. How could she have come by it?” - -“Cousin,” replied Kenrick, “I’m quick to detect slight differences of -color, and in this case I’m sure.” - -Suddenly the Lieutenant noticed the little sleeve-button in Onslow’s -hand, and, while the blood mounted to his forehead, turning to him said, -“How did you come by _this_, Robert?” - -“Why do you ask with so much interest?” inquired Vance. - -“Because that same button I’ve seen worn by Perdita.” - -“Now I know you’re raving,” said Vance; “for, till now, it hasn’t been -out of my pocket since Quattles gave it me.” - -“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed Kenrick, “that this is the jewel of -which you told me; that which belonged to the lost infant of the -Pontiac?” - -“Yes; her nurse identifies it. Undoubtedly it is one of a pair worn by -poor little Clara.” - -“Then,” said Kenrick, with the emphasis of sudden conviction, “Clara and -Perdita are one and the same!” - -Startling as a severe blow was this declaration to Vance. It forced upon -his consideration a possibility so new, so strange, so distressing, that -he felt crushed by the thought that there was even a chance of its -truth. Such an opportunity, thrust, as it were, by Fate under his eyes, -had it been allowed to escape him? His emotions were those of a blind -man, who being suddenly restored to sight, learns that he has passed by -a treasure which another has picked up. He paced the room. He struck his -arms out wildly. He pushed up the sleeves of his coat with an objectless -energy, and then pulled them down. - -“O blind mole!” he groaned, “too intent on thy own little burrow to see -the stars out-shining! O beast with blinders! looking neither on the -right nor on the left, but only straight before thy nose!” - -And then, as if ashamed of his ranting, he sat down and said: “How -strange that this possibility should never have occurred to me! I saw -there was a mystery in the poor girl’s fate, and I tried to make her -disclose it. Had I only seen her that last day I called, I should have -extorted her confidence. Once or twice during our interviews she seemed -on the point of telling me something. Then she would check herself, as -if from some prompting of delicacy or of caution. To think that I should -have been so inconsiderate! To think, too, that I should have been duped -by that heartless lay-figure for dressmakers and milliners, Miss -Tremaine! Yes! I almost dread to look further lest I should be convinced -that Charles is right, and that Clara Berwick and Perdita Brown are one -and the same person. If so, the poor girl we all so admired is a slave!” - -“A slave!” gasped Kenrick, struck to the heart by the cruel word, and -turning pale. - -“I’d like to see the man who’d venture to style himself her master in my -presence!” cried Onslow, forgetting his wound, and half rising from the -sofa. - -“Soft!” said Vance. “We may be too hasty in our conclusion. There may be -sleeve-buttons by the gross, precisely of this pattern, in the shops.” - -“No!” replied Kenrick. “Coral of that color is what you do not often -meet with. Such a delicate flesh tint is unusual. You cannot convince me -that the mate of this button is not the one worn by the young lady we -knew as Perdita. Perhaps, too, it is marked like the other pair. If so, -it ought to have on it the letters—” - -“What letters?” exclaimed Vance, fiercely, arresting Kenrick’s hand so -he could not examine the button. - -“The letters C. A. B.,” replied Kenrick. - -“Good heavens, yes!” ejaculated Vance, releasing him, and sinking into -an arm-chair. And then, after several seconds of profound sighing, he -drew forth from his pocket-book an envelope, and said: “This contains -the testimony of Hattie Davy in regard to certain personal marks that -would go far to prove identity. One of these marks I distinctly remember -as striking my attention in Clara, the child, and yet I never noticed it -in the person we knew as Perdita. Could I have failed to remark it, had -it existed?” - -“Why not?” answered Kenrick. “Your thoughts are too intent on public -business for you to apply them very closely to an examination of the -personal graces or defects of any young woman, however charming.” - -“Tell me, Captain,” said Vance to Onslow, “did you ever notice in -Perdita any physical peculiarity, in which she differed from most other -persons?” - -“I merely noticed she was peculiarly beautiful,” replied Onslow; “that -she wore her own fine, rich, profuse hair exclusively, instead of -borrowing tresses from the wig-maker, as nine tenths of our young ladies -do now-a-days; that her features were not only handsome in themselves by -those laws which a sculptor would acknowledge, but lovely from the -expression that made them luminous; that her form was the most -symmetrical; her—” - -“Enough, Captain!” interrupted Vance. “I see you did not detect the -peculiarity to which I allude. Now tell me, cousin, how was it with -_you_? Were you more penetrating?” - -“I think I know to what you refer,” replied Kenrick. “Her eyes were of -different colors; one a rich dark blue, the other gray.” - -“Fate! yes!” exclaimed Vance, dashing one hand against the other. “Can -you tell me which was blue?” - -“Yes, the left was blue.” - -Vance took from the envelope a paper, and unfolding it pointed to these -lines which Onslow and Kenrick perused together:— - - _Vance._ “You tell me one of her eyes was dark blue, the other dark - gray. Can you tell me which was blue?” - - _Hattie._ “Yes; for I remember a talk about it between the father and - the mother. The father had blue eyes, the mother gray. The mother - playfully boasted that the eye of _her_ color was the child’s _right_ - eye; to which the father replied, ‘But the _left_ is nearest the - heart.’ And so, sir, remembering that conversation, I can swear - positively that the child’s left eye was the blue one.” - -“Rather a striking concurrence of testimony!” said Onslow. “I wonder I -should never have detected the oddity.” - -“Let me remark,” replied Kenrick, “that it required a near observation -to note the difference in the hue of the eyes. Three feet off you would -hardly discriminate. The depth of shade is nearly equal in both. You -might be acquainted with Perdita a twelvemonth and never heed the -peculiarity. So do not, cousin, take blame to yourself for inattention.” - -“Do you remember, Charles,” said Vance, “our visit to the hospital the -day after our landing in New York?” - -“Yes, I shall never forget the scene,” replied Kenrick. - -“Do you remember,” continued Vance, “among the nurses quite a young -girl, who, while carrying a salver of food to a wounded soldier, was -asked by you if you should not relieve her of the burden?” - -“Yes; and her reply was, ‘Where are your shoulder-straps?’ And she eyed -me from head to foot with provoking coolness. ‘I’m on my way to -Washington for them,’ answered I. ‘Then you may take the salver,’ said -the little woman, graciously thrusting it into my hands.” - -“Well, Charles, when I was in New York last week, I saw that same little -woman again, and found out who she is. How strangely, in this -kaleidoscope of events which we call the world, we are brought in -conjunction with those persons between whose fate and our own Chance or -Providence seems to tender a significance which it would have us heed -and solve! This girl was a Miss Charlton, the daughter of that same -Ralph Charlton who holds the immense estate that rightfully belongs to -our lost Clara.” - -“Would he be disposed to surrender it?” asked Onslow. - -“Probably not. I took pains while in New York to make inquiries. I -learnt that his domestic _status_ is far from enviable. He himself, -could he follow his heart’s proclivities, would be a miser. Then he -could be happy and contented—in his way. But this his wife will not -allow. She forces him by the power of a superior will into expenses at -which his heart revolts, although they do not absorb a fifth part of his -income. The daughter shrinks from him with an innate aversion which she -cannot overcome. And so, unloving and unloved, he finds in his own base -avarice the instrument that scourges him and keeps him wretched.” - -“I should not feel much compunction in compelling such a man to unclutch -his riches,” remarked Onslow. - -“It will be very difficult to do that, I fear,” said Vance, “even -supposing we can find and identify the true heir.” - -“We must find her, cost what it may!” cried Kenrick. “Cousin, take me to -New Orleans with you.” - -“No, Charles. You are wanted here on the Potomac. Your reputation in -gunnery is already high. The country needs more officers of your stamp. -You cannot be spared. The Captain here can go with me to the Gulf. He is -wounded and entitled to a furlough. A trip to New Orleans by sea will do -him good.” - -With a look of grave disappointment Kenrick took up a newspaper and kept -his face concealed by it for a moment. Then putting it down, and turning -to Vance, he said, with a sweet sincerity in his tone: “Cousin, where my -wishes are so strongly enlisted, you can judge better than I of my duty. -I yield to your judgment, and, if you persist in it, will make no effort -to get from government the permission I covet.” - -“Truly I think your place is here,” said Vance. - -A servant entered with a letter. It was for Vance. He opened it, and -finding it was from Peek, read as follows:— - - “NEW ORLEANS, February, 1862. - - ”DEAR MR. VANCE: On leaving you at the Levee I drove straight for the - stable where my horses belonged. I passed the night with my friend - Antoine, the coachman. The next day I went to your house, where I have - stayed with those kind people, the Bernards, ever since. - - “Please inform Mr. Winslow I duly attended to his commissions. What - will seem strange to you is the fact that in attending to his affairs - I am attending to yours. Two days after your departure the newspapers - contained flaming accounts of the treacherous seizure of the Artful - Dodger by Messrs. Vance, Winslow, & Co.,—their pursuit by the Rebel, - the encounter, the Rebel’s discomfiture, the ‘abduction’ of Mr. - Ratcliff, the funeral of his poor wife, etc. Seeing that Mr. Ratcliff - was absent, I thought the opportunity favorable for me to call at his - house on the quadroon lady, Madame Volney, to whom Mr. Winslow had - commended me. I went and found in the servant who opened the door an - old acquaintance, Esha, whom years ago you sought for in vain. She was - here keeping watch over a white slave. - - “And who is the white slave? you will ask. Ah! there’s the mystery. - Who _is_ she indeed! In the first place, she is claimed by Ratcliff; - in the next, she and Madame Volney are the residuary legatees of the - late Mrs. Ratcliff; in the next, she is the young lady who has been - staying with Miss Tremaine at the St. Charles.” - -Here there was a cry of pain from Vance, so sharp and sudden that -Kenrick started forward to his relief. - -“What’s the matter? Is it bad news?” inquired Onslow. - -“I’ll finish reading the letter by myself,” replied Vance, taking his -departure without ceremony. - -Seated in his own apartment, he continued the reading:— - - “Do not think me fanciful, Mr. Vance, but the moment I set eyes on - this young woman the conviction struck me, She is the lost Clara for - whom we are seeking. The coincidence of age and the fact that I have - had the search of her on my mind, may fully explain the impression. - _May._ But you know I believe in the phenomena of Spiritualism. - _Belief_ is not the right word. _Knowledge_ would be nearer the truth. - - “There is here in New Orleans a young man named Bender who calls - himself a _medium_. He is a worthless fellow, and I have several times - caught him cheating. But he nevertheless gives me glimpses of - spiritual powers. There are some plain cases in which cheating is - impossible. For instance, if without throwing out any previous hint, - however remote, I think of twenty different persons in succession, my - knowledge of whom is a secret in my own brain, and if I say to a - medium, ‘Of what person am I thinking now?’ and if the medium - instantly, without hesitation or inquiry, gives me the right reply - twenty times in succession, I may reasonably conclude—may I not?—that - the power is what it appears to be, and that the medium gets his - knowledge through a faculty which, if not preternatural, is very rare, - and is denied as possible by science. Well, this test has been - fulfilled, not once only, but more than fifty different times.[37] - - “I got Madame Volney’s consent to bring Bender to the house. After he - had showed her his wonderful powers of thought-reading, we put the - hand of the white slave in his, and bade him tell us her name. He - wrote with great rapidity, _Clara Aylesford Berwick_. We asked her - father’s name. In a moment the medium’s limbs twitched and writhed, - his eyeballs rolled up so that their natural expression was lost, and - he extended his arm as if in pain. Then suddenly dropping the girl’s - hand he drew up the sleeve from his right arm, and there, in crimson - letters on the white skin were the words _Henry Berwick_.[38] - - “Now whether this is the right name or not I do not know. I presume - that it is; though it is rarely safe to trust a medium in such cases. - The child’s name I have heard you say was Clara Berwick. I have never - spoken or written it except to yourself. Still Bender may have got the - father’s name,—the surname at least,—from my mind. But if the name - _Henry_ is right, where did he get _that_? I am not aware of ever - having known the father’s name. The check he once gave you for me you - never showed me, but cashed it yourself. Still I shall not too - positively claim that the name was communicated preternaturally; for - experience has convinced me it may have been in my mind without my - knowing it. Every thought of our lives is probably photographed on our - brains, never to be obliterated. Let me study, then, to multiply my - good thoughts. But in whatever way Bender got the name, whether from - my mind or from a spirit, the fact is interesting and important in - either case. - - “The effect upon Clara (for so we now all call her) of this singular - event was such as to convince her instantaneously that the name was - right, and that she is the child of Henry Berwick. As soon as the - medium had gone, she asked me if I could not find out who Mr. Berwick - was. I then told her the story of the Pontiac, down to the recent - confession of Quattles, and my own search for Colonel Delancy Hyde. - All my little group of hearers—Madame Volney, Esha, and Clara—were - deeply interested, as you may suppose, in the narrative. Clara was - much moved when she learnt that the same Mr. Vance, whose acquaintance - she had made, was the one who had known the parents, and was now - seeking for their daughter. She has a serene conviction that she is - the identical child. When I read what you had written about different - colored eyes, she simply said, ‘Look, Peek!’ And there they were,—blue - and gray! - - “Mr. Ratcliff’s house is in the charge of his lawyer, Mr. Semmes, who - keeps a very strict eye over all outgoings and incomings. Esha has his - confidence, but he distrusts both Clara and Madame Volney. By - pretending that I am her half-brother, Esha enables me to come and go - unsuspected. The medium, Bender, was introduced as a chiropedist. - Clara never goes out without a driver and footman, who are agents and - spies of Semmes. It does not matter at present; for it would be - difficult in the existing state of affairs to remove Clara out of the - city without running great risk of detection and pursuit. I have - sometimes thought of putting her in a boat and rowing down the river - to Pass à l’Outre; but the hazard would be serious. - - “As it is important to collect all the proofs possible for Clara’s - identification, it was at first agreed among the women that Esha - should call, as if in the interests of Mr. Ratcliff, on Mrs. Gentry, - the teacher, and get from that lady all the facts, dates, and - memorials that may have a bearing on Clara’s history. But, on - reflection, I concluded it would be better to put the matter in the - hands of a lawyer who could take down in legal form, with the proper - attestation, all that Mrs. Gentry might have to communicate. Mr. - Winslow had given me a letter of introduction to Mr. Jasper, his - confidential adviser, and a loyal man. To him I went and explained - what I wanted. He at once gave the business his attention. With two - suitable witnesses he called on Mrs. Gentry and took down her - deposition. I had told him to procure, if possible, some articles of - dress that belonged to the child when first brought to the house. This - he succeeded in doing. A little undershirt and frock,—a child’s - petticoat and pocket-handkerchief,—were among the articles, and they - were all marked in white silk, C. A. B. Mrs. Gentry said that her own - oath as to the clothes could be confirmed by Esha’s. Esha was - accordingly sent for, and she came, and, being duly sworn, identified - the clothes as those the child had on when first left at the house; - which clothes Esha had washed, and the child had subsequently worn. - This testimony being duly recorded, the clothes were done up carefully - in a paper package, to which the seals of all the gentlemen present - were attached; and then the package was placed in a small leather - trunk which was locked. - - “I should mention one circumstance that adds fresh confirmation. In - telling Miss Clara what Quattles had confessed (the details of which - you give in that important letter you handed me) I alluded to the pair - of sleeve-buttons. ‘Was there any mark upon them?’ she asked. ‘Yes, - the initials C. A. B.’ She instantly drew forth from her bosom another - pair, the counterpart probably of that described in your letter, and - on one of the buttons were the same characters! Can we resist such - evidences? - - “Let me mention another extraordinary development. Madame Volney does - not scruple to resort to all the stratagems justifiable in war to get - information from the enemy. Mr. Semmes is an old fox, but not so - cunning as to guard against an inspection of his papers by means of - duplicate keys. In one of the drawers of the library he deposits his - letters. In looking them over the other day, Madame V. found one from - Mr. Semmes’s brother in New York, in which the fact is disclosed that - this house, hired by Mr. Ratcliff, belonged to Miss Clara’s father, - and ought, if the inheritance had not been fraudulently intercepted, - to be now her property! Said Miss Clara to me when she learnt the - fact, ‘Peek, if I am ever rich, you shall have a nice little cottage - overlooking my garden.’ Ah! Mr. Vance, I thought of Naomi, and - wondered if she would be living to share the promised fortune. - - “I have a vague fear of this Mr. Semmes. Under the affectation of - great frankness, he seems to me one of those men who make it a rule to - suspect everybody. I have warned the women to take heed to their - conversation; to remember that walls have ears. I rely much on Esha. - She has, thus far, been too deep for him. He has several times tried - to throw her off her guard; but has not yet succeeded. He is evidently - distrustful and disposed to lay traps for us. - - “It appears that Mr. Ratcliff’s plan, at the time you intercepted him - in his career, and had him sent North, was to offer marriage to this - young girl he claims to hold as a slave. Marriage with him would - plainly be as hateful to her as any other species of relation; and my - present wish is to put her as soon as possible beyond his reach, lest - he should any time unexpectedly return. Madame Volney is so confident - in her power to save her, that Clara’s anxieties seem to be much - allayed; and now that she fully believes she is no slave, but the - legitimate child of honorable parents, she cultivates an assurance as - to her safety, which I hope is not the precursor of misfortune. The - money which Mr. Winslow left in my hands for her use would be - sufficient to enable us to carry out some effectual scheme of escape; - but Madame Volney does not agree with me as to the importance of an - immediate attempt. Will Ratcliff come back? That is the question I now - daily ask myself. - - “I recognized on Clara’s wrist the other day a bracelet of your wife’s - hair. How did she come by it? The reply was simple. Esha gave it to - her. Clara is very fond of questioning me about you. She has learnt - from me all the particulars of your wife’s tragical fate, and of the - debt you yourself owe to the Slave Power. She takes the intensest - interest in the war. Learning from me that my friend Cailloux was - forming a secret league among the blacks in aid of the Union cause, - she made me take five hundred dollars of the money left by Mr. Winslow - for her in my possession, and this she sent to Cailloux with a letter. - He wrote her in reply, that he wished no better end than to die - fighting for the Union and for the elevation of his race.[39] - - “I have not forgotten the importance of getting hold of Colonel Hyde. - I have searched for him daily in the principal drinking-saloons, but - have found no trace of him as yet. I have also kept up my search for - my wife, having sent out two agents, who, I trust, may be more - fortunate than I myself have been; for I sometimes think my own - over-anxiety may have defeated my purpose. In making these searches I - have availed myself of the means you have so generously placed at my - disposal. - - “The few Union men who are here are looking hopefully to the promised - expedition of Farragut and Butler. But the Rebels are defiant and even - contemptuous in their incredulity. They say our fleet can never pass - Forts Jackson and St. Philip. And then they have an iron ram, on the - efficacy of which they largely count. Furthermore, they mean to - welcome us with bloody hands, &c.; die in the last ditch, &c. We shall - see. This prayer suffices for me: _God help the right!_ Adieu! - - “Faithfully, - PEEK.” - -We have seen with what profound emotion Vance received the information, -that the man whose formidable power was enclosing Clara in its folds was -the same whose brutality had killed Estelle. Vance could no longer doubt -that Clara and Perdita were identical. He looked in his memorandum-book -to assure himself of the name of Clara’s father. Yes! Bender was right. -There were the words: _Henry Berwick_. - -Then putting on his hat Vance hurried to the War Office. Would the -Secretary have the goodness to address a question to the officer -commanding at Fort Lafayette? Certainly: it could be done instantly by -telegraph. Have the goodness to ask if Mr. Ratcliff, of New Orleans, is -still under secure confinement. - -The click of the telegraph apparatus in the War Office was speedily -heard, putting the desired interrogatory. - -“Expect a reply in half an hour,” said the operator. - -Vance looked at his watch, and then passed out into the paved corridor -and walked up and down. He thought of Clara,—of the bracelet of his -wife’s hair on her wrist. It moved him to tears. Was there not something -in the identity in the position of these two young and lovely women that -seemed to draw him by the subtle meshes of an overruling fate to Clara’s -side? Could it be that Estelle herself, a guardian angel, was favoring -the conjunction? - -For an instant that gracious image which had so long been the light of -his waking and his sleeping dreams, seemed to retire, and another to -take her place; another, different, yet hardly less lovely. - -For an instant, and for the second time, visions of a new domestic -paradise,—of beautiful children who should call him father,—of a -daughter whose name should be Estelle,—of life’s evening spent amid the -amenities of a refined and happy home,—flitted before his imagination, -and importuned desire. But they speedily vanished, and that other -transcendent image returned and resumed its place. - -Ah! it was so life-like, so real, so near and positive in its presence, -that no other could be its substitute! For no other could his heart’s -chalice overflow with immortal love. Had she not said,— - - “And dear as sacramental wine - To dying lips was all she said,”— - -had she not said, “I shall see you, though you may not see me?” Vance -took the words into his believing heart, and thenceforth they were a -reality from the sense of which he could not withdraw himself, and would -not have withdrawn himself if he could. - -He looked again at his watch, and re-entered that inner office of the -War Department, to which none but those high in government confidence -were often admitted. - -“We have just received a reply to your inquiry,” said the clerk. “Mr. -Ratcliff of New Orleans made his escape from Fort Lafayette ten days -ago. The Department has taken active measures to have him rearrested.” - ------ - -Footnote 31: - - The names and the facts are real. See Harper’s Weekly, July 4, 1868. - -Footnote 32: - - Mr. W.S. Grayson of Mississippi writes, in De Bow’s Review (August, - 1860): “Civil liberty has been the theme of praise among men, and most - wrongfully. This is the infatuation of our age.” And Mr. George - Fitzhugh of Virginia writes: “Men are never efficient in military - matters, or in industrial pursuits, until wholly deprived of their - liberty. _Loss of liberty is no disgrace._” - -Footnote 33: - - Testimony of Mrs. Fanny Kemble to facts within her knowledge. - -Footnote 34: - - Late member of Congress from Texas. In his speech in New York (1862) - he said: “I know that the loyalists of Texas have died deaths not - heard of since the dark ages until now; not only hunted and shot, - murdered upon their own thresholds, but tied up and scalded to death - with boiling water; torn asunder by wild horses fastened to their - feet; whole neighborhoods of men exterminated, and their wives and - children driven away.” - - It is estimated by a writer in the New Orleans Crescent (June, - 1863), that at least _twenty-five hundred_ persons had been hung in - Texas during the preceding two years _for fidelity to the Union_. - - The San Antonio (Texas) Herald, a Rebel sheet of November 13th, - 1862, taunted the Unionists with the havoc that had been made among - them! It says: “They (Union men) are known and will be remembered. - Their numbers were small at first, and they are becoming every day - less. In the mountains near Fort Clark and along the Rio Grande - _their bones are bleaching in the sun_, and in the counties of Wire - and Denton _their bodies are suspended by scores_ from black-jacks.” - - Such are the shameless butchers and hangmen that Slavery spawns! - -Footnote 35: - - “Marriage,” says a Catholic Bishop of a Southern State, quoted in - the Cincinnati Catholic Telegraph, “is scarcely known amongst them - (the slaves); the masters _attach no importance to it_. In some - States those who teach them (the slaves) to read _are punished with - death_.” - -Footnote 36: - - Our experience in South Carolina and Louisiana proves that there would - be no danger, but, on the contrary, great good in instant - emancipation. - -Footnote 37: - - The writer has fully tested it in repeated instances; and there are - probably several hundred thousand persons at this moment in the - United States, to whom the same species of test is a _certainty_, - not merely a _belief_. - -Footnote 38: - - The parallel facts are too numerous and notorious to need - specification. - -Footnote 39: - - Captain Andre Cailloux, a negro, was a well-educated and - accomplished gentleman. He belonged to the First Louisiana regiment, - and perished nobly at Port Hudson, May 17, 1863, leading on his men - in the thickest of the fight. His body was recovered the latter part - of July, and interred with great ceremony at New Orleans. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - THE LAWYER AND THE LADY. - -“The Devil is an ass.”—_Old Proverb._ - - -Peek’s apprehensions in regard to Ratcliff’s agent, Semmes, were not -imaginary. Semmes was of the school in politics and policy of old Mr. -Slidell. He did not believe in the vitality and absoluteness of right -and goodness. His life maxim was, while bowing and smirking to all the -world, to hold all the world as cheats. To his mind, slavery was right, -because it was profitable; and inwardly he pooh-poohed at every attempt -to vindicate or to condemn it from a moral or religious point of view. -He laid it down as an axiom, that slavery must exist just so long as it -paid. - -“Worthy souls, sir, these philanthropists,—but they want the virile -element,—the practical element, sir! Like women and poets, they are led -by their emotions. If the world were in the hands of such softs, the old -machine would be smashed up in universal anarchy.” - -Ah, thou blind guide! These tender souls thou scornest are they who -always prevail in the long run. They prevail, because God rules through -them, and because he does not withdraw himself utterly from human -affairs! They prevail because Christ’s doctrine of self-abnegation, and -of justice and love, is the very central principle of progress, whether -in the heavens or on the earth; because it is the keystone of the arch -by which all things are upheld and saved from chaos. Yes, Divine duty, -Charity! “Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong,—and the most ancient -heavens, through thee, are fresh and strong!” - -Benjamin Constant remarked of conservative Talleyrand, that had he been -present at the creation of all things, he would have exclaimed, “Good -God! chaos will be destroyed!” Beware of the conservatism that would -impede God’s work of justice and of love! - -Ratcliff, in his last confidential interview with Semmes, had -communicated to the lawyer all the facts which he himself was in -possession of in regard to the White Slave. In the quiet of Ratcliff’s -library, Semmes now carefully revolved and weighed all these -particulars. The fact that Clara might be wrongfully held as a slave -made little impression upon him, his proper business being to conform to -his client’s wishes and to make his client’s claim as strong as -possible, without regard to any other considerations. What puzzled him -greatly was Madam Volney’s apparent interest in Clara; and as for Esha, -she was a perfect sphinx in her impenetrability. As he pondered the -question of her fidelity, the thought occurred to him, Why not learn -something of her antecedents from Mrs. Gentry? A good idea! - -That very evening he knocked at the door of the “select establishment.” -A bright-faced black boy had run up the steps in advance of him, and -asked who it was he wanted to see. “Mrs. Gentry.” “Well, sir, she’s in. -Just give the bell a good pull.” And the officious boy disappeared. A -minute afterwards the lawyer was seated in the lady’s presence in her -little parlor. - -“And have you heard from poor Mr. Ratcliff?” she asked. - -“He is still in confinement, I believe, in Fort Lafayette.” - -“Ah! is he, poor man?” returned the lady; and it was on her mind to add: -“I knew he would be come up with! I said he would be come up with!” But -she repressed the exulting exclamation, and simply added: “Those horrid -Yankees! Do you think, Mr. Semmes, we are in any danger from this -down-east general, known as Picayune Butler?” - -“Don’t be under concern, Madam. He may be a sharp lawyer, but if he ever -comes to New Orleans, it will be as a prisoner.” - -“And how is Miss Murray?” - -“Never better, or handsomer. And by the way, I wish to make some -inquiries respecting the colored woman Esha, who, I believe, lived some -time in your family.” - -“Yes, Esha lived with me fifteen years. A capital cook, and good washer -and ironer. I wouldn’t have parted with her if Mr. Ratcliff hadn’t been -so set on borrowing her. She was here some days ago about that -deposition business.” - -“O yes,” said Semmes, thoroughly startled, yet concealing every sign of -surprise, and remarking: “By the way, how did you get through with that -business?” - -“O, very well. Mr. Jasper and the other gentlemen were very polite and -considerate.” - -Jasper! He was the counsel in the great case of Winslow _versus_ -Burrows. Probably he was now Winslow’s confidential agent and adviser. -Semmes’s thin, wiry hands closed together, as if grasping a clew that -would lead him to hidden treasures. - -“I hope,” said he, carefully trying his ground, “you weren’t incommoded -by the application.” - -“Not at all. I only had to refer to my account-books, which gave me all -the necessary dates. And as for the child’s clothes, they were in an old -trunk in the garret, where they hadn’t been touched for fifteen years. I -had forgotten all about them till Mr. Jasper asked me whether I had any -such articles.” - -Semmes was still in the dark. - -“And was Esha’s testimony taken?” - -“Yes, though I don’t see of what use it can be, seeing that she’s a -slave, and her deposition is worthless under our laws.” - -“To what did Esha depose?” - -“Haven’t you seen the depositions?” - -“O yes! But not having read them carefully as yet, I should like the -benefit of your recollections.” - -“O, Esha merely identified the girl’s clothes and the initials marked -upon them,—for she knows the alphabet. She also remembered seeing Mr. -Ratcliff lift the child out of the barouche the day he first called -here. All which was taken down.” - -“Could you let me see the clothes and the account-books?” - -“I gave them all up to Mr. Jasper. Didn’t he tell you so?” - -“Perhaps. I may have forgotten.” - -Semmes bade Mrs. Gentry good evening. - -“Headed off by all that’s unfortunate!” muttered he, as he walked away. -“And by that smooth Churchman, Jasper! Why didn’t I think to -hermetically seal up this Mrs. Gentry’s clack, and take away all her -traps and books? And Esha,—if she weren’t playing false, she would have -reported all this to me at once. But I’ll let the old hag see that, deep -as she is, she isn’t beyond the reach of my plummet. That pretended -brother of hers, too! He must be looked after. I shouldn’t wonder if he -were a spy of Winslow’s. I must venture upon a _coup d’état_ at once, if -I would defeat their plottings. How shall I manage it?” - -Semmes had on his books heavy charges against Ratcliff for professional -services, and did not care to jeopard their payment by any slackness in -attending to that gentleman’s parting injunctions. He saw he would be -justified in any act of precaution, however extreme, that was undertaken -in good faith towards his client. And so he resolved on two steps: one -was to arrest Esha’s pretended brother, and the other to withdraw Clara -from the surveillance of Esha and Madame Volney. - -Peek had not been idle meanwhile. For several weeks he had employed a -boy to dog Semmes’s footsteps; and when that enterprising lad brought -word of the lawyer’s visit to Mrs. Gentry’s, Peek saw that his own -communications with the women at Ratcliff’s were cut off. He immediately -sent word of the fact to Esha, and told her to redouble her caution. - -Semmes waited three days in the hope that Peek would make his -appearance; but at length growing impatient, took occasion to accost the -impracticable Esha. - -“Esha, can that brother of yours drive a carriage?” - -“O yes, massa, he can do eb’ry ting.” - -“Well, Jim wants to go up to Baton Rouge to see his wife, and I’ve no -objection to hiring your brother awhile in his place.” - -“Dar’s noting Jake would like quite so well, massa; but how unfortnit it -am!—Jake’s gone to Natchez.” - -“Where does Jake live when he’s here?” - -“Yah, yah! Dat’s a good joke. Whar does he lib? He lib all ’bout in -spots. Jake’s got more wives nor ole Brigham Young.” - -Finding he could make nothing out of Esha, Semmes resolved on his second -precaution; for he felt that, with two plotting women against him, his -charge was likely any moment to be abstracted from under his eyes. He -had the letting of several vacant houses, some of them furnished. If he -could secretly transfer Clara to one of these, he could guard and hold -her there without being in momentary dread of her escape. He thought -long and anxiously, and finally nodded his head as if the right scheme -had been hit upon at last. - -Clara was an early riser. Every morning, in company with Esha, she took -a promenade in the little garden in the rear of the house. One morning -as they were thus engaged, and Clara was noticing the indications of -spring among the early buds and blossoms (though it was yet March), a -woman, newly employed as a seamstress in the family, called out from the -kitchen window, “O Esha! Come quick! Black Susy is trying to catch -Minnie, to kill her for stealing cream.” Minnie was a favorite cat, -petted by Madame Volney. - -“Don’t let her do it, Esha!” exclaimed Clara. “Run quick, and prevent -it!” - -Esha ran. But no sooner had she disappeared over the threshold than -Clara, who stood admiring an almond-tree in full bloom, felt a hood -thrown over her face from behind, while both her hands were seized to -prevent resistance. The hood was so strongly saturated with chloroform, -that almost before she could utter a cry she was insensible. - -When Clara returned to consciousness, she found herself lying on a bed -in a large and elegant apartment. The rich Parisian furniture, the -Turkish carpet, and the amber-colored silk curtains told of wealth and -sumptuous tastes. Her first movement was to feel for the little dagger -which she carried in a sheath in a hidden pocket. She found it was safe. -The windows were open, and the pleasant morning breeze came in soft and -cool. - -As she raised herself on her elbow and looked about, a woman wearing the -white starched linen bonnet of a Sister of Charity rose from a chair and -stood before her. The face of this woman had a tender and serious -expression, but the head showed a deficiency in the intellectual -regions. Indeed, Sister Agatha was at once a saint and a simpleton; -credulous as a child, though pious as Ignatius himself. She was not in -truth a recognized member of the intelligent order whose garb she wore. -She had been rejected because of those very traits she now revealed; but -being regarded as harmless, she was suffered to play the Sister on her -own account, procuring alms from the charitable, and often using them -discreetly. Having called at Semmes’s office on a begging visit, he had -recognized in her a fitting tool, and had secured her confidence by a -liberal contribution and an affectation of rare piety. - -“How do you feel now, my dear?” asked Agatha. - -“What has happened?” said Clara, trying to recall the circumstances -which had led to her present position. “Who are you? Where’s Esha? Why -is not Josephine here?” - -“There! don’t get excited,” said the sister. “Your poor brain has been -in a whirl,—that’s all.” - -“Please tell me who you are, and why I am here, and what has happened.” - -“I am Sister Agatha. I have been engaged by Mr. Semmes to take care of -you. What has happened is,—you have had one of your bad turns, that’s -all.” - -Clara pondered the past silently for a full minute; then, turning to the -woman, said: “You would not knowingly do a bad act. I get that assurance -from your face. Have they told you I was insane?” - -“There, dear, be quiet! Lie down, and don’t distress yourself,” said -Sister Agatha. “We’ll have some breakfast for you soon.” - -“You speak of my having had a bad turn,” resumed Clara. “What sort of a -bad turn? A fit?” - -“Yes, dear, a fit.” - -“Come nearer to me, Sister Agatha. Don’t you perceive an odor of -chloroform on my clothes?” - -“Why not? They gave it for your relief.” - -“No; they gave it to render me powerless, that they might bring me -without a struggle to this place out of the reach of the two friends -with whom I have been living. Sister Agatha, don’t let them deceive you. -Do I talk or look like an insane person? Do not fear to answer me. I -shall not be offended.” - -“Yes, child, you both talk and look as if you were not in your right -mind. So be a good girl and compose yourself.” - -Clara stepped on the floor, walked to the window, and saw that she was -in the third story of a spacious house. She tried the doors. They were -all locked, with the exception of one which communicated by a little -entry, occupied by closets, with a corresponding room which looked out -on the street from the front. - -“I am a prisoner within these rooms, am I?” asked Clara. - -“Yes, there’s no way by which you can get out. But here is everything -comfortable, you see. In the front room you will find a piano and a case -of pious books. Here is a bathing-room, where you can have hot water or -cold. This door on my right leads to a billiard-table, where you can go -and play, if you are good. You need not lack for air or exercise.” - -“When can I see Mr. Semmes?” - -“He promised to be here by ten o’clock.” - -“Do not fail to let me see him when he comes. Sister Agatha, is there -any way by which I can prove to you I am not insane?” - -“No; because the more shrewd and sensible you are, the more I shall -think you are out of your head. Insane people are always cunning. You -have showed great cunning in all you have said and done.” - -“Then if I turn simple, you will think I am recovering, eh?” - -“No; I shall think you are feigning. Why, I once passed a whole day with -a crazy woman, and never one moment suspected she was crazy till I was -told so.” - -“Who told you I am crazy?” - -“The gentleman who engaged me to attend you,—Mr. Semmes.” - -“Am I crazy only on one point or on many?” - -“You ought to know best. I believe you are what they call a monomaniac. -You are crazy on the subject of freedom. You want to be free.” - -“But, Sister Agatha, if you were shut up in a house against your will, -wouldn’t you desire to be free?” - -“There it is! I knew you would put things cunningly. But I’m prepared -for it. You mustn’t think to deceive me, child, Why not be honest, and -confess your wits are wandering?” - -The door of the communicating room was here unlocked. - -“What’s that?” asked Clara. - -“They are bringing in your breakfast,” said the sister. “I hope you have -an appetite.” - -Though faint and sick at heart, Clara resolved to conceal her emotions. -So she sat down and made a show of eating. - -“I will leave you awhile,” said the sister. “If you want anything, you -can ring.” - -Left to herself, Clara rose and promenaded the apartment, her thoughts -intently turned inward to a survey of her position. Why had she been -removed to this new abode? Plainly because Semmes feared she would be -aided by her companions in baffling his vigilance and effecting her -escape. Clara knelt by the bedside and prayed for light and guidance; -and an inward voice seemed to say to her: “You talk of trusting God, and -yet you only half trust him.” - -What could it mean? Clara meditated upon it long and anxiously. What had -been her motive in procuring the dagger! A mixed motive and vague. -Perhaps it was to take her own life, perhaps another’s. Had she not -reached that point of faith that she could believe God would save her -from both these alternatives? Yes; she would doubt no longer. Walking to -the back window she drew the dagger from its sheath and threw it far out -into a clump of rose-bushes that grew rank in the centre of the area. - -The key turned in the door, and Sister Agatha appeared. - -“Mr. Semmes is here. Can he come in?” - -“Yes. I’ve been waiting for him.” - -The sister withdrew and the gentleman entered. - -“Sit down,” said Clara. “For what purpose am I confined here?” - -“My dear young lady, you desire to be treated with frankness. You are -sensible,—you are well educated,—you are altogether charming; but you -are a slave.” - -“Stop there, sir! How do you know I’m a slave?” - -“Of course I am bound to take the testimony of my client, an honorable -gentleman, on that point.” - -“Have you examined the record! Can Mr. Ratcliff produce any evidence -that the child he bought was white? Look at me. Look at this arm. Do you -believe my parentage is other than pure Saxon? If that doesn’t shake -your belief, let me tell you that I have proofs that I am the only -surviving child of that same Mr. and Mrs. Berwick who were lost more -than fourteen years ago in a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi.” - -“Proofs? You have proofs? Impossible! What are they?” - -“That I do not choose to tell you. Only I warn you that the proofs -exist, and that you are lending yourself to a fraud in helping your -client to hold me as a slave.” - -“My dear young lady, don’t encourage such wild, romantic dreams. Some -one, for a wicked purpose, has put them into your head. The only child -of Mr. and Mrs. Berwick was lost with them, as was clearly proved on the -trial that grew out of the disaster, and their large property passed -into the possession of a distant connection.” - -“But what if the story of the child’s loss was a lie,—what if she was -saved,—then kidnapped,—then sold as a slave? What if she now stands -before you?” - -“As a lawyer I must say, I don’t see it. And even if it were all true, -what an incalculable advantage the man who has millions in possession -will have over any claimant who can’t offer a respectable fee in -advance! Who holds the purse-strings, wins. ’T is an invariable rule, my -child.” - -“God will defend the right, Mr. Semmes; and I advise you to range -yourself on his side forthwith.” - -“It wouldn’t do for me to desert my client. That would be grossly -unprofessional.” - -“Even if satisfied your client was in the wrong?” - -“My dear young lady, that’s just the predicament where a lawyer’s -services are most needed. What can I do for you?” - -“Nothing, for I’m not in the wrong. My cause is that of justice and -humanity. You cannot serve it.” - -“In that remark you wound my _amour propre_. Now let me put the case for -my client: Accidentally attending an auction he buys an infant slave. He -brings her up tenderly and well. He spares no expense in her education. -No sooner does she reach a marriageable age, than, discarding all -gratitude for his kindness, she runs away. He discovers her, and she is -brought to his house. His wife dying, he proposes to marry and -emancipate this ungrateful young woman. Instead of being touched by his -generosity, she plots to baffle and disappoint him. Who could blame him -if he were to put her up at auction to-morrow and sell her to the -highest bidder?” - -“If you speak in sincerity, sir, then you are, morally considered, blind -as an owl; if in raillery, then you are cruel as a wolf.” - -“My dear young lady, you show in your every remark that you are a -cultivated person; that you are naturally clever, and that education has -added its polish. How charming it would be to see one so gifted and -accomplished placed in that position of wealth and rank which she would -so well adorn! There must never be unpleasant words between me and the -future Mrs. Ratcliff,—never!” - -“Then, sir, you’re safe, however angrily I may speak.” - -“Your pin-money alone, my dear young lady, will be enough to support -half a dozen ordinary families.” - -Clara made no reply, and Semmes continued: “Think of it! First, the tour -of Europe in princely style; then a return to the most splendid -establishment in Louisiana!” - -“Well, sir, if your eloquence is exhausted, you can do me a favor.” - -“What is it, my dear young lady?” - -“Leave the room.” - -“Certainly. By the way, I expect Mr. Ratcliff any hour now.” - -“I thought he was in Fort Lafayette!” replied Clara, trying to steady -her voice and conceal her agitation. - -“No. He succeeded in escaping. His letter is dated Richmond.” - -Clara made no reply, and the old lawyer passed out, muttering: “Poor -little simpleton. ’T is only a freak. No woman in her senses could -resist such an offer. She’ll thank me one of these days for my -anæsthetic practice.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX. - SEEING IS BELIEVING. - -“It is a very obvious principle, although often forgotten in the pride -of prejudice and of controversy, that what has been seen _by one pair of -human eyes_ is of force to countervail all that has been reasoned or -guessed at by a thousand human understandings.”—_Rev. Thomas Chalmers._ - - -When, after some detention, Esha returned to the garden, and could not -see Clara, she ran up-stairs and sought her in all the rooms. Then -returning to the garden she looked in the summer-house, in the -grape-arbor, everywhere without avail. Suddenly she caught sight of a -small black girl, a sort of under-drudge in the kitchen, who was -standing with mouth distended, showing her white teeth, and grinning at -Esha’s discomfiture. It was the work of a moment for Esha to seize the -hussy, drag her into the wash-house, and by the aid of certain -squeezings, liberally applied to her cervical vertebræ, to compel her to -extrude the fact that Missie Clara had been forcibly carried off by two -men, and placed in a carriage, which had been driven fast away. - -When Esha communicated this startling information to Madame Volney, the -wrath of the latter was terrible to behold. It was well for Lawyer -Semmes that his good stars kept him that moment from encountering the -quadroon lady, else a sudden stop might have been put to his -professional usefulness. - -After she had recovered from her first shock of anger, she asked: “Why -hasn’t Peek been here these five days?” - -“’Cause he ’cluded’t wan’t safe,” replied Esha. “He seed ole Semmes war -up ter su’thin, an’ so he keep dark.” - -“Well, Esha, we must see Peek. You know where he lives?” - -“Yes, Missis, but we mus’ be car’ful ’bout lettin’ anybody foller us.” - -“We can look out for that. Come! Let us start at once.” - -The two women sallied forth into the street, and proceeded some -distance, Esha looking frequently behind with a caution that proved to -be not ill-timed. Suddenly she darted across the street, and going up to -a negro-boy who stood looking with an air of profound interest at some -snuff-boxes and pipes in the window of a tobacconist, seized him by the -wool of his head and pulled him towards a carriage-stand, where she -accosted a colored driver of her acquaintance, and said: “Look har, -Jube, you jes put dis little debble ob a spy on de box wid yer, and gib -him a twenty minutes’ dribe, an’ den take him to Massa Ratcliff’s, open -de door, an’ pitch him in, an’ I’ll gib yer half a dollar ef yer’ll do -it right off an’ ahx no questions; an’ ef he dars ter make a noise you -jes put yer fingers har,—dy’e see,—and pinch his win’pipe tight. Doan -let him git away on no account whatsomebber.” - -“Seein’ as how jobs air scarss, Esha, doan’ car ef I do; so hahnd him -up.” - -Esha lifted the boy so that Jube could seize him by the slack of his -breeches and pull him howling on to the driver’s seat. Then promising a -faithful compliance with Esha’s orders, he received the half-dollar with -a grin, and drove off. Rejoining Madame Volney, Esha conducted her -through lanes and by-streets till they stopped before the house occupied -by Peek. He was at home, and asked them in. - -“Are you sure you weren’t followed?” was his first inquiry. Esha replied -by narrating the summary proceedings she had taken to get rid of the -youth who had evidently been put as a spy on her track. - -“That was well done, Esha,” said Peek. “Remember you’ve got the sharpest -kind of an old lawyer to deal with; and you must skin your eyes tight if -you ’spect to ’scape being tripped.” - -“Wish I’d thowt ob dat dis mornin’, Peek; for ole Semmes has jes done -his wustest,—carried off dat darlin’ chile, Miss Clara.” - -Peek could hardly suppress a groan at the news. - -“Now what’s to be done?” said Madame Volney. “Think of something -quickly, or I shall go mad. That smooth-tongued Semmes,—O that I had the -old scoundrel here in my grip! Can’t you find out where he has taken -that dear child?” - -“That will be difficult, I fear,” said Peek; “difficult for the reason -that Semmes will be on the alert to baffle us. He will of course -conclude that some of us will be on his track. He would turn any efforts -we might make to dog him directly against us, arresting us when we -thought ourselves most secure, just as the boy-detective was arrested by -Esha.” - -“But what if Ratcliff should return?” - -“That’s what disturbs me; for the papers say he has escaped.” - -“Then he may be here any moment?” - -“For that we must be prepared.” - -“But that is horrible! I pledged my word—my very life—that the poor -child should be saved from his clutches. She _must_ be saved! Money can -do it,—can’t it?” - -“Brains can do it better.” - -“Let both be used. Is not this a case where some medium can help us? Why -not consult Bender?” - -“There is, perhaps, one chance in a hundred that he might guide us -aright,” said Peek. “That chance I will try, but I have little hope he -will find her. During the years I have been searching for my wife I have -now and then sought information about her from clairvoyants; but always -without success. The kingdom of God cometh not with observation. So with -these spiritual doings. Look for them, and you don’t find them. Don’t -look, and they come. I once knew a colored boy, a medium, who was lifted -to the ceiling before my eyes in the clear moonlight. A white man -offered him a hundred dollars if he would show him the same thing; but -it couldn’t be. No sooner had the white man gone than the boy was -lifted, while the rest of us were not expecting it, and carried backward -and forward through the air for a full minute. Seeing is believing.” - -“But we’ve no time for talking, Peek. We must act. _How_ shall we act?” - -“Can you give me any article of apparel which Miss Clara has recently -worn,—a glove, for instance?” - -“Yes, that can easily be got.” - -“Send it to me at once. Send also a glove which the lawyer has worn. Do -not let the two come in contact. And be careful your messenger is not -tracked.” - -“Do you mean to take the gloves to a clairvoyant?” - -“Not to a clear-see’er, but to a clear-smeller,—in short, to a -four-footed medium, a bloodhound of my acquaintance.” - -“O, but what hound can keep the scent through our streets?” - -“If any one can, Victor can.” - -“Well, only do something, and that quickly, for I’m distracted,” said -Madame Volney, her tears flowing profusely. “Come, Esha, we’ll take a -carriage at the corner, and drive home.” - -“Not at the corner!” interposed Peek. “Go to some more distant stand. -Move always as if a spy were at your heels.” - -The two women passed into the street. Half an hour afterwards Esha -returned with the glove. There was a noise of firing. - -“Dem guns am fur de great vict’ry down below,” said Esha. “De Yankees, -dey say, hab been beat off han’some at Fort Jackson; an’ ole Farragut -he’s backed out; fines he can’t come it. But, jes you wait, Peek. Dese -Yankees hab an awful way of holdin’ on. Dey doan know when dey air fair -beat. Dey crow loudest jes when dey owt ter shut up and gib in.” - -Esha slipped out of the house, looking up and down the street to see if -she were watched, and Peek soon afterwards passed out and walked rapidly -in the direction of St. Genevieve Street. The great thoroughfares were -filled with crowds of excited people. The stars and bars, emblem of the -perpetuity of slavery, were flaunted in his face at every crossing. The -newspapers that morning had boasted how impregnable were the defences. -The hated enemy—the mean and cowardly Yankees—had received their most -humiliating rebuff. Forts Jackson and St. Philip and the Confederate ram -had proved too much for them. - -Peek stopped at a small three-story brick house of rather shabby -exterior and rang the bell. The door was opened by an obese black woman -with a flaming red and yellow handkerchief on her head. In the entry-way -a penetrating odor of fried sausages rushed upward from the kitchen and -took him by the throat. - -“Does Mr. Bender board here?” - -“Yes, sar, go up two pair ob stairs, an’ knock at de fust door yer see, -an’ he’ll come.” - -Peek did as he was directed. “_J. Bender, Consulting Medium_,” appeared -and asked him in. A young and not ill-looking man, in shabby-genteel -attire. Shirt dirty, but the bosom ornamented with gold studs. Vest of -silk worked with sprigs of flowers in all the colors of the rainbow. His -coat had been thrown off. His pantaloons were of the light-blue material -which the war was making fashionable. He was smoking a cigar, and his -breath exhaled a suspicion of whiskey. - -“How is business, Mr. Bender?” asked Peek. - -“Very slim just now,” said Bender. “This war fills people’s minds. Can I -do anything for you to-day?” - -“Yes. You remember the young woman at the house I took you to the other -day,—the one whose name you said was Clara?” - -“I remember. She paid me handsomely. Much obliged to you for taking me. -Will you have a sip of Bourbon?” - -“No, thank you. I don’t believe in anything stronger than water. I want -to know if you can tell me where in the city that young lady now is.” - -Bender put down his cigar, clasped his hands, laid them on the table, -and closed his eyes. In a minute his whole face seemed transfigured. A -certain sensual expression it had worn was displaced by one of rapt and -tender interest. The lids of the eyes hung loosely over the uprolled -balls. He looked five years younger. He sighed several times heavily, -moved his lips and throat as if laboring to speak, and then seemed -absorbed as if witnessing unspeakable things. He remained thus four or -five minutes, and then put out his hands and placed them on one of -Peek’s. - -“Ah! this is a good hand,” said the young seer; “I like the feel of it. -I wish his would speak as well of him.” - -“Of whom do you mean?” - -“Of this one whose hands are on yours. Ah! he is weak and you are -strong. He knows the right, but he will not do the right. He knows there -is a heaven, and yet he walks hellward.” - -“Can we not save him?” asked Peek. - -“No. His own bitter experiences must be his tutor.” - -“Why will he try to deceive,” asked Peek;—“to deceive sometimes even in -these manifestations of his wonderful gift?” - -“You see it is the very condition of that gift that he should be -impressible to influences whether good or bad. He takes his color from -the society which encamps around him. Sometimes, as now, the good ones -come, and then so bitterly he bewails his faults! Sometimes the bad get -full possession of him, and he is what they will,—a drunkard, a liar, a -thief, a scoffer. Yes! I have known him to scoff at these great facts -which make spirit existence to him a certainty.” - -“Can I help him in any way? Will money aid him to throw off the bad -influences?” - -“No. Poor as he is, he has too much money. He doesn’t know the true uses -of it. He must learn them through suffering. Leave him to the discipline -of the earth-life. You know what that is. How much you have passed -through! How sad, and yet how brave and cheerful you have been! It all -comes to me as I press the palm of your hand. Ah! you have sought her so -long and earnestly! And you cannot find her! And you think she is -faithful to you still!” - -“Yes, and neither mortal nor spirit could make me think otherwise. But -tell me where I shall look for her.” - -The young man lifted the black hand to his white forehead and -pressed the palm there for a moment, and then, with a sigh, laid it -gently on the table, and said: “It is of no use. I get confused -impressions,—nothing clear and forcible. Why have you not consulted -me before about your wife?” - -“Because, first, I wished to leave it to you to find out what I wanted; -and this you have done at last. Secondly, I did not think I could trust -you, or rather the intelligences that might speak through you. But you -have been more candid than I expected. You have not pretended, as you -often do, to more knowledge than you really possess.” - -“The reason is, that I am now admitted into a state where I can look -down on myself as from a higher plane; so that I feel like a different -being from myself, and must distinguish between _me_, as I now _am_, and -_him_ as he usually _is_. Do you know what is truly the hell of -evil-doers? _It is to see themselves as they are, and God as he is._[40] -These tame preachers rave about hell-fire and lakes of sulphur. What -poor, feeble, halting imaginations they have. Better beds of brimstone -than a couch of down on which one lies seeing what he might have been, -but isn’t,—then seeing what he _is_! But pardon me; your mind is -preoccupied with the business on which you came. You are anxious and -impatient.” - -“Can you tell me,” asked Peek, “what it is about?” - -The clairvoyant folded his arms, and, bending down his head, seemed for -a minute lost in contemplation. Then looking up (if that can be said of -him while his external eyes were closed), he remarked: “The bloodhound -will put you through. Only persevere.” - -“And is that all you can tell me?” inquired Peek. - -“Yes. Why do you seem disappointed?” - -“Because you merely give me the reflection of what is in my own mind. -You offer me no information which may not have come straight from your -own power of thought-reading. You show me no proof that your promise may -not be simply the product of my own sanguine calculations.” - -“I cannot tell you how it is,” replied the clairvoyant; “I say what I am -impressed to say. I cannot argue the point with you, for I have no -reasons to give.” - -“Then I must go. What shall I pay?” - -“Pay him his usual fee, two dollars. Not a cent more.” - -The clairvoyant sighed heavily, and leaning his elbows on the table, -covered his face with his hands. He remained in this posture for nearly -a minute. Suddenly he dropped his hands, shook himself, and started up. -His eyes were open. He stared wildly about, then seemed to slip back -into his old self. The former unctuous, villanous expression returned to -his face. He looked round for his half-smoked cigar, which he took up -and relighted. - -Peek drew two dollars from a purse, and offered them to him. - -“I reckon you can afford more than that,” said Mr. Bender. - -“That’s your regular fee,” replied Peek. “I haven’t been here half an -hour.” - -“O well, we won’t dispute about it,” said the medium, thrusting the rags -into a pocket of his vest. - -Peek left the house, the dinner-bell sounding as he passed out, and -another whiff from the breath of the sausage-fiend that presided over -that household pursuing him into the street. - -The course he now took was through stately streets occupied by large and -showy houses. He stopped before one, on the door-plate of which was the -name, Lovell. Here his friend Lafour lived as coachman. For two weeks -they had not met. Peek was about to pass round and ring at the servant’s -door on the basement story of the side, when an orange was thrown from -an upper window and fell near his feet. He looked up. An old black woman -was gesticulating to him to go away. Peek was quick to take a hint. He -strolled away as far as he could get without losing sight of the house. -Soon he saw the old woman hobble out and approach him. He slipped into -an arched passage-way, and she joined him. - -“What’s the matter, mother?” - -“Matter enough. De debble’s own time, and all troo you, Peek. I’se been -watchin’ fur yer all de time dese five days.” - -“Explain yourself. How have I brought trouble on Antoine?” - -“Dat night you borrid de ole man’s carriage,—dat was de mischief. -Policeman come las’ week, an’ take Antoine off ter de calaboose. Tree -times dey lash him ter make him tell whar dey can find you; but he tell -’em, so help him God, he dun know noting ’bout yer.” - -Peek reflected for a moment, and then recalled the fact that Myers, the -detective, had got sight of the coat-of-arms on the carriage. Yes! the -clew was slight, but it was sufficient. - -“My poor Antoine!” said Peek. “Must he, then, suffer for me? Tell me, -mother, what has become of Victor, his dog?” - -“Goramity! dat dog know more’n half de niggers. He wouldn’t stay in dat -house ahfer Antoine lef; couldn’t make him do it, no how.” - -“Where shall I be likely to find the dog?” - -“’Bout de streets somewhar, huntin’ fur Antoine. Ef dat dumb critter -could talk, he’d ’stonish us all.” - -“Well, mother, thank you for all your trouble. Here’s a dollar to buy a -pair of shoes with. Good by.” - -The old woman’s eyes snapped as she clutched the money, and with a -“Bress yer, Peek!” hobbled away. - -The rest of that day Peek devoted to a search for Victor. He sought him -near the stable,—in the blacksmith’s shop,—in the market,—at the few -houses which Antoine frequented; but no Victor could be found. At last, -late at night, weary and desponding, Peek retraced his steps homeward; -and as he took out the door-key to enter the house, the dog he had been -looking for rose from the upper step, and came down wagging his tail, -and uttering a low squealing note of satisfaction. - -“Why, Victor, is this you? I’ve been looking for you all day.” - -The dog, as if he fully understood the remark, wagged his tail with -increased vigor, and then checked himself in a bark which tapered off -into a confidential whine, as if he were afraid of being heard by some -detective. - -Victor was a cross between a Scotch terrier and a thorough-bread Cuba -bloodhound, imported for hunting runaway slaves. He combined the good -traits of both breeds. He had the accurate scent, the large size and -black color of the hound, the wiry hair, the tenacity, and the -affectionate nature of the terrier. In the delicate action of his -expressive nose, you saw keenness of scent in its most subtle -inquisitions. - -Late as was the hour, Peek (who, in the event of being stopped, had the -mayor’s pass for his protection) determined on an instant trial of the -dog’s powers, for the exercise of which perhaps the night would in this -instance be the most favorable time. He took him to Semmes’s office, and -making him scent the lawyer’s glove, indicated a wish to have him find -out his trail. Victor either would not or could not understand what was -wanted. He threw up his nose as if in contempt, and turned away from the -glove as if he desired to have nothing to do with it. Then he would run -away a short distance, and come back, and rise with his fore feet on -Peek’s breast. He repeated this several times, and at last Peek said: -“Well, have your own way. Go ahead, old fellow.” - -Victor thanked him in another low whine, uttered as if addressed -exclusively to his private ears, and then trotted off, assured that Peek -was following. In half an hour’s time, he stopped before a square -whitewashed building with iron-grated windows. - -“Confound you, Victor!” muttered Peek. “You’ve told me nothing new, -bringing me here. I was already aware your master was in jail. I can do -nothing for him. Can’t you do better than that? Come along!” - -Returning to Semmes’s office, Peek tried once more to interest the dog -in the glove; but Victor tossed his nose away as if in a pet. He would -have nothing to do with it. - -“Come along, then, you rascal,” said Peek. “We can do nothing further -to-night. Come and share my room with me.” - -He reached home as the clock struck one. Victor followed him into the -house, and eagerly disposed of a supper of bones and milk. Peek then -went up to bed and threw down a mat by the open window, upon which the -dog stretched himself as if he were quite as tired as his human -companion. - ------ - -Footnote 40: - - The actual definition given by E. A., one of the Rev. Chauncy Hare - Townshend’s mesmerized subjects. - - - - - CHAPTER XL. - THE REMARKABLE MAN AT RICHMOND. - - “Let me have men about me that are fat; - Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o’ nights: - Yond’ Cassius has a lean and hungry look.” - _Shakespeare._ - - -Yes, Ratcliff had escaped. His temper had not been sweetened by his -forced visit to the North. In Fort Lafayette he had for a while given -way to the sulks. Then he changed his tactics. Finding that Surgeon -Mooney, though a Northern man, had conservative notions on the subject -of the “nigger,” he addressed himself to the work of befooling that -functionary. Inasmuch as Nature had already half done it to his hands, -he did not find the task a difficult one. - -In his imprisonment Ratcliff had ample time for indulging in day-dreams. -He grew almost maudlin over that photograph of Clara. Yes! By his -splendid generosity he would bind to him forever that beautiful young -girl. - -He must transmit his proud name to legitimate children. He must be the -founder of a noble house; for the Confederacy, when triumphant, would -undoubtedly have its orders of nobility. A few years in Europe with such -a wife would suit him admirably. Slidell and Mason, having been released -from Fort Warren in Boston harbor, would be proud to take him by the -hand and introduce him and his to the best society. - -These visions came to soften his chagrin and mitigate the tediousness of -imprisonment. But he now grew impatient for the fulfilment of his -schemes. Delay had its dangers. True, he confided much in the vigilance -of Semmes, but Semmes was an old man, and might drop off any day. A -beautiful white slave was a very hazardous piece of property. - -It was not difficult for Ratcliff to persuade Surgeon Mooney that his -health required greater liberty of movement. At a time when, under the -Davis _régime_, sick and wounded United States soldiers, imprisoned at -Richmond in filthy tobacco-warehouses, were, in repeated instances, -brutally and against all civilized usages shot dead for going to the -windows to inhale a little fresh air, the National authorities were -tender to a degree, almost ludicrous in contrast, of the health and -rights of Rebel prisoners. If any of these were troubled with a bowel -complaint or a touch of lumbago, the “central despotism at Washington” -was denounced, by journals hostile to the war, as responsible for the -affliction, and the people were called on to rescue violated Freedom -from the clutches of an insidious tyrant, even from plain, scrupulous -“old Abe,” son of a poor Kentuckian who could show no pedigree, like -Colonel Delancy Hyde and Jefferson Davis. - -A pathetic paragraph appeared in one of the newspapers, giving a piteous -story of a “loyal citizen of New Orleans,” who, for no namable offence, -was made to pine in a foul dungeon to satisfy the personal pique of Mr. -Secretary Stanton. Soon afterwards a remonstrance in behalf of this -victim of oppression was signed by Surgeon Mooney. Ratcliff, whom the -public sympathy had been led to picture as in the last stage of a mortal -malady, was forthwith admitted to extraordinary privileges. He was -enabled to communicate clandestinely with friends in New York. He soon -managed to get on board a Nova Scotia coasting schooner. A week -afterwards, he succeeded in running the blockade, and in disembarking -safely at Wilmington, N. C. - -Anxious as he was to get home, he must first go to Richmond to pay his -respects to “President” Davis, of whom everybody at the South used to -say to Mr. W. H. Russell of the London Times, “Don’t you think our -President is a remarkable man?” Ratcliff was not unknown to Davis, and -sent up his card. It drew forth an immediate “Show him in.” The -“remarkable man” sat in his library at a small table strewn with letters -and manuscripts. A thin, Cassius-like, care-burdened figure, slightly -above the middle height. What some persons called dignity in his manner -was in truth merely ungracious stiffness; while his _hauteur_ was the -unquiet arrogance that fears it shall not get its due. His face was not -that of a man who could prudently afford to sneer (as he had publicly -done) at Abraham Lincoln’s homeliness. But before him lay letters on -which the postage-stamp was an absurdly flattered likeness of -himself,—as like him as the starved apothecary is like Jupiter Tonans. - -In the original the cheeks were shrunken and sallow, leaving the bones -high and salient. The jaws were thin and hollow; the forehead wrinkled -and out of all proportion with the lower part of the face; the eyes -deep-set, and one of them dulled by a severe neuralgic affection. The -lips were too thin, and there was no sweetness in the mouth. The whole -expression was that of one whose besetting characteristic is an intense -self-consciousness. - -This man could not be betrayed into the ease and _abandon_ of one of -nature’s noblemen, for he was never thinking so much of others as of -himself. The absence in him of all geniality of manner was not the -reserve of a gentleman, but the frigidity of an unsympathetic and -unassured heart. There was little in him of the Southern type of -manhood. It is not to be wondered that bluff General Taylor could not -overcome his repugnance to him as a son-in-law. - -Although at the head of the Rebellion, this man had no vital faith in -it; no enthusiasm that could magnetize others by a noble contagion. He -was not a fanatic, like Stonewall Jackson. And yet, just previously to -Ratcliff’s call, he had been exercised in mind about joining the -church,—a step he finally took. - -He had few of the qualities of a statesman. His petty malignities -overcame all sense of the proprieties becoming his station; for he would -give way, even in his public official addresses, to scurrilities which -had the meanness without the virility of the slang of George Sanderson, -and which showed a lack of the primary elements of a heroic nature. - -A man greatly overrated as to abilities. A repudiator of the sacred -obligations assumed by his State, it was his added infelicity to be -defended by John Slidell. Never respected for truthfulness by those who -knew him best. Future historians will contrast him with President -Lincoln, and will show that, while the latter surpassed him immeasurably -in high moral attributes, he was also his superior in intellectual pith. - -The interview between Ratcliff and Davis began with an interchange of -views on the subject of New Orleans. Each cheered the other with -assurances of the impracticability of the Federal attack. After public -affairs had been discussed, the so-called President said: “Excuse me for -not having asked after Mrs. Ratcliff. Is she well?” - -“She died some time since,” replied Ratcliff. - -“Indeed! In these times of general bereavement we find it impossible to -keep account of our friends.” - -“It is my purpose, Mr. President, to marry soon again. You have yourself -set the example of second nuptials, and I believe the experiment has -been a happy one.” - -“Yes; may yours be as fortunate! Who is the lady?” - -“A young person not known in society, but highly respectable and well -educated. I shall have the pleasure to present her to you here in -Richmond in the course of the summer.” - -“Mrs. Davis will be charmed to make her acquaintance. Come and help us -celebrate Lee’s next great victory.” - -“Thank you. If I can get my affairs into position, I may wish to pass -the next year in Europe with my new wife. It would not be difficult, I -suppose, for you to give me some diplomatic stamp that would make me -pass current.” - -“The government will be disposed, no doubt, to meet your views. We are -likely to want some accredited agent in Spain. A post that would enable -you to fluctuate between Madrid and Paris would be not an unpleasant -one.” - -“It would suit me entirely, Mr. President.” - -“You may rely on my friendly consideration.” - -“Thank you. How about foreign recognition?” - -“Slidell writes favorably as to the Emperor’s predispositions. In -England, the aristocracy and gentry, with most of the trading classes, -undoubtedly favor our cause. They desire to see the Union permanently -broken up, and will help us all they can. But they must do this -_indirectly_, seeing that the mass of the English people, the rabble -rout, even the artisans, thrown out of employment by this war, -sympathize with the plebeians of the North rather than with us, the true -master race of this continent, the patricians of the South.” - -“I’m glad to see, Mr. President, you characterize the Northern scum as -they deserve,—descendants of the refuse sent over by Cromwell.” - -“Yes, Mr. Ratcliff, you and I who are gentlemen by birth and -education,—and whose ancestors, further back than the Norman Conquest, -were all gentlemen,[41]—can poorly disguise our disgust at any -association with Yankees.” - -“Gladstone says you’ve created a nation, Mr. President.” - -“Yes; Gladstone is a high-toned gentleman. His ancestors made their -fortunes in the Liverpool slave-trade.” - -“Have you any assurances yet from Mason?” - -“Nothing decisive. But the eagerness of the Ministry to humble the North -in the Trent affair shows the real _animus_ of the ruling classes in -England. Lord John disappoints me occasionally. Bad blood there. But the -rest are all right.” - -“A pity they couldn’t put their peasantry into the condition of our -slaves!” - -“A thousand pities! But the new Confederacy must be a Missionary to the -Nations,[42] to teach the ruling classes throughout the world, that -slavery is the normal _status_ for the mechanic and the laborer. -Meanwhile the friends of monarchy in Europe must foresee that such a -triumph as republicanism would have in the restoration of the old Union, -with slavery no longer a power in the land, and with an army and navy -the first in the world, would be an appalling spectacle.” - -“What do you hear from Washington, Mr. President?” - -“The last I heard of the gorilla, he was investigating the so-called -spiritual phenomena. The letter-writers tell of a _medium_ having been -entertained at the White House.” - -Here Mr. Memminger came in to talk over the state of the Rebel -exchequer,—a subject which Mr. Davis generally disposed of by ignoring; -his old experience in repudiation teaching him that the best mode of -fancy financiering was,—if we may descend to the vernacular,—to “go it -blind.” - -“I’ll intrude no longer on your precious time,” said Ratcliff. “I go -home to send you word that the renegade Tennessean, Farragut, and that -peddling lawyer from Lowell, Picayune Butler, have been spued out of the -mouths of the Mississippi.” - -The “President” rose, pressed Ratcliff’s proffered hand, and, with a -stiff, angular bow, parted from him at the door. - ------ - -Footnote 41: - - Mr. Davis’s father was a “cavalier.” He dealt in horses. - -Footnote 42: - - “Reverently, we feel that our Confederacy is a God-sent missionary to - the nations, with great truths to preach.”—_Richmond Enquirer._ - - - - - CHAPTER XLI. - HOPES AND FEARS. - - “In the same brook none ever bathed him twice: - To the same life none ever twice awoke.” - _Young._ - - -Three days after his interview with the “remarkable man,” Ratcliff was -at Montgomery, Ala. There he telegraphed to Semmes, and received these -words in reply: “All safe. On your arrival, go first to my office for -directions.” Ratcliff obeyed, and found a letter telling him not to go -home, but to meet Semmes immediately at the house to which the latter -had transferred the white slave. Half an hour did not elapse before -lawyer and client sat in the curtained drawing-room of this house, -discussing their affairs. - -“I cannot believe,” said Ratcliff, “that Josephine intended to have the -girl escape. She was the first to plan this marriage.” - -“I did not act on light grounds of suspicion,” replied Semmes. “I had -myself overheard remarks which convinced me that Madame was playing a -double game. Either she or some one else has put it into the girl’s head -that she is not lawfully a slave, but the kidnapped child of respectable -parents.” - -As he spoke these words Semmes looked narrowly at Ratcliff, who blenched -as if at an unexpected thrust. Following up his advantage, Semmes -continued: “And, by the way, there is one awkward circumstance which, if -known, might make trouble. I see by examining the notary’s books, that, -in the record of your proprietorship, you speak of the child as a -_quadroon_. Now plainly she has no sign of African blood in her veins.” - -Ratcliff gnawed his lips a moment, and then remarked: “The fact that the -record speaks of the child as a quadroon does not amount to much. She -may have been born of a quadroon mother, and may have been tanned while -an infant so as to appear herself like a quadroon; and subsequently her -skin may have turned fair. All that will be of little account. Half of -the white slaves in the city would not be suspected of having African -blood in their veins, but for the record. Who would think of disputing -my claim to a slave,—one, too, that had been held by me for some fifteen -years?” - -Well might Ratcliff ask the question. It is true that the laws of -Louisiana had some ameliorated features that seemed to throw a sort of -protection round the slave; and one of these was the law preventing the -separation of young children from their mothers under the hammer; and -making ownership in slaves transferable, not by a mere bill of sale, -like a bale of goods, but by deed formally recorded by a notary. But it -is none the less true that such are the necessities of slavery that the -law was often a dead letter. There was always large room for evasion and -injustice; and the man who should look too curiously into transactions, -involving simply the rights of the slave, would be pretty sure to have -his usefulness cut short by being denounced as an Abolitionist. - -The ignominious expulsion of Mr. Hoar who went to South Carolina, not to -look after the rights of slaves, but of colored freemen, was a standing -warning against any philanthropy that had in view the enforcement or -testing of laws friendly to the blacks. - -“I should not be surprised,” remarked Semmes, “if this young woman -either has, or believes she has, some proofs invalidating your claim to -hold her as a chattel.” - -“Bah! I’ve no fear of that. Who, in the name of all the fairies, does -the little woman imagine she is?” - -“She cherishes the notion that she is the daughter of that same Henry -Berwick who was lost in the Pontiac. Should that be so, the house you -live in is hers. That would be odd, wouldn’t it? You seem surprised. Is -there any probability in the tale?” - -“None whatever!” exclaimed Ratcliff, affecting to laugh, but evidently -preoccupied in mind, and intent on following out some vague -reminiscence. - -He remembered that the infant he had bought as a slave and taken into -his barouche wore a chemise on which were initial letters marked in -silk. He was struck at the time by the fineness of the work and of the -fabric. He now tried to recall those initial letters. By their mnemonic -association with a certain word, he had fixed them in his mind. He -strove to recall that word. Suddenly he started up. The word had come -back to him. It was _cab_. The initials were C. A. B. Semmes detected -his emotion, and drew his own inferences accordingly. - -“By the way,” said he, “having a little leisure last night, I looked -back through an old file of the Bee newspaper, and there hit upon a -letter from the pen of a passenger, written a few days after the -explosion of the Pontiac.” - -“Indeed! One would think, judging from the trouble you take about it, -you attached some degree of credence to this fanciful story.” - -“No. ’T is quite incredible. But a lawyer, you know, ought to be -prepared on all points, however trivial, affecting his client’s -interests.” - -“Did you find anything to repay you for your search?” - -“I will read you a passage from the letter; which letter, by the way, -bears the initials A. L., undoubtedly, as I infer from the context, -those of Arthur Laborie, whose authority no one in New Orleans will -question. Here is the passage. The letter is in French. I will translate -as I read:— - - “‘Among the mortally wounded was a Mr. Berwick of New York, a - gentleman of large wealth. They had pointed him out to me the day - before, as, with a wife and infant child, the latter in the arms of a - nurse, a colored woman, he stood on the hurricane-deck. The wife was - killed, probably by the inhalation of steam. I saw and identified the - body. The child, they said, was drowned; if so, the body was not - recovered. A colored boy reported, that the day after the accident he - had seen a white child and a mulatto woman, probably from the wreck, - in the care of two white men; that the men told him the woman was - crazy, and that the child belonged to a friend of theirs who had been - drowned. I give this report, in the hope it may reach the eyes of some - friend of the Berwicks, though it did not seem to make much impression - on the officials who conducted the investigation. Probably they had - good reason for dismissing the testimony; for Mr. Berwick died in the - full belief that his wife and child had already passed away.’” - -“I don’t see anything in all that,” said Ratcliff, impatiently. - -“Perhaps not,” replied Semmes; “but an interested lawyer would see a -good deal to set him thinking and inquiring. The letter, having been -published in French, may not have met the eyes of any one to whom the -information would have been suggestive.” - -“Really, Semmes, you seem to be trying to make out a case.” - -“The force of habit. ’T is second nature for a lawyer to revolve such -questions. Many big cases are built on narrower foundations.” - -“Psha! The incident might do very well in a romance, but ’t is not one -of a kind known to actual life.” - -“Pardon me. Incidents resembling it are not infrequent. There was the -famous Burrows case, where a child stolen by Indians was recovered and -identified in time to prevent the diversion of a large property. There -was the case of Aubert, where a quadroon concubine managed to substitute -her own child in the place of the legitimate heir. Indeed, I could -mention quite a number of cases, not at all dissimilar, and some of them -having much more of the quality of romance.” - -“Damn it, Semmes, what are you driving at? Do you want to take a chance -in that lottery?” - -“Have I ever deserted a client? We must not shrink—we lawyers—from -looking a case square in the face.” - -“Nonsense! The art how _not_ to see is that which the prudent lawyer is -most solicitous to learn. It is not by looking a case square in the -face, but by looking only at _his_ side of it, that he wins.” - -“On the contrary, the man of nerve looks boldly at the danger, and fends -off accordingly. Should you marry this young lady, it may be a very -pleasant thing to know that she’s the true heir to a million.” - -“Curse me, but I didn’t think of that!” cried Ratcliff, rubbing his -hands, and then patting the lawyer on the shoulder. “Go on with your -investigations, Semmes! Hunt up more information about the Pontiac. Go -and see Laborie. Question Ripper, the auctioneer. I left him in -Montgomery, but he will be at the St. Charles to-morrow. Find out who -Quattles was; and who the Colonel was who acted as Quattles’s friend, -but whose name I forget. ’T is barely possible there _may_ have been -some little irregularities practised; and if so, so much the better for -me! What fat pickings for you, Semmes, if we could make it out that this -little girl is the rightful heir! All this New Orleans property can be -saved from Confederate confiscation. And then, as soon as the war is -ended, we can go and establish her rights in New York.” - -Semmes took a pinch of snuff, and replied: “You remember Mrs. Glass’s -well-worn receipt for cooking a hare: ‘First, catch your hare.’ So I -say, first make sure that the young girl will say _yes_ to your -proposition.” - -“What! do you entertain a doubt? A slave? One I could send to the -auction-block to-morrow? Do you imagine she will decline an alliance -with Carberry Ratcliff? Look you, Semmes! I’ve set my heart on this -marriage more than I ever did on any other scheme in my whole life. The -chance—for ’t is only a remote chance—that she is of gentle -blood,-well-born, the rightful heir to a million,—this enhances the -prize, and gives new piquancy to an acquisition already sufficiently -tempting to my eyes. There must be no such word as _fail_ in this -business, Mr. Lawyer. You must help me to bring it to a prosperous -conclusion instantly.” - -“No: do not say _instantly_. Beware being precipitate. Remember what the -poet says,—‘A woman’s _No_ is but a crooked path unto a woman’s _Yes_.’ -Do not mind a first rebuff. Do not play the master. Be distant and -respectful. Attempt no liberties. You will only shock and exasperate. By -a gentle, insinuating course, you may win.” - -“_May_ win? I _must_ win, Semmes! There must be no _if_ about it.” - -“I want to see you win, Ratcliff; but show her you assume there’s no -_if_ in the case, and you repel and alienate her.” - -“I don’t know that. Most women like a man the better for being truly, as -well as nominally, the lord and master. The more imperious he is, the -more readily and tenaciously they cling to him. I don’t believe in -letting a woman suppose that she can seize the reins when she pleases.” - -The lawyer shrugged his shoulders, then replied: “The tyrant is hated by -every person of sense, whether man or woman. I grant you there are many -women who haven’t much sense. But this little lady of yours is the last -in the world on whom you can safely try the experiment of compulsion. -Take my word for it, the true course is to let her suppose she is free -to act. You must rule her by not seeming to rule.” - -“Well, let me see the girl, and I can judge better then as to the fit -policy. I’ve encountered women before in my day. You don’t speak to a -novice in woman-taming. I never met but one yet who ventured to hold out -against me,—and she got the worst of it, I reckon.” And a grim smile -passed over Ratcliff’s face as he thought of Estelle. - -“You will find the young lady in the room corresponding with this, on -the third story,” said the lawyer. “The door is locked, but the key is -on the outside. Please consider that my supervision ends here. I leave -the servants in the house subject to your command. The Sister Agatha in -immediate attendance is a pious fool, who believes her charge is insane. -She will obey you implicitly. Sam will attend to the marketing. My own -affairs now claim my attention. I’ve suffered largely from their neglect -during your absence. Be careful not to be seen coming in or going out of -this house. I have used extreme precautions, and have thus far baffled -those who would help the young woman to escape.” - -“I shall not be less vigilant,” replied Ratcliff. “I accept the keys and -the responsibility. Good by. I go to let the young woman know that her -master has returned.” - -Ratcliff seized his hat and passed out of the room up-stairs as fast as -his somewhat pursy habit of body would allow. - -“There goes a man who puts his hat on the head of a fool,” muttered the -old lawyer. “Confound him! If he weren’t so deep in my books, I would -leave him to his own destruction, and join the enemy. I’m not sure this -wouldn’t be the best policy as it is.” - -Thus venting his anger in soliloquy Mr. Semmes quitted the house, and -walked in meditative mood to his office. - - ---------- - -Ratcliff paused at the uppermost stair on the third story. From the room -came the sound of a piano-forte, with a vocal accompaniment. Clara was -singing “While Thee I seek, protecting Power,”—a hymn which, though -written by Helen Maria Williams when she thought herself a deist, is -used by thousands of Christian congregations to interpret their highest -mood of devout trust and pious resignation. As the clear, out-swelling -notes fell on Ratcliff’s ears, he drew back as if a flaming sword had -been waved menacingly before his face. - -He walked down into the room below and waited till the music was over; -then he boldly proceeded up-stairs again, knocked at the door, unlocked -it, and entered. Clara looked round from turning the leaves of a -music-book, rose, and bent upon her visitor a penetrating glance as if -she would fathom the full depth of his intents. Ratcliff advanced and -put out his hand. She did not take it, but courtesied and motioned him -to a seat. - -She was dressed in a flowing gauze-like robe of azure over white, -appropriate to the warmth of the season. Her hair was combed back from -her forehead and temples, showing the full symmetry of her head. Her -lips, of a delicate coral, parted just enough to show the white -perfection of her teeth. Rarely had she looked so dangerously beautiful. -Ratcliff was swift to notice all these points. - -Assuming that a compliment on her personal appearance could never come -amiss to a woman, young or old, he said: “Upon my word, you are growing -more beautiful every day, Miss Murray. I had thought there was no room -for improvement. I find my mistake.” - -Ratcliff looked narrowly to see if there were any expression of pleasure -on her face, but it did not relax from its impenetrability. - -“Will you not be seated?” he asked. - -She sat down, and he followed her example. There was silence for a -moment. The master felt almost embarrassed before the young girl he had -so long regarded as a slave. Something like a genuine emotion began to -stir in his heart as he said: “Miss Murray, you are well aware that I am -the only person to whom you are entitled to look for protection and -support. From an infant you have been under my charge, and I hope you -will admit that I have not been ungenerous in providing for you.” - -“One word, sir, at the outset, on that point,” interposed Clara. “All -the expense you have been at for me shall be repaid and overpaid at once -with interest. You are aware I have the means to reimburse you fully.” - -“Excuse me, Miss Murray; without meaning to taunt you,—simply to set you -right in your notions,—let me remark, that, being my slave, you can hold -no property independent of me. All you have is legally mine.” - -“How can that be, sir, when what I have is entirely out of your power; -safely deposited in the vaults of Northern banks, where your claim not -only is not recognized, but where you could not go to enforce it without -being liable to be arrested as a traitor?” - -A dark, savage expression flitted over Ratcliff’s face as he thought of -the turn which his wife, aided by Winslow, had served him; but he -checked the ire which was rising to his lips, and replied: “Let me beg -you not to cherish an unprofitable delusion, my dear Miss Murray. When -this war terminates, as it inevitably will, in the triumph of the South, -one of the conditions of peace which we shall impose on the North will -be, that all claims resulting out of slavery, either through the -abduction of slaves or the transfer of property held as theirs, shall be -settled by the fullest indemnification to masters. In that event your -little property, which Mr. Winslow thinks he has hid safely away beyond -my recovery, will be surely reached and returned to me, the lawful -owner.” - -“Well, sir,” replied Clara, forcing a calmness at which she herself was -surprised, “supposing, what I do not regard as probable, that the South -will have its own way in this war, and that my title to all property -will be set aside as superseded by yours, let me inform you that I have -a friend who will come to my aid, and make you the fullest compensation -for all the expense you have been at on my account.” - -“Indeed! Is there any objection to my knowing to what friend you -allude?” - -“None at all, sir. Madame Volney is that friend.” - -“Well, we will not discuss that point now,” said Ratcliff, smiling -incredulously as he thought how speedily a few blandishments from him -would overcome any resolution which the lady referred to might form. “My -plans for you, Miss Murray, are all honorable, and such as neither you -nor the world can regard as other than generous. Consider what I might -do if I were so disposed! I could put you up at auction to-morrow and -sell you to some brute of a fellow who would degrade and misuse you. -Instead of that, what do I propose? First let me speak a few words of -myself. I am, it is true, considerably your senior, but not old, and not -ill-looking, if I may believe my glass. My property, already large, will -be enormous the moment the war is over. I have bought within the last -six months, at prices almost nominal, over a thousand slaves, whose -value will be increased twenty-fold with the return of peace. My -position in the new Confederacy will be among the foremost. Already -President Davis has assured me that whatever I may ask in the way of a -new foreign mission I can have. Thus the lady who may link her fate with -mine will be a welcome guest at all the courts of Europe. If she is -beautiful, her beauty will be admired by princes, kings, and emperors. -If she is intellectual, all the wits and great men of London and Paris -will be ambitious to make her acquaintance. Now what do you think I -propose for you?” - -“Let me not disguise my knowledge,” replied Clara, looking him in the -face till he dropped his eyelids. “You propose that I should be your -wife.” - -“Ah! Josephine has told you, then, has she? And what did you say to it?” - -“I said I could never say _yes_ to such a proposition from a man who -claimed me as a slave.” - -“But what if I forego my claim, and give you free papers?” - -“Try it,” said Clara, sternly. - -“Can you then give me any encouragement?” - -The idea was so hideous to her, and so strong her disinclination to -deceive, or to allow him to deceive himself, that she could not restrain -the outburst of a hearty and emphatic “_No!_” - -Ratcliff’s eyes swam a moment with their old glitter that meant -mischief; but the recollection of his lawyer’s warning restored him to -good humor. He resolved to bear with her waywardness at that first -interview, and to let her say _no_ as much as she pleased. - -“You say _no_ now, but by and by you will say _yes_,” he replied. - -Clara had risen and was pacing the floor. Suddenly she stopped and said: -“My desire is to disabuse you wholly of any expectation, even the most -remote, that I can ever change my mind on this point. Under no -conceivable circumstances could I depart from my determination.” - -“Tell me one thing,” replied Ratcliff. “Do you speak thus because your -affections are pre-engaged?” - -“I do not,” said Clara; “and for that reason I can make my refusal all -the more final and irrevocable; for it is not biased by passion. I beg -you seriously to dismiss all expectation of ever being able to change my -purpose; and I propose you should receive for my release such a sum as -may be a complete compensation for what you have expended on me.” - -Ratcliff had it in his heart to reply, “Slave! do your master’s -bidding”; but he discreetly curbed his choler, and said, “Can you give -me any good reason for your refusal?” - -“Yes,” answered Clara, “the best of reasons: one which no gentleman -would wish to contend against: my inclinations will not let me accept -your proposal.” - -“Inclinations may change,” suggested Ratcliff. - -“In this case mine can only grow more and more adverse,” replied Clara. - -Ratcliff found it difficult to restrain himself from assuming the tone -that chimes so well with the snap of the plantation scourge; and so he -resolved to withdraw from the field for the present. He rose and said: -“As we grow better acquainted, my dear, I am persuaded your feelings -will change. I have no wish to force your affections. That would be -unchivalrous towards one I propose to place in the relation of a -_wife_.” - -He laid a significant emphasis on this last word, _wife_; and Clara -started as at some hideous object in her path. Was there, then, another -relation in which he might seek to place her, if she persisted in her -course? And then she recollected Estelle; and the flush of an angry -disgust mounted to her brow. But she made no reply; and Ratcliff, with -his hateful gaze devouring her beauties to the last, passed out of the -room. - -On the whole he felicitated himself on the interview. He thought he had -kept his temper remarkably well, and had not allowed this privileged -beauty to irritate him beyond the prudent point. He believed she could -not resist so much suavity and generosity on his part. She had confessed -she was heart-free: surely that was in his favor. It was rather -provoking to have a slave put on such airs; but then, by Jove, she was -worth enduring a little humiliation for. Possibly, too, it might be high -blood that told in her. Possibly she might be that last scion of the -Berwick stock which an untoward fate had swept far from all signs of -parentage. - -These considerations, while they disposed Ratcliff to leniency in -judging of her waywardness, did but aggravate the importunity of his -desires for the proposed alliance. Although hitherto his tastes had led -him to admire the coarser types of feminine beauty, there was that in -the very difference of Clara from all other women with whom he had been -intimate, which gave novelty and freshness and an absorbing fascination -to his present pursuit. The possession of her now was the prime -necessity of his nature. That prize hung uppermost. Even Confederate -victories were secondary. Politics were forgotten. He did not ask to see -the newspapers; he did not seek to go abroad to confer with his -political associates, and tell them all that he had seen and heard at -Richmond. Semmes’s caution in regard to the danger of his being tracked -had something to do with keeping him in the house; but apart from this -motive, the mere wish to be under the same roof with Clara, till he had -secured her his beyond all hazard, would have been sufficient to keep -him within doors. - - ---------- - -Ratcliff went down into the dining-room. The table was set for one. He -thought it time to inquire into the arrangements of the household. He -rang the bell, and it was answered by a slim, delicate looking mulatto -man, having on the white apron of a waiter. - -“What’s your name, and whose boy are you?” asked Ratcliff. - -“My name is Sam, sir, and I belong to lawyer Semmes,” replied the man, -smoothing the table-cloth, and removing a pitcher from the sideboard. - -“What directions did he leave for you?” - -“He told me to stay and wait upon you, sir, just as I had upon him, till -you saw fit to dismiss me.” - -“What other servants are there in the house?” - -“One colored woman, sir, and one, a negro; Manda the cook, and Agnes the -chambermaid.” - -“Any other persons?” - -“Only the young woman that’s crazy, and the Sister of Charity that -attends her. They are on the third floor.” - -Ratcliff looked sharply at the mulatto, but could detect in his face no -sign that he mistrusted the story of the insane woman. - -“Send up the chambermaid,” said Ratcliff. - -“Yes, sir. When will you have your dinner, sir?” - -“In half an hour. Have you any wines in the house?” - -“Yes, sir; Sherry, Madeira, Port, Burgundy, Hock, Champagne.” - -“Put on Port and Champagne.” - -Sam’s departure was followed by the chamber-maid’s appearance. - -“Are my rooms all ready, Agnes?” - -“Yes, massa. Front room, second story, all ready. Sheets fresh and -aired. Floor swept dis mornin’. All clean an’ sweet, massa.” - -There was something in the forward and assured air of this negro woman -that was satisfactory to Ratcliff. Some little coquetries of dress -suggested that she had a weakness through which she might be won to be -his unquestioning ally in any designs he might adopt. He threw out a -compliment on her good looks, and this time he found his compliment was -not thrown away. He gave her money, telling her to buy a new dress with -it, and promised her a silk shawl if she would be a good girl. To all of -which she replied with simpers of delight. - -“Now, Agnes,” said he, “tell me what you think of the little crazy lady -up-stairs?” - -“I’se of ’pinion, sar, dat gal am no more crazy nor I’m crazy.” - -“I’m glad to hear you say so, for I intend to make her my wife; and want -you to help me all you can in bringing it about.” - -“Shouldn’t tink massa would need no help, wid all his money. Wheugh! -What’s de matter? Am she offish?” - -“A little obstinate, that’s all. But she’ll come round in good time. -Only you stand by me close, Agnes, and you shall have a hundred dollars -the day I’m married.” - -“I nebber ’fuse a good offer, massa. You may count on dis chile, sure!” - -“Now go and send up dinner,” said Ratcliff, confident he had secured one -confederate who would not stick at trifles. - -The dinner was brought up hot and carefully served. - -“Curse me but this does credit to old Semmes,” soliloquized Ratcliff, as -course after course came on. “The wines, too, are not to be impeached. I -wonder if his Burgundy is equal to his Champagne.” - -Ratcliff pressed his foot on the brass mushroom under the table and rang -the bell. - -“A bottle of Burgundy, Sam.” - -The mulatto brought on a bottle, and drew the cork gently and skilfully, -so as not to shake the precious contents. - -“Ah! this will do,” said Ratcliff; “it must be of the famous vintage of -eighteen hundred and—confound the date! Sam, you sly nigger, try a glass -of this.” - -“Thank you, sir, I never drink.” - -“Nigger, you lie! Hand me that goblet.” - -Sam did as he was bid. Ratcliff filled the glass with the dark ruby -liquid, and said, “Now toss it off, you rascal. Don’t pretend you don’t -like it.” - -Sam meekly obeyed, and put down the emptied goblet. Ratcliff skirmished -feebly among the bottles a few minutes longer, then rose, and made his -way unsteadily to the sofa. - -“Sam, you solemn nigger, what’s o’clock?” said he. - -“The clock is just striking ten, sir.” - -“Possible? Have I been three—hiccup—hours at the table? Sam, see me -up-stairs and put me to bed.” - -Half an hour afterwards Ratcliff lay in the heavy, stertorous slumber -which wine, more than fatigue, had engendered. - -He was habitually a late sleeper. It wanted but a few minutes to eleven -o’clock the next morning when Sam started to answer his bell. Ratcliff -called for soda-water. Sam had taken the precaution to put a couple of -bottles under his arm, foreseeing that it would be needed. - -It took a full hour for Ratcliff to accomplish the duties of his toilet. -Then he went down to breakfast. And still the one thought that pursued -him was how best to extort compliance from that beautiful maiden -up-stairs. - -A brilliant idea occurred to him. He would go and exert his powers of -fascination. Without importunately urging his suit, he would deal out -his treasure of small-talk: he would read poetry to her; he would try -all the most approved means of making love. - -Again he knocked at her door. It was opened by Sister Agatha, who at a -sign from him withdrew into the adjoining room. Clara was busy with her -needle. - -“Have you any objection to playing a tune for me?” he asked, with the -timid air of a Corydon. - -Clara seated herself at the piano and began playing Beethoven’s Sonatas, -commencing with the first. Ratcliff was horribly bored. After he had -listened for what seemed to him an intolerable period, he interrupted -the performance by saying, “All that is very fine, but I fear it is -fatiguing to you.” - -“Not at all. I can go through the whole book without fatigue.” - -“Don’t think of it! What have you here? ‘Willis’s Poems.’ Are you fond -of poetry, Miss Murray?” - -“I _am_ fond of poetry; but my name is not Murray.” - -“Indeed! What may it then be?” - -“My name is Berwick. I am no slave, though kidnapped and sold as such -while an infant. You bought me. But you would not lend yourself to a -fraud, would you? I must be free. You shall be paid with interest for -all your outlays in my behalf. Is not that fair?” - -“I am too much interested in your welfare, my dear young lady, to -consent to giving you up. You will find it impossible to prove this -fanciful story which some unfriendly person has put into your head. Even -if it were true, you could never recover your rights. But it is all -chimerical. Don’t indulge so illusory a hope. What I offer, on the other -hand, is substantial, solid, certain. As my wife you would be lifted at -once to a position second to that of no lady in the land.” - -Clara inadvertently gave way to a shudder of dislike. Ratcliff noticed -it, and rising, drew nearer to her and asked, “Have I ever given you any -cause for aversion?” - -“Yes,” she replied, starting up from the music-chair,—“the cause which -the master must always give the slave.” - -“But if I were to remove that objection, could you not like me?” - -“Impossible!” - -“Have I ever done anything to prevent it?” - -“Yes, much.” - -“Surely not toward you; and if not toward you, toward whom?” - -“Toward Estelle!” said Clara, roused to an intrepid scorn, which carried -her beyond the bounds at once of prudence and of fear. - -Had Ratcliff seen Estelle rise bodily before him, he could not have been -struck more to the heart with an emotion partaking at once of awe and of -rage. The habitually florid hue of his cheeks faded to a pale purple. He -swung his arms awkwardly, as if at a loss what to do with them. He paced -the floor wildly, and finally gasping forth, “Young woman, you shall—you -shall repent this,” left the room. - -He did not make his appearance in Clara’s parlor again that day. It was -already late in the afternoon. Dinner was nearly ready. The -consideration that such serious excitement would be bad for his appetite -gradually calmed him down; and by the time he was called to the table he -had thrown off the effects of the shock which a single word had given -him. The dinner was a repetition of that of the day before, varied by -the production of new dishes and wines. Sam was evidently doing his best -as a caterer. Again Ratcliff sat late, and again Sam saw him safe -up-stairs and helped him to undress. And again the slave-lord slept late -into the hours of the forenoon. - -After breakfast on the third day of his return he paced the back piazza -for some two hours, smoking cigars. He had no thought but for the one -scheme before him. To be baffled in that was to lose all. Public affairs -sank into insignificance. Sam handed him a newspaper, but without -glancing at it he threw it over the balustrade into the area. “She’s but -a wayward girl, after all! I must be patient with her,” thought he, one -moment. And the next his mood varied, and he muttered to himself: “A -slave! Damnation! To be treated so by a slave,—one I could force to -drudge instead of letting her play the lady!” - -Suddenly he went up-stairs and paid her a third visit. His manner and -speech were abrupt. - -“I wish to deal with you gently and generously,” said he; “and I beseech -you not to compel me to resort to harshness. You are legally my slave, -whatever fancies you may entertain as to your origin or as to a flaw in -my title. You can prove nothing, or if you could, it would avail you -nothing, against the power which I can exert in this community. I tell -you I could this very day, in the mere exercise of my legal rights, -consign you to the ownership of those who would look upon your delicate -nurture, your assured manners, and your airs of a lady, merely as so -many baits enhancing the wages of your infamy; who would subject you to -gross companionship with the brutal and the merciless; who would scourge -you into compliance with any base uses to which they might choose to put -you. Fair-faced slaves are forced to such things every day. Instead of -surrendering yourself to liabilities like these, you have it in your -power to take the honorable position of my wife,—a position where you -could dispense good to others while having every luxury that heart could -covet for yourself. Now decide, and decide quickly; for I can no longer -endure this torturing suspense in which you have kept me. Will you -accede to my wishes, or will you not?” - -“I will not!” said Clara, in a firm and steady tone. - -“Then remember,” replied Ratcliff, “it is your own hands that have made -the foul bed in which you prefer to lie.” - -And with these terrible words he quitted the room. - -Frightened at her own temerity, Clara at once sank upon her knees, and -called with earnest supplication on the Supreme Father for protection. -Blending with her own words those immortal formulas which the inspired -David wrote down for the help and refreshing of devout souls throughout -all time, she exclaimed: “Thou art my hiding-place and my shield: I hope -in thy word. Seven times a day do I praise thee because of thy righteous -judgments. Wonderfully hast thou led me heretofore: forsake me not in -this extreme. Save now, I beseech thee, O Lord; _send now prosperity_! -Let thine hand help me. Deliver my soul from death, mine eyes from -tears, and my feet from falling. Out of the depth I cry unto thee. O -Lord, hear my voice, and be attentive unto my supplications.” - -As she remained with head bent and arms crossed upon her bosom, -motionless as some sculptured saint, she suddenly felt the touch of a -hand on her head, and started up. It was Sister Agatha, who had come to -bid her good by. - -“But you’re not going to leave me!” cried Clara. - -“Yes; I’ve been told to go.” - -“By whom have you been told to go?” - -“By the gentleman who now takes charge of you,—Mr. Ratcliff.” - -“But he’s a bad man! Look at him, study him, and you’ll be convinced.” - -“O no! he has given me fifty dollars to distribute among the poor. If -you were in your senses, my child, you would not call him bad. He is -your best earthly friend. You must heed all he says. Agnes will remain -to wait on you.” - -“Agnes? I’ve no faith in that girl. I fear she is corrupt; that money -could tempt her to much that is wrong.” - -“What fancies! Poor child! But this is one of the signs of your -disease,—this disposition to see enemies in those around you. There! you -must let me go. The Lord help and cure you! Farewell!” - -Sister Agatha withdrew herself from Clara’s despairing grasp and eager -pleadings, and, passing into the sleeping-room, opened the farther door -which led into the billiard-room, of the door of which, communicating -with the entry, she had the key. - -For the moment Hope seemed to vanish from Clara’s heart with the -departing form of the Sister; for, simple as she was, she was still a -protection against outrage. No shame could come while Sister Agatha was -present. - -Suddenly the idea occurred to Clara that she had not tested all the -possibilities of escape. She ran and tried the doors. They were all -locked. We have seen that she had the range of a suite of three large -rooms: a front room serving as a parlor and connected by a corridor, -having closets and doors at either end, with the sleeping-room looking -out on the garden in the rear. This sleeping-room, as you looked from -the windows, communicated with the billiard-room on the left, and had -one door, also on the left, communicating with the entry on which you -came from the stairs. This door was locked on the outside. The parlor -also communicated with this entry or hall by a door on the left, locked -on the outside. The house was built very much after the style of most -modern city houses, so that it is not difficult to form a clear idea of -Clara’s position. - -Finding the doors were secure against any effort of hers to force them, -it occurred to her to throw into the street a letter containing an -appeal for succor to the person who might pick it up. She hastily wrote -a few lines describing her situation, the room where she was confined, -the fraud by which she was held a slave, and giving the name of the -street, the number of the house, &c. This she signed _Clara A. Berwick_. -Then rolling it up in a handkerchief with a paper-weight she threw it -out of the window far into the street. Ah! It went beyond the opposite -sidewalk, over the fence, and into the tall grass of the little -ornamented park in front of the house! - -She could have wept at the disappointment. Should she write another -letter and try again? While she was considering the matter, she saw a -well-dressed lady and gentleman promenading. She cried out “Help!” But -before she could repeat the cry a hand was put upon her mouth, and the -window was shut down. - -“No, Missis, can’t ’low dat,” said the chuckling voice of Agnes. - -Clara took the girl by the hand, made her sit down, and then, with all -the persuasiveness she could summon, tried to reach her better nature, -and induce her to aid in her escape. Failing in the effort to move the -girl’s heart, Clara appealed to her acquisitiveness, promising a large -reward in money for such help as she could give. But the girl had been -pre-persuaded by Ratcliff that Clara’s promises were not to be relied -upon; and so, disbelieving them utterly, she simply shook her head and -simpered. How could Agnes, a slave, presume to disobey a great man like -Massa Ratcliff? Besides, he meant the young missis no harm. He only -wanted to make her his wife. Why should she be so obstinate about it? -Agnes couldn’t see the sense of it. - -During the rest of the day, Clara felt for the first time that her every -movement was watched. If she went to the window, Agnes was by her side. -If she took up a bodkin, Agnes seemed ready to spring upon her and -snatch it from her hand. - -Terrible reflections brought their gloom. Clara recalled the case of a -slave-girl which she had heard only the day before her last walk with -Esha. It was the case of a girl quite white belonging to a Madame -Coutreil, residing just below the city. This girl, for attempting to run -away, had been placed in a filthy dungeon, and a thick, heavy iron ring -or yoke, surmounted by three prongs, fastened about her neck.[43] If a -_mistress_ could do such things, what barbarity might not a _master_ -like Ratcliff attempt? - - ---------- - -And where was Ratcliff all this while? - -Still keeping in the house, brooding on the one scheme on which he had -set his heart. He smoked cigars, stretched himself on sofas, cursed the -perversity of the sex, and theorized as to the efficacy of extreme -measures in taming certain feminine tempers. Was not a woman, after all, -something like a horse? Had he not seen Rarey tame the most furious mare -by a simple process which did not involve beating or cruelty? The -consideration was curious,—a matter for philosophy to ruminate. - -Ratcliff dined late that day. It was almost dark enough for the gas to -be lighted when he sat down to the table. The viands were the choicest -of the season, but he hardly did them justice. All the best wines were -on the sideboard. Sam filled three glasses with hock, champagne, and -burgundy; but, to his surprise and secret disappointment, Ratcliff did -not empty one of them. “Mr. Semmes used to praise this Rudesheimer very -highly,” said Sam, insinuatingly. Ratcliff simply raised his hand -imperiously with a gesture imposing silence. He sipped half a glass of -the red wine, then drank a cup of coffee, then lit a cigar, and resumed -his walk on the piazza. - -It was now nine o’clock in the evening. Without taking off any of her -clothes, Clara had lain down on the bed. Agnes sat sewing at a table -near by. The room was brilliantly illuminated by two gas-burners. Light -also came through the corridor from a burner in the parlor. Every few -minutes the chambermaid would look round searchingly, as if to see -whether the young “missis” were asleep. In order to learn what effect it -would have, Clara shut her eyes and breathed as if lost in slumber. -Agnes put down her work, moved stealthily to the bed, and gently felt -around the maiden’s waist and bosom, as if to satisfy herself there was -no weapon concealed about her person. - -While the negro woman was thus engaged, there was a sound as if a key -had dropped on the billiard-room floor, which was of oak and uncarpeted. -Agnes stopped and listened as if puzzled. There was then a sound as if -the outer door of the billiard-room communicating with the entry were -unlocked and opened. Agnes went up to the mantel-piece and looked at the -clock, and then listened again intently. - -There was now a low knock from the billiard-room at the chamber-door, -which was locked on the inside, and the key of which was left in while -Agnes was present, but which she was accustomed to take out and leave on -the billiard-room side when she quitted the apartments to go -down-stairs. - -Before unlocking the door on this occasion she asked in a whisper, -“Who’s dar?” - -The reply came, “Sam.” - -“What’s de matter?” - -“I want to speak with you a minute. Open the door.” - -“Can’t do it, Sam. It’s agin orders.” - -“Well, no matter. I only thought you’d like to tell me what sort of a -shawl to get.” - -“What?—what’s dat you say ’bout a shawl?” - -“The Massa has given me ten dollars to buy a silk shawl for you. What -color do you want?” - -Clara heard every word of this little dialogue. It was followed by the -chambermaid’s unlocking the door, taking out the key and entering the -billiard-room. Clara started from the bed, and went and listened. The -only words she could distinguish were, “I’ll jes run up-stairs an’ git a -pattern fur yer.” Clara tried the door, but found it locked. She -listened yet more intently. There was no further sound. She waited five -minutes, then went back to the bed and sat down. - -A sense of something incommunicable and mysterious weighed upon her -brain and agitated her thoughts. It was as if she were enclosed by an -atmosphere impenetrable to intelligences that were trying to reach her -brain. For a week she had seen no newspaper. What had happened during -that time? Great events were impending. What shape had they taken? The -terror of the Vague and the Unknown dilated her eyes and thrilled her -heart. - -As she sat there breathless, she heard through the window, open at the -top, the distant beat of music. The tune was distinguishable rather by -the vibrations of the air than by audible notes. But it seemed to Clara -as if a full band were playing the Star-Spangled Banner. What could it -mean? Nothing. The tune was claimed both by Rebels and Loyalists. - -Hark! It had changed. What was it now? Surely that must be the air of -“Hail Columbia.” Never before, since the breaking out of the Rebellion, -had she heard that tune. As the wind now and then capriciously favored -the music, it came more distinct to her ears. There could be no mistake. - -And now the motion of the sounds was brisk, rapid, and lively. Could it -be? Yes! These rash serenaders, whoever they were, had actually ventured -to play “Yankee Doodle.” Was it possible the authorities allowed such -outrages on Rebel sensibilities? - -And now the sounds ceased, but only for a moment. A slower, a grand and -majestic strain, succeeded. It arrested her closest attention. What was -it? What? She had heard it before, but where? When? What association, -strange yet tender, did it have for her? Why did it thrill and rouse her -as none of the other tunes had done? Suddenly she remembered it was that -fearful “John Brown Hallelujah Chorus,” which Vance had played and sung -for her the first evening of their acquaintance. - -The music ceased; and she listened vainly for its renewal. All at once a -harsh sound, that chilled her heart, and seemed to concentrate all her -senses in one, smote on her ears. The key of the parlor door was slowly -turned. There was a step, and it seemed to be the step of a man. - -Clara started up and pressed both bands on her bosom, to keep down the -flutterings of her heart, which beat till a sense of suffocation came -over her. - -The awe and suspense of that moment seemed to protract it into a whole -hour of suffering. “God help me!” was all she could murmur. Her terror -grew insupportable. The steps came over the carpet,—they fell on the -tessellated marble of the little closet-passage,—they drew near the -half-open door which now alone intervened. - -Then there was a knock on the wood-work. She wanted to say, “Who’s -there?” but her tongue refused its office. The strength seemed ebbing -from every limb. Horror at the thought of her helplessness came over -her. Then a form—the form of a man—stood before her. She uttered one -cry,—a simple “Oh!”—and sinking at his feet, put her arms about his -knees and pressed against them her head. - -There are times when a brief, hardly articulate utterance,—a simple -intonation,—seems to carry in it whole volumes of meaning. That single -_Oh!_—how much of heart-history it conveyed! In its expression of -transition from mortal terror to entire trustfulness and delight, it was -almost childlike. It spoke of unexpected relief,—of a joyful -surprise,—of a gratitude without bounds,—of an awful sense of angelic -guardianship,—of an inward faith vindicated and fulfilled against a -tumultuous crowd of selfish external fears and misgivings. - -The man whose appearance had called forth this intensified utterance -wore the military cap and insignia of a Colonel in the United States -service. His figure seemed made for endurance, though remarkable for -neatness and symmetry. His face was that of one past the middle -stage,—one to whom life had not been one unvaried holiday. The cheeks -were bronzed; the eyes mobile and penetrating, the mouth singularly -sweet and firm. Clara knew the face. It was that of Vance. - -He lifted her flaccid form from the posture in which she had thrown -herself,—lifted and supported it against his breast as if to give her -the full assurance of safety and protection. She opened her eyes upon -him as thus they stood,—eyes now beaming with reverential gratitude and -transport. He looked at them closely. - -“Yes,” said he, “there they are! the blue and the gray! Why did I not -notice them before?” - -“Ah!” she cried. “Here is my dream fulfilled. You have at last taken -from them that letter which lay there.” - -There was the sound of footsteps on the landing in the upper hall. Clara -instinctively threw an arm over Vance’s shoulder. The key of the -chamber-door was turned, and Ratcliff entered. - -He had been pacing the piazza and smoking uncounted cigars. The distant -music, which to Clara’s aroused senses had been so audible, had not been -heard by him. He had not dreamed of any interruption of his plans. Was -he not dealing with a slave in a house occupied by slaves? What possible -service was there he could not claim of a slave? Were not slaves made -every day to scourge slaves, even their own wives and children, till the -backs of the sufferers were seamed and bloody? Besides, he had fortified -the fidelity of one of them—of Agnes—by presents and by flatteries. Even -the revolver he usually carried with him was laid aside in one of the -drawers of his dressing-room as not likely to be wanted. - -On entering the chamber, Ratcliff, before perceiving that there was an -unexpected occupant, turned and relocked the door on the inside. - -Was it some vision, the product of an incantation, that now rose before -his eyes? For there stood the maiden on whose compliance he had so -wreaked all the energy of his tyrannical will,—his own purchased slave -and thrall,—creature bound to serve either his brute desires or his most -menial exactions,—there she stood, in the attitude of entire trust and -affection, folded in the arms of a man! - -Instantly Ratcliff reflected that he was unarmed, and he turned and -unlocked the door to rush down-stairs after his revolver. But Vance was -too swift for him. Placing Clara in a chair, quick as the tiger-cat -springs on his prey, he darted upon Ratcliff, and before the latter -could pass out on to the landing, relocked the door and took the key. -Then dragging him into the middle of the room, he held him by a terrible -grip on the shoulders at arm’s length, face to face. - -“Now look at me well,” said Vance. “You have seen me before. Do you -recognize me now?” - -Wild with a rage to which all other experiences of wrath were as a -zephyr to a tornado, Ratcliff yet had the curiosity to look, and that -look brought in a new emotion which made even his wrath subordinate. For -the first time in more than twenty years he recognized the man who had -once offended him at the theatre,—who had once knocked him down on board -a steamboat in the eyes of neighbors and vassals,—who had robbed him of -one beautiful slave girl, and was now robbing him of another. Yes, it -never once occurred to Ratcliff that he, a South Carolinian, a man born -to command, was not the aggrieved and injured party! - -Vance stood with a look like that of St. George spearing the dragon. The -past, with all its horrors, surged up on his recollection. He thought of -that day of Estelle’s abduction,—of the escape and recapture,—of that -scene at the whipping-post,—of the celestial smile she bent on him -through her agony,—of the scourging he himself underwent, the scars of -which he yet bore,—of those dreadful hours when he clung to the loosened -raft in the river,—of the death scene, the euthanasia of Estelle, of his -own despair and madness. - -And here, before him, within his grasp, was the author of all these -barbarities and indignities! Here was the man who had ordered and -superintended the scourging of one in whom all the goodness and grace -that ever made womanhood lovely and adorable had met! Here was the -haughty scoundrel who had thought to bind her in marriage with one of -his own slaves! Here was the insolent ruffian! Here the dastard -murderer! What punishment could be equal to his crimes? Death? His life -so worthless for hers so precious beyond all reckoning? Oh! that would -go but a small way toward paying the enormous debt! - -Vance carried in a secret pocket a pistol, and wore a small sword at his -side. This last weapon Ratcliff tried to grasp, but failed. Vance looked -inquiringly about the room. Ratcliff felt his danger, and struggled with -the energy of despair. Vance, with the easy knack of an adroit wrestler, -threw him on the floor, then dragging him toward the closet, pulled from -a nail a thick leather strap which hung there, having been detached from -a trunk. Then hurling Ratcliff into the middle of the room, he collared -him before he could rise, and brought down the blows, sharp, quick, -vigorous, on face, back, shoulders, till a shriek of “murder” was wrung -from the proud lips of the humbled adversary. - -Suddenly, in the midst of these inflictions, Vance felt his arm arrested -by a firm grasp. He disengaged himself with a start that was feline in -its instant evasiveness, turned, and before him stood Peek, interposing -between him and the prostrate Ratcliff. - -“Stand aside, Peek,” said Vance; “I have hardly begun yet. You are the -last man to intercede for this wretch.” - -“Not one more blow, Mr. Vance.” - -“Stand aside, I say! Come not between me and my mortal foe. Have I not -for long years looked forward to this hour? Have I not toiled for it, -dreamed of it, hungered for it?” - -“No, Mr. Vance, I’ll not think so poorly of you as to believe you’ve -done any such thing. It was to right a great wrong that you have -toiled,—not to wreak a poor revenge on flesh and blood.” - -“No preaching, Peek! Stand out of the way! I’d sooner forego my hope of -heaven than be balked now. Away!” - -“Have I ever done that which entitles me to ask a favor of you, Mr. -Vance?” - -“Yes; for that reason I will requite the scars you yourself bear. The -scourger shall be scourged.” - -“Would you not do _her_ bidding, could you hear it; and can you doubt -that she would say, Forgive?” - -Vance recoiled for a moment, then replied: “You have used the last -appeal; but ’ will not serve. _My_ wrongs I can forgive. _Yours_ I can -forgive. But _hers_, never! Once more I say, Stand aside!” - -“You _shall_ not give him another blow,” said Peek. - -“Shall not?” - -And before he could offer any resistance Peek had been thrown to the -other side of the room so as to fall backward on his hands. - -Then, in a moment, Vance seemed to regret the act. He jumped forward, -helped the negro up, begged his pardon, saying: “Forgive me, my dear, -dear Peek! Have your own way. Do with this man as you like. Haven’t you -the right? Didn’t you once save my life? Are you hurt? Do you forgive -me?” And the tears sprang to Vance’s eyes. - -“No harm done, Mr. Vance! But you are quick as lightning.” - -“Look at me, Peek. Let me see from your face that I’m forgiven.” - -And Peek turned on him such an expression, at once tender and benignant, -that Vance, seeing they understood each other, was reassured. - -Clara had sat all this time intently watching every movement, but too -weak from agitation to interfere, even if she had been so disposed. - -Ratcliff, recovering from the confusion of brain produced by the rapid -blows he had endured, looked to see to whom he had been indebted for -help. In all the whims of Fate, could it be there was one like this in -reserve? Yes! that negro was the same he, Ratcliff, had once caused to -be scourged till three men were wearied out in the labor of lashing. The -fellow’s back must be all furrowed and criss-crossed with the marks got -from him, Ratcliff. Yet here was the nigger, coming to the succor of his -old master! The instinct of servility was stronger in him even than -revenge. Who would deny, after this, what he, Ratcliff, had often -asserted, “Niggers will be niggers?” - -And so, instead of recognizing a godlike generosity in the act, the -slave-driver saw in it only the habit of a base spirit, and the -wholesome effect, upon an inferior, of that imposing quality in his, -Ratcliff’s, own nature and bearing, which showed he was of the master -race, and justified all his assumptions. - - ---------- - -Watching his opportunity Ratcliff crawled toward the billiard-room door, -and, suddenly starting up, pulled it open, thinking to escape. To his -dismay he encountered a large black dog of the bloodhound species, who -growled and showed his teeth so viciously that Ratcliff sprang back. -Following the dog appeared a young soldier, who, casting round his eyes, -saw Clara, and darting to her side, seized and warmly pressed her -extended hand. Overcome with amazement, Ratcliff reeled backward and -sank into an arm-chair, for in the soldier he recognized Captain Onslow. - -Voices were now heard on the stairs, and two men appeared. One of them -was of a compact, well-built figure, and apparently about fifty years -old. He was clad in a military dress, and his aspect spoke courage and -decision. The individual at his side, and who seemed to be paying court -to him, was a tall, gaunt figure, in the coarse uniform of the prison. -He carried his cap in his hand, showing that half of his head was -entirely bald, while the other half was covered with a matted mass of -reddish-gray hair. - -This last man, as he mounted the stairs and stood on the landing, might -have been heard to say: “Kunnle Blake, you’re a high-tone gemmleman, ef -you air a Yankee. You see in me, Kunnle, a victim of the damdest -ongratitood. These Noo-Orleenz ’ristocrats couldn’t huv treated a nigger -or an abolitioner wuss nor they’ve treated _me_. I told ’em I wuz -Virginia-born; told ’em what I’d done fur thar damned Confed’racy; told -’em what a blasted good friend I’d been to the institootion; but—will -you believe it?—they tuk me up on a low charge of ’propriatin’ to -private use the money they giv me ter raise a company with;—they hahd me -up afore a committee of close-fisted old fogies, an’ may I be shot ef -they didn’t order me to be jugged, an’ half of my head to be shaved! An’ -’t was did. Damned ef it warnt! But I’ll be even with ’em, damn ’em! Ef -I don’t, may I be kept ter work in a rice-swamp the rest of my days. -I’ll let ’em see what it is to treat one of the Hyde blood in this ’ere -way, as if he war a low-lived corn-cracker. I’ll let ’em see what thar -rotten institootion’s wuth. Ef they kn afford ter make out of a born -gemmleman a scarecrow like I am now, with my half-shaved scalp, jes fur -’propriatin’ a few of thar damned rags, well and good. They’ll hahv ter -look round lively afore they kn find sich another friend as Delancey -Hyde has been ter King Cotton,—damn him! They shall find Delancy Hyde kn -unmake as well as make.” - -To these wrathful words, Blake replied: “Perhaps you don’t remember me, -Colonel Hyde.” - -“Cuss me ef I do. Ef ever I seed you afore, ’ was so long ago that it’s -clean gone out of my head.” - -“Don’t you remember the policeman who made you give up the fugitive -slave, Peek, that day in the lawyer’s office in New York?” - -“I don’t remember nobody else!” exclaimed Hyde, jubilant at the thought -of claiming one respectable man as an old acquaintance, and quite -forgetting the fact that they had parted as foes. “Kunnle Blake, we must -liquor together the fust chance we kn git. As for Peek, I don’t want to -see a higher-toned gemmleman than Peek is, though he _is_ blacker than -my boot. Will you believe it, Kunnle? That ar nigger, findin’ as how I -wuz out of money, arter Kunnle Vance had tuk me out of jail, what does -he do but give me twenty dollars! In good greenbacks, too! None of your -sham Confed’rate trash! Ef that ain’t bein’ a high-tone gemmleman, what -is? He done it too in the most-er delicate manner,—off-hand, like a born -prince.” - -By this time the interlocutors had entered the billiard-room. After them -came a colored man and a negro. One of these was Sam, the house-servant, -the other Antoine, the owner of the dog. Immediately after them came -Esha and Madame Josephine. They passed Ratcliff without noticing him, -and went to Clara, and almost devoured her with their kisses. - -No sooner had these two moved away in this terrible procession than an -oldish lady, hanging coquettishly on the arm of a man somewhat younger -than herself, of a rather red face, and highly dressed, entered the -room, and, apparently too much absorbed in each other to notice -Ratcliff, walked on until the lady, encountering Clara, rushed at her -hysterically, and shrieking, “My own precious child!” fell into her arms -in the most approved melodramatic style. This lady was Mrs. Gentry, who -had recently retired from school-keeping with “something handsome,” -which the Vigilance Committee had been trying to get hold of for -Confederate wants, but which she had managed to withhold from their -grasp, until that “blessed Butler” coming, relieved her fears, and -secured her in her own. The gentleman attending her was Mr. Ripper, -ex-auctioneer, who, in his mellow days, finding that Jordan was a hard -road to travel, had concluded to sign the temperance pledge, reform, and -take care of himself. With this view, what could he do better than find -some staid, respectable woman, with “a little something of her own,” -with whom he could join hands on the downhill of life? As luck would -have it, he was introduced to Mrs. Gentry that very evening, and he was -now paying his first devoirs. - -After the appearance of this couple, steps heavy and slow were heard -ascending the stairs into the billiard-room; and the next moment Mr. -Winslow appeared, followed by Lawyer Semmes. And, bringing up the rear -of the party, and presenting in himself a fitting climax to these -stunning surprises, came a large and powerful negro in military rig, -bearing a musket with bayonet fixed, and displaying a small United -States flag. This man was Decazes, an escaped slave belonging to -Ratcliff, and for whom he had offered a reward of five hundred dollars. - -Ratcliff had half-risen from his chair, holding on to the arms with both -hands for support. His countenance, laced by the leathern blows he had -received, his left eye blue and swollen, every feature distorted with -consternation, rage, and astonishment, he presented such a picture of -baffled tyranny as photography alone could do justice to. Was it -delirium,—was it some harrowing dream,—under which he was suffering? -That flag! What did it mean? - -“Semmes!” he exclaimed, “what has happened? Where do these Yankees come -from?” - -“Possible? Haven’t you heard the news?” returned the lawyer. “Farragut -and Butler have possession of New Orleans. What have you been doing with -yourself the last three days?” - -“Butler?” exclaimed Ratcliff, astounded and incredulous,—“Picayune -Butler?—the contemptible swell-head,—the pettifogging—” - -Semmes walked away, as if choosing not to be implicated in any -treasonable talk. - -Suddenly recognizing Winslow, Ratcliff impotently shook his fists and -darted at him an expression of malignant and vindictive hate. - -Could it be? New Orleans in the hands of the Vandals,—the “miserable -miscreants,”—the “hyenas,” as President Davis and Robert Toombs were -wont to stigmatize the whole people of the North? Where was the great -ram that was to work such wonders? Where were the Confederate gunboats? -Were not Forts Jackson and St. Philip impregnable? Could not the -Chalamette batteries sink any Yankee fleet that floated? Had not the -fire-eaters,—the last-ditch men,—resolved that New Orleans should be -laid in ashes before the detested flag, emblematic of Yankee rule, -should wave from the public buildings? And here was a black rascal in -uniform, flaunting that flag in the very face of one of the foremost of -the chivalry! Let the universe slide after this! Let chaos return! - -The company drifted in groups of two and three through the suite of -rooms. Sam disappeared suddenly. The women were in the front room. -Ratcliff, supposing that he was unnoticed, rose to escape. But Victor -the hound, was on hand. He had been lying partly under the bed, with his -muzzle out and resting on his fore paws, affecting to be asleep, but -really watching the man whom his subtle instincts had told him was the -game for which he was responsible; and now the beast darted up with an -imperious bark, and Ratcliff, furious, but helpless, sank back on his -seat. - -Colonel Delancy Hyde approached, with the view of making himself -agreeable. - -“Squire Ratcliff,” said he, “you seem to be in a dam bad way. Kin I do -anything fur yer? Any niggers you want kotched, Squire? Niggers is -mighty onsartin property jes now, Squire. Gen’ral Butler swars he’ll -have a black regiment all uniformed afore the Fourth of July comes -round. Wouldn’t give much fer yer Red River gangs jes now, Squire! -Reckon they’ll be findin’ thar way to Gen’ral Butler’s head-quarters, -sure.” - -Ratcliff cowered and groaned in spirit as he thought of the immense sums -which, in his confidence in the success of the Rebellion, he had been -investing in slaves. Unless he could run his gangs off to Texas, he -would be ruined. - -“Look at me, Squire,” continued the Colonel; “I’m Kunnle Delancy -Hyde,—Virginia born, be Gawd; but, fur all that, I might jest as well -been born in hell, fur any gratitude you cust ’ristocrats would show me. -Yes, you’re one on ’em. Here I’ve been drudgin’ the last thirty years in -the nigger-ketchin’ business, and see my reward,—a half-shaved scalp, -an’ be damned to yer! But my time’s comin’. Now Kunnle Delancy Hyde -tries a new tack. Instead of ketchin’ niggers, he’s goin’ to free ’em; -and whar he kotched one he’ll free a thousand. Lou’siana’s bound to be a -free State. All Cotton-dom’s bound to be free. Uncle Sam shall have -black regiments afore Sumter soon. Only the freedom of every nigger in -the land kn wipe out the wrongs of Delancy Hyde,—kn avenge his -half-shaved scalp!” - -Here the appearance of Sam, the house-servant, with a large salver -containing a pitcher, a sugar-bowl, a decanter, tumblers, and several -bottles, put a stop to the Colonel’s eloquence, and drew him away as the -loadstone draws the needle. - -Onslow came near to Ratcliff, looked him in the face contemptuously, and -turned away without acknowledging the acquaintance. After him reappeared -Ripper and Mrs. Gentry, arm-in-arm, the lady with her hands clasped -girlishly, and her shoulder pressed closely up against that of the -auctioneer. It was evident she was going, going, if not already gone. -Ripper put up his eye-glass, and, carelessly nodding, remarked, “Such is -life, Ratcliff!” (Ratcliff! The beggar presumed to call him Ratcliff!) -The couple passed on, the lady exclaiming so that the observation should -not be lost on the ears for which it was intended,—“I always said he -would be come up with!” - -Semmes now happening to pass by, Ratcliff, deeply agitated, but -affecting equanimity, said: “How is it, Semmes? Are you going to help me -out of this miserable scrape?” - -“Our relations must end here, Mr. Ratcliff,” replied the lawyer. - -“So much the better,” said Ratcliff; “it will spare my standing the -swindle you call professional charges on your books.” - -“Don’t be under a misapprehension, my poor friend,” returned Semmes. “I -have laid an attachment on your deposits in the Lafayette Bank. They -will just satisfy my claim.” - -And taking a pinch of snuff the lawyer walked unconcernedly away. “O -that I had my revolver here!” thought Ratcliff, with an inward groan. - -But here was Madame Josephine. Here was at least _one_ friend left to -him. Of her attachment, under any change of fortune, he felt assured. -Her own means, not insignificant, might now suffice for the -rehabilitation of his affairs. She drew near, her face radiant with the -satisfaction she had felt in the recovery of Clara. She drew near, and -Ratcliff caught her eye, and rising and putting out his hands, as if for -an embrace, murmured, in a confidential whisper, “Josephine, dearest, -come to me!” - -She frowned indignantly, threw back her arm with one scornful and -repelling sweep, and simply ejaculating, “No more!” moved away from him, -and took the proffered arm of the trustee of her funds, the venerable -Winslow. - -The party now passed away from Ratcliff, and out of the two rooms; most -of them going down-stairs to the carriages that waited in the street to -bear them to the St. Charles Hotel, over whose cupola the Stars and -Stripes were gloriously fluttering in the starlight. - -Ratcliff found himself alone with the ever-watchful bloodhound. Suddenly -a whistle was heard, and Victor started up and trotted down-stairs. -Ratcliff rose to quit the apartment. All at once the stalwart negro, -lately his slave, in uniform, and bearing a musket, with the old flag, -stood before him. - -“Follow me,” said the man, with the dignity of a true soldier. - -“Where to?” - -“To the lock-up, to wait General Butler’s orders.” - -On a pallet of straw that night Ratcliff had an opportunity of revolving -in solitude the events of the day. In the miscarriage of his schemes, in -the downfall of his hopes, and in the humbling of his pride, he -experienced a hell worse than the imagination of the theologian ever -conceived. What pangs can equal those of the merciless tyrant when he -tumbles into the place of his victims and has to endure, in unstinted -measure, the stripes and indignities he has been wont to inflict so -unsparingly on others! - ------ - -Footnote 43: - - This yoke was on exhibition several months at Williams and Everett’s, - Washington Street, Boston, it having been sent by Governor Andrew with - a letter, the original of which we have before us while we write. It - bears date September 10th, 1863. It says of this yoke (which we have - held in our hands), that it “was cut from the neck of a slave girl” - who had worn it “for three weary months. An officer of Massachusetts - Volunteers, whose letter I enclose to you, sent me this memento,” &c. - That officer’s original letter, signed S. Tyler Read, Captain Third - Massachusetts Cavalry, is also before us. He writes to the Governor of - Massachusetts, that, having been sent with a detachment of troops down - the river to search suspected premises on the plantation of Madame - Coutreil, his attention was attracted by a small house, closed - tightly, and about nine or ten feet square. “I demanded,” writes - Captain Read, “the keys, and after unlocking double doors found myself - in the entrance of a dark and loathsome dungeon. ‘In Heaven’s name, - what have you here?’ I exclaimed to the slave mistress. ‘O, only a - little girly—_she runned away!_’ I peered into the darkness, and was - able to discover, sitting at one end of the room upon a low stool, a - girl about eighteen years of age. _She had this iron torture riveted - about her neck, where it had rusted through the skin, and lay - corroding apparently upon the flesh._ Her head was bowed upon her - hands, and she was almost insensible from emaciation and immersion in - the foul air of her dungeon. She was quite white.... I had the girl - taken to the city, where this torture was removed from her neck by a - blacksmith, who cut the rivet, and she was subsequently made free by - military authority.” - - See in the Atlantic Monthly (July, 1863) a paper entitled “Our - General,” from the pen of one who served as Deputy Provost Marshal in - New Orleans. His facts are corroborated both by General Butler and - Governor Shepley, who took pains to authenticate them. A girl, “a - perfect blonde, her hair of a very pretty, light shade of brown, and - perfectly straight,” had been publicly whipped by her master (who was - also her father), and then “forced to marry a colored man.” We spare - our readers the mention of the most loathsome fact in the narrative. - - Another case is stated by the same writer. A mulatto girl, the slave - of one Landry, was brought to General Butler. She had been brutally - scourged by her master. He confessed to the castigation, but pleaded - that she had tried to get her freedom. The poor girl’s back had been - flayed “until the quivering flesh resembled a fresh beefsteak scorched - on a gridiron.” It was declared by influential citizens, who - interceded for him, that Landry was (we quote the recorded words) “not - only a _high-toned gentleman_, but a person of unusual amiability of - character.” General Butler freed the girl, and compelled the - high-toned Landry to pay over to her the sum of five hundred dollars. - - - - - CHAPTER XLII. - HOW IT WAS DONE. - - “From Thee is all that soothes the life of man, - His high endeavor and his glad success, - His strength to suffer and his will to serve: - But O, thou bounteous Giver of all good, - Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown! - Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor, - And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away!”—_Cowper._ - - -All the efforts of Peculiar to induce the bloodhound, Victor, to take -the scent of either of the gloves, had proved unavailing. At every trial -Victor persisted in going straight to the jail where his master, -Antoine, was confined. Peek began to despair of discovering any trace of -the abducted maiden. - -Were dumb animals ever guided by spirit influence? There were many -curious facts showing that birds were sometimes used to convey -impressions, apparently from higher intelligences. At sea, not long ago, -a bird had flown repeatedly in the helmsman’s face, till the latter was -induced to change his course. The consequence was, his encounter with a -ship’s crew in a boat, who must have perished that night in the storm, -had they not been picked up. There were also instances in which dogs -would seem to have been the mere instruments of a super and supercanine -sagacity. But Victor plainly was not thus impressible. His instincts led -him to his master, but beyond that point they would not or could not be -made to exert themselves. - -Had not Peek’s faith in the triumph of the right been large, he would -have despaired of any help from the coming of the United States forces. -For weeks the newspapers had teemed with paragraphs, some scientific and -some rhetorical, showing that New Orleans must not and could not be -taken. They all overflowed with bitterness toward the always “cowardly -and base-born” Yankees. The Mayor of the city wrote, in the true -magniloquent and grandiose style affected by the Rebel leaders: “As for -hoisting any flag not of our own adoption, the man lives not in our -midst whose hand and heart _would not be paralyzed at the mere thought -of such an act_!” - -A well-known physician, who had simply expressed the opinion that -possibly the city might have to surrender, had been waited on by a -Vigilance Committee and warned. Taking the hint, the man of rhubarb -forthwith handed over a contribution of five hundred dollars, in -expiation of his offence. - -All at once the confident heart of Rebeldom was stunned by the news that -two of the Yankee steamers had passed Forts Jackson and St. Philip. The -great ram had been powerless to prevent it. Then followed the -announcement that seven,—then thirteen,—then twenty,—then the whole of -Farragut’s fleet, excepting the Varuna, were coming. Yes, the Hartford -and the Brooklyn and the Mississippi and the Pensacola and the Richmond, -and the Lord knew how many more, were on their way up the great river. -They would soon be at English Bend; nay, they would soon be at the -Levee, and have the haughty city entirely at their mercy! - -No sooner was the terrible news confirmed than the Rebel authorities -ordered the destruction of all the cotton-bales stored on the Levee. The -rage, the bitterness, the anguish of the pro-slavery chiefs was -indescribable. Several attempts were made to fire the city, and they -would probably have succeeded, but for a timely fall of rain. On the -landing of the United States forces, the frenzy of the Secessionists -passed all bounds; and one poor fellow, a physician, was hung by them -for simply telling a United States officer where to find the British -Consulate. - -But if some hearts were sick and crushed at the spectacle, there were -many thousands in that great metropolis to whom the sight of the old -flag carried a joy and exultation transcending the power of words to -express; and one of these hearts beat under the black skin of Peek. -Followed by Victor, he ran to the Levee where United States troops were -landing, and there—O joy unspeakable!—standing on the upper deck of one -of the smaller steamers, and almost one of the first persons he saw, was -Mr. Vance. - -Peek shouted his name, and Vance, leaping on shore, threw his arms -impulsively round the brawny negro, and pressed him to his breast. Brief -the time for explanations. In a few clear words, Peek made Vance -comprehend the precise state of affairs, and in five minutes the latter, -at the head of a couple of hundred soldiers, and with Peek walking at -his side, was on his way to the jail. Victor, the bloodhound, evidently -understood it all. He saw, at length, that he was going to carry his -point. - -Arrived at the jail, a large, square, whitewashed building, with barred -windows, they encountered at the outer door three men smoking cigars. -The foremost of them, a stern-looking, middle-aged man, with fierce, red -whiskers, and who was in his shirt-sleeves, came forward, evidently -boiling over with a wrath he was vainly trying to conceal, and asked -what was wanted. - -“There is a black man, Antoine Lafour, confined here. Produce him at -once.” - -“But, sir,” said the deputy, “this is altogether against civilized -usage. This is a place for—” - -“I can’t stop to parley with you. Produce the man instantly.” - -“I shall do no such thing.” - -Vance turned to an orderly, and said, “Arrest this man.” At once the -deputy was seized on either side by two soldiers. “Now, sir,” said -Vance, cocking his pistol and taking out his watch, “Produce Antoine -Lafour in five minutes, or I will shoot you dead.” - -The bloodhound, who had been scenting with curious nose the man’s -person, now seconded the menace by a savage growl, which seemed to have -more effect even than the pistol, for the deputy, turning to one of the -men in attendance, said sulkily, “Bring out the nigger, and be quick -about it.” - -In three minutes Antoine appeared, and the dog leaped bodily into his -arms, the negro talking to him much as he would to a human being. “I -knowed you’d do it, ole feller! Thar! Down! Down, I say, ole Vic! It -takes you,—don’t it? Down! Behave yourself afore folk. Why, Peek, is -this you?” - -“Yes, Antoine, and this is Mr. Vance, and here’s the old flag, and -you’re no longer a slave.” - -“What? I no longer a— No! Say them words agin, Peek! Free? Owner of my -own flesh an’ blood? Dis arm mine? Dis head mine? Bress de Lord, Peek! -Bress him for all his mercies! Amen! Hallelujah!” - -The released negro could not forego a few wild antics expressive of his -rapture. Peek checked him, and bade him remember the company he was in; -and Antoine bowed to Vance and said: “’Scuze me, Kunnle. I don’t perfess -to be sich a high-tone gemmleman as Peek here, but—” - -“Stop!” cried Peek; “where did you get those last words?” - -“What words?” asked Antoine, showing the whites of his eyes with an -expression of concern at Peek’s suddenly serious manner. - -“Those words,—‘high-tone gemmleman.’ Whom did you ever hear use them?” - -“Yah, yah! Wall, Peek, those words I got from Kunnle Delancy Hyde.” - -“Where,—where and when did you get them?” - -“Bress yer, Peek, jes now,—not two minutes ago,—dar in the gallery whar -the Kunnle’s walkin’ up and down.” - -Peek smiled significantly at Vance, and the latter, approaching the -deputy who had not yet been released from custody, remarked: “You have a -man named Hyde confined there.” - -“Yes, Delancy Hyde. The scoundrel stole the funds given to him to pay -recruiting expenses.” - -“For which I desire to thank him. Bring him out.” - -“But, sir, you wouldn’t—” - -“Five minutes, Mr. Deputy, I give you, a second time, in which to obey -my orders. If Mr. Delancy Hyde isn’t forthcoming before this second-hand -goes round five times, one of your friends here shall have the -opportunity of succeeding you in office, and you shall be deposited -where the wicked cease from troubling.” - -The deputy was far from being agreeably struck at the prospect of -quitting the company of the wicked. But for them his vocation would be -wanting. And so he nodded to a subordinate, and in three minutes out -stalked the astonishing figure of Colonel Delancy Hyde, wearing a dirty -woollen Scotch cap, and attired in the coarsest costume of the jail. - -Ignorant of the great event of the day, not perceiving the old flag, and -supposing that he had been called out to be shot, Hyde walked up to -Vance, and said: “Kunnle, you look like a high-tone gemmleman, and afore -I’m shot I want ter make a confidential request.” - -“Well, sir, what is it?” said Vance, shading his face with his cap so as -not to be recognized. “Speak quick. I can’t spare you three minutes.” - -“Wall, Kunnle, it’s jes this: I’ve a sister, yer see, in Alabamy, jest -out of Montgomery; her name’s Dorothy Rusk. She’s a widder with six -childern; one on ’em an idiot, one a cripple, and the eldest gal in a -consumption. Dorothy has had a cruel hard time on it, as you may reckon, -an’ I’ve ollerz paid her rent and a leetle over till this cussed war -broke out, since when I’ve been so hard up I’ve had ter scratch gravel -thunderin’ lively to git my own grub. Them Confed’rate rags that I -’propriated, I meant to send to Dorothy; but the fogies, they war too -quick for me. Wall, ter come ter the pint: I want you ter write a letter -ter Dorothy, jes tellin’ her that the reason why Delancy can’t remit is -that Delancy has been shot; and tellin’ her he sent his love and all -that—whar you can’t come it too strong, Kunnle, for yer see Dorothy an’ -I, we was ’bout the same age, and used ter make mud-pies together, and -sail our boats together down thar in the old duck-pond, when we was -childern; an’ so yer see—” - -Vance looked into his face. Yes, the battered old reprobate was trying -to gulp down his agitation, and there were tears rolling down his -cheeks. Vance was touched. - -“Hyde, don’t you know me?” he said. - -“What! Mr. Vance? Mr. Vance!” - -“Nobody else, Hyde. He comes here a United States officer, you see. New -Orleans has surrendered to Uncle Sam. Look at that flag. Instead of -being shot, you are set at liberty. Here’s your old friend, Peek.” - -The knees of Colonel Delancy Hyde smote each other, and his florid face -grew pale. Flesh and blood he could encounter well as any man, but a -ghost was a piling on of something he hadn’t bargained for. Yet there -palpably before him stood Peek, the identical Peek he believed to have -been drowned in the Mississippi some fifteen years back. - -“Wall, how in creation—” - -“It’s all right, Hyde,” interrupted Vance. “And now if you want that -sister of yours provided for, you just keep as close to my shadow as you -can.” - -Hyde was too confounded and stupefied to make any reply. These -revelations coming upon him like successive shocks from a -galvanic-battery, were too much for his equanimity. Awestruck and -stunned, he stared stupidly, first at Vance, then at the flag, and -finally at Peek. - -The roll of the drum, accompanied by Vance’s orders to the soldiers, -roused him, and then attaching himself to Peek, he marched on with the -rest, Peek beguiling the way with much useful and enlightening -information. - -They had not marched farther than the next carriage-stand when Vance, -leaving Captain Onslow in command, with orders to bivouac in Canal -Street, slipped out of the ranks, and beckoning to Peek and his -companions, they all, including Antoine and Hyde, entered a vehicle -which drove off with the faithful Victor running at its side. - -Behold them now in Vance’s old room at the St. Charles. The immediate -matter of concern was, how to find Clara? How was the search to be -commenced? - -Antoine, a bright, well-formed negro of cheerful aspect, after -scratching his wool thoughtfully for a moment, said: “Peek, you jes gib -me them two glubs you say you’ve got.” - -Antoine then took the gloves, and, throwing them on the floor, called -Victor’s attention to them, and said: “Now, Vic, I want yer to show -these gemmen your broughten up. Ob dem two glubs, you jes bring me de -one dat you tink you kn fine de owner ob right off straight, widout any -mistake. Now, be car’ful.” - -Victor snuffed at the large glove, and instantly kicked it aside with -contempt. Then, after a thoughtful scenting of the small glove, he took -it up in his mouth and carried it to Antoine. - -“Berry well,” said Antoine. “Dat’s your choice, is it? Now tell me, Vic, -hab yer had yer dinner?” - -The dog barked affirmatively. - -“Berry well. Now take a good drink.” And, filling a washbowl with water, -Antoine gave it to the dog, who lapped from it greedily. - -“Hab yer had enough?” asked Antoine. - -Victor uttered an affirmative bark. - -“Wall, now,” said Antoine, “you jes take dis ere glub, an’ don’t yer -come back till you fine out su’thin’ ’bout de owner ob it. Understan’?” - -The dog again barked assent, and Antoine, escorting him down-stairs and -out-of-doors, gave him the glove. Victor at once seized it between his -teeth and trotted off at “double-quick,” up St. Charles Street. - -During the interval of waiting for Victor’s return, “Tell me now, Peek,” -said Vance, “of your own affairs. Have you been able to get any clew -from Amos Slink to guide you in your search for your wife?” - -“All that he could do,” replied Peek, “was merely to confirm what I -already suspected as to Charlton’s agency in luring her back into the -clutch of Slavery.” - -“I must make the acquaintance of that Charlton,” said Vance. “And by the -way, Hyde, you must know something of the man.” - -“I know more nor I wish I did,” replied Hyde. “I could scar’ up some old -letters of his’n, I’m thinkin’, ef I was ter sarch in an old trunk in -the house of the Widder Rusk (her as is my sister) in Montgomery.” - -“Those letters we must have, Hyde,” said Vance. “You must lay your plans -to get them. ’T would be hardly safe for you to trust yourself among the -Rebels. They’ve an awkward fashion of hanging up without ceremony all -who profane the sanctity of Confederate scrip. But you might send for -the letters.” - -“That’s a fak, Kunnle Vance. I’m gittin’ over my taste for low society. -I want nothin’ more ter do with the Rebels. But I’ve a nephew at -Montgomery,—Delancy Hyde Rusk,—who can smuggle them letters through the -Rebel lines easy as a snake kn cahrry a toad through a stump-fence. -He’ll go his death for his Uncle Delancy. He’s got the raal Hyde blood -in him,—he has,—an’ no mistake.” - -“Can he read and write?” - -“I’m proud to say he kin, Kunnle. I towt his mother, and she towt him -and the rest of the childern.” - -“Well, Hyde, go into the next room and write a letter to your nephew, -telling him to start at once for New York city, and report himself to -Mr. William C. Vance, Astor House. I’ll give you a couple of hundred -dollars to enclose for him to pay his expenses, and a couple of hundred -more for your sister.” - -Four hundred dollars! What an epoch would it be in their domestic -history, when that stupendous sum should fall into the hands of Mrs. -Rusk! Colonel Hyde moved with alacrity to comply with Vance’s bidding. - -Mr. Winslow and Captain Onslow now entered, followed by Colonel Blake, -between whom and Vance a friendship had sprung up during the voyage from -New York. Suddenly Peek, who had been looking from the window, -exclaimed: “There goes the man who could tell us, if he would, what we -want.” - -“Who is it?” cried Vance. - -“Ratcliff’s lawyer, Semmes. See him crossing the street!” - -“Captain Onslow,” said Vance, “arrest the man at once.” - -Five minutes did not elapse before Semmes, bland and suave, and -accompanied by Peek and Onslow, entered the room. - -“Ha! my dear friend Winslow!” cried the old lawyer, putting out his -hand, “I’m delighted to see you. Make me acquainted with your friends.” - -Winslow introduced him to all, not omitting Peek, to whom Semmes bowed -graciously, as if they had never met before, and as if the negro were -the whitest of Anglo-Saxons. - -“Sit down, Mr. Semmes,” said Vance; “I have a few questions to put to -you. Please answer them categorically. Are you acquainted with a young -lady, claimed by Mr. Carberry Ratcliff as a slave, educated by him at -Mrs. Gentry’s school, and recently abducted by parties unknown from his -house near Lafayette Square?” - -“I do know such a young person,” replied Semmes; “I had her in my charge -after Mr. Ratcliff’s compulsory departure from the city.” - -“Well. And do you know where she now is?” - -“I certainly do not.” - -“Have you seen her since she left Ratcliff’s house?” - -Happily for Semmes, before he could perjure himself irretrievably, there -was a knock at the door, and Antoine entered, followed by the -bloodhound, bearing something tied in a white handkerchief, in his -mouth. - -A general sensation and uprising! For all except the lawyer had been -made acquainted with the nature of the dog’s search. Semmes glanced at -the bloodhound,—then at the negroes,—and then at the other persons -present, with their looks of absorbed attention. Surely, there was a -_dénouement_ expected; and might it not be fatal to him, if he left it -to be supposed that he was colluding with Ratcliff in what would be -stigmatized as rascality by low, cowardly, base-born Yankees, though, -after all, it was only the act of a slave-owner enforcing his legal -rights in a legitimate way? - -Darting forward, just as Vance received from Antoine the little bundle -the dog had been carrying, the lawyer exclaimed: “Colonel Vance, I do -not _know_, but I can _conjecture_ where the girl is. Seek her at Number -21 Camelia Place.” - -Vance paused, and looked the old lawyer straight in the eyes till the -latter withdrew his glance, and resorted to his snuff-box to cover his -discomfiture. Deep as he was, he saw that he had been fathomed. But -Vance bowed politely, and said: “We will see, sir, if your information -agrees with that of the dog.” - -He untied the handkerchief, took out the paper-weight, and underneath it -found Clara’s note, which he opened and read. Then turning to the -lawyer, he said: “I congratulate you, Mr. Semmes. You _were_ right in -your _conjecture_.” - -None but Semmes and Peek noticed the slightly sarcastic stress which -Vance put on this last word from his lips. - -Vance now knelt on one knee, and resting on the other the fore-legs of -the bloodhound, patted his head and praised him in a manner which -Victor, by his low, gratified whine, seemed fully to comprehend and -appreciate. - -Peek, who had been restless ever since the words “21 Camelia Place” had -fallen on his ears, here said: “Lend me your revolver, Mr. Vance, and -don’t leave till I come back. I promise not to rob you of your share in -this work.” - -“I will trust you with the preliminary reconnoissance, Peek,” said -Vance, giving up the weapon. “Be quick about it.” - -Peek beckoned to Antoine, and the two went out, followed by the -bloodhound. - -Mr. Semmes, now realizing that by some display of zeal, even if it were -superserviceable, he might get rid of the ill odor which would follow -from lending himself to Ratcliff’s schemes, approached Vance and said: -“Colonel, it was only quite recently that I heard of the suspicions that -were entertained of foul play in the case of that little girl claimed by -Ratcliff as a slave. Immediately I looked into the notary’s record, and -I there found that the slave-child is set down as a quadroon; a -misstatement which clearly invalidates the title. I have also discovered -a letter, written in French, and published in L’Abeille, in which some -important facts relative to the loss of the Pontiac are given. The -writer, Monsieur Laboulie, is now in the city. Finally, I have to inform -you that Mr. Ripper, the auctioneer who sold the child, is now in this -house. I would suggest that both he and the Mrs. Gentry, who brought her -up, should be secured this very evening, as witnesses.” - -“I like your suggestion, Mr. Semmes,” said Vance, in a tone which quite -reassured the lawyer; “go on and make all the investigations in your -power bearing on this case. Get the proper affidavit from Monsieur -Laboulie. Secure the parties you recommend as witnesses. I employ you -professionally.” - -In his rapid and penetrating judgments of men, Vance rarely went astray; -and when Semmes, who was thinking of a little private business of his -own with the President of the Lafayette Bank, remarked, “If you can -dismiss me now, Colonel, I will meet you an hour hence at any place you -name,” Vance knew the old lawyer would keep his promise, and replied: -“Certainly, Mr. Semmes. You will find me at 21 Camelia Place.” - -Peek and Antoine, taking a carriage, drove at full speed to the house -designated. Here they found to their surprise in the mulatto Sam, a -member of a secret society of men of African descent, bound together by -faith in the speedy advent of the United States forces, and by the -resolve to demand emancipation. Peek at once satisfied himself that -Clara was in no immediate danger. He found that Sam had withdrawn the -bullets from Ratcliff’s revolver, and was himself well armed, having -determined to shoot down Ratcliff, if necessary, in liberating Clara. In -pursuance of his plan he had lured the negrowoman, Agnes, up-stairs, -under the pretence already mentioned. Here he had gagged, bound, and -confined her securely. Hardly had he finished this job, when, looking -out of the window, he had seen Peek and Antoine get out of a carriage -and reconnoitre the house. Instantly he had run down-stairs, opened the -front door, and made himself known. - -It was arranged that Antoine and Sam, well armed, and supported by the -bloodhound, should remain and look after Ratcliff, not precipitating -action, however, and not communicating with Clara, whose relief Peek had -generously resolved should first come from the hands of Vance. - -Then jumping into the carriage, Peek drove to Lafayette Square, and -taking in Madame Josephine and Esha, returned to the St. Charles Hotel. -Here he told Vance all he had done, and introduced the two women,—Vance -greeting Esha with much emotion, as he recognized in her that attendant -at his wife’s death-bed for whom he had often sought. - -Four carriages were now drawn up on Gravier Street. Into one stepped -Winslow, Hyde, and Vance; into another Semmes, Blake, Onslow, and -Blake’s trusty servant, Sergeant Decazes, the escaped slave. Into the -third carriage stepped Madame Josephine, Esha, and Peek; and into the -fourth, Mrs. Gentry and Mr. Ripper. - -This last vehicle must be regarded as the centre of interest, for over -it the Loves and Graces languishingly hovered. - -In introducing Ripper to Mrs. Gentry, Semmes had remarked, in an aside -to the former: “A retired schoolma’am: some money there!” Here was a -shaft that went straight to the auctioneer’s heart. In three minutes he -drew from the lady the fact that, ten days before, she had received a -visit from a Vigilance Committee, who had warned her, if she did not pay -over to them five thousand dollars within a week, her house would be -confiscated, sold, and the proceeds paid over to the Confederate -treasury. “Five thousand dollars indeed!” said the lady, in relating the -interview; “a whole year’s income! O, haven’t they been nicely come up -with!” - -The Confederate highwaymen had done what Satan recommended the Lord to -do in the case of Job: they had tried Mrs. Gentry in her substance, and -she had not stood the test. It had wrought a very sudden and radical -change in her political notions. Even slavery was no longer the august -and unapproachable thing which she had hitherto imagined; and she threw -out a sentiment which savored so much of the abolition heresy, that -Ripper, thinking to advance himself in her good opinion, avowed himself -boldly an emancipationist, and declared that slavery was “played out.” -These words, strange to say, did not make him less charming in Mrs. -Gentry’s eyes. - -The drive in the carriage soon offered an opportunity for tenderer -topics, and before they reached Camelia Street, the enterprising -auctioneer had declared that he really believed he had at last, after a -life-long search, found his “affinity.” And from that he ventured to -glide an arm round the lady’s waist,—a familiarity at which her -indignation was so feebly simulated, that it only added new fuel to -hope. - -But Camelia Place was now reached, and the carriages stopped. The whole -party were noiselessly introduced into the house. Vance darted up to the -room where Clara’s note had instructed him he could find her. Seeing the -key on the outside, he turned it, opened the door, and presented himself -to Clara in the manner already related. The unsuspecting Ratcliff soon -followed, and then followed the scenes upon which the curtain has -already been raised. - -As Vance left the house, with Clara on his arm, several of Ratcliff’s -slaves gathered round them. To all these Vance promised immediate -freedom and help. An old black hostler, named Juba, or Jube, who was -also a theologian and a strenuous preacher, was spokesman for the -freedmen. He proposed “tree chares for Massa Vance.” They were given -with a will. - -“An’ now, Massa Vance,” said the Reverend Jube, “may de Lord bress yer -fur comin’ down har from de Norf ter free an’ help we. De Lord bress yer -an’ de young Missis likewise. An’ when yer labors am all ended, an’ -yer’v chewed all de hard bones, an’ swollerd de bitter pill, may yer go -ober Jordan wid a tight hold on de Lord, an’ not leeb go till yer git -clar inter de city ob Zion.”[44] - ------ - -Footnote 44: - - Actual words of a negro preacher, taken down on the spot by a hearer. - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII. - MAKING THE BEST OF IT. - - “O, blest with temper whose unclouded ray - Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day!”—_Pope._ - - -A sound of the prompter’s whistle, sharp and stridulous. - -The scenes move,—they dispart. The Crescent City, with its squares and -gardens filled with verdure, its stately steeples, and its streets lying -lower than the river, and protected only by the great Levee from being -converted into a bed for fishes,—the Crescent City, under the swift -touch of our fairy scene-shifters, divides, slides, and disappears. - -A new scene simultaneously takes its place. It represents a street in -New York. Not one of the clean, broad, well-kept avenues, lined on -either side with mansions, beautiful and spacious. It is a trans-Bowery -Street, narrow and noisome, dirty and dismal. There the market-man stops -his cart and haggles for the price of a cabbage with the care-worn -housewife, who has a baby in her arms and a two-year-old child tugging -at her gown. Poor woman! She tries to cover her bosom as the wayfarer, -redolent of bad tobacco, passes by with a grin at her shyness. There the -milkman rouses you at daylight by his fiendish yell, nuisance not yet -abated in the more barbarous parts of the city. There the soap-man and -the fish-man and the rag-man stop their carts, presenting in their -visits the chief incidents that vary the monotony of life in Lavinia -Street, if we except an occasional dog-fight. - -One of the tenements is a small, two-story brick house, with a basement -beneath the street-level, and a dormer window in the attic. A family -moved in only the day before yesterday. They have hardly yet got -settled. Nevertheless, let us avail ourselves of the author’s privilege -(universal “dead-head” that he is!) and enter. - -We stand in a little hall, the customary flight of stairs being in -front, while a door leads into the front sitting-room or parlor on the -left. Entering this room, the first figure we notice is an apparently -young man, rather stout, with black whiskers and hair, and dressed in a -loose sack and pantaloons, in the size and cut of which the liberal -fashion of the day is somewhat exaggerated. He stands in low-cut shoes -and flesh-colored silk stockings. About his neck he wears a choker of -the most advanced style, and tied with a narrow lustring ribbon, gay -with red and purple. As his back is partly turned to us, we cannot yet -see who he is. - -A woman, in age perhaps not far from fifty, with a pleasant, -well-rounded face, and attired in a white cambric wrapper, richly -embroidered, her hair prudently hidden under a brown chenille net, -stands holding a framed picture, waiting for it to be hung. It is -Marshall’s new engraving of Washington. The lady is Mrs. Pompilard, -_born_ Aylesford; and the youth on the chair is her husband, the old, -yet vernal, the venerable yet blooming, Albert himself. It is more than -ten years since he celebrated his seventieth birthday. - -Having hung the picture, Pompilard stepped down, and said: “There! Show -me the place in the whole city where that picture would show to more -advantage than just there in that one spot. The color of the wall, the -light from the window are just what they ought to be to bring out all -the beauties. Let us not envy Belmont and Roberts and Stewart and -Aspinwall their picture-galleries,—let us be guilty of no such folly, -Mrs. Pompilard,—while we can show an effect like that!” - -“Who spoke of envying them, Albert? Not I, I’m sure! The house will do -famously for our temporary use. Yet it puzzles me a little to know where -I am to stow these two children of Melissa’s.” - -“Pooh! That can be easily managed. Leonora can have a mattress put down -for her in the upper entry; and as for the five-year-old, Albert, my -namesake, he can throw himself down anywhere,—in the wood-shed, if need -be. Indeed, his mother tells me she found him, the other night, sleeping -on the boards of the piazza, in order, as he said, to harden himself to -be a soldier. How is poor Purling this morning?” - -“His wound seems to be healing, but he’s deplorably low-spirited; so -Melissa tells me.” - -“Low-spirited? But we mustn’t allow it! The man who could fight as he -did at Fair Oaks ought to be jolly for the rest of his life, even though -he had to leave an arm behind him on the battle-field.” - -“It isn’t his wound, I suspect, that troubles him, but the state of his -affairs. The truth is, Purling is fearfully poor, and he’s too honest to -run in debt. His castles in the air have all tumbled in ruins. Nobody -will buy his books, and his publishers have all failed.” - -“But he can’t help that. The poor fellow has done his best, and I -maintain that he has talents of a certain sort.” - -“Perhaps so, but his forte is not imaginative writing.” - -“Then let him try history.” - -“But I repeat it, my dear Albert, imaginative writing is not his forte.” - -“Ah! true. You are getting satirical, Mrs. Pompilard. Our historians, -you think, are prone to exercise the novelist’s privilege. Let us go up -and see the Major.” - -They mounted one flight of stairs to the door of the front chamber, and -knocked. It was opened by Mrs. Purling, once the sentimental Melissa, -now a very matronly figure, but still training a few flaxen, maiden-like -curls over her temples, and shedding an air of youth and summer from her -sky-blue calico robe, with its straw-colored facings. She inherited much -of the paternal temperament; and, were it not that her husband’s -desponding state of mind had clouded her spirits, she would have shown -her customary aspect of cheerful serenity. - -“Is the Major awake?” - -“O yes! Walk in.” - -“Ah! Cecil, my hearty,” exclaimed Pompilard, “how are you getting on?” - -“Pretty well, sir. The wound’s healing, I believe. I’m afraid we’re -inconveniencing you shockingly, coming here, all of us, bag and -baggage.” - -“Don’t speak of it, Major. Even if we _are_ inconvenienced (which I -deny), what then? Oughtn’t _we_, too, to do something for our country? -If _you_ can afford to contribute an arm, oughtn’t we to contribute a -few trifling conveniences? For my part, I never see a maimed or crippled -soldier in the street, that I don’t take off my hat to him; and if he is -poor, I give him what I can afford. Was he not wounded fighting for the -great idea of national honor, integrity, freedom,—fighting for me and my -children? The cold-blooded indifference with which people who stay -snugly and safely at home pass by these noble relics from the -battle-field, and pursue their selfish amusements and occupations while -thousands of their countrymen are periling life and health in their -behalf, is to me inexplicable. If we can’t give anything else, let us at -least give our sympathy and respect, our little word of cheer and of -honor, to those who have sacrificed so much in order that we might be -undisturbed in our comforts!” - -“I’m afraid, sir,” continued the Major, “that your good feelings blind -you to the gravity, in a domestic point of view, of this incursion into -your household of the whole Purling race. But the truth is, I expected a -remittance, about this time, from my Philadelphia publisher. It doesn’t -come. I wonder what can be the matter?” - -Yes! The insatiable Purling, having exhausted New York, had gone to -Philadelphia with his literary wares, and had found another victim whose -organ of marvellousness was larger than his bump of caution. - -“Don’t bother yourself about remittances, Major,” said Pompilard. “Don’t -be under any concern. You mustn’t suppose that because, in an eccentric -freak, Mrs. Pompilard has chosen to occupy this little out-of-the-way -establishment, the exchequer is therefore exhausted. Some persons might -complain of the air of this neighborhood. True, the piny odors of the -forest are more agreeable than the exhalations one gets from the -desiccating gutters under our noses. True, the song of the thrush is -more entrancing than the barbaric yell of that lazy milkman who sits in -his cart and shrieks till some one shall come with a pitcher. But in all -probability we sha’n’ occupy these quarters longer than the summer -months. Why it was that Mrs. Pompilard should select them, more -especially for the _summer_ months, has mystified me a little; but the -ladies know best. Am sorry we couldn’t welcome you at Redcliff or -Thrushwood, or some other of our old country-seats; but—the fact is, -we’ve disposed of them all. To what we have, my dear Cecil, consider -yourself as welcome as votes to a candidate or a contract to an -alderman. So don’t let me hear you utter the word _remittances_ again.” - -“Ah! my dear father, we men can make light of these household -inconveniences, but they fall heavy on the women.” - -“Not on my wife, bless her silly heart! Why, she’ll be going round -bragging that she has a wounded Major in her house. She’s proud of you, -my hero of ten battles! Didn’t I hear her just now boasting to the -water-rate collector, that she had a son in the house who had lost an -arm at Fair Oaks? A son, Major! Ha, ha, ha! Wasn’t it laughable? She’s -trying to make people think you’re her _son_! I tell you, Cecil, while -Albert Pompilard has a crust to eat or a kennel to creep into, the brave -volunteer, wounded in his country’s cause, shall not want for food or -shelter.” - -The Major looked wistfully at Mrs. Pompilard, and said: “He doesn’t make -allowance for a housekeeper’s troubles,—does he, mother? So long as the -burden doesn’t fall on _him_, he doesn’t realize what a bore it is to -have an extra family on one’s hands when one barely has accommodations -for one’s own.” - -“What _he_ says, _I_ say, Cecil!” replied Madame, kissing the invalid’s -pale forehead. “You’re a thousand times welcome, my dear boy,—you and -Melissa and the children; and where will you find two better children, -or who give less trouble? No fear but we can accommodate you all. And if -you’ve any wounded companion who wants to be taken care of, just send -him on. For your sake, Cecil, and for the sake of the old flag, we’ll -take him in, and do our best by him.” - -“Hear her! Hear the darling little woman!” exclaimed Pompilard, lifting -her in his arms, and kissing her with a genuine admiration. “Bravo, -wife! Give me the woman whose house is like a Bowery omnibus, always -ready for one more. While this war lasts, every true lady in the land -ought to be willing to give up her best room, if wanted, for a -hospital.” - -The hero of Fair Oaks was suddenly found to be snivelling. He made a -movement with his right shoulder as if to get a handkerchief, but -remembering that his arm was gone, he used his left hand to wipe away -his tears. “You’re responsible, between you, for this break-down,” said -the lachrymose Major. “I’m sure I thank you. You’ve given me two good -starts in life already, father, and both times I’ve gone under. With -such advantages as I’ve had, I ought to be a rich man, and here I am a -pauper. Poor Melissa and the children are bound to be dependent on their -friends. I’m afraid I’m an incompetent, a ne’er-do-well.” - -Pompilard flourished a large white silk handkerchief, and, blowing his -nose sonorously, replied: “Bah! ’T was no fault of yours, Cecil, that -your operations out West proved a failure. ’T was the fortune of war. I -despise the man who never made a blunder. How the deuce could you know -that a great financial revulsion was coming on, just after you had -bought? Let the spilt milk sink into the sand. Don’t fret about it. -We’ll have you hearty as a buck in a week or two. You shall rejoin your -regiment in time for the next great fight.” - -The Major smiled faintly, and, shaking his head incredulously, replied: -“The fact is, what makes me so low is, that, at the time I went into -that last fight, I was just recovering from a fever got in the swamps of -the Chickahominy.” - -“I know all about it, my brave boy! I’ve just got a letter, Mrs. -Pompilard, from his surgeon. He writes me, he forbade Cecil’s moving -from his bed; told him ’ would be at the risk of his life. Like a -gallant soldier, Cecil rose up, pale and wasted as he was, and went into -the thick of the frolic. A Minie bullet in the right arm at last checked -his activity. Faint from exhaustion and loss of blood, he sank -insensible on the damp field, and there lay twenty-four hours without -succor, without food, the cold night-dews aggravating his disease.” - -“Well, father,” said the Major, “between you and me, superadded to the -fever I got a rheumatic affection, which I’m afraid will prevent my -doing service very soon again in the field.” - -“So much the better!” returned Pompilard. “Then, my boy, we can keep you -at home,—have you with us all the time. You can sit in your library and -write books, while Molasses sits by and works slippers for _old -blow-hard_, as the boys here in Lavinia Street have begun to call me.” - -“My books don’t sell, sir,” sighed the ex-author, with another -incredulous shake of the head. “Either there’s a conspiracy among the -critics to keep me down, or else I’m grossly mistaken in my vocation. -Besides, I’ve lost my right arm, and can’t write. Do you know,” he -continued, wiping away a tear,—“do you know what one of the newspapers -said on receiving the news of my wound? Well, it said, ‘This will be a -happy dispensation for publishers and the public, if it shall have the -effect of keeping the Major from again using the pen!’” - -“The unclean reptile!” exclaimed Pompilard, grinding his heel on the -floor as if he would crush something. “Don’t mind such ribaldry, Major.” - -“I wouldn’t, if I weren’t afraid there’s some truth in it,” sighed the -unsuccessful author. - -“It’s an entire lie!” exclaimed Pompilard; “your books are good -books,—excellent books,—and people will find it out some of these days. -You shall write another. You don’t need an arm, do you, to help you do -brain-work? Didn’t Sir Walter employ an amanuensis? Why can’t Major -Purling do the same? Why can’t he dictate his _magnum opus_,—the -crowning achievement of his literary life,—his history of the Great -Rebellion,—why can’t he dictate it as well without as with an arm?” - -The Major’s lips began to work and his eyes to brighten. Ominous of -disaster to the race of publishers, the old spirit began to be roused in -him, bringing animation and high resolve. The passion of authorship, -long repressed, was threatening to rekindle in that bosom. He tried to -rub his forehead with his right hand, but finding it gone, he resorted -to his left. His hair (just beginning to get crisp and grayish over his -ears) he pushed carelessly away from his brow. He jerked himself up from -his pillow, and exclaimed: “Upon my word, father-in-law, that’s not a -bad idea of yours,—that idea of tackling myself to a history of the war. -Let me see. How large a work ought it to be? Could it be compressed into -six volumes of the size of Irving’s Washington? I think it might. At any -rate, I could try. ‘A History of the Great Rebellion: its Rise and Fall. -By Cecil Purling, late Major of Volunteers.’ Motto: ‘All which I saw and -part of which I was.’ Come, now! That wouldn’t sound badly.” - -“It would be a trump card for any publisher,” said Pompilard, growing to -be sincerely sanguine. “Get up the right kind of a Prospectus, and -publish the work by subscription. I could procure a thousand subscribers -myself. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t get twenty thousand. We might -all make our fortunes by it.” - -“So we might!” exclaimed the excited Major, forgetting that there were -ladies present, and that he had on only his drawers, and leaping out of -bed, then suddenly leaping back again, and begging everybody’s pardon. -“It can be easily calculated,” continued he. “Just hand me a slip of -paper and a pencil, Melissa. Thank you. Look now, father-in-law; twenty -thousand copies at two dollars a volume for six volumes would give a -hundred and forty thousand dollars clear. Throw off fifty per cent of -that for expenses, commissions, printing, binding, et cetera, and we -have left for our profit _seventy thousand dollars_!” - -“Nothing can be plainer,” said Pompilard. - -“But the publisher would want the lion’s share of that,” interposed -Melissa. - -“Pooh! What do _you_ know about it?” retorted Pompilard. “If we get up -the work by subscription, we can take an office and do our own -publishing.” - -“To be sure we can!” exclaimed the Major, reassured. - -Here Pompilard’s eldest daughter, Angelica Ireton, long a widow, and old -enough to be a grandmother, entered the room with a newspaper. - -“What is it, Jelly?” asked the paternal voice. - -“News of the surrender of Memphis! And, only think of it! Frederick is -highly complimented in the despatch.” - -“Good for Fred!” said Pompilard. “Make a note of it, Major, for the new -history.” - -A knock at the door now introduced the once elfish and imitative Netty, -or Antoinette, grown up into a dignified young lady of striking -appearance, who, if not handsome, had a face beaming with intelligence -and the cheerfulness of an earnest purpose. She wore, not a Bloomer, but -a sort of blouse, which looked well on her erect and slender figure; and -her hair, as if to be put out of harm’s way in working hours, was combed -back into a careless though graceful knot. - -“Walk in, Netty!” said the wounded man. - -“Here’s our great _artiste_,—our American Rosa Bonheur!” cried -Pompilard, patting her on the head. - -“Why, father, I never painted a horse or a cow in my life,” expostulated -Netty. “Remember, I’m a marine painter. I deal in ships, shipwrecks, -calms, squalls, and sea-washed rocks; not in cattle.” - -“Yes, Cecil, she’s engaged on a bit of beach scenery, which will make a -sensation when ’t is hung in the Academy. Better sea-water hasn’t been -painted since Vernet; and she beats Vernet in rigging her ships.” - -“Hear him,” said the artistic Netty. “All his geese are swans. What a -ridiculous papa it is!” - -“Go back to your easel, girl,” exclaimed Pompilard. “Cecil and I are -talking business.” - -“And that reminds me,” said Netty, “I came to say that Mr. Maloney is in -the parlor, and wants to see you.” - -“Has the rascal found me out so soon?” muttered Pompilard. “I supposed I -had dodged him.” - -“Dodged Mr. Maloney, dear? What harm has he ever committed?” asked Mrs. -Pompilard, in surprise. - -“No harm, perhaps; but he’s the most persistent of duns.” - -“Is he dunning you now, my love?” - -“Yes, all the time.” - -“Do you owe him much?” - -“Not a cent, confound him!” - -“Then what is he dunning you for?” - -“O, he’s dunning me to get me to borrow money of him, and I know he -can’t afford to lend it.” - -“Go and see him, my dear, and treat him civilly at least.” - -Pompilard turned to the Major, who was now deep in his Prospectus, and -fired with the thought of a grand success that should make amends for -all his past failures in authorship. Seeing that the invalid was -thoroughly cured of his attack of the blues, Pompilard remarked, “Strike -while the iron’s hot, Major,” and passed out to meet the visitor who was -waiting for him below. - -Pat Maloney was pacing the parlor in a great rage; and he exploded in -these words, as Pompilard presented himself: “Arn’t ye ashamed to look -an honest man in the face, yer desateful ould sinner?” - -“What’s the bother now, Pat? Whose mare’s dead?” said Pompilard. - -“Whose mare’s dead, yer wicked ould man? Is that the kind o’ triflin’ ye -think is goin’ down wid Pat Maloney? Look at that wall.” - -“Well, what of it?” - -“What of it? See the cracks of it, bedad, and the dirt of it, and the -damp of it, and hearken to the rats of it, yer wicked ould man! What of -it? See that baste of a cockroach comin’ out as confidint as ye plaze, -and straddlin’ across the floor. Smell that smell up there in the -corner. Dead rats, by jabbers! And this is the entertainment, is it, ye -bring a dacent family to, that wasn’t born to stenches and filthiness! -Typhus and small-pox in every plank under the feet of ye! And a sick -sodger ye’ve got in the house too; and because he wasn’t quite kilt down -in them swamps on the Chickahominy, ye think ye’ll stink him to death in -this hole of all the nastiness!” - -“Mr. Maloney, this is my house, sir, such as it is, and I must request -you either to walk out of it or to keep a civil tongue in your head.” - -“Hoo! Ye think to come the dignified over me, do ye, yer silly ould man! -I’m not to be scaret by any such airs. I tell ye it’s bastely to bring -dacent women and children inter sich a cesspool as this. By jabbers, I -shall have to stop at Barker’s, as I go back, and take a bath.” - -“Maloney, leave the house.” - -“Lave the house, is it? Not till I’m ready, will I lave the house on the -biddin’ of the likes of a man who hasn’t more regard for the mother that -bore him nor to do what you’ve been doin’, yer ould barbarryan.” - -“Quit the house, I say! If you think I’m going to borrow money of a -beggarly Irish tailor, you’ll find yourself mistaken, Mr. Pat Maloney!” - -“O, it’s that game yez thinkin’ to come on me, is it? Ha! By jabbers, -I’m ready for yer there too. He’s a beggarly Irish tailor, is he? Then -why did ye have the likes o’ him at all yer grand parties at Redcliff? -Why did ye have him and his at all yer little family hops? Why couldn’t -ye git through a forenoon, yer ould hyppercrit, widout the beggarly -Irish tailor, to play billiards wid yer, or go a fishin’ wid yer, or a -sailin’ wid yer?” - -“I don’t choose to keep up the acquaintance, Mr. Maloney, now that you -are poor.” - -“That’s the biggest lie ye iver tould in yer life, yer ould chate!” - -“Do you tell me I lie? Out of my house! Pay your own debts, you -blackguard Paddy, before you come playing flush of your money to a -gentleman like me.” - -“A jintleman! Ye call yerself a jintleman, do ye,—ye onnateral ould -simpleton? Ye bring born ladies inter a foul, unreputable house like -this is, in a foul, unreputable street, wid a house of ill-fame on both -sides of yer, and another oppersit, and then ye call yerself a -jintleman. A jintleman, bedad! Ha, ha!” - -“You lie, Pat Maloney. My next-door neighbors are decent folks,—much -decenter than you are, you foul-mouthed Paddy.” - -“And thin ye tell me to pay my debts, do yer? Find the debt of Pat -Maloney’s that’s unpaid, and he’ll pay it double, yer unprincipled ould -calumniator. If ’ warrent for yer eighty yares, I’d larrup yer on the -spot.” - -“I claim no privilege of age, you cowardly tailor. That’s a dodge of -yours that won’t serve. Come on, you ninth part of a man, if you have -even that much of a man left in you. Come on, or I’ll pound your head -against the wall.” - -“Ye’d knock the house down, bedad, if ye tried it. I’d like no better -sport nor to polish ye off wid these two fists of mine, yer aggrawatin’ -superannuated ould haythen.” - -“You shall find what my eighty years can do, you ranting Paddy. Since -you won’t go quietly out of the house, I’ll put you out.” - -And Pompilard began pulling up his sleeves, as if for action. Maloney -was not behind him in his pugilistic demonstrations. - -“If ye want to have the wind knocked out of yer,” said he, “jist try it, -yer quarrelsome ould bully,—gittin’ up a disturbance like this at your -time of life!” - -Here Angelica, who had been listening at the door, burst into the room, -and interposed between the disputants. By the aid of some mysterious -signs and winks addressed to Maloney, she succeeded in pacifying him so -far that he took up his hat, and shaking his head indignantly at -Pompilard, followed her out of the room. The front door was heard to -open and close. Then there was a slight creaking on the basement stairs, -followed by a coughing from Angelica, and a minute afterwards she -re-entered the parlor. - -She found her father with his fists doubled, and his breast thrown back, -knocking down an imaginary Irishman in dumb show. - -“Has that brute left the house?” he asked. - -“Yes, father. What did he want?” - -“He has been dunning me to borrow a couple of thousand dollars of -him,—the improvident old fool. He needs every cent of his money in his -business. He knows it. He merely wants to put me under an obligation, -knowing I may never pay him back. He can’t dupe me.” - -“If ’ would gratify poor Maloney, why not humor him?” said Angelica. “He -feels eternally grateful to you for having made a man of him. You helped -him to a fortune. He has often said he owed it to you that he wasn’t a -sot about the streets.” - -“If I helped him to a fortune, I showed him how to lose it, Jelly. So -there we’re just even. I tell you I won’t get in debt again, if I can -help it. You, Jelly, are the only one I’ve borrowed from since the last -great crash.” - -“And in borrowing from me, you merely take back your own,” interposed -Angelica. - -“I’ve paid everything in the way of a debt, principal and interest,” -said Pompilard. “And I don’t want to break the charm again at my time of -life. Debt is the Devil’s own snare. I know it from sad experience. I’ve -two good schemes on foot for retrieving my affairs, without having to -risk much money in the operation. If you can let me have five hundred -dollars, I think ’ will be the only nest-egg I shall need.” - -“Certainly, father,” said Angelica; and going down-stairs into the -basement, she found the persevering Maloney waiting her coming. - -“Mr. Maloney,” said she, “let me propose a compromise. My father wants -five hundred dollars of me. I haven’t it to give him. But if you’ll lend -it on my receipt, I’ll take it and be very thankful.” - -“Make it a thousand, and I’ll say yes,” said Pat. - -“Well, I’ll not haggle with you, Mr. Maloney,” replied Angelica. - -Maloney handed her the money, and, refusing to take a receipt, seized -his hat, and quitted the house by the back area, looking round -suspiciously, and snuffing contemptuously at the surroundings, as he -emerged into the alley-way which conducted him to one of the streets -leading into the Bowery. - -Angelica put five hundred dollars in her port-monnaie, and handed the -like amount to her sire. He thrust it into his vest-pocket, brushed his -hat, and arranged his choker. Mrs. Pompilard came down with the -Prospectus that was to be the etymon of a new fortune. He took it, -kissed wife and daughter, and issued from the house. - -As he passed up Lavinia Street, many a curious eye from behind curtains -and blinds looked out admiringly on the imposing figure. One boy on the -sidewalk remarked to another: “I say, Ike, who is that old swell as has -come into our street? I’ve a mind to shy this dead kitten at him.” - -“Don’t do it, Peter Craig!” exclaimed Ike; “father says that man’s a -detective,—a feller as sees you when you think he ain’t looking. We’d -better mind how we call arter him again, ‘Old blow-hard!’” - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV. - A DOMESTIC RECONNOISSANCE. - - “O Spirit of the Summer time! - Bring back the roses to the dells; - The swallow from her distant clime, - The honey-bee from drowsy cells. - Bring back the singing and the scent - Of meadow-lands at dewy prime;— - O, bring again my heart’s content, - Thou Spirit of the Summer time!” - _W. Allingham._ - - -The following Wednesday, Pompilard returned rather earlier than usual -from his diurnal visit to Wall Street. He brought home a printed copy of -the Prospectus, and sent it up-stairs to the wounded author. Then taking -from the bookcase a yellow-covered pamphlet, he composed himself in an -arm-chair, and, resting his legs on an ottoman, began reading that most -thrilling production of the season, “The Guerilla’s Bride, or the -Temptation and the Triumph, by Carrie Cameron.” - -Mrs. Pompilard glided into the room, and, putting her hands over his -eyes from behind, said, “What’s the matter, my love?” - -“Matter? Nothing, wife! Leave me to my novel.” - -“Always of late,” she replied, “when I see you with one of these -sensation novels, I know that something has gone wrong with you.” - -“Nonsense, you silly woman! I know what you want. It’s a kiss. There! -Take it and go.” - -“You’ve lost money!” said Madam, receiving the kiss, then shaking her -finger at him, and returning to her household tasks. - -She was right in her surmise. Pompilard, hopeful of Union victories on -the Peninsula of Virginia, had been selling gold in expectation of a -fall. There had been a large rise, and his five hundred dollars had been -swallowed up in the great maw of Wall Street like a straw in Niagara. He -passed the rest of that day in the house, reading his novel, or playing -backgammon with the Major. - -The next morning, putting the Prospectus and his pride with it in his -pocket, he issued forth, resolved to see what could be done in -furtherance of the grand literary scheme which was to immortalize and -enrich his son-in-law. Entering Broadway he walked up to Union Park, -then along Fourteenth Street to the Fifth Avenue. And now, every square -or two, he would pass door-plates that displayed some familiar name. -Frequently he would be tempted to stop, but he passed on and on, until -he came to one which bore in large black walnut letters the name -CHARLTON. - -With this gentleman he had not had any intercourse since the termination -of that great lawsuit in which they had been opposed. Charlton, having -put the greater part of his property into gold just before the war, had -made enormous sums by the rise in the precious metal. It was noticed in -Wall Street, that he was growing fat; that he had lost his anxious, -eager look. War was not such a bad thing after all. Surely he would be -glad of the opportunity of subscribing for five or ten copies of the -wounded Purling’s great work. - -These considerations encouraged the credulous Pompilard to call. A -respectable private carriage stood before the house, and in it sat a -young lady, probably Miss Charlton, playing with a pet spaniel. -Pompilard rang the door-bell, and a dapper footman in white gloves -ushered him up-stairs into the library. Here Charlton sat computing his -profits on the rates of exchange as given in that day’s report. - -He rose on Pompilard’s entrance, and with a profuse politeness that -contrasted somewhat with his manner on previous occasions, shook hands -with him, and placed him in a seat. Excessive prosperity had at last -taught Charlton to temper his refusals with gracious speech. It was so -much cheaper to give smooth words than solid coin! - -“Am delighted to see you, Mr. Pompilard!” quoth he. “How fresh and young -you’re looking! Your family are all well, I trust.” - -“All save my son-in-law, Major Purling. He, having been thrown on his -back by a bad wound and by sickness got in camp, now proposes to occupy -himself with preparing a history of the war. Here is his Prospectus, and -we want your name to head the subscription.” - -“A most laudable project! Excellent! I don’t doubt the Major’s ability -to produce a most authentic and admirable work. I shall take great -pleasure in commending it to my friends.” - -Here Charlton, who had received one of the papers from Pompilard, and -glanced at it, handed it back to the old man. - -“I want your autograph, Mr. Charlton. The work, you perceive, will be in -six volumes at only two dollars a volume. For how many copies will you -put down your name?” - -“Excuse me, Mr. Pompilard, but the demands on my purse for objects, -public and private, are so incessant just now, that I must decline -subscribing. Probably when the work is published I shall desire to -procure a copy for my library. I have heard of Major Purling as a -gallant officer and a distinguished writer. I can’t doubt he will -succeed splendidly. Make my compliments to your estimable family.” - -Here a lady elegantly dressed, as if for a promenade, entered the room, -and asked for the morning paper. She looked searchingly at Pompilard, -and then went up to him, and putting out her hand, said, “Have you -forgotten Charlotte Dykvelt?” - -“Impossible! Who could have believed it? And you are now Mrs. Charlton!” - -The lady’s lip curled a little, as if no gracious emotion came with the -reminder. Then taking from the old man’s hand the printed sheet which -Charlton had returned to him, she exclaimed: “What have we here? A -Prospectus! Is not Major Purling your son-in-law? To be sure he is! A -brave officer! He must be encouraged in his project. And how is your -daughter, Mrs. Ireton? I see,” continued Mrs. Charlton, laying down the -Prospectus and pulling away nervously at her gloves,—“I see that your -grandson, Captain Ireton, has been highly complimented for gallant -behavior on the Mississippi.” - -“Yes, he’s a good boy, is Fred. Do you know he was a great admirer of -yours?” - -The lady was suddenly absorbed in looking for a certain advertisement of -a Soldier’s Relief Meeting. Pompilard took up his Prospectus, began -folding it, and rose from his chair as if to go. - -“Let me look at that Prospectus a moment,” said Mrs. Charlton, taking up -a pen. - -“Certainly,” he replied, handing her the paper. While she read it, he -examined what appeared a bronze vase that stood on one side of the -table. He undertook to lift it, and drew out from a socket, which -extended beneath the surface of the wood, a polished steel tube. - -“Take care, Mr. Pompilard!” said Charlton; “’t is loaded. No one would -suppose ’ was a revolver, eh? I got it the day after old Van Wyck was -robbed, sitting in his library. Please don’t mention the fact that I -have such a weapon within my reach.” - -“I have put down my name for thirty copies,” said Mrs. Charlton, -returning to Pompilard his Prospectus. - -“But this is munificent, Madam!” exclaimed the old man. - -Charlton gnawed his lips in helpless anger. - -Madam had played her cards so well, that it was a stipulation she and -her daughter should have each a large allowance, in the spending of -which they were to be independent. Drawing forth her purse, she took -from it three one hundred dollar bills, a fifty, and a ten, and handed -them to Pompilard. - -“Do you wish to pay in advance, Madam?” he asked. - -“I wish that money to be paid directly to the author, to aid him in his -patriotic labors,” she replied. “There need be no receipt, and there -need be no delivery of books.” - -Pompilard took the bills and looked her in the face. He felt that words -would be impertinent in conveying his thanks. She gave him one sad, -sweet smile of acknowledgment of his silent gratitude. “Major Purling,” -said he, in a tone that trembled a little, “will be greatly encouraged -by your liberality. I will bid you good morning, Madam. Good morning, -Mr. Charlton!” - -Husband and wife were left alone. - -“That’s the way you fool away my money, is it, Mrs. Charlton? Three -hundred and sixty dollars disposed of already! A nice morning’s work!” - -“You speak of the money as yours, sir. You forget. By contract it is -mine. I shall spend it as I choose. Does not our agreement say that my -allowance and my daughter’s shall be absolutely at our disposal?” - -“Those allowances, Mrs. Charlton, must be cut down to meet the state of -the times. I can’t afford them any longer.” - -“Sir, you say what you know to be untrue. Your profits from the rise in -exchange alone, since the war began, have already been two hundred -thousand dollars. The rise in your securities generally has been -enormous. And yet you talk of not _affording_ the miserable pittance you -allow me and my daughter!” - -“A miserable pittance! O yes! Ten thousand a year for pin-money is a -very miserable pittance.” - -“So it is, when one lays by five times that amount of superfluous -income. Thank me that I don’t force you to double the allowance. Do you -think to juggle _me_ with your groans about family expenses and the hard -times? Am I so easily duped, think you, as not to see through the -miserly sham?” - -“This is the woman that promised to love, honor, and obey!” - -“Do you twit me with that? Go back, Charlton, to that first day you -pressed me to be your wife. I frankly told you I could not love -you,—that I loved another. You made light of all that. You enlisted the -influence of my parents against me. You drove me into the toils. No -sooner was I married than I found that you, with all your wealth, had -chosen me merely because you thought I was rich. What a satisfaction it -was to me when I heard of my father’s failure! What was your -disappointment,—your rage! But there was no help for it. And so we -settled down to a loveless life, in which we have thus far been -thoroughly consistent. You go your way, and I mine. You find your -rapture in your coupons and dividends; I seek such distraction as I can -in my little charities, my Sanitary Aid Societies, and my Seaman’s -Relief. If you think to cut me off from these resources, the worst will -probably be your own.” - -Charlton was cowed and nonplussed, as usual in these altercations. -“There, go!” said he. “Go and make ducks and drakes of your money in -your own way. That old Pomposity has left his damned Prospectus here on -the table.” - -Mrs. Charlton passed out and down-stairs. On a slab in the hall was a -bouquet which a neighboring greenhouse man she had befriended had just -left. She stooped to smell of it. What was there in the odors which -brought back associations that made her bow her head while the tears -gushed forth? Conspicuous among the flowers was a bunch of English -violets,—just such a little bunch as Frederick Ireton used to bring her -in those far-off days, when the present and the future seemed so flooded -with rose-hues. - -“Miss Lucy wants to know if you’re ever coming?” said a servant. - -“Yes!” replied Mrs. Charlton. “’T is too bad to keep her waiting so!” -And the next moment she joined her daughter in the carriage. - -Meanwhile Charlton, as his wife left him, had groaned out, in soliloquy, -“What a devil of a woman! How different from my first wife!” Then he -sought consolation in the quotations of stock. While he read and -chuckled, there was a knock. It was only Pompilard returned for his -Prospectus. As the old man was folding it up, the white-gloved footman -laid a card before Charlton. “Vance!” exclaimed the latter: “I’m -acquainted with no such person. Show him up.” - -Vance had donned his citizen’s dress. He wore a blue frock, fastened by -a single black silk button at the top, a buff vest, white pantaloons, -and summer shoes. Without a shoulder-strap, he looked at once the -soldier and the gentleman. Rapidly and keenly he took Charlton’s -physiognomical measure, then glanced at Pompilard. The latter having -folded up his Prospectus, was turning to quit the room. As he bowed on -departing, Charlton remarked, “Good day to you, Mr. Pompilard.” - -“Did I hear the name Pompilard?” inquired Vance. - -“That is my name, sir,” replied the old man. - -“Is it he whose wife was a Miss Aylesford?” - -“The same, sir.” - -“Mr. Pompilard, I have been trying to find you. My carriage is at the -door. Will you do me the favor to wait in it five minutes for me till I -come down?” - -“Certainly, sir.” And Pompilard went out. - -“Now, Mr. Charlton,” said Vance, “what I have to say is, that I am -called Colonel Vance; that I am recently from New Orleans; that while -there it became a part of my official duty to look at certain property -held in your name, but claimed by another party.” - -“Claimed by a rebel and a traitor, Colonel Vance. I’m delighted to see -you, sir. Will you be seated?” - -“No, thank you. Let me propose to you, that, as preliminary to other -proceedings, I introduce to you to-night certain parties who came with -me from New Orleans, and whose testimony may be at once interesting and -useful.” - -“I shall be obliged to you for the interview, Colonel Vance.” - -“It would be proper that your confidential lawyer should be present; for -it may be well to cross-question some of the witnesses.” - -“Thank you for the suggestion, Colonel Vance. I shall avail myself of -it.” - -“As there will be ladies in the party, I hope your wife and daughter -will be present.” - -“I will give them your message.” - -“Tell them we have a young officer with us who was shot through the -lungs in battle not long since. Shall we make the hour half-past -eight;—place, the Astor House?” - -“That would suit me precisely, Colonel Vance.” - -“Then I will bid you good day, sir, for the present.” - -Charlton put out his hand, but Vance bowed without seeming to notice it, -and passed out of the house into the carriage. - -“Mr. Pompilard,” said he, as the carriage moved on, “are you willing to -take me on trust, say for the next hour, as a gentleman, and comply with -my reasonable requests without compelling me to explain myself further? -Call me, if you please, Mr. Vance.” - -“Truly, Mr. Vance,” replied Pompilard, “I do not see how I risk much in -acceding to your proposition. If you were an impostor, you would hardly -think of fleecing _me_, for I am shorn close already. Besides, you carry -the right signet on your front. Yes, I _will_ trust you, Mr. Vance.” - -“Thank you, sir. Your wife is living?” - -“I left her alive and well some two hours ago.” - -“Has she any children of her own?” - -“One,—a daughter, Antoinette. We call her Netty. A most extraordinary -creature! An artist, sir! Paints sea-pieces better than Lane, Bradford, -or Church himself. A girl of decided genius.” - -“Well, Mr. Pompilard, if your house is not far from here, I wish to -drive to it at once, and have your wife and daughter do us the honor to -take seats in this carriage.” - -“That we can do, Mr. Vance. Driver, 27 Lavinia Street! The day is -pleasant. They will enjoy a drive. I must make you acquainted with my -son-in-law, Major Purling. A noble fellow, sir! Had an arm shot off at -Fair Oaks. Used up, too, by fever. Brave as Julius Cæsar! And, like -Julius Cæsar, writes as well as he fights. He proposes getting up a -history of the war. Here’s his Prospectus.” - -Vance looked at it. “I mustn’t be outdone,” said he, “by a lady. Put me -down also for thirty copies. Put down Mr. Winslow and Madame Volney each -for as many more.” - -“But that is astounding, sir!” cried Pompilard. “A hundred and twenty -copies disposed of already! The Major will jump out of his bed at the -news!” - -As the carriage crossed the Bowery and bowled into Lavinia Street, -Pompilard remarked: “There are some advantages, Mr. Vance, in being on -the East River side. We get a purer sea air in summer, sir.” - -At that moment an unfortunate stench of decayed vegetables was blown in -upon them, by way of comment, and Pompilard added: “You see, sir, we are -very particular about removing all noxious rubbish. Health, sir, is our -first consideration. We have the dirt-carts busy all the time.” - -Here the carriage stopped. “A modest little place we have taken for the -summer, Mr. Vance. Small, but convenient and retired. Most worthy and -quiet people, our neighbors. Walk in, sir.” - -They entered the parlor. “Take a seat, Mr. Vance. If you’ve a taste for -art, let me commend to your examination that fine engraving between the -windows. Here’s a new book, if you are literary,—Miss Carrie Cameron’s -famous novel. Amuse yourself.” - -And having handed him “The Guerilla’s Bride,” Pompilard rushed -up-stairs. Instantly a great tumult was heard in the room over Vance’s -head. It was accompanied with poundings, jumpings, and exultant shouts. -Three hundred and sixty dollars had been placed on the coverlid beneath -which lay the wounded Purling. It was the first money his literary -efforts had ever brought him. The spell was broken. Thenceforth the -thousands would pour in upon him in an uninterrupted flood. Can it be -wondered that there was much jubilation over the news? - -Vance was of course introduced to all the inmates, and made a partaker -in their good spirits. At last Mrs. Pompilard and Netty were dressed and -ready. Vance handed them into the carriage. He and Pompilard took the -back seat. As they drove off they encountered a crowd before an -adjoining door. It was composed of some of those “most worthy and quiet -neighbors” of whom Pompilard had recently spoken. They were gathering, -amid a Babel of voices, round a cart where an ancient virago, Milesian -by birth, was berating a butcher whom she charged with having sold her a -stale leg of mutton the week before. - -“One misses these bustling little scenes in the rural districts,” quoth -Pompilard. “They serve to give color and movement, life and sparkle, to -our modest neighborhood.” - -“Mrs. Pompilard,” said Vance, “we are on our way to the Astor House, -where I propose to introduce to you a young lady. I wish you and your -daughter to scrutinize her closely, and to tell me if you see in her a -likeness to any one you have ever known.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLV. - ANOTHER DESCENDANT OF THE CAVALIERS. - -“Those flashes of marvellous light point to the existence of dormant -faculties, which, unless God can be supposed to have _over-furnished_ -the soul for its appointed field of action, seem only to be awaiting -more favorable circumstances, to awaken and disclose themselves.”—_John -James Tayler._ - - -While the carriage is rolling on, and the occupants are getting better -acquainted, let us hurry forward and clear the way by a few -explanations. - -Vance and his party had now been several days in New York, occupying -contiguous suites of rooms at the Astor House. The ladies consisted of -Clara, Madam Volney, and Mrs. Ripper (late Mrs. Gentry). Esha was, of -course, of the party. She had found her long-lost daughter in Hattie, or -Mrs. Davy, now a widow, whose testimony came in to fortify the proofs -that seemed accumulating to place Clara’s identity beyond dispute. -Hattie joyfully resumed her place as Clara’s _femme de chambre_, though -the post was also claimed by the unyielding Esha. - -The gentlemen of the party included Mr. Winslow, Mr. Semmes, Mr. Ripper, -Captain Onslow, Colonel Delancy Hyde, and a youth not yet introduced. - -Never had Vance showed his influence in so marked a degree as in the -change he had wrought in Hyde. Detecting in the rascal’s affection for a -widowed sister the one available spot in his character, Vance, like a -great moral engineer, had mounted on that vantage-ground the guns which -were to batter down the citadels of ignorance, profligacy, and pride, in -which all the regenerative capabilities of Hyde’s nature had been -imprisoned so long. The idea of having that poor toiling sister—her who -had “fust taught him to make dirt-pies, down thar by the old -duck-pond”—rescued with her children from poverty and suffering, placed -in a situation of comfort and respectability, was so overpowering to the -Colonel, that it enabled Vance to lead him like a child even to the -abjuring of strong drink and profanity. Cut off from bragging of his -Virginia birth and his descent from the Cavaliers,—made to see the false -and senseless nature of the slang which he had been taught to -expectorate against the “Yankees,”—Hyde might have lost his identity in -the mental metamorphosis he was undergoing, were it not that a most -timely substitute presented itself as a subject for the expenditure of -his surplus gas. - -Vance had collected and arranged a body of proofs for the establishment -of Clara’s identification as the daughter of Henry Berwick; but, if -Colonel Hyde’s memory did not mislead him, there was collateral evidence -of the highest importance in those old letters from Charlton, which -might be found in a certain trunk in the keeping of the Widow Rusk in -Alabama. With deep anxiety, therefore, did they await the coming of that -youthful representative of the Hyde family, Master Delancy Hyde Rusk. - -The Colonel stood on the steps of the Astor House from early morn till -dewy eve, day after day, scrutinizing every boy who came along. Clad in -a respectable suit of broadcloth, and concealing the shorn state of his -scalp under a brown wig, he did no discredit to the character of Mr. -Stetson’s guests. His patience was at length rewarded. A boy, -travel-soiled and dusty, apparently fifteen years old, dressed in a -butternut-colored suit, wearing a small military cap marked C. S. A., -and bearing a knapsack on his back, suddenly accosted Colonel Hyde with -the inquiry, “Does Mr. William C. Vance live here?” In figure, face, and -even the hue of his eyebrows, the youth was a miniature repetition of -the Colonel himself; but the latter, in his wig and his new suit, was -not recognized till the exclamation, “Delancy!” broke in astonishment -from his lips. - -“What, uncle? Uncle Delancy?” cried the boy; and the two forgot the -proprieties, and embraced in the very eyes of Broadway. Then the Colonel -led the way to his room. - -“Is this ’ere room yourn, Uncle D’lancy? An’ is this ’ere trunk yourn? -And this ’ere umbrel? Crikee! What a fine trunk! And do you and the -damned Yankees bet now on the same pile, Uncle D’lancy?” - -“Delancy Hyde Rusk,” said the Colonel solemnly, “stahnd up thar afore -me. So! That’ll do! Now look me straight in the face, and mind what I -say.” - -“Yes, uncle,” said Delancy junior, deeply impressed. - -“Fust, have yer got them air letters?” - -“Yes, uncle, they’re sewed inter my side-pocket, right here.” - -“Wal an’ good. Now tell me how’s yer mother an’ all the family.” - -“Mother’s middlin’ bright now; but Malviny, she died in a fit last -March, and Tom, the innocent, he died too; and Charlotte Ann, she was -buried the week afore your letter cum; and mother, she had about gi’n -up; for we hadn’t a shinplaster left after payin’ for the buryin’, and -we thowt as how we should have ter starve, sure; and lame Andrew Jackson -and the two young ’uns, they wahr lookin’ pretty considerable peakid, I -kn tell yer, when all at wunst your letter cum with four hunderd dollars -in it. Crikee! Didn’t the old woman scream for joy? Didn’t she hug the -childern, and cry, and laugh, and take on, till we all thowt she was -crazy-like? And didn’t she jounce down on her knees, and pray, jest like -a minister does?” - -“Did she? Did she, Delancy? Tell it over to me again. Did she raally -pray?” - -“I reckon she didn’t do nothin’ else.” - -“Try ter think what she said, Delancy. Try ter think. It’s important.” - -“Wal, ’ was all about the Lord Jesus, and Brother D’lancy, and not -forsakin’ the righteous, and bless the Lord, O my soul, and the dear -angels that was took away, and then about Brother D’lancy again, and -might the Lord put his everlastin’ arms about him, and might the Lord -save his soul alive, and all that wild sort of talk, yer know. Why, -uncle! Uncle D’lancy! What’s the matter with yer?” - -Yes! the old sinner had boo-hooed outright; and then, covering his face -with his hands, he wept as if he were making up for a long period of -drought in the lachrymal line. - -We have spoken of the influence which Vance had applied to this stony -nature. We should have spoken of other influences, perhaps more potent -still, that had reached it through Peek. Before the exodus from New -Orleans, Peek had introduced him to certain phenomena which had shaken -the Colonel’s very soul, by the proofs they gave him of powers -transcending those usually ascribed to mortals, or admitted as possible -by science. The proofs were irresistible to his common sense, _First_, -That there was a power outside of himself that could read, not only his -inmost nature, but his individual thoughts, as they arose, and this -without any aid from him by look, word, or act. - -Here was a test in which there was no room left for deception. The -_savans_ can only explain it by denying it; and there are in America -more than three millions of men and women who _khow_ what the denial -amounts to. Given a belief in clairvoyance, and that in spirits and -immortality follows. The motto of the ancient Pagan theists was, “_Si -divinatio est, dii sunt_.”[45] - -_Secondly_, Hyde saw heavy physical objects moved about, floated in the -air, made to perform intelligent offices, and all without the -intervention of any agencies recognized as material. - -The hard, cold atheism of the man’s heart was smitten, rent, and -displaced. For the first time, he was made to feel that the body’s death -is but a process of transition in the soul’s life; that our trials here -have reference to a future world; that what we love we become; that -heavenly thoughts must be entertained and relished even here, if we -would not have heaven’s occupations a weariness and a perplexity to us -hereafter. For the first time, the awful consciousness came over him as -a reality, that all his acts and thoughts were under the possible -scrutiny of myriads of spiritual eyes, and, above them all, those -Supreme eyes in whose sight even the stars are not pure,—how much less, -then, man that is a worm! For the first time, he could read the Bible, -and catch from its mystic words rich gleams of comforting truth. For the -first time, he could feel the meaning of that abused and uncomprehended -word, _pardon_; and he could dimly see the preciousness of Christ’s -revelations of the Father’s compassion. - -Return we to the interview between uncle and nephew. Having wiped his -eyes and steadied his voice, the Colonel said: “Delancy Hyde Rusk, -yer’ve got ter larn some things, and unlarn others. Fust of all, you’re -not to swar, never no more.” - -“What, Uncle D’lancy! Can’t I swar when I grow up? _You_ swar, Uncle -D’lancy!” - -“I’m clean cured of it, nevvy. Ef ever you har me swar again, Delancy -Hyde Rusk, you jes tell me of ’t, an’ I’ll put myself through a month’s -course of hard-tack an’ water.” - -“Can’t I say _hell_, Uncle D’lancy, nor _damn_?” - -“You’re not ter use them words profanely, nevvy, unless you want that -air back of yourn colored up with a rope’s end. Now look me straight in -the face, Delancy Hyde Rusk, an’ tell me ef yer ever drink sperrits?” - -“Wall, Uncle D’lancy, I promised the old woman—” - -“Stop! Say you promised mother.” - -“Wall, I promised mother I wouldn’t drink, and I haven’t.” - -“Good! Now, nevvy, yer spoke jest now of the Yankees. What do yer mean -by Yankees?” - -“I mean, uncle, ev’ry man born in a State whar they hain’t no niggers to -wallop. Yankees are sneaks and cowards. Can’t one Suth’n-born man whip -any five Yankees?” - -“I reckon not.” - -“What! Not ef the Suth’n man’s Virginia-born?” - -“I reckon not. Delancy Hyde Rusk, that’s the decoy the ’ristocrats down -South have been humbuggin’ us poor whites with tell the common sense is -all eat clean out of our brains. They stuff us up with that air fool’s -brag so we may help ’em hold on ter thar niggers. Whar did the Yankees -come from? They camed from England like we did. They speak English like -we do. Thar ahnces’tors an’ our ahnces’tors war countrymen. Now don’t be -sich a lout as ter suppose that ’cause a man lives North, and hain’t no -niggers ter wallop, he must be either a sneak or a coward, or what Jeff -Davis calls a hyena.” - -“Ain’t we down South the master race, Uncle D’lancy?” - -“Wall, nevvy, in some respects we air; in some respects not. In dirt an’ -vermin, ignorance an’ sloth, our poor folks kn giv thar poor folks half -the game, an’ beat ’em all holler. In brag an’ swagger our rich folks kn -beat thars. But I’ll tell yer what it is, nevvy: ef, as the slaveholders -try to make us think, it’s slavery that makes us the master race, then -we must be powerful poor cattle to owe it to niggers and not to -ou’selves that we’re better nor the Yankees. Now mind what I’m goin’ ter -say: the best thing for the hull Suth’n people would be to set ev’ry -slave free right off at wunst.” - -“What, Uncle D’lancy! Make a nigger free as a white man? Can’t I, when -I’m a man, own niggers like gra’f’her Hyde done? What’s the use of -growin’ up ef I can’t have a nigger to wallop when I want ter, I sh’d -like ter know?” - -“Delancy Hyde Rusk, them sentiments must be nipped in the bud.” - -The Colonel went to the door and locked it, then cast his eyes round the -room as if in search of something. The boy followed his movements with a -curiosity in which alarm began to be painfully mingled. Finally, the -Colonel pulled a strap from his trunk, and, approaching Delancy junior, -who was now uttering a noise between a whimper and a howl, seized him by -the nape of the neck, bent him down face foremost on to the bed, and -administered a succession of smart blows on the most exposed part of his -person. The boy yelled lustily; but after the punishment was over, he -quickly subsided into a subdued snuffling. - -“Thar, Delancy Hyde Rusk! yer’ll thahnk me fur that air latherin’ all -the days of yer life. Ef I’d a-had somebody to do as much for me, forty -yars ago, I shouldn’t have been the beast that Slavery brung me up ter -be. Never you talk no more of keepin’ niggers or wallopin’ niggers. -They’ve jest as much right ter wallop you as you have ter wallop them. -Slavery’s gone up, sure. That game’s played out. Thank the Lord! Jest -you bar in mind, Delancy Hyde Rusk, that the Lord made the black man as -well as the white, and that ef you go fur to throw contempt on the -Lord’s work, he’ll bring yer up with a short turn, sure. Will you bar -that in mind fur the rest of yer life, Delancy Hyde Rusk?” - -“Yes, Uncle D’lancy. I woan’t do nothin’ else.” - -“An’ ef anybody goes fur to ask yer what you air, jest you speak up -bright an’ tell him you’re fust a Union man, an’ then an out-an’-out -Abolitionist. Speak it out bold as ef you meant it,—_Ab-o-litionist!_” - -“What, uncle! a d-d-da—” - -The boy’s utterance subsided into a whimper of expostulation as he saw -the Colonel take up the strap. - -But he was spared a second application. Having given him his first -lesson in morals and politics, Colonel Hyde made him wash his face, and -then took him down-stairs and introduced him to Vance. The latter -received with eagerness the precious letters of which the boy was the -bearer; at once opened them, and having read them, said to Hyde: “I -would not have failed getting these for many thousand dollars. Still -there’s no knowing what trap the lawyers may spring upon us.” - -Turning to Delancy junior, Vance, who had opened all the windows when -the youth came in, questioned him as to his adventures on his journey. -The boy showed cleverness in his replies. It was a proud day for the -elated Hyde when Vance said: “That nephew of yours shall be rewarded. -He’s an uncommonly shrewd, observing lad. Now take him down-stairs and -give him a hot bath. Soak him well; then scrub him well with soap and -sand. Let him put on an entire new rig,—shirt, stockings, everything. -You can buy them while he’s rinsing himself in a second water. Also take -him to the barber’s and have his hair cut close, combed with a -fine-tooth comb, and shampooed. Do this, and then bring him up to my -room to dinner. Here’s a fifty-dollar bill for you to spend on him.” - -Three hours afterwards Delancy junior reappeared, too much astonished to -recognize his own figure in the glass. Colonel Hyde had thenceforth a -new and abounding theme for gasconade in describing the way “that air -bi, sir, trahv’ld the hull distance from Montgomery ter New York, goin’ -through the lines of both armies, sir, an’ bringin’ val’able letters -better nor a grown man could have did.” - -A dinner at Vance’s private table, with ladies and gentlemen present, -put the apex to the splendid excitements of the day in the minds of both -uncle and nephew. - ------ - -Footnote 45: - - If there is divination (clairvoyance), there must be gods (spirits). - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI. - THE NIGHT COMETH. - -“How swift the shuttle flies that weaves thy shroud!”—_Young._ - - -On the evening of the day of the encounter in Charlton’s library, some -of the principal persons of our story were assembled in one of the -private parlors of the Astor House in New York. - -Some hours previously, Vance had introduced Clara to her nearest -relatives, the Pompilards; but before telling them her true name he had -asked them to trace a resemblance. Instantly Netty had exclaimed: “Why, -mother, it is the face you have at home in the portrait of Aunt -Leonora.” And Aunt Leonora was the grandmother of Clara! - -Vance then briefly presented his proofs of the relationship. Who could -resist them? Pompilard, in a high state of excitement, put his hands -under Clara’s arms, lifted her to a level with his lips, and kissed her -on both cheeks. His wife, her grand-aunt, greeted her not less -affectionately; and in embracing “Cousin Netty,” Clara was charmed to -find a congenial associate. - -Pompilard all at once recollected the gold casket which old Toussaint -had committed to his charge for Miss Berwick. Writing an order, he got -Clara to sign it, and then strode out of the room, delighted with -himself for remembering the trust. Half an hour afterwards he returned -and presented to his grand-niece the beautiful jewel-box, the gift of -her father’s step-mother, Mrs. Charlton. Clara received it with emotion, -and divesting it of the cotton-wool in which it had been kept wrapped -and untouched so many years, she unlocked it, and drew forth this -letter:— - - “MY DEAR LITTLE GRANDDAUGHTER: This comes to you from one to whom you - seem nearer than any other she leaves behind. She wishes she could - make you wise through her experience. Since her heart is full of it, - let her speak it. In that event, so important to your happiness, your - marriage, may you be warned by her example, and neither let your - affections blind your reason, nor your reason underrate the value of - the affections. Be sure not only that you love, but that you are - loved. Choose cautiously, my dear child, if you choose at all; and may - your choice be so felicitous that it will serve for the next world as - well as this. - - E. B. C.” - -The Pompilards remained of course to dinner; and then to the expected -interview of the evening. They were introduced to the highly-dressed -bride, Mrs. Ripper, formerly Clara’s teacher; also to the quadroon lady, -Madame Volney. And then the gentlemen—Captain Onslow, Messrs. Winslow, -Semmes, and Ripper, and last, not least, Colonel Delancy Hyde and his -nephew—were all severally and formally presented to the Pompilards. - -“Does it appear from Charlton’s letters to Hyde that Charlton knew of -Hyde’s villany in kidnapping the child?” asked Mr. Semmes of Vance. - -“No, Charlton was unquestionably ignorant, and is so to this day, of the -fact that the true heir survives. All that he expected Hyde to do was to -so shape his testimony as to make it appear that the child died _after_ -the mother and _before_ the father. On this nice point all Charlton’s -chances hung. And the letters are of the highest importance in showing -that it was intimated by the writer to Hyde, that, in case his testimony -should turn out to be of a certain nature, he, Hyde, besides having his -and Quattles’s expenses to New York all paid, should receive a thousand -dollars.” - -“That is certainly a tremendous point against Charlton. Is it possible -that Hyde did not see that he held a rod over Charlton in those -letters?” - -“Both he and Quattles appear to have been very shallow villains. -Probably they did not comprehend the legal points at issue, and never -realized the vital importance of their testimony.” - -“Let me suggest,” said Semmes, “the importance of having Charlton -recognize Hyde in the presence of witnesses.” - -“Yes, I had thought of that, and arranged for it.” - -Here there was a stir in the little unoccupied anteroom adjoining. The -Charltons and Charlton’s lawyer, Mr. Detritch, had arrived. The ladies -were removing their bonnets and shawls. Hyde drew near to Vance, and the -latter threw open the door. Charlton entered first. The prospect of -recovering his New Orleans property had put him in the most gracious of -humors. His dyed hair, his white, well-starched vest, his glossy black -dress-coat and pantaloons, showed that his personal appearance was -receiving more than usual attention. He would have been called a -handsome man by those who did not look deep as Lavater. - -After saluting Vance, Charlton started on recognizing the gaunt figure -of Delancy Hyde. Concluding at once that the Colonel had come as a -friend, Charlton exclaimed: “What! My old friend, Colonel Delancy Hyde? -Is it possible?” - -And there was a vehement shaking of hands between them. - -Detritch and the ladies having entered, all the parties were formally -introduced to one another. The mention of Miss Berwick’s name excited no -surprise on the part of any one. - -The company at once disposed themselves in separate groups for -conversation. Captain Onslow gave his arm to Miss Charlton, and they -strolled through the room to talk of ambulances, sanitary commissions, -hospitals, and bullets through the lungs. Pompilard, who declared he -felt only eighteen years old while looking at his niece, divided his -delightful attentions between Madame Volney and Mrs. Ripper. Clara -invited Colonel Hyde to take a seat near her, and gave him such comfort -as might best confirm him in the good path he was treading. Hyde junior -looked at the war pictures in Harper’s Weekly. Winslow and Mrs. Charlton -found they had met five years before at Saratoga, and were soon deep in -their recollections. Semmes and Detritch skirmished like two old -roosters, each afraid of the other. Ripper made himself agreeable to -Mrs. Pompilard and Netty, by talking of paintings, of which he knew -something, having sold them at auction. Vance took soundings of -Charlton’s character, and found that rumor, for once, had not been -unjust in her disparagement. The man’s heart, what there was of it, was -in his iron safe with his coupons and his certificates of deposit. - -Suddenly Vance went to the piano, and, striking some of the loud keys, -attracted the attention of the company, and then begged them to be -silent while he made a few remarks. The hum of conversation was -instantly hushed. - -“We are assembled, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “on business in which -Mr. Charlton here present is deeply interested.” - -Mr. Charlton, who occupied an arm-chair, and had Detritch on his right, -bowed his acknowledgments. - -“If,” continued Vance, “I have not communicated privately to Mr. -Charlton, or his respectable counsel, all the startling and important -facts bearing on the case, I hope they will understand that it was not -through any failure of respect for them, and especially for Mrs. and -Miss Charlton, but simply because I have thought it right to choose the -course which seemed to me the most proper in serving the cause of -justice and of the party whose interests I represent.” - -Charlton and Detritch looked at each other inquiringly, and the look -said, “What is he driving at?” - -The amiable bride (Mrs. Ripper) touched Pompilard coquettishly with her -fan, and, pointing to Charlton, whispered, “O, won’t he be come up -with?” - -“No innocent man,” continued Vance, “will think it ever untimely to be -told that he is holding what does not belong to him; that he has it in -his power to rectify a great wrong; to make just restitution. On the -table here under my hand are certain documents. This which I hold up is -a certified printed copy of the great Trial, by the issue of which Mr. -Charlton, here present, came into possession of upwards of a million of -dollars, derived from the estate of the brother of one of the ladies now -before me. It appears from the judge’s printed charge (see page 127) on -the Trial, that the essential testimony in the case was that given by -one Delancy Hyde and one Leonidas Quattles. With the former, Mr. -Charlton has here renewed his acquaintance. Mr. Quattles died some -months since, but we here have his deposition, duly attested, taken just -before his death.” - -“What has all this to do with my property in New Orleans?” exclaimed -Charlton, thoroughly mystified. - -“Be patient, sir, and you will see. The verdict, ladies and gentlemen, -turned upon the question whether, on the occasion of the explosion of -the Pontiac, the child, Clara, or her father, Henry Berwick, died first. -The testimony of Messrs. Hyde and Quattles was to the effect that the -child died first. But it now appears that the father died—” - -“A lie and a trick!” shouted Charlton, starting up with features pale -and convulsed at once with terror and with rage. “A trick for extorting -money. Any simpleton might see through it. Have we been brought here to -be insulted, sir? You shall be indicted for a conspiracy. ’T is a case -for the grand jury,—eh, Detritch?” - -“My advice to you, Mr. Charlton,” said Detritch, “is to turn this -gentleman over to me, and to refuse to listen yourself to anything -further he may have to say.” - -In this advice Charlton snuffed, as he thought, the bad odor of a fee, -and he determined not to be guided by it. Laughing scornfully, he said, -resuming his seat: “Let the gentleman play out his farce. He hopes to -show, does he, that the child died _after_ the father!” - -“No, ladies and gentleman,” said Vance, crossing the room, taking Clara -by the hand, and leading her forth, “what I have to show is, that she -didn’t die at all, and that Clara Aylesford Berwick now stands before -you.” - -Charlton rose half-way from his chair, the arms of which he grasped as -if to keep himself from sinking. His features were ghastly in their -expression of mingled amazement and indignation, coupled with a horrible -misgiving of the truth of the disclosure, to which Vance’s assured -manner and the affirmative presence of Colonel Hyde gave their dreadful -support. Charlton struggled to speak, but failed, and sank back in his -chair, while Detritch, after having tried to compose his client, rose -and said: “In my legal capacity I must protest against this most -irregular and insidious proceeding, intended as it obviously is to throw -my client and myself off our guard, and to produce an alarm which may be -used to our disadvantage.” - -“Sir,” replied Vance, “you entirely misapprehend my object. It is not to -your fears, but to your manhood and your sense of justice that I have -thought it right to make my first appeal. I propose to prove to you by -facts, which no sane man can resist, that the young lady whose hand I -hold is the veritable Miss Berwick, to whom her mother’s estate -belonged, and to whom it must now be restored, with interest.” - -“With interest! Ha, ha, ha!” cried Charlton, with a frightful attempt at -a merriment which his pale cheeks belied. - -“There will be time,” continued Vance, “for the scrutiny of the law -hereafter. I court it to the fullest extent. But I have thought it due -to Mr. Charlton, to give him the opportunity to show his disposition to -right a great wrong, in the event of my proving, as I can and will, that -this lady is the person I proclaim her to be, the veritable Miss -Berwick.” - -Moved by that same infatuation which compels a giddy man to look over -the precipice which is luring him to jump, Charlton, with a deplorable -affectation of composure, wiped the perspiration from his brow, and -said: “Well, sir, bring on these proofs that you pretend are so -irresistible. I think we can afford to hear them,—eh, Detritch?” - -“First,” said Vance, “I produce the confession of Hyde, here present, -and of Quattles, deceased, that the infant child of Mr. Berwick was -saved by them from the wreck of the Pontiac, taken to New Orleans, and -sold at auction as a slave. The auctioneer, Mr. Richard Ripper, is here -present, and will testify that he sold the child to Carberry Ratcliff, -whose late attorney, T. J. Semmes. Esq., is here present, and can -identify Miss Berwick as the child bought, according to Ratcliff’s own -admission, from the said Ripper. Then we have the testimony of Mrs. -Ripper, lately Mrs. Gentry, by whom the child was brought up, and of -Esha, her housemaid, both of whom are now in this house. We have further -strong collateral testimony from Hattie Davy, now in this house, the -nurse who had the child in charge at the time of the accident, and who -identifies her by the marks on her person, especially by her different -colored eyes,—a mark which I also can corroborate. We have articles of -clothing and jewels bearing the child’s initials, to the reception and -keeping of which Mrs. Ripper and Esha will testify, and which, when -unsealed, will no doubt be sworn to by Mrs. Davy as having belonged to -the child at the time of the explosion.” - -“Well, sir,” said Mr. Detritch, with a sarcastic smile, “I think Brother -Semmes will admit that all this doesn’t make out a case. Unless you can -bring some proof (which I know you cannot) of improper influences being -applied by my client to induce his chief witnesses to give the testimony -they did, you can make little headway in a court of law against a party -who is fortified in what he holds by more than fourteen years of -possession.” - -“Even on this point, sir,” replied Vance, “we are not weak. Here are -five original letters, with their envelopes, postage-marks, &c., all -complete, from Mr. Charlton to Colonel Delancy Hyde, offering him and -his accomplice their expenses and a thousand dollars if they will come -on to New York and testify in a certain way. Here also are letters -showing that, in the case of a colored woman named Jacobs, decoyed from -Montreal back into slavery, the writer conducted himself in a manner -which will afford corroborative proof that he was capable of doing what -these other letters show that he did or attempted.” - -As Vance spoke, he held one of the letters so that Charlton could read -it. The latter, while affecting not to look, read enough to be made -aware of its purport. His fingers worked so to clutch it, that Detritch -pulled him by the coat; and then Charlton, starting up, exclaimed: “I’ll -not stay here another moment to be insulted. This is a conspiracy to -swindle. Come along, Detritch. Come, Mrs. Charlton and Lucy.” - -He passed out. Detritch offered his arm to Mrs. Charlton. She declined -it, and he left the room. There was an interval of silence. Every one -felt sympathy for the two ladies. Mrs. Charlton approached Vance, and -said, “Will you allow me to examine those letters?” - -“Certainly, madam,” he replied. - -She took them one by one, scrutinized the handwriting, read them -carefully, and returned them to Vance. She then asked the privilege of a -private conference with Hyde, and the Colonel accompanied her into the -anteroom. This interview was followed by one, first with Mrs. Ripper, -then with Mr. Winslow, then with Esha and Mrs. Davy, and finally with -Clara. During the day Pompilard had sent home for a photograph-book -containing likenesses of Clara’s father, mother, and maternal -grandmother. These were placed in Mrs. Charlton’s hands. A glance -satisfied her of the family resemblance to the supposed child. - -Re-entering the parlor Mrs. Charlton said: “Friends, there is no escape -that I can see from the proofs you offer that this young lady is indeed -Clara Aylesford Berwick. Be sure it will not be my fault if she is not -at once instated in her rights. I bid you all good evening.” - -And then, escorted by Captain Onslow, she and her daughter took their -leave, and the company broke up. - -Charlton, impatient, had quitted the hotel with Detritch and sent back -the carriage. They were closeted in the library when Mrs. Charlton and -Lucy returned. The unloving and unloved wife, but tender mother, kissed -her daughter for goodnight and retired to her own sleeping-room. She -undressed and went to bed; but not being able to sleep, rose, put on a -light _robe de chambre_, and sat down to read. About two o’clock in the -morning she heard the front door close and a carriage drive off. -Detritch had then gone at last! - -Charlton’s sleeping-room was on the other side of the entry-way opposite -to his wife’s. She threw open her door to hear him when he should come -up to bed. She waited anxiously a full hour. She began to grow nervous. -Void as her heart was of affection for her husband, something like pity -crept in as she recalled his look of anguish and alarm at Vance’s -disclosures. Ah! is it not sad when one has to despise while one pities! -“Shall I not go, and try to cheer him?” she asked herself. Hopeless -task! What cheer could she give unless she went with a lie, telling him -that Vance’s startling revelation was all a trick! - -The laggard moments crept on. Though the gas was put up bright and -flaring, she could not have so shivered with a nameless horror if she -had been alone in some charnel-house, lighted only by pale, phosphoric -gleams from dead men’s bones. - -But why did not Charlton come up? - -The wind, which had been rising, blew back a blind, and swept with a -mournful whistle through the trees in the area. Then it throbbed at the -casement like a living heart that had something to reveal. - -Why does he not come up? - -Why not go down and see? - -Though the entry-ways and the stairs were lighted, it seemed a frightful -undertaking to traverse them as far as the library. Still she would do -it. She darted out, placed her hand on the broad black-walnut -balustrade, and stepped slowly down,—down,—down the broad, low, thickly -carpeted stairs. - -At last she stood on one of the spacious square landings. - -What terrible silence! Not even the rattle of an early milk-cart through -the streets! Heavenly Powers! Why this unaccountable pressure, as of -some horrid incubus, upon her mind, so that every thought as it -wandered, try as she might to control it, would stop short at a tomb? -She recoiled. She drew back a step or two up,—up the stairs. And then, -at that very moment, there was a dull, smothered, explosive sound which -smote like a hand on her heart. She sank powerless on the stairs, and -sat there for some minutes, gasping, horror-stricken, helpless. - -Then rallying her strength she rushed up three flights to the room of -Fletcher, the man-servant, and bade him dress quickly and come to her. -He obeyed, and the two descended to the library. - -Through the glass window of the door the gas shone brightly. Fletcher -entered first; and his cry of alarm told the whole tragic tale. Mrs. -Charlton followed, gave one look, and fell senseless on the floor. - -Leaning back in his arm-chair,—his head erect,—his eyes open and -staring,—sat Charlton. On his white vest a crimson stain was beginning -to spread and spread, and, higher up, the cloth was blackened as if by -fire. The vase-like ornament which had attracted Pompilard’s attention -on the library table had been drawn forth from its socket, and the -pistol it concealed having been discharged, it lay on the floor, while -Charlton’s right hand, as it hung over the arm of the chair, pointed to -the deadly weapon as if in mute accusation of its instrumentality. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVII. - AN AUTUMNAL VISIT. - - “Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my heart? - Thy hopes have gone before: from all things here - They have departed; thou shouldst now depart.”—_Shelley._ - - -The defunct having left no will, administrators of his estate were -appointed. These deemed it proper to be guided by the wishes of the -widow and the daughter, notwithstanding the latter was still a minor. -Those wishes were, that the identification of Miss Berwick, conclusive -as it was, should be frankly admitted, and her property, with its -accumulated interest, restored to her without a contest. - -There was a friendly hearing in chambers, before the probate and other -judges. The witnesses were all carefully examined; the contents of the -sealed package in the little trunk were identified; and at last, in -accordance with high legal and judicial approval, the vast estate, -constituting nearly two-thirds of the amount left by Charlton, was -transferred to trustees to be held till Clara should be of age. And thus -finally did Vance carry his point, and establish the rights of the -orphan of the Pontiac. - -It was on a warm, pleasant day in the last week of September, 1862, that -he called to take leave of her. - -Little more than an hour’s drive beyond the Central Park brought him to -a private avenue, at the stately gate of which he found children -playing. One of these was a cripple, who, as he darted round on his -little crutch, chasing or being chased, seemed the embodiment of Joy -exercising under difficulties. His name was Andrew Rusk. An old colored -woman who was carrying a basket of fruit to some invalid in the -neighborhood, stopped and begged Andrew not to break his neck. Vance, -recognizing Esha, asked if Clara was at home. - -“Yes, Massa Vance; she’ll be powerful glad to see yer.” - -While Vance is waiting in a large and lofty drawing-room for her -appearance, let us review some of the incidents that have transpired -since we encountered her last. - -One of Clara’s first acts, on being put in partial possession of her -ancestral estate, had been to present her aunt Pompilard with a -furnished house, retaining for herself the freedom of a few rooms. The -house stood on a broad, picturesque semi-circle of rocky table-land, -that protruded like a huge bracket from a pleasant declivity, partly -wooded, in view of the Palisades of the Hudson. The grounds included -acres enough to satisfy the most aspiring member of the Horticultural -Society. The house, also, was sufficiently spacious, not only for -present, but for prospective grandchildren of the Pompilard stock. To -the young Iretons and Purlings it was a blessed change from Lavinia -Street to this new place. - -Amid these sylvan scenes,—these green declivities and dimpling -hollows,—these gardens beautiful, and groves and orchards,—the wounded -Major and aspiring author, Cecil Purling, grew rapidly convalescent. The -moment it was understood in fashionable circles that, through Clara’s -access to fortune, he stood no longer in need of help, subscribers to -his history poured in not merely by dozens, but by hundreds. He soon had -confirmation made doubly sure that he should have the glorious privilege -of being independent through his own unaided efforts. This time there is -no danger that he will ruin a publisher. The work proceeds. On your -library shelf, O friendly reader, please leave a vacant space for six -full-sized duodecimos! - -Pompilard’s first great dinner, on being settled in his new home, was -given in honor of the Maloneys. In reply to the written invitation, -Maloney wrote, “The beggarly Irish tailor accepts for himself and -family.” On entering the house, he asked a private interview with -Pompilard, and thereupon bullied him so far, that the old man signed a -solemn pledge abjuring Wall Street, and all financial operations of a -speculative character thenceforth forever. - -The dinner was graced by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Ripper, both of -them now furious Abolitionists, and proud of the name. The lady was at -last emphatically of the opinion that “Slavery will be come up with.” - -Clara had Esha and Hattie to wait on her, though rather in the capacity -of friends than of servants. Having got from Mrs. Ripper a careful -estimate of the amount paid by Ratcliff for the support and education of -his putative slave, Clara had it repaid with interest. The money came to -him most acceptably. His large investments in slaves had ruined him. His -“maid-servants and man-servants”[46] had flocked to the old flag and -found freedom. A piteous communication from him appeared on the occasion -in the Richmond Whig. We quote from it a single passage. - - “What contributed most to my mortification was, that in my whole gang - of slaves, among whom there were any amount of Aarons, Abrahams, - Isaacs, and Jacobs, there was not one Abdiel,—not one remained loyal - to the Rebel.” - -The philosophical editor, in his comments, endeavored to shield his -beloved slavery from inferential prejudice, and said: - - “The escaped slave is ungrateful; therefore, slavery is wrong! - Children are often ungrateful; does it follow that the relation of - parent and child is wrong?”[47] - -Could even Mr. Carlyle have put it more cogently? - -The money received by Clara from Mrs. Ratcliff’s private estate was all -appropriated to the establishment of an institution in New Orleans for -the education of the children of freed slaves. To this fund Madame -Volney not only added from her own legacy, but she went back to New -Orleans to superintend the initiation of the humane and important -enterprise. - -“Into each life some rain must fall.” The day after the dinner to the -Maloneys intelligence came of the death of Captain Ireton. He had been -hung by the fierce slaveocracy at Richmond as a spy. It was asserted -that he had joined the Rebel Engineer Corps, at Island Number Ten, to -obtain information for the United States. However this may have been, it -is certain _he was not captured in the capacity of a spy_; and every one -acquainted with the usages of civilized warfare will recognize the -atrocity of hanging a man on the ground that he had _formerly_ acted as -a spy. The Richmond papers palliated the murder by saying Ireton had -“_confessed_ himself to be a spy.” As if any judicial tribunal would -hang a man on his own confession! “Would you make me bear testimony -against myself?” said Joan of Arc to her judges. - -Much to the disgust of the pro-slavery leaders, who had counted on a -display of that cowardice which they had taught the Southern people to -regard as inseparable from Yankee blood, Ireton met his death cheerily, -as a bridegroom would go forth to take the hand of his beloved.[48] It -reminded them unpleasantly of old John Brown. - - “Whether on the gallows high - Or in the battle’s van, - The fittest place for man to die - Is where he dies for man.” - -The news of Ireton’s death was mentioned by Captain Onslow while making -a morning call on Miss Charlton. Her mother had dressed herself to drive -out on some visits of charity. As she was passing through the hall to -her carriage, Lucy called her into the drawing-room and communicated the -report. The widow turned deadly pale, and left the room without -speaking. She gave up her drive for that day, and commissioned Lucy to -fulfil the beneficent errands she had planned. Captain Onslow begged so -hard to be permitted to accompany Lucy, that, after a brief consultation -between mother and daughter, consent was given. - -Thus are Nature and Human Life ever offering their tragic contrasts! -Here the withered leaf; and there, under the decaying mould, the green -germ! Here Grief, finding its home in the stricken heart; and there -thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair! - -Colonel Delancy Hyde speedily had an opportunity of showing the -sincerity of his conversion, political and moral. He went into the fight -at South Mountain, and was by the side of General Reno when that loyal -and noble officer (Virginia-born) fell mortally wounded. For gallant -conduct on that occasion Hyde was put on General Mansfield’s staff, and -saw him, too, fall, three days after Reno, in the great fight at -Antietam. On this occasion Hyde lost a leg, but had the satisfaction of -seeing his nephew, Delancy junior, come out unscathed, and with the -promise of promotion for gallantry in carrying the colors of the -regiment after three successive bearers had been shot dead. - -Hyde was presented with a wooden leg, of which he was quite proud. But -the great event of his life was the establishment of his sister, the -Widow Rusk, with her children, in a comfortable cottage on the outskirts -of Pompilard’s grounds, where the family were well provided for by -Clara. Here on the piazza, looking out on the river, the Colonel played -with the children, watched the boats, and read the newspapers. Perhaps -one of the profoundest of his emotions was experienced the day he saw in -one of the pictorial papers a picture of Delancy junior, bearing a flag -riddled by bullets. But the Colonel’s heart felt a redoubled thrill when -he read the following paragraph:— - - “This young and gallant color-bearer is, we learn, a descendant of an - illustrious Virginia family, his ancestor, Delancy Hyde, having come - over with the first settlers. Nobly has the youth adhered to the - traditions of the Washingtons and the Madisons. His uncle, the brave - Colonel Hyde, was one of the severely wounded in the late battle.” - -The Colonel did not faint, but he came nearer to it than ever before in -his life. - -Can the Ethiopian change his skin? It has generally been thought not. -But there was certainly an element of grace in Hyde which now promised -to bleach the whole moral complexion of the man; and that element, -though but as a grain of mustard-seed, was love for his sister and her -offspring. - -Mr. Semmes was glad to receive, as the recompense for his services, the -exemption of certain property from confiscation. At their parting -interview Vance ingenuously told him he considered him a scoundrel. -Semmes didn’t see it in that light, and entered into a long argument to -prove that he had done no wrong. Vance listened patiently, and said in -reply, “Do you perceive an ill odor of dead rats in the wall?” Semmes -snuffed, and then answered, “Indeed I don’t perceive any bad smell.” “I -_do_,” said Vance; “good by, sir!” And that was the end of their -acquaintance. - -But it is in the track of Vance and Clara that we promised to conduct -the reader. Clara had proposed a ramble over the grounds. Never had she -appeared so radiant in Vance’s eyes. It was not her dress, for that was -rather plain, though perfect in its adaptedness to the season and the -scene. It was not that jaunty little hat, hiding not too much of her -soft, thick hair. But the climate of her ancestral North seemed to have -added a new sparkle and gloss to her beauty. And then the pleasure of -seeing Vance showed itself so unreservedly in her face! - -They strolled through the well-appointed garden, and Vance was glad to -see that Clara had a genuine love of flowers and fruits, and could name -all the varieties, distinguishing with quick perception the slightest -differences of form and hue. In the summer-house, overlooking the -majestic river, and surrounded, though not too much shaded, by birches, -oaks, and pines, indigenous to the soil, they found Miss Netty Pompilard -engaged in sketching. She ran away as they approached, presuming, like a -sensible young person, that she could be spared. Even the mocking-bird, -Clara’s old friend Dainty, who pecked at a peach in his cage, seemed to -understand that his noisy voluntaries must now be hushed. - -The promenaders sat down on a rustic bench. - -“Well, Clara,” said Vance, “I have heard to-day great and inspiring -news. It almost made me feel as if I could afford to stop short in my -work, and to be content, should I, like Moses, be suffered only to _see_ -the promised land with my eyes, but not to ‘go over thither.’” - -“To what do you allude?” - -“To-morrow President Lincoln issues a proclamation of prospective -emancipation to the slaves of the Rebel States.” - -“Good!” cried Clara, giving him her hand for a grasp of congratulation. - -“But I foresee,” said Vance, “that there is much yet to be done before -it can be effective, and I’ve come to bid you a long, perhaps a last -farewell.” - -Clara said not a word, but ran out of the summer-house below the bank -into a little thicket that hid her entirely from view. Here she caught -at the white trunk of a birch, and leaning her forehead against it, wept -passionately for some time. Vance sat wondering at her disappearance. -Ten minutes passed, and she did not return. He rose to seek her, when -suddenly he saw her climbing leisurely up the bank, a few wild-flowers -in her hand. There was no vestige of emotion in her face. - -“You wondered at my quitting you so abruptly,” she said. “I thought of -some fringed gentians in bloom below there, and I ran to gather them for -you. Are they not of a lovely blue?” - -“Thank you,” said Vance, not wholly deceived by her calm, assured -manner. - -“So you really mean to leave us?” she said, smiling and looking him full -in the face. “I’m very sorry for it.” - -“So am I, Clara, for it would be very delightful to settle down amid -scenes like these and lead a life of meditative leisure. But not yet can -I hope for my discharge. My country needs every able-bodied son. I must -do what I best can to serve her. But first let me give you a few words -of advice. Your Trustees tell me you have been spending money at such a -fearful rate, that they have been compelled to refuse your calls. To -this you object. Let me beg you to asquiesce with cheerfulness. They are -gentlemen, liberal and patriotic. They have consented to your giving -your aunt this splendid estate and the means of supporting it. They have -allowed you to bestow portentous sums in charity, and for the relief of -sick and wounded soldiers. I hear, too, that Miss Tremaine has sent to -you for aid.” - -“Yes; her mother is dead, and her father has failed. They are quite -poor.” - -“So you’ve sent her a couple of thousand dollars. The first pauper you -shall meet will have as much claim on you as she. Would I check that -divine propensity of your nature,—the desire to bestow? O never, never! -Far from it! Cherish it, my dear child. Believe in it. Find your -constant delight in it. But be reasonable. Consider your own future. A -little computation will show you that, at the present rate, it will not -take you ten years to get rid of all your money. You will soon have -suitors in plenty. Indeed, I hear that some very formidable ones are -already making reconnoissances, although they find to their despair that -the porter forbids them entrance unless they come on crutches; and I -hear you send word to your serenaders, to take their music to the banks -of the Potomac. But your time will soon come, Clara. You will be -married. (Please not pull that fringed gentian to pieces in that -barbarous way!) You will have your own tasteful, munificent, and -hospitable home. Reserve to yourself the power to make it all that, and -do not be wise too late.” - -“And is there nothing I can do, Mr. Vance, to let you see I have some -little gratitude for all that you have done for me?” - -“Ah! I shall quote Rochefoucault against you, if you say that. ‘Too -great eagerness to requite an obligation is a species of ingratitude.’ -All that I’ve done is but a partial repayment of the debt I owed your -mother’s father; for I owed him my life. Besides, you pay me every time -you help the brave fellow whose wound or whose malady was got in risking -all for country and for justice.” - -“We must think of each other often,” sighed Clara. - -“That we cannot fail to do,” said Vance. “There are incidents in our -past that will compel a frequent interchange of remembrances; and to me -they will be very dear. Besides, from every soul of a good man or woman, -with whom I have ever been brought in communication (either by visible -presence or through letters or books), I unwind a subtile filament which -keeps us united, and never fails. I meet one whose society I would -court, but cannot,—we part,—one thinks of the other, ‘How indifferent he -or she seemed!’ or ‘Why did we not grow more intimate?’ And yet a -friendship that shall outlast the sun may have been unconsciously -formed.” - -“You must write me” said Clara. - -“I’m a poor correspondent,” replied Vance; “but I shall obey. And now my -watch tells me I must go. I start in a few hours for Washington.” - -They strolled back to the house. Vance took leave of all the inmates, -not forgetting Esha. He went to Hyde’s cottage, and had an affectionate -parting with that worthy; and then drove to a curve in the road where -Clara stood waiting solitary to exchange the final farewell. - -It was on an avenue through the primeval forest, having on either side a -strip of greensward edged by pine-trees, odorous and thick, which had -carpeted the ground here and there with their leafy needles of the last -years growth, now brown and dry. - -The mild, post-equinoctial sunshine was flooding the middle of the road, -but Clara stood on the sward in the shade. Vance dismounted from his -carriage and drew near. All Clara’s beauty seemed to culminate for that -trial. A smile adorably tender lighted up her features. Vance felt that -he was treading on enchanted ground, and that the atmosphere swam with -the rose-hues of young romance. The gates of Paradise seemed opening, -while a Peri, with hand extended, offered to be his guide. Youth and -glad Desire rushed back into that inner chamber of his heart sacred to a -love ineffably precious. - -Clara put out her hand; but why was it that this time it was her right -hand, when heretofore, ever since her rescue in New Orleans, she had -always given the left? - -Rather high up on the wrist of the right was a bracelet; a bracelet of -that soft, fine hair familiar to Vance. He recognized it now, and the -tears threatened to overflow. Lifting the wrist to his lips he kissed -it, and then, with a “God keep you!” entered the carriage, and was -whirled away. - -“It was the bracelet, not the wrist, he kissed,” sighed Clara. - - - - - CHAPTER XLVIII. - TIME DISCOVERS AND COVERS. - -“_Crito._ How and where shall we bury you? - -”_Socrates._ Bury me in any way you please, if you can catch me to bury. -Crito obstinately thinks, my friends, I am that which he shall shortly -behold dead. Say rather, Crito,—say if you love me, ‘Where shall I bury -your body’; and I will answer you, ‘Bury it in any manner and in any -place you please.’”—_Plato._ - - -On rolled the months, nor slackened their speed because of the -sufferings and the sighings with which they went freighted. Almost every -day brought its battle or its skirmish. Almost every day men,—sometimes -many hundreds,—would be shot dead, or be wounded and borne away in -ambulances or on stretchers, not grudging the sacrifices they had made. - -O precious blood, not vainly shed! O bereaved hearts, not unprofitably -stricken! Do not doubt there shall be compensation. Do not doubt that -every smallest effort, though seemingly fruitless, rendered to the -right, shall be an imperishable good both to yourselves and others. - -On rolled the months, bringing alternate triumph and disaster, radiance -and gloom, to souls waiting the salvation of the Lord. The summer of -1863 had come. There had been laurels for Murfreesboro’ and crape for -Chancellorville. Vicksburg and Port Hudson yet trembled in the balance. -Pennsylvania was threatened with a Rebel invasion. The Emancipation -Proclamation, gradual as the great processes of nature, was working its -way, though not in the earthquake nor in the fire. Black regiments had -been enlisted, and were beginning to answer the question, Will the negro -fight? - -On the sixth of June, 1863, a cavalry force of Rebels made their -appearance some four miles from Milliken’s Bend on the Mississippi, and -attacked and drove a greatly inferior Union force, composed mainly of -the Tenth Illinois cavalry. - -Suddenly there rose up in their path, as if from the soil, two hundred -and fifty black soldiers. They belonged to the Eleventh Louisiana -African regiment, and were under the command of Colonel Lieb. They had -never been in a fight before. The “chivalry” came on, expecting to see -their former bondsmen crouch and tremble at the first imperious word; -but, to the dismay of the Rebels, they were met with such splendid -bravery, that they turned and fled, and the Illinois men were saved. - -The next day nine hundred and forty-one troops of African descent had a -hand-to-hand engagement with a Texan brigade, commanded by McCulloch, -which numbered eighteen hundred and sixty-five. Three hundred and -forty-five of the colored troops were killed or wounded, though not till -they had put _hors de combat_ twice that number of Rebels. The gunboat -Choctaw finally came up to drive off the enemy. - -Conspicuous for intrepid conduct on both these occasions was a black -man, slightly above the middle height, but broad-shouldered, -well-formed, and athletic. Across his left cheek was a scar as if from a -sabre-cut. This man had received the name of Peculiar Institution, but -he was familiarly called Peek. On the second day his words and his -example had inspired the men of his company with an almost superhuman -courage. Bravely they stood their ground, and nowhere else on the field -did so many of the enemy’s dead attest the valor of these undrilled -Africans. - -One youth, apparently not seventeen, had fought by Peek’s side and under -his eye with heroic defiance of danger. At last, venturing too far from -the ranks, he got engaged with two Rebel officers in a hand-to-hand -encounter, and was wounded. Peek saw his danger, rushed to his aid, -parried a blow aimed at the lad’s life, and shot one of the infuriate -officers; but as he was bearing the youth back into the ranks, he was -himself wounded in the side, and fell with his burden. - -The boy’s wound was not serious. He and Peek were borne within the -protection of the guns of the Choctaw. They lay in the shade cast by the -Levee. The surgeon looked at Peek’s wound, and shook his head. Then -turning to the boy he exclaimed, “Why, Sterling, is this you?” - -At the name of Sterling, Peek had roused himself and turned a gaze, at -once of awe and curiosity, on the youth; then sending the surgeon to -another sufferer, had beckoned to the boy to draw near. - -“Is your name Sterling?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Where were you born?” - -“In Montreal.” - -“And your mother’s name was Flora Jacobs, and your father’s—Sterling! -_I_ am your father!” - -Profoundly overcome by the disclosure, the boy was speechless for a time -with agitation. But Peek pressed him to tell of his mother. “And be -quick, Sterling; for my time is short.” - -We need not give the boy’s narrative in his own words, interrupted as it -was by the inquiries put by Peek, while his life-blood was ebbing. The -story which Clara Berwick had heard at school, and communicated to Mrs. -Gentry, was the story of Flora Jacobs. Those who hate to think ill of -slavery sneer at such reports as the exaggerations of romance; but the -great heart of humanity will need no testimony to show that, in the -nature of things, they must be too often true. - -Flora and Sterling, mother and son, were held as slaves by one Floyd in -Alabama. Flora had religiously kept her oath of fidelity to Peek, much -to the chagrin and indignation of her master, who saw that he was losing -at least fifty per cent on his investment, through her stubborn -resistance to his demands that she should increase and multiply after -the fashion of his Alderneys and Durhams. At last it happened that -Sterling, who had been inspired by his mother with the desire to seek -his father, ran away, was retaken, and tied up for a whipping. Ten -lashes had been given, and had drawn blood. And there were to be one -hundred and ninety more! The mother, in an agony, interceded. There was -only one way by which she could save him. She must marry coachman -George. She consented. But a month afterwards Floyd learnt that Flora -had made the marriage practically null, and had not suffered coachman -George to touch even the hem of her robe. Floyd was enraged. He wrought -upon the evil passions of George. There were first threats, and then an -attempt at violence. The attempt was baffled by Flora’s inflicting upon -herself a mortal stab. As she fell on the floor she marked upon it with -her own blood a cross, and kissed it with her last breath. - -“’T is all right,—all just as it should be,” murmured Peek. “God knew -best. Bless him always for this meeting, Sterling. Hold the napkin -closer to the wound. There! I knew she would be true! So! Take the belt -from under my vest. Easy! It contains a hundred dollars. ’T is yours. -Take the watch from the pocket. So! A handsome gold one, you see. ’T was -given me by Mr. Vance. The name’s engraved on it. Can you write? Good. -Your mother taught you. Write by the next mail to William C. Vance, -Washington, D. C. Tell him what has happened. Tell him how your mother -died. He’ll be your friend. You fought bravely, my son. What sweetness -God puts into this moment! Take no trouble about the body I leave -behind. Any trench will do for it. Fight on for freedom and the right. -Slavery must die. All wrong must die. You can’t wrong even a worm -without wronging yourself more than it. Remember that. Holy living makes -holy believing. Charity first. Think to shut out others from heaven, and -the danger is great you’ll shut yourself out. Don’t strike for revenge. -Slay because ’t is God’s cause on earth you defend; and don’t fight -unless you see and believe that much, let who may command. Love life. ’T -is God’s gift and opportunity. The more you suffer, the more, my dear -boy, you can show you prize life, not for the world’s goods, but for -that love of God, which is heaven,—Christ’s heaven. Think. Not to think -is to be a brute. Learn something every day. Love all that’s good and -fair. Love music. Love flowers. Don’t be so childish as to suppose that -because you don’t hear or see spirits, they don’t hear and see _you_. -Remember that your mother and I can watch you,—can know your every -thought. You’ll grieve us if you do wrong. You’ll make us very happy if -you do right. Ah! The napkin has slipped. No matter. There! Let the -blood ooze. See! Sterling! Look! There! Do you not see? They come. The -angels! _Your_ mother—_my_ mother—and beyond there, high up -there—one—Ah, God! Tell Mr. Vance—tell him—his—his—” - -Peek stood up erect, lifted his clasped hands above his head, looked -beyond them as if watching some beatific vision, then dropped his mortal -body dead upon the earth. - ------ - -Footnote 46: - - See Mr. Jefferson Davis’s proclamation for a fast, March, 1863. - -Footnote 47: - - These quotations are genuine, as many newspaper readers will - recollect. - -Footnote 48: - - The case seems to have been precisely parallel to that of Spencer - Kellogg Brown, hung in Richmond, September 25th, 1863, as a spy. On - the 18th of that month, Brown told the Rev. William G. Scandlin of - Massachusetts (see the latter’s published letter), that they had kept - him there in prison “_until all his evidence had been sent away, - allowed him but fifteen hours to prepare for his defence, and denied - him the privilege of counsel_.” Brown was captured by guerillas, not - while he was acting as a spy, but while returning from destroying a - rebel ferry-boat near Port Hudson, which he had done under the order - of Captain Porter. The hanging of this man was as shameless a murder - as was ever perpetrated by Thugs. But Slavery, disappointed in the - hanging of Captains Sawyer and Flynn, was yelling lustily for a Yankee - to hang; and Jeff Davis was not man enough to say “No.” - - - - - CHAPTER XLIX. - EYES TO THE BLIND. - - “Farewell! The passion of long years I pour - Into that word!”—_Mrs. Hemans._ - -“Heureux l’homme qu’un doux hymen unira avec elle! il n’aura à craindre -que de la perdre et de lui survivre.”—_Fenelon._ - - -It was that Fourth of July, 1863, when every sincere friend of the Great -Republic felt his heart beat high with mingled hope and apprehension. -Tremendous issues, which must affect the people of the American -continent through all coming time, were in the balance of Fate, and the -capricious chances of war might turn the scale on either side. -Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Helena! The great struggles that -were to make these places memorable had reached their culminating and -critical point, but were as yet undecided. - -Lee’s Rebel army of invasion, highly disciplined, and numbering nearly a -hundred thousand men, was marching into Pennsylvania. General Lee -assured his friends he should remain North just as long as he wished; -that there was no earthly power strong enough to drive him back across -the Potomac. He expected “to march on Baltimore and occupy it; then to -march on Washington and dictate terms of peace.” - -Such was Lee’s plan. Its success depended on his defeating the Union -army; and of that he felt certain. - -The loyal North was unusually reticent and grave; “troubled on every -side, yet not distressed; perplexed, but not in despair.” A change of -commanders in the army of the Potomac, when just on the eve of the -decisive contest, added to the general seriousness. - -Clara, since her parting from Vance, had addressed herself thoughtfully -to the business of life. Duties actively discharged had brought with -them their reward in a diffusive cheerfulness. - -On the morning of that eventful Fourth of July, the ringing of bells and -the firing of cannon roused her from slumber somewhat earlier than -usual. On the piazza she met Netty Pompilard, and Mary and Julia Ireton, -and Master and Miss Purling, and they all strolled to the river’s -side,—then home to breakfast,—then out to the mown field by the orchard, -where a mammoth tent had been erected, and servants were spreading -tables for the day’s entertainment, to be given by Clara to all the poor -and rich of the neighborhood. Colonel Hyde, having been commissioned to -superintend the arrangements, was here in his glory, and not a little of -his importance was reflected on the busy cripple, his nephew. - -Clara’s thoughts, however, were at Gettysburg, where brave men were -giving up their lives and exposing themselves to terrible, life-wasting -wounds, in order that we at home might live in peace and have a country, -free and undishonored. She thought of Vance. She knew he had resigned -his colonelcy, and was now employed in the important and hazardous, -though untrumpeted labors of a scout or spy, for which he felt that his -old practice as an actor had given him some aptitude. We subjoin a few -fragmentary extracts from the last letter she had received from him:— - - “Poor Peek,—rather let me say fortunate Peek! He fell nobly, as he - always desired to fall, in the cause of freedom and humanity. His son, - Sterling, is now with me; a bright, brave little fellow, who is - already a great comfort and help.” - - “Until the North are as much in earnest for the right as the South are - for the wrong, we must not expect to see an end to this war. It is not - enough to say, ‘Our cause is just. Providence will put it through.’ If - we don’t think the right and the just worth making great sacrifices - for,—worth risking life and fortune for,—we repel that aid from Heaven - which we lazily claim as our due. God gives Satan power to try the - nations as he once tried Job. ‘Skin for skin,’ says Satan; ‘yea, all - that a man hath will he give for his life.’ Unless we have pluck - enough to disprove the Satanic imputation, and to show we prize God’s - kingdom on earth more than we do life or limb or worldly store, then - it is not a good cause that will save us, but a sordid spirit that - will ruin us. O for a return of that inspiration which filled us when - the first bombardment of Sumter smote on our ears!” - - “The President will soon call for three hundred thousand more - volunteers. O women of the North!—ye whose heart-wisdom foreruns the - slow processes of our masculine reason,—lend yourselves forthwith to - the great work of raising this force and sending it to fill up our - depleted armies.” - - “This Upas-tree of slavery is now girdled, they tell us. ‘Why not - leave it to the winds of heaven to blow down?’ But if this whirlwind - of civil war can’t do it, don’t trust to the zephyrs of peace. No! The - President’s proclamation must be carried into effect on every - plantation, in every dungeon, where a slave exists. Better that this - generation should go down with harness on to its grave, and that war - should be the normal state of the next generation, than that we should - fail in our pledged faith to the poor victims of oppression whose - masters have brought the sword.” - -The grand entertainment under the tent lasted late into the afternoon. -An excellent band of music was present, and as the tunes were selected -by Clara, they were all good. Pompilard was, of course, a prominent -figure at the table. He was toast-master, speech-maker, and general -entertainer. He said pleasant things to the women and found amusements -for the children. He complimented “the gallant Colonel Hyde” on his -“very admirable arrangements” for their comfort; and the Colonel replied -in a speech, in which he declared that much of the honor belonged to his -sister Dorothy, and his nephew, Andrew Jackson. - -In a high-flown tribute to the Emerald Isle, “the land of the Emmetts -and of that brave hater of slavery, O’Connell,” Pompilard called up -Maloney, who, in a fiery little harangue, showed that he did not lack -that gift of extemporaneous eloquence which the Currans and the Grattans -used so lavishly to exhibit. The band played “Rory O’More.” - -A compliment to “the historian of the war” called up Purling, who, in -the lack of one arm, made the other do double duty in gesticulating. He -was cheered to his heart’s content. The band played “Hail Columbia.” - -A compliment to the absent Captain Delaney Hyde Rusk drew from his uncle -this sentiment: “The poor whites of the South! may the Lord open their -eyes and send them plenty of soap!” The band played “Dixie.” - -A venerable clergyman present, the Rev. Mr. Beitler, now rose and gave -“The memory of our fallen brave!” This was drunk standing in solemn -silence, with heads uncovered. But Mrs. Ireton and Clara vainly put -their handkerchiefs to their faces to keep back their sobs. By a secret -sympathy they sought each other, and sat down under a tree where they -could be somewhat retired from the rest. Esha drew near, but had too -much tact to disturb them. - -It was four o’clock when a courier was seen running toward the assembled -company. He came with an “Extra,” containing that telegraphic despatch -from the President of the United States, flashed over the wires that -day, giving comforting assurances from Gettysburg. Pompilard stood on a -chair and proposed a succession of cheers, which were vociferously -delivered. Clara and Mrs. Ireton dried their tears and partook of the -general joy. Then rapping on the table, Pompilard obtained profound -silence; and the old clergyman, kneeling, addressed the Throne of Grace -in words of thankfulness that found a response in every heart. The day’s -amusements ended in a stroll of the company through the beautiful -grounds. - -After the glory the grief. No sooner was it known that Lee, whipped and -crestfallen, was retreating, than there was a call for succor to the -wounded and the dying. Clara, under the escort of Major Purling (who was -eager to glean materials for the great history) went immediately to -Gettysburg. She visited the churches (converted into hospitals), where -wounded men, close as they could lie, were heroically enduring the -sharpest sufferings. She labored to increase their accommodations. If -families wouldn’t give up their houses for love, then they must for -money. Yes, money can do it. She drew on her trustees till they were -frightened at the repetition of big figures in her drafts. She soothed -the dying; she made provision for the wounded; she ordered the -wholesomest viands for those who could eat. - -On the third day she met Mrs. Charlton and her daughter, and they -affectionately renewed their acquaintance. As they walked together -through a hospital they had not till then entered, Clara suddenly -started back with emotion and turned deadly pale. But for Major -Purling’s support she would have fallen. Tears came to her relief, and -she rallied. - -What was the matter? - -On one of the iron beds lay a captain of artillery. He did not appear to -be wounded. He lay, as if suffering more from exhaustion than from -physical pain. And yet, on looking closer, you saw from the glassy -unconsciousness of his eyes that the poor man was blind. But O that -expression of sweet resignation and patient submission! It was better -than a prayer to look on it. It touched deeper than any exhortation from -holiest lips. It spoke of an inward reign of divinest repose; of a land -more beautiful than any the external vision ever looked on; of that -peace of God which passeth all understanding. - -Clara recognized in it the face of Charles Kenrick. A cannon-ball had -passed before his eyes, and the shock from the concussion of air had -paralyzed the optic nerves. The surgeons gave him little hope of ever -recovering his sight. - -For some private reason, best known to herself, Clara did not make -herself known to Kenrick. She did not even inform any one that she knew -him. She induced Lucy Charlton to minister to his wants. On Lucy’s -asking him what she could do (for she did not know he was Onslow’s -friend), he said, “If you can pen a letter for me, I shall be much -obliged.” - -“Certainly,” said she; “and my friend here shall hold the ink while I -write.” - -She received from the hands of her maid in attendance a portfolio with -which she had come provided, anticipating such requests. She then took a -seat by his side, while Clara sat at the foot of the cot, where she -could look in his blind, unconscious face, and wipe away her tears -unseen. - -“I’m ready,” said Lucy. And he dictated as follows:— - - “MY DEAR COUSIN: I received last night your letter from Meade’s - headquarters. ’T was a comfort to be assured you escaped unharmed amid - your many exposures. - - “You tell me I am put down in the reports as among the slightly - wounded, and you desire to know all the particulars. Alas! I may say - with the tragic poet, ‘My wound is great because it is so small.’ - Don’t add, as Johnson once did, ‘Then ‘t would be greater, were it - none at all.’ A cannon-ball, my dear fellow, passed before my eyes, - and the sight thereof is extinguished utterly. The handwriting of this - letter, you will perceive, is not my own. - - “What you say of Onslow delights me. So he has behaved nobly before - Vicksburg, and is to be made a Colonel! The one hope of his heart is - to be with the army of liberation that shall go down into Texas. - Onslow will not rest till he has redeemed that bloody soil to freedom, - and put an end to the rule of the miscreant hangmen of the State. - - “I said the _one_ hope of his heart. But what you insinuate leads me - to suspect there may be still another,—a tender hope. Can it be? Poor - fellow! He deserves it. - - “You bid me take courage and call on Perdita. You tell me she is free - as air,—that the bloom is on the plum as yet untouched, unbreathed - upon. My own dear cousin, if I was hopeless before I lost my eyesight, - what must I be now? But, since a thing of beauty is a joy forever, was - I not lucky in making her acquaintance before that cannon-ball swept - away my optic sense? Now, as I rest here on my couch, I can call up - her charming image,—nay, I can hear the very tones of her singing. She - is worthy of the brilliant inheritance you were instrumental in - restoring to her. I shall always be the happier for having known her, - even though the knowing should continue to be my disquietude. - - “I have just heard from my father. He and his young wife are in - Richmond. His pecuniary fortunes are at a very low ebb. His slaves - were all liberated last month by Banks, who has anticipated the work I - expected to do myself. My father begins to be disenchanted in regard - to the Rebellion. He even admits that Davis isn’t quite so remarkable - a man as he had supposed. How gladly I would help my father if I - could! May the opportunity be some day mine. All I have (’t is only - five thousand dollars) shall be his. - - “What can I do, my dear cousin, if I can’t get back my eyesight? God - knows and cares; and I am content in that belief. ‘There is a special - providence in the falling of a sparrow.’ Am not I better than many - sparrows? ‘Hence have I genial seasons!’ ’T is all as it should be; - and though He slay me, yet will I trust in him. - - “Farewell, - “CHARLES KENRICK. - -“TO WILLIAM C. VANCE.” - -Several times during the dictating of this letter, Lucy (especially when -Onslow’s name was mentioned) would have betrayed both herself and Clara, -had not the latter in dumb show dissuaded her. The next day Clara made -herself known, and introduced Major Purling; but she did not allow the -blind man to suspect that she was that friend of his unknown amanuensis, -who had “held the ink.” - -Her own persuasions, added to those of the Major, forced Kenrick at last -to consent to be removed to Onarock. Here, in the society of cheerful -Old Age and congenial Youth, he rapidly recovered strength. But to his -visual orbs there returned no light. There it was still “dark, dark, -dark, amid the blaze of noon.” - -He did not murmur at the dispensation. In all Clara’s studies, readings, -and exercises he was made the partaker. Even the beautiful landscapes on -all sides were brought vividly before his inner eyes by her graphic -words. Along the river’s bank, and through the forest aisles, and along -the garden borders she would lead him, and not a flower was beautiful -that he was not made to know it. - - ---------- - -It was the 18th of October, 1863,—that lovely Sabbath which seemed to -have come down out of heaven,—so beautiful it was,—so calm, so -bright,—so soft and yet so exhilarating. The forest-trees had begun to -put on their autumnal drapery of many colors. The maple was already of a -fiery scarlet; the beech-leaves, the birch, and the witch-hazel, of a -pale yellow; and there were all gradations of purple and orange among -the hickories, the elms, and the ashes. The varnished leaves of the oak -for the most part retained their greenness, forming mirrors for the -light to reflect from, and flashing and glistening, as if for very joy, -under the bland, indolent breeze. It was such weather as this that drew -from Emerson that note, we can all respond to, in our higher moments of -intenser life, “Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of -emperors ridiculous.” - -With Kenrick, even to his blindness there came a sense of the beauty and -the glow. He could enjoy the balmy air, the blest power of sunshine, the -odors from the falling leaves and the grateful earth. And what need of -external vision, since Clara could so well supply its want? He walked -forth with her, and they stopped near a rustic bench overlooking the -Hudson, and sat down. - -“Indeed I must leave you to-morrow,” said he, in continuation of some -previous remark: “I’ve got an excellent situation as sub-teacher of -French at West Point.” - -“O, you’ve got a situation, have you?” returned Clara. - -The tears sprang to her eyes; but, alas for human frailty! this time -they were tears of vexation. - -There was silence for almost a minute. Then Kenrick said, “Do you know -I’ve been with you more than three months?” - -“Well,” replied Clara, pettishly, “is there anything so very surprising -or disagreeable in that?” - -“But I fear Onarock will prove my Capua,—that it will unfit me for the -sterner warfare of life.” - -“O, go to your sterner warfare, since you desire it!” - -And with a desperate effort at nonchalance she swung her hat by its -ribbon, and sang that little air from “La Bayadère” by Auber,—“Je suis -content,—je suis heureux.” - -“Clara, dear friend, you seem displeased with me. What have I done?” - -“You want to humiliate me!” exclaimed Clara, reproachfully, and bursting -into a passion of tears. - -“Want to humiliate you? I can’t see how.” - -“I suppose not,” returned Clara, ironically. “There are none so blind as -those who don’t choose to see.” - -“What do you mean, dear friend?” - -“Dear _friend_ indeed!” sobbed Clara. “Is he as blind as he would have -me think? Haven’t I given hints enough, intimations enough, -opportunities enough? Would the man force me to offer myself outright?” - -There was another interval of silence, and this time it lasted full ten -minutes. And then Kenrick, his breath coming quick, his breast heaving, -unable longer to keep back his tears, drew forth his handkerchief, and -covering his face, wept heartily. - -He rose and put out his hand. Clara seized it. He folded her in his -arms; and their first kiss,—a kiss of betrothal,—was exchanged. - - - - - THE END. - - - - - - - - - Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Footnotes - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -There are several compound words which appear with and without -hyphenation, which are given here as printed (bed-side, chamber-maid, -child-birth, head-quarters, low-lived, side-walk). If a word is -hyphenated at a line or page break, the hyphen is retained only if other -instances can establish the author’s intent. - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. - - 32.33 You have fe[e]d him, I suppose? Removed. - 66.13 [“]Iverson stepped forward Removed. - 77.19 Tender thought[t/s] of the sufferings Replaced. - 98.39 as high a civilization as the whites[.]” Added. - 199.26 know[l]edge of many good men and women Inserted. - 272.1 [“]She dashed into a medley Removed. - 355.18 “But you say nothing of confiscation,[” Mr. ” moved. - Vance./ Mr. Vance”] - 395.29 to the Emperor’s predispositions[.] Added. - 430.24 super[ ]human and supercanine Removed. - 448.5 [“]Do you know,” he continued, Removed. - 449.18 _seventy thousand dollars_![”] Added. - 466.34 and then, cov[er]ing his face Inserted. - 497.11 the face of C[l/h]arles> Kenrick Replaced. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PECULIAR *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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