"jO WARDS 
 
 THE GUJLF 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF 
 
 Homance of Coutstana 
 
 To meet was Jove the love that leads to death 
 And yet, God ruling heaven and earth they met 1 1 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
 
 LONDON: 30 FLEET STREET 
 1887 
 
Copyright, 1886, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE circumstances which surrounded old 
 Madam Morant were so favorable that the 
 announcement of her intention to build a 
 winter residence in New Orleans was received 
 by her friends with marked satisfaction. 
 Among the delightful things said of her, one 
 might have heard such expressions as have 
 been common to all times in similar cases: 
 
 The most charming woman one could 
 meet." 
 
 " Eminently fitted to be a social leader." 
 
 " Entitled to one s gratitude, for she will 
 entertain royally." 
 
 " What a magnificent place she can make 
 of it !" 
 
 And some commented freely upon the prob 
 able extent of the income which would enable 
 
8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 her to support almost princely style. There 
 were large plantations and innumerable slaves. 
 They were certainly equal to enormous drafts 
 upon their resources, and it was intimated that 
 there were lucrative investments in France, 
 which added materially to the Madam s wealth. 
 Her discretion in the selection of locality was 
 commended. There was no doubt that real 
 estate was advancing in the chosen section, 
 and for neighbors, all agreed that with one or 
 two exceptions she would have the best the 
 old municipality could boast. 
 
 When the house was completed, it was con 
 sidered the finest in the neighborhood, in fact 
 many considered it the finest in the whole 
 city. Possibly it was. One must concede 
 something to tradition. 
 
 The Madam s friends were not disappoint 
 ed in their expectations of splendid hospital 
 ity. So long as she lived she dispensed it. 
 In the enjoyment of her worldly advantages 
 she contributed unselfishly and largely to the 
 pleasure of others, while the harmony and 
 unity of her temper extended her life into 
 beautiful old age and distinguished its close. 
 Few ever spoke of her husband. He made 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 9 
 
 little impression on his small world, but her 
 name was potential long after she passed away 
 from all her great possessions. Her descend 
 ants often boasted of her grandeur, and with 
 a remnant of her wealth supported claims to 
 social distinction which were never disputed 
 by those who came within their exclusive cir 
 cle. 
 
 The house is yet occupied ; but one chanc 
 ing to enter a certain dilapidated old ceme 
 tery in the heart of the city may decipher the 
 old Madam s name under the " Ici Repose " 
 which prefaces a long inscription commemo 
 rating her talents and virtues. 
 
 Time in its progress from good to bad and 
 from bad to worse wrought many changes in 
 the old French district where the house was 
 built. Wealth came and vanished. The 
 drift of improvement, for a long time totally 
 arrested, was afterwards in an entirely differ 
 ent direction. The region reached a period 
 in its decline when stagnation became pictu 
 resque and silence eloquent. Strange phan 
 toms flitted with singular pertinacity before 
 the imagination of those who entered this 
 quaint old quarter, clothing themselves in ro- 
 
10 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 mantic garb, and conveying to the senses the 
 prevailing pathos of an irrevocable past. 
 
 At the date of which we write, one trying 
 to find the Madam s house would have suc 
 ceeded only after a long stroll through quiet, 
 almost deserted streets. A tall, three-storied 
 building, rising with a prison-like front straight 
 up from the banquet, each story marked by 
 a row of ancient, slatless blinds always closed 
 to the world of sunshine and shadow without, 
 one might well pause before it to consider the 
 merit of tradition. Its attractiveness was cer 
 tainly apart from its proportions. Possessing 
 no architectural beauty, it appealed to an ar 
 tistic eye only through its suggestiveness of 
 a romantic past. The front door, battered and 
 weather-stained, with rusty hinges and dull 
 lock, bore witness that hospitable intent no 
 longer dominated the entrance. 
 
 To the right, a wall scarcely lower than the 
 first story of the building excluded from view 
 the garden in which the old Madam planted 
 the aged evergreens still surviving neglect and 
 ill-usage. 
 
 On long afternoons, while the old house im- 
 browned itself in the advancing shadows, the 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. II 
 
 fading sunlight rested upon a small house 
 over the way, whose single window struggled 
 to catch the declining rays in the same hope 
 less, appealing way that it had done ever since 
 its pretentious neighbor had first frowned 
 upon it. In the Madam s day there used to 
 come every morning to the low front door of 
 this little house a fine-looking woman, noted 
 for the whiteness of the neckerchief which 
 was crossed upon the bosom of her black 
 gown, the creamy pallor of a skin once very 
 beautiful, and the sadness of large dark eyes 
 which were never raised to catch the light ex 
 cept when, taking her seat on the low steps, 
 she threaded the glittering needle which rep 
 resented bread and life to her and hers. Be 
 sides the poor seamstress, there might be seen 
 occasionally passing beyond the open door 
 way slenderer figures and younger ones, a 
 dark, rich-colored, merry face and another pal 
 lid and sad-eyed. Did one comment on their 
 strange dark beauty, there came instantly the 
 chill shadow of reproach, the shadow of race 
 distinction in the frown which silenced dis 
 cussion of it. 
 
 A certain class of gossips formerly created 
 
12 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 a lively interest by stories told of these peo 
 ple. It was said that a Virginia trader 
 brought to a slave-yard in the neighborhood 
 two beautiful quadroon girls. They were sis 
 ters, and on account of their extreme grace 
 fulness and beauty they were held at a mar 
 vellous price by the dealer in human flesh. 
 One fell into the hands of a wealthy planter, 
 distinguished alike for his intelligence and 
 his conviviality, and was carried off, a pant 
 ing picture of horror and despair, to a remote 
 plantation. The other was purchased by a fa 
 mous gambler, who, when tired of his bargain, 
 gave the woman and her children their free 
 dom, and the little house, even then falling into 
 decay, as. .a home. They had all drifted away 
 in some strange, mysterious manner, and the 
 little house had ever since been closed to 
 human occupancy. Old Pasquale, the wrin 
 kled Dago who kept the corner fruit and oys 
 ter shop, with its swarming flies and its fetid 
 smells, could have told one a great deal about 
 them if he had been less dull and superstitious. 
 Perhaps the only other person who distinctly 
 remembered them was Celine, an aged negress, 
 the immemorial property of the Morants. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 13 
 
 An object strangely incongruous with its 
 surroundings is no unusual fact in the boun 
 dary of one s vision, indicating as it frequent 
 ly does the beginning of one of Nature s per 
 petually recurring changes from progress to 
 decay, and from decay to progress again. 
 Thus the single exception to the general an 
 tiquity and dilapidation of the neighborhood 
 at the time under our consideration could 
 not fail to strike one. A saucy-looking green- 
 and-white cottage occupied a corner lot which 
 had once formed part of the garden attached 
 to the quadroon s property. It marked the 
 growth of a new influence which had begun 
 to assert itself, and there were neighboring 
 eyes which would not look upon its aggres 
 sive assumption of prosperity. Such small 
 things do sometimes add weight to burdens 
 already hard to bear. 
 
 A survey of the rigidly closed shutters of 
 the Madam s old house would determine the 
 fact that its occupants followed the prece 
 dents of their generation in utterly ignoring 
 and never voluntarily acknowledging by so 
 much as a glance the existence of disagree 
 able facts. 
 
14 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 The occupants were descendants of the old 
 Madam, inheriting her pride, winning temper, 
 and love of social pre-eminence, restricted 
 only in the exercise of these qualities by the 
 poverty which they had neither the training 
 nor mental vigor to overcome. 
 
 Reverses of fortune and other calamities 
 had closed the house. For a series of years 
 no Morant occupied it; but a sentiment of 
 pride added to one of judicious economy had 
 induced the last members of this old family 
 to redeem the place by payment of taxes long 
 due upon it, and once more to establish them 
 selves there. 
 
 One might have waited for days for any sign 
 of life about the place, unless one chanced to 
 be near by, when very rarely, and only in the 
 early morning hours, old Celine, the one serv 
 ant of the household, opened a small, rusty 
 gate in the garden wall, and sallied forth to 
 market. 
 
 The stately old negress never looked to 
 the right nor to the left as she passed slowly 
 through the deserted streets. Apparently 
 things present possessed no significance for 
 her; but a solemn stare and an occasional 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 15 
 
 shake of the head seemed to hint, possibly, of 
 unspoken memories of glories passed away 
 forever. 
 
 Frugal ways had been learned under press 
 ure of circumstances, and the basket she car 
 ried never came back heavily laden. 
 
 The prying little woman in the green-and- 
 white cottage, who flattened her nose daily 
 against the -front window-pane, knew how lit 
 tle it contained, though she had never ex 
 changed a word with its .bearer; but in igno 
 rance of the impertinent curiosity which en 
 joyed counting the vegetables in the basket, 
 no less than spying out the cobwebs in the 
 neighbors entry, the old negress went her way 
 silently and peacefully. 
 
 The qualifications for gayety were not to 
 be found among the members of the family 
 which secluded itself behind closed shutters, 
 and life inside the house was in accord with 
 the dulness around it. 
 
 Its dulness mattered little to good old Ma 
 jor Morant, the head of the household, the 
 only remaining and oldest son of the charm 
 ing Madam : for all the rest had either died 
 before they had been summoned to defend 
 
l6 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the South, or had perished on its battle-fields. 
 He had reached that period when monotony 
 was the essential harmony in a life which had 
 sounded most pleasures. His youth and mid 
 dle age had been singularly free from care. 
 Wealth and position had come to him by in 
 heritance, and his life had been modelled upon 
 the epicurean philosophy; yet fate had spared 
 him many virtues. When loss of fortune came, 
 mainly by unfortunate speculation, and the 
 world had nothing more to offer, he bore it 
 kindly, and his old age crystallized into sim 
 ple childlike content. 
 
 There was yet left for his enjoyment his 
 cosey arm-chair, his daily cigar, and the small 
 chess -table at which he spent many hours 
 pondering problems that never grew quite 
 clear to his failing faculties. 
 
 The major was proud of his descent from 
 the Morants, but prouder still of the Hugue 
 not blood which flowed in his veins. From 
 this latter source came the courtly manners 
 which distinguished the gallant old gentle 
 man, and made him attractive even in his ad 
 vanced years. His hair was thin and white, 
 and his shoulders bent ; but his speech was 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 17 
 
 never querulous or bitter. Life, though hard 
 now, had been worth a great deal in the days 
 gone by, and with the memory of those days 
 lighting up the shadows of the present he met 
 Time s advances with smiles which ploughed 
 furrows in all the pleasant curves about his 
 kindly mouth and merry blue-gray eyes. 
 
 The youth of his only daughter Isabel had 
 surrendered to sadder circumstances. The 
 loss of fortune and necessity for economy had 
 come upon her at that period of her young 
 girlhood when the gay world gleamed upon 
 her exalted fancy like the processional inci 
 dents of her childish fairy tales. She had nev 
 er uttered any protest against her fate, and 
 thanked God daily for the small income which 
 was sufficient for their quiet life ; but there 
 were times when the spirit of unrest and dis 
 content made a fair fight for possession of 
 her soul. It was pathetic to see upon her face 
 the traces of beauty dimmed by the struggle. 
 The sorrowful droop of eyes and mouth carved 
 other lines than pleasant ones. When not en 
 gaged in other duties, her hours were usually 
 spent in her low sewing -chair, gazing out 
 through the mouldy archways of the side gal- 
 
1 8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 lery, which opened on the garden, while her 
 fingers were busy with a piece of tatting as 
 unending as the visionary schemes and hopes 
 which momentarily offered themselves to her 
 fancy. While the shuttle flew in and out of 
 her work, it occasionally paused to give vin 
 dictive stabs in the air as if battling with un 
 seen foes, and again it fell helpless in the 
 nervous hand that guided it, seemingly borne 
 down by the weight of hidden forces. 
 
 The scene upon which Miss Isabel daily 
 gazed was certainly forlorn enough to inspire 
 melancholy. The garden had once been laid 
 out in the circles, diamonds, stars, and hearts 
 which had pleased the taste of a past genera 
 tion. It was now overgrown with weeds ; the 
 borders were broken and almost obliterated. 
 General neglect was noticeable, except along 
 certain walks which old Celine, after the fash 
 ion of her early days, kept fresh and sweet by 
 a daily coat of pounded brick. A fig-tree 
 which might have been as old as Celine her 
 self ornamented one of the circles near the 
 house. Under its shade, when her daily tasks 
 were done, the old negress would bring her 
 small kitchen-stool, and humbly seat herself. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 9 
 
 Through all phases of fortune, and the won 
 derful changes which had taken place in her 
 own condition, Celine had clung to the family 
 whose slave she had been. Her age was a 
 mystery. Time seemed to make no impres 
 sion on her. Belonging to that superior class 
 of her race one seldom sees, uniting the higher 
 moral qualities with a regularity of feature as 
 pronounced as the Caucasian, her face was 
 set and immobile as a bronze cast. 
 
 With folded arms, humming all the while 
 some melancholy air, too low to disturb her 
 mistress s thoughts, she would sit and watch 
 with faithful eyes the varying expression of 
 Miss Isabel s face, growing bolder in her song 
 as the face she studied lighted up under the in 
 spiration of some pleasant emotion, and sinking 
 away in sudden cadence as the light died out 
 of it. She would as soon have thought of go 
 ing with unturbaned head as of speaking with 
 out permission ; and as self-communion had 
 made Miss Isabel a silent woman, the monot 
 ony of Celine s crone was seldom disturbed. 
 
 There was another member of the family of 
 whom Major Morant often spoke with pardon 
 able pride as " my good son John ;" but he 
 
20 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 was making the most of life upon a moderate 
 salary earned in one of the great cotton of 
 fices, and lived up-town in that busy section 
 from which the old district seemed to be sep 
 arated as by an invisible barrier. Young and 
 full of ambition, there were not many attrac 
 tions for him in the old house, and though an 
 affectionate son and brother, he made few vis 
 its to it. 
 
 Once a week there usually came a change 
 in the drowsy routine of the household. On 
 Sunday evenings, at precisely half-past seven 
 o clock, one listening intently might have 
 heard a peculiar sound upon the banquet, like 
 the impact of a metallic substance, and at irreg 
 ular intervals a double echo of lighter sounds. 
 
 " Ah !" the old major would exclaim, with 
 great satisfaction, as at a certain point the in 
 telligible meaning of these sounds was con- 
 
 o o 
 
 veyed to his pleased attention, " our friends 
 are coming, my daughter. That is Burton s 
 cane, and I would know Byrne s step in a 
 thousand. Do you not hear them ?" 
 
 " Yes, papa ;" and at a sign from Miss Isa 
 bel, old Celine would glide away and present 
 ly usher in two old gentlemen. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OLD age clings with tenacity to certain as 
 sociations, and be the actuating motive no 
 profounder than habit, it is always suggestive 
 of a divine constancy in human nature which 
 affects one agreeably, and makes it a pleasant 
 thing to see good-fellowship kept in constant 
 repair. Concerning the old men who met 
 weekly at the major s house, it may be said 
 that their friendship had extended over the 
 greater period of their lives, and the very 
 manner of their greeting carried conviction 
 of its strength. 
 
 With what genial hospitality did the major 
 always receive them! There was the grace 
 of the old-time princely planter in the wave 
 of his hand towards the chairs appropriated 
 to them. The gentleman who usually fell 
 into his, with his legs astride the seat, and his 
 arms kimbo on the back, was Mr. Burton, a 
 very small man, who took all the liberties ac 
 corded to small people. 
 
22 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 His thick neck almost lost in his round 
 shoulders, his loud voice and uncultured ac 
 cent, were no less remarkable than his short 
 stature, and suggested an origin inferior to 
 that of the courtly major. But such small 
 defects had been compensated by an ample 
 fortune. With wealth as a standard of re 
 spectability, his successful career as a great 
 cotton factor had placed him on secure social 
 footing, A grand mansion up-town challenged 
 the admiration of every one, and settled the 
 standing of a host of children and grandchil 
 dren. His face was full of good-humor, while 
 at the broadest, most prominent part of it a 
 pair of restless brown eyes, set under heavy 
 shaggy eyebrows, disclosed the spirit of the 
 merchant, keen to divine the motives of oth 
 ers while guarding against a betrayal of his 
 own. The inclination of his mouth to open 
 at one corner and show a semicircular short 
 ening of the teeth was the result, probably, of 
 the cigar on which he constantly chewed as he 
 smoked. In the absence of the cigar, a con 
 vulsive movement of the lip kept up the imag 
 inary work, and brought down one of his eye 
 lids every few moments in a waggish wink. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 23 
 
 This movement was often a source of an 
 noyance to Mr. Byrne, an irascible Irishman, 
 who was something of a philosopher, and in 
 dulged a propensity to lengthy discussion 
 whenever his friends gave him a chance. 
 Conversation sometimes came to a pause in 
 the midst of serious subjects to enable Mr. 
 Burton to explain. Happily Mr. Byrne could 
 be readily appeased, and harmony was never 
 long disturbed. 
 
 He was a bachelor, and with greater wealth 
 he had probably more namesakes than Mr. 
 Burton with all his descendants. There were 
 some subjects on which he was particularly 
 secretive. The mystery of his early environ 
 ment he buried in his own breast, and with it 
 all reckoning of his age. 
 
 Miss Isabel always took good care to retire 
 after exchanging greetings with the gentle 
 men, much to Mr. Byrne s satisfaction; not 
 that he was averse to Miss Isabel, but he 
 had long since ceased to feel interested in 
 any woman, and found one simply in the 
 way. 
 
 The very tide which had swept away the 
 major s fortune had borne his commercial 
 
24 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 friends on to greater prosperity ; but through 
 all circumstances their pleasant relations had 
 been uninterrupted. How they enjoyed their 
 weekly meetings ! To younger men were 
 left the stories of lost campaigns, the anxious 
 scanning of the political sky upon which 
 there was just beginning to dawn a single 
 gleam of light, the forecasting a future issu 
 ing from the overthrow of sacred doctrines 
 and cherished traditions ; but these old men 
 talked of their youth. There was no story 
 or racy gossip of its by-gones which failed to 
 receive its due share of attention, each repe 
 tition enhancing the value of the story and 
 adding flavor to the gossip. 
 
 Many of the major s relatives had owned 
 large sugar estates contiguous to the city, but 
 his interests had been centred in a fine cotton 
 plantation in one of the more northern par 
 ishes of the State. 
 
 He delighted in recurring to the days when 
 he had been in the habit of taking parties of 
 his friends up to the place, and entertaining 
 them there in the old free-hearted, hospitable 
 way of the times. 
 
 At mention of it, an enthusiastic interest 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2$ 
 
 always manifested itself on the part of those 
 who had shared its pleasures. 
 
 One evening, after an animated discussion 
 of its former attractions, Mr. Burton asked the 
 major if he still owned the old plantation. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, " it is still mine, but it 
 is utterly valueless. I suppose I could not rid 
 myself of it, if I wanted to give it away. Of 
 course I am too poor to hold on to the place 
 for the sentiment of the thing, but I have al 
 ways clung, and still cling, to the hope that 
 fortune will smile on it again some day. It 
 is only a question of time." 
 
 " I have never been able to realize the im 
 mense depreciation of that sort of property," 
 said Burton, " though I ve dropped money 
 enough on it to open my eyes." 
 
 " Ah !" said Byrne, in a tone of mild tri 
 umph, " you should have listened to my warn 
 ings. I foresaw the result of a demoralized " 
 
 Mr. Burton s eyelid came down in a way 
 that caused Mr. Byrne to hesitate, while the 
 major continued, with a half-drawn sigh, 
 
 " I have not seen the place for years. It has 
 been overflowed so often that it is almost a 
 wilderness again. Cotton-woods have grown 
 
26 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 up in the roads where we used to drive, and I 
 suppose it would be hard to recognize any of 
 the old landmarks. The place needs a big 
 lever and young blood to manage it ;" and the 
 major sighed again, while Burton laughingly 
 remarked, 
 
 " Our blood was young enough, Morant, 
 when we used to drive your piebald mus 
 tangs. Do you remember the way they 
 brought us home from Billy Bush s poker- 
 party ?" 
 
 " Certainly I do," chuckled the major. " It 
 must have been the thought of Billy s last 
 bobtail flush which made us oblivious of the 
 risks we were running." 
 
 There was the memory of a conclusion to 
 that race which made the major involuntarily 
 rub his bald head. 
 
 " Poor Billy!" said Byrne, reflectively, "what 
 a splendid fellow he was ! to have wasted his 
 life as he did !" 
 
 " Wasted it !" echoed the major, in surprise. 
 " Why, if anybody ever got out of life all that 
 it is worth, I think he did." 
 
 "Yes," said Byrne, "probably every thing but 
 an easy conscience." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2/ 
 
 " Well," said the major, with a shrug, " ev 
 ery one has his own interpretation of an easy 
 conscience. I am not skilled in defining one, 
 and I doubt my ability to mark out a course 
 by which to acquire one ; but though no judge 
 of a man s conscience, I am a judge of his 
 ability to attain the best of everything that 
 the world proclaims worth a struggle." 
 
 " You must acknowledge," said Byrne, "that 
 the limit of Billy s struggles was the pursuit 
 of pleasure." 
 
 " What man could have resisted the temp 
 tations he had ?" responded the major. " In 
 the first place, he was a bachelor " 
 
 " You ought to recognize the favorableness 
 of that condition," interjected Burton, with a 
 merry twinkle of the eye and a glance at 
 Byrne. 
 
 " And," continued the major, " though he 
 was an old man when we first knew him, his 
 physique was so superb that he never broke 
 down under any amount of dissipation. You 
 both know how well he talked. I have heard 
 many say that he had the English classics at 
 his tongue s end. Then he was master of 
 more slaves than any man in the country, and 
 
28 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 was by long odds the best poker-player I ever 
 knew. A record of incentives to his own way 
 hard to beat if a man needed excuses ; eh, Bur 
 ton ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Burton; "and I think you 
 have not exaggerated a single item. What a 
 giant he was! The finest -looking fellow I 
 ever saw ! He towered so high above most 
 men that he dwarfed them. He must have 
 been six feet six, and I think his heart was as 
 big as his body." 
 
 " I grant all you say," said Byrne. " That he 
 was rich, cultivated, generous to a fault, and 
 wielded unbounded influence over those who 
 gathered around him, there is no disputing; 
 yet he made no use of all his great gifts, ex 
 cept to ruin the weaker men who looked up 
 to him as a sort of demigod whose example it 
 was glorious to follow. He had many oppor 
 tunities, and never hesitated to take advantage 
 of them to gratify all his sensuous nature, 
 holding himself responsible to neither God 
 nor man." 
 
 "Oh!" said the major, suddenly, "you are 
 thinking of that old scandal. I never believed 
 a word of that. It could not have been true." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 29 
 
 " I always believed it," responded Byrne ; 
 " but as his friends condoned even that of 
 fence, I never discussed the affair with them." 
 
 Burton ceased for an instant his intermina 
 ble champ upon his cigar, and uttered an ex 
 clamation of surprise. 
 
 " What ! speaking of Bush as if he had 
 done a disgraceful thing ! Why, I thought he 
 was the soul of honor. What was it ?" 
 
 " Did you never hear that story ?" 
 
 The major drew his chair nearer and low 
 ered his voice. Though the man of whom 
 they spoke had been in his grave for years, 
 men still talked under their breath of his fail 
 ings. 
 
 " They said " the major paused in the very 
 beginning of the story, as if he dreaded to sul 
 ly the name of his dead friend by its ruthless 
 recital " that he had been guilty of an act 
 which ought to have branded him with in 
 famy. His mother had married again after his 
 father s death, and was a widow once more, 
 living in an adjoining State upon a handsome 
 plantation left her by her second husband. 
 She was a sweet, simple-minded woman, who 
 believed in and adored her son. He sent to 
 
30 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 her, for motherly care and affection, a little 
 child, urging its adoption by her under his 
 step-father s name. The explanation he of 
 fered was, that he had been privately married 
 to the child s mother, who had died at its 
 birth, and," continued the major, sinking his 
 voice still lower " they said it was false ; that 
 the child s mother could not have been his 
 wife, for she was his slave." 
 
 Burton drew a deep breath, while the major 
 looked at him as if deprecating any expres 
 sion of opinion, and added, hurriedly, 
 
 " There was nothing really known of the 
 matter. It was all rumor, and because he died 
 one night in his bed, as we know he would 
 have best liked to have died, quickly, silently, 
 with no man s eye to witness the death strug 
 gle, they said it was suicide." 
 
 A profound silence fell upon them. Well 
 might they think upon it, for what can equal 
 in audacity the suicide of a blase? He ex 
 hausts at a few draughts the precious wine 
 of life, and then throws the cup into the face 
 of the Giver. Burton seemed stunned, while 
 Byrne caressed his smooth-shaven and wrin 
 kled cheek with nervous hands. At length he 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 31 
 
 broke out with angry emphasis as the first 
 point of the story recurred to him. 
 
 " It was shameful ! the truth ought to have 
 been reached in some way." 
 
 " Well," said the major, " nobody cared to 
 prove the story. Billy was an idol not to be 
 easily broken. If the facts had been estab 
 lished, half his friends would have closed their 
 eyes to them." 
 
 " I do not know what I would have thought 
 of it forty years ago," said Burton. " Proba 
 bly I would have been as indignant as Byrne ; 
 but I have had a good many cherished no 
 tions knocked out of me. In the light of the 
 present, when the amelioration of every man s 
 condition is the only doctrine taught, I might 
 be tempted to call his action chivalrous." 
 
 " Chivalrous !" repeated Byrne, springing 
 bolt upright ; but catching a glimpse of Bur 
 ton s mocking eye, he added, " You cannot 
 mean it ; and it is idle for you to try to con 
 vince us that you have adopted theories which 
 would advance an individual at the expense 
 of a whole race. If the consequences of Billy 
 Bush s act were to have affected only himself 
 and the child, there might have been some ex- 
 
32 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 cuse for his deception ; but there was the pos 
 sible future to some unsuspecting family in 
 marriage. Think of the never-ending mis 
 fortune of such an alliance ! Ah !" continued 
 Byrne, in suppressed excitement, " I thank 
 God I have no descendants to run any such 
 risks." 
 
 Major Morant looked grave, but Burton 
 laughingly remarked, 
 
 " You take the matter too seriously, and 
 think too much of genealogy. In this glori 
 ous country it does not matter much where a 
 family begins, so it ends well. Given wealth 
 and beauty, and who will care to trace de 
 scent ?" 
 
 The major turned sharply upon Burton, as 
 if to controvert his assertion, but the Irish 
 man was readier than he. For the first time 
 in all their acquaintance he defined himself 
 Celtic to the core, and aglow with undying- 
 prejudices. 
 
 " I pity the future of what you call this glo 
 rious country if that be true. My immortal 
 countryman well says, Those will not look 
 forward to their posterity who never look 
 backward to their ancestors. Fraud and force 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 33 
 
 may seem to effect much in making all men 
 free and equal, but there is no such thing in 
 natural law. There will be men who will re 
 main true to the instincts planted in their 
 hearts by ages of human endeavor. The light 
 which illumines their souls comes straight 
 and true from the divine type towards which 
 they are progressing. They will never dim 
 its brightness by a return through lower chan 
 nels to the darkness of generations behind 
 them in human development. I do not think 
 I take this matter too seriously. In spite of 
 wealth and culture, Nature will assert herself. 
 Hereditary descent stamps the man, and one 
 can never be sure when race characteristics 
 will entirely disappear. They may crop out 
 like some hideous deformity in any genera 
 tion. Let me read you an extract which I 
 clipped a few days ago from a scientific jour 
 nal about a curious physiological law " 
 
 " Come, Byrne," interposed Burton, " if you 
 are going into that sort of thing, I m off. 
 Morant will listen, but physiology isn t my 
 forte." 
 
 " Stay," said the major, as he saw a cloud 
 gather upon Byrne s face, "don t go just yet, 
 
34 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 and we will see if we can find something more 
 to your taste." He rose and led the way to 
 the dining-room. From the little old-fash 
 ioned sideboard they took the best the major 
 could offer them, and touched their glasses 
 amicably together in the old-time way. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 35 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 JOHN MORANT S entrance into a cotton 
 merchant s counting-room marked a depart 
 ure from all the cherished traditions of his 
 family, whose sons had been gentlemen of 
 leisure for so many generations, that one 
 might well pardon them for believing it to 
 have been a condition fixed from the begin 
 ning; but to the young man whose income 
 was reduced to fractional currency, a desk in 
 a great factor s office was no small thing, and 
 infinitely better than indigent idleness. 
 
 If circumstances had been favorable, his 
 tastes would probably have led him to pursue 
 a literary or scientific career ; but he straight 
 ened himself bravely in the pathway which 
 fate had determined for him, and enjoyed its 
 steady remunerative labor and illimitable pos 
 sibilities. The value of wealth impressed it 
 self more and more upon him as he struggled 
 for it, and those who knew him well predict 
 ed for him a successful future. He entered 
 
36 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 upon the new business with the ardor of one 
 undaunted by failure, mastered quickly its de 
 tails, and shrank from no amount of work im 
 posed by it. The period was one of great 
 commercial activity ; the date of a reaction 
 from long repressed trade, and the renewal of 
 confidence in the sovereignty of the great 
 staple upon which it was based. There was 
 a wide-spread feeling that the golden day of 
 prosperity which seemed about to dawn, was 
 a compensation for the dark hours which had 
 preceded it. A kind of delirious joy filled 
 the hearts of those who had felt nothing but 
 despair, but who .suddenly saw the cloud lift 
 ed, and the light shining once more upon field 
 and hearth-stone. It was true that new men 
 and new methods were coming to the front, 
 but the golden hour was not to be dimmed 
 by retrospective memories. Men forgot their 
 losses in the evanescent brilliancy of their 
 new hopes. 
 
 There had passed away from the commer 
 cial world many prominent figures ; first of 
 all, the pleasant old. merchant whose name re 
 mains to this day in the whole Mississippi val 
 ley a by-word of wonderful success. Gossip 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 37 
 
 declared that he secured the lion s share of 
 each year s shipment through the influence 
 of church fellowship, and by the assiduous 
 cultivation of Brother So-and-so s pious sym 
 pathy, amassed the fortune which enabled his 
 only son to startle all Paris by his extrava 
 gances. Alas! that church -fellowship and 
 Brother So-and-so s sympathy should be also 
 a thing of the past. Another merchant whose 
 famous bet on the extent of a cotton crop was 
 the first spark of that speculative mania which 
 was afterwards to devour men, and others who 
 had grown rich on the increasing values of 
 mortgaged lands and human chattels, had 
 gone down in the mighty struggle which 
 swept away their securities. 
 
 Fortune s wheel had made a confusing 
 turn. 
 
 Away from Carondelet Street and its envi 
 rons, which had hitherto claimed a monopoly 
 of the cotton interests, in the midst of the less 
 aristocratic region of pork, flour, and potatoes 
 on Poydras Street, there had arisen a firm 
 which was destined to play an important part 
 in assisting to revive the languishing estates 
 of impoverished planters. 
 
38 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 To have seen the worn stair-way leading to 
 a second story office in one of the dingiest 
 buildings on the street, one would have im 
 mediately concluded that it had reached its 
 present state through the attrition of feet 
 bearing heavier burdens than the fleecy sam 
 ples laid upon the tables in the rooms above. 
 There might have been an appreciable effect 
 from the burden of anxious hearts going up 
 that way to a first interview with the senior 
 partner of Green, Waters & Co., but certainly 
 none when they descended with the privilege 
 of drawing upon the benevolent old gentle 
 man for blank thousands, 
 
 A sad thing that generous confidence 
 should have had so poor a return ! Of all 
 the thousands of dollars sent out that way, 
 there came back no tidings save in the form 
 of overdrawn accounts and promises -to-pay, 
 vitiated by the all-powerful bankrupt law. 
 
 Behind the wooden railing enclosing the 
 busy workers at correspondence, account of 
 sales, and ledger, John Morant sat at his desk 
 and witnessed the close of many an interview, 
 sometimes humorous, sometimes indignant, 
 and alas ! sometimes deeply pathetic. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 39 
 
 The number of applications for means to 
 plant the magnificent lands still left to once 
 princely planters was incredible. There came 
 the owners of Villa Vistas, Linwoods, Sunny- 
 sides, and many other places with beautiful 
 and fanciful names, each with demands com 
 mensurate to the unlimited credit hitherto ac 
 corded them. There were times when the sen 
 ior partner hesitated and looked thoughtful. 
 
 " Can you not make a lower estimate of ex 
 penses for Villa Vista? Is it not possible to 
 do with less ?" 
 
 " Impossible ! One must live, you know, 
 while one works." 
 
 " You will manage the place yourself, of 
 course ?" 
 
 "Why should I? There is no necessity 
 for it. I have the best overseer in the world, 
 and Villa Vista will give us a famous crop." 
 
 Borne down by such arguments as these, 
 the good old man paid out exorbitant sums 
 without a murmur. As a matter of fact, cot 
 ton was worth fifty cents a pound, and for the 
 little matter of spending^money before it was 
 made, that was the old way which must be 
 endured. Times and men might change, but 
 
4O TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the cotton-planter remained fixed, " In statu 
 quo ante bellum" 
 
 Each day added to the number of importu 
 nate customers. There came men with large 
 ideas, men with small ones; conservative men, 
 such as had served under others, and now 
 counting the cost took the master s place 
 quietly and resolutely; reckless men fresh 
 from sacrifices so grand, yet so futile, that 
 nothing could now content them save an op 
 portunity of showing how far they might 
 swing in the opposite direction ; widows old 
 and young, shrewd, calculating ones and tim 
 id ones; and strangest of all sights in that busy 
 office, a young girl, the sole representative of 
 an invalid mother, who applied for means to 
 begin work on the land which was her only 
 resource. 
 
 John remembered long her attitude and 
 expression as she stood gazing into the old 
 man s face, which in her case emphasized an 
 adverse decision. By her side was a lawyer 
 who had failed to plead her cause successfully 
 in the face of the supreme fact that even then 
 the plantation offered was trembling at every 
 dash of the river against its banks. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 41 
 
 " We have reached the limit of our ability 
 to make advances even on the best security." 
 
 The young girl turned with a gesture of 
 despair. The tears which modest timidity 
 had held upon the verge of her heavily fringed 
 eyelids overflowed, and one big, bright drop 
 flashed upon her round cheek just where the 
 senior partner s eye could catch its reflec 
 tion. 
 
 The never -failing miracle was wrought. 
 The innermost spring of the old man s heart 
 was touched. It gushed forth in sympathetic 
 assurance. " Well, well, my dear, we will try 
 our best, but your mother must manage eco 
 nomically." 
 
 Tears and kindly sympathy were infinitely 
 superior to a lawyer s pleadings, but for all 
 that, there was at the end of the season a de 
 ficit not upon the lawyer s books. 
 
 It was a novel experience for John Morant 
 to watch with critical eyes from a new stand 
 point the class with which his interests had 
 always been identified, and the knowledge 
 gained was of value all his life afterwards. 
 
 As a disinterested observer, he found the 
 demands made so lightly, so ignorantly, so 
 
42 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 trustfully, unconscious of risk in venturing 
 upon untried schemes, scarcely less marvel 
 lous than the fact of one man paying out 
 daily thousands of hard-earned dollars upon 
 promises -to -pay and securities as worthless 
 as the buoyant boasts of the borrowers. 
 
 All the habits of indolence which were his 
 heritage seemed to fill him with disgust and 
 to fall away from him as he plodded on at 
 his systematic work ; and as the months went 
 by, closing the busy season, the short, quick 
 season into which was condensed the almost 
 herculean labor of receiving and disposing of 
 a mighty agricultural product, an instinct of 
 shame seized upon him for the people, his 
 people, who should have been the regenera 
 tors of a desolated land, but whose lying, 
 boastful, extravagant accounts were to be the 
 ruin of the men who trusted and aided them. 
 The sense of moral obligation quickened and 
 gre^v with him into vigorous life. Come what 
 might to him, there would be no danger that 
 a pledge of his would ever be dishonored. 
 
 When relieved from the daily routine of 
 business, John plunged with enthusiasm into 
 the social gayeties of a city which had always 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 43 
 
 sustained a reputation for superiority in such 
 matters. 
 
 He felt his poverty keenly at times, the 
 more so because his inherent generosity made 
 him often prodigal of his small means a fact 
 which did not lessen his reputation as a mar 
 vellously good fellow, whatever other results 
 it worked. 
 
 With a frank and pleasant face, and the 
 confidence of brave and honorable descent, he 
 carried the defences of society boldly. At 
 his club, at the opera, as in the evening 
 dances, John Morant was no more the daily 
 worker, but a young prince minus a princi 
 pality. His personal appearance enhanced 
 his charm of manner. The majority of Cre 
 oles being small of stature, his tall, well-knit 
 figure was more than ordinarily striking. 
 There was a well-bred look in his slightly 
 Roman nose, and his handsome blue eyes 
 looked out from under a brow shaded by jet- 
 black hair, one lock of which, either by acci 
 dent or intent, perhaps the result of one of 
 the small decorative instincts which men have 
 not entirely lost, was twisted into a veritable 
 curl just over the left eyebrow. This curl 
 
44 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 had been a source of annoyance to some of 
 his friends, and of ridicule to others, but cer 
 tainly it did not detract from a face which was 
 manly enough to look well under it. 
 
 " His affectation in the matter of that curl," 
 jestingly remarked Dr. Edward Dickson, his 
 special friend and keenest critic, " is not with 
 out advantage. No woman ever failed to 
 smile upon that return to the classic ideal, 
 the glorious head of the race when it was 
 young. A discussion of his popularity would 
 quickly determine that fact." 
 
 " Shave his head as close as a Mongolian s," 
 said another, "and he will receive the same 
 smiles. He belongs to a type which women rec 
 ognize as the best, without any clearer index 
 than a certain sympathy in that direction." 
 
 His friends were right respecting the cur 
 rent of women s sympathy. It tended stead 
 ily in John Morant s favor. And he had been 
 conscious of it, and enjoyed it as he did all 
 the social pleasures he seemed eminently fit 
 ted to enjoy ; but of late there had come to 
 him a certain knowledge that it was one wom 
 an s smile alone which could fill him with 
 vague unrest 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 45 
 
 He had not thought three months ago to 
 have been moved by any sentiment outside 
 his great purpose to succeed in the daily 
 work he had chosen. Of the first inconsider 
 able touch in shaping his fancy he had been 
 less conscious than of the gxtra beat of his 
 pulse when he remembered it. 
 
 It chanced that in the early days of January 
 he attended Madam Noye s grand ball, to 
 which so many invitations were sent out 
 that disappointed ones called it a " Directory 
 party." 
 
 This ball had been the culmination of 
 Madam Noye s triumphant progress towards 
 the position of leader in a circle to which she 
 had very recently gained access. It was an 
 other of the dizzy turns of fortune s wheel 
 which had brought her out of a second story 
 back room in a Camp Street boarding-house 
 to the occupancy of one of the finest estab 
 lishments in the city, and she made a bold 
 effort to secure recognition. 
 
 With the thirst of long abstinence created 
 by the war, society was in a condition to 
 drink deeply of pleasure and to be but slight 
 ly critical of those who presented it. Exclu- 
 
46 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 sive sets condescendingly met the extreme 
 limits of gentility, while the illuminative pow 
 er of the splendid drawing-rooms dazzled and 
 blinded the guests to everything but the great 
 and particular glory of the hour, which saw a 
 return to gayetie$ no longer charged with a 
 mockery of sadly tinged surroundings. 
 
 John noted a few particular friends, and 
 then made his way to the side of Miss Mur 
 ray, the only unmarried one of a group of 
 pretty, blond sisters whose successive mar 
 riages had been important events in the so 
 cial world. She received him in a charming 
 ly cordial and enthusiastic manner. 
 
 " Ah ! is it you ? I am so glad you are 
 come. Isn t it a crush ? They say you know 
 everything and everybody worth knowing; 
 prove it by telling me the name of that pretty 
 debutante. No, not that one," she exclaimed, 
 with a slight spreading of her high -arched 
 nostrils, as a young girl in white went by on 
 the arm of a young gentleman whose chief 
 recommendation was a steady limb, which 
 formed an excellent pivot in the new waltz. 
 " It is she in that group on the left, towards 
 whom all the old, as well as all the young 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 47 
 
 men are gravitating. I fancy she makes a 
 distinction in favor of the former. There ! I 
 am sure of it. What a little humbug ! She 
 has captured the general." 
 
 As the couple advanced nearer their point 
 of view, John admired the willowy grace of 
 the slender female figure beside the gallant 
 officer. So marked was the advantage gained 
 by such escort that one might be tempted to 
 believe with the old-young lady who had cal 
 culated the probabilities of the case, that skil 
 ful management had secured the position. 
 
 With his grave, quiet face, heavy gray mus 
 tache, and short stature, the general was not 
 more distinguished-looking than the average 
 cultured gentleman ; but a sentiment still 
 quick in the hearts of that assemblage made 
 him the prominent figure of it, and lent an 
 interest to any lady who commanded his at 
 tention. One had need of grace and beauty 
 to share jointly the admiration of eyes used 
 to being loyally centred upon one important 
 personage. 
 
 If John Morant had been asked to name 
 the chiefest charm of the pretty stranger, he 
 would have responded at once, " motion." 
 
48 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 There was no apparent effort or restraint in 
 the light, floating step, and the easy yielding 
 of the supple waist to every movement. In 
 the free gait was visible the perfect accommo 
 dation of the physical forces. An almost in 
 fantine grace, the grace of unconscious youth, 
 was associated with the symmetrically mould 
 ed figure of maturer development. The light 
 seemed to concentrate itself upon the lus 
 trous white of the dress she wore, and shed a 
 radiance with each soft rustle of its folds, 
 while a joyous little laugh, uttered in a musi 
 cal undertone, supplemented a quick glow of 
 interest upon a face as merry and frank as 
 that of a child, and certainly very beautiful. 
 Her hair and eyes were dark and lovely. 
 Her complexion was cream -and-pink, rather 
 than lily-and-rose. Her mouth and teeth 
 were perfect. The general pose of the head 
 was superb. Her smile was exceedingly win 
 ning, and her general expression was charm 
 ing. 
 
 As she passed on and disappeared in the 
 crowd, Miss Murray again claimed his atten 
 tion in a voice oppressively high and shrill. 
 
 " So my curiosity must remain ungratified ! 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 49 
 
 It is certainly disappointing to find you fall 
 ing short of your reputation. You have had 
 a brilliant opportunity and have lost it." 
 
 " A damaging confession, I own," said John, 
 bowing with mock humility, " but one I am 
 compelled to make. I suppose my prestige 
 is utterly gone." 
 
 " That depends on whether you care to 
 sustain it," responded Miss Murray, smiling 
 at him from over the shoulder of a fat little 
 man with a bald crown, who, privileged by 
 years of devotion, had taken the liberty of 
 silently placing his arm about her waist as 
 an invitation to waltz. " I predict that you 
 will hasten to retrieve it, and I leave you to 
 gravitate with all the rest towards the new 
 centre." Nodding archly she disappeared, 
 with the long, smooth dip of the last new 
 waltz. 
 
 John hesitated a moment before leaving the 
 spot. He was conscious of a slight sensation 
 of annoyance. He had meditated a conclu 
 sion not unlike that suggested by Miss Mur 
 ray, but her light banter and significant nod 
 had invested the design with a factitious im 
 portance, and made it for the moment distaste- 
 4 
 
50 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ful. There might now be limitations to his 
 passing fancy. 
 
 To and fro through the long drawing- 
 rooms the crowd passed in promenade and 
 dance, while he stood balancing the feather 
 weight of a social consideration. The music 
 swelled and then died away in a pianissimo, 
 almost lost in the light laughter and murmur 
 of voices. 
 
 A fragment of conversation floated towards 
 him from a group on the left. 
 
 " Just back from a residence in England, 
 did you say ? Impossible ! There is nothing 
 English about her." 
 
 " Pardon. It is her papa quite op oseete. 
 He meks a nize- looking Engleeshman, I 
 theenk." 
 
 " Ah ! there is no disputing his type ; but 
 she I am mystified. One might readily ac 
 count for the Paris costume ; but the air, the 
 grace with which it is worn, that belongs only 
 to a Frenchwoman, or to one of French stock 
 planted on kindly soil." 
 
 " It is one Creole, you mean, the las one 
 you spik about. Thenk you; it is kin fo 
 you to spik like that. I am Creole myself. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 51 
 
 But she is not Creole, I can asshu you, though 
 she is preetie and something lige." 
 
 John s interest quickened. 
 
 In the last speaker he recognized a charm 
 ing woman, the fair representative of a class 
 fast disappearing from social circles, a Creole 
 matron with an historic name, one whose hu 
 morous fancy and incisive speech were en 
 hanced by her peculiar accent and construc 
 tion of the English delivered through that 
 most beautiful and effective medium, a soft, 
 musical voice. 
 
 Of whom were they speaking ? Surely of 
 that young girl whose rare attractions had 
 moved others besides himself to open admira 
 tion. Who was she? 
 
 Chance favored him by throwing him into a 
 group as some one mentioned her name Miss 
 Muir. At once he remembered having heard 
 of her as the daughter of a wealthy English 
 man, a widower, who had brought his child to 
 visit relatives and friends of her mother in the 
 South, and had ended by taking up his resi 
 dence in a city whose position was favorable 
 to the great commercial interests which he 
 represented. 
 
52 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 With wealth, brilliant introductions, and 
 beauty, a bright future opened before the 
 young girl. The respect which these advan 
 tages commanded among a pleasure-loving 
 people gave her a distinguished position. She 
 became a favorite. In placing himself among 
 those who surrounded her, John entered a cir 
 cle disposed to concede her superiority in ev 
 erything an enviable recognition rarely ob 
 tained by a woman except she be haloed by 
 youth, beauty, and adventitious circumstance. 
 And as full-voiced admiration is a semblance 
 of the divine passion which evokes all that 
 is beautiful in human nature, it warmed her 
 heart and stimulated her to charming ways 
 which made her more winning still. 
 
 The winter days swept by, and their com 
 pleted effect became clear to John, when he 
 acknowledged to himself that their most de 
 licious moments were those spent by Bamma 
 Muir s side. 
 
 The festive garb which the city assumed ; 
 the private entertainments, crowded upon each 
 other in quick succession like a series of pan 
 oramic pictures, save that the scenes were al 
 ways the same the same decorations, the same 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 53 
 
 glare of lights, the same guests ; the opera 
 nights, when a great tenor sang to audiences 
 who shouted with enthusiasm over a high C 
 in " Trovatore ;" the carnival, celebrated with 
 more than usual splendor, because of the pre 
 vious dark years of the war, when the fun- 
 loving " Krewe " had been forced to hide in 
 the sombre shadows that compassed the land 
 all contributed to a season of almost mad 
 exhilaration. 
 
 More consonant seemed its mood with all 
 John s newly awakened emotions, when in a 
 single day its merriment was subdued to lent- 
 en tones, the quality of its gayety attuned to 
 the stillness of cathedral aisles. 
 
 The crowds upon the street were the same, 
 and yet not the same. The moral expression 
 seemed changed. With the climax of their 
 boisterous mirth had disappeared every trace 
 of cap and bells, and the impression conveyed 
 to an observer was one of almost puritan 
 peacefulness. 
 
 Such is New Orleans after its Mardi-gras 
 festivities ! 
 
54 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE breeze which comes and goes in the 
 city of New Orleans with the regularity of 
 the ocean tide, and blows especially cool and 
 pleasant through the thoroughfares running 
 from the river front back to the broad Lake 
 Pontchartrain in the rear, had just swept with 
 one smart gust along the streets, and then left 
 the trees and shrubs in the pretty gardens of 
 the upper district motionless. 
 
 It was time for those in-doors to emerge 
 and catch its first appreciable return. 
 
 John Morant settled his hat upon his head 
 as comfortably as its stiff proportions would 
 allow, and grasping his fragile cane with a 
 degree of satisfaction at its finish and slender- 
 ness, sallied forth. 
 
 His mood was one which held an inveterate 
 antagonism of companionship, and he rejoiced 
 in the prospect of being alone just so long as 
 he chose to enjoy it. 
 
 He was restless under the influence of pe- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 55 
 
 culiar emotions which had swayed him for 
 weeks past, to the exclusion of interest in any 
 thing beyond certain absorbing limitations. 
 He had reached that point where the necessi 
 ty for sympathy was absolute, and he deter 
 mined to have a quiet talk with his sister Isa 
 bel, secure, at least, of unbounded interest in 
 his confidences, if not of unmixed approbation. 
 
 He went his way past the gay shops which 
 even on this Sunday afternoon were open to 
 buyers, who chattered and bargained over the 
 counters with the enthusiasm of small dealers, 
 past all evidence of active, busy life, into the 
 solemn stillness of the streets where the old 
 houses, with a tendency to gravitate towards 
 each other, hugged the gloom, and with closed 
 shutters blindly waited the coming night. 
 There was little to attract him in these sur 
 roundings, and he became more and more ab 
 sorbed in reflections which made him oblivi 
 ous of time and place. 
 
 In this quiet atmosphere he seemed to have 
 a clearer vision of certain anticipated relations 
 of life which held out the fairest promises of 
 love and prosperity. 
 
 The shadows of the old houses lengthened, 
 
56 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 but they failed to cast upon him the drony 
 listlessness which enchanted their tenants, or 
 to dim the brightness of his mental pictures. 
 From this state of pleasant exaltation he was 
 suddenly aroused by a low growl, which fell 
 upon his ear with startling distinctness. 
 
 He turned quickly to find himself facing a 
 small, low shop, whose air of wretchedness and 
 decay harmonized with the strange assortment 
 of articles displayed in the one dirty window. 
 Occupying the place of honor in the centre 
 of the odd medley, was a small stuffed alli 
 gator, with open jaws and ferocious show of 
 teeth. Above it perched a small brown owl, 
 guiltless of the usual wise and solemn expres 
 sion of its kind ; for a tuft of feathers on ei 
 ther side of its head, like ears, gave it the cun 
 ning look of a cat. Higher still was a wild 
 duck, the soft feathers of its beautiful head and 
 neck glowing with greenish lustre. There 
 was a huge bunch of dusty white coral, the 
 broken bone of a stingaree, and some sea 
 shells. On the facing of the door -way, in 
 almost illegible letters, one could trace part 
 of a name, and below it an announcement in 
 French that all sorts of taxidermic work could 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 57 
 
 be done there. The half sash door was part 
 ly open, and glancing inside, John saw a small 
 wooden cage containing a fine young tiger. 
 Struck by the beauty of the animal, and the 
 oddity of its presence in that quarter, he 
 pushed open the door and entered the shop. 
 
 A stifling odor greeted him, but enduring 
 its discomforts he glanced around with curi 
 osity. The tiger and two or three strange- 
 looking birds were the only living occupants 
 in view. Piles of empty boxes and dusty glass 
 cases obstructed the centre of the room, leav 
 ing only a narrow passage-way to a small door 
 in the rear. On one side was a row of shelves 
 reaching to the ceiling, with glass doors, be 
 hind which were seen, covered with the dust 
 of years, a stuffed coon and grinning monkey, 
 with a huge wax doll strung up beside them, 
 a well preserved terrier, and two or three moth- 
 eaten canaries, whose melancholy aspect pro 
 tested against such immortality. In one cor 
 ner was piled a lot of skins dressed for use. 
 The rows of shelves were repeated upon the 
 opposite side of the room, and were filled with 
 boxes, queer-looking blocks of wood, mosses, 
 leaves, and dried grasses. 
 
58 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " Mo su wan som ting nize fo stuff ? one 
 nize lill j howl, heh ?" 
 
 John started. A little man had come 
 through the rear door, and stood gazing at 
 him with keen expectancy. 
 
 His entrance was so noiseless, and his ap 
 pearance so peculiar, that John scarcely heed 
 ed what he said. Barely over four feet in 
 height, the man s broad, square shoulders 
 might have graced a giant. He had a large, 
 round, good - humored face, a pair of small 
 bright gray eyes, and hair that stood out from 
 his great head like the ruffled feathers of one 
 of his own strange birds. 
 
 " Som ting nize fo stuff, heh ?" repeated the 
 little man. 
 
 "No," said John; "I came in to have a 
 good look at that splendid young tiger. 
 Where did you get it ?" 
 
 " Ah ! he s one nize tige , ent he ? One 
 fren sen heem to me when he was lill com- 
 me 9a," measuring the wonderfully small size 
 between his outstretched hands. " He say he 
 good fo stuff; but I loog at heem an say, 
 Non ; I keep heem till he gro mo big an 
 strong. Mebbe I mek a meestak becos his 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 59 
 
 happeti is mo 1 strong an he. Tis terreebl . If 
 it was* not fo Marie " He turned his head 
 on one side and waved his hand towards the 
 pile of skins. " But she is my lill wife, and 
 liges heem. Tis true, mo su , she liges heem. 
 She will show you how he kin eat. Marie, 
 Marie I" 
 
 In response to the call, a little, sallow- 
 faced, black-eyed woman came in, trailing the 
 flounces of her long, loose wrapper with the 
 grace and abandon of a grand-duchess. 
 
 " What fo you call me, Emile ?" The little 
 woman smiled as she came forward. Evident 
 ly the best feeling existed between the two, 
 a camaraderie seldom seen except with that 
 race and class which makes the woman a 
 working partner, equally responsible in every 
 business transaction, sharer of the man s cares, 
 and by force of habit, if not of sympathy, par 
 ticipator in his pleasures. 
 
 " Come, Marie, mo su is pleas wi the tige . 
 He must see how he kin eat." 
 
 " Ah ! oui," she exclaimed, with a delight 
 ed intonation, as if feeding the tiger was an 
 unspeakable pleasure. She disappeared for 
 an instant, and returned with a large piece of 
 
60 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 raw meat, which she bestowed with great care 
 upon the growling young animal. 
 
 As the man and woman watched him de 
 vour it, they laughed with all the gleefulness 
 of children at their strange pet. When the 
 last remnant of food had disappeared, the two 
 looked at each other gravely. The woman 
 sighed, and the man responded to it. 
 
 " Mais, Marie, we ought to stuff heem ! He 
 will gro too big !" 
 
 John turned to go, but the little man touch 
 ed him on the arm. 
 
 " Attendez, mo su , if you is pleas I would 
 lige to sho yo som ting helse." 
 
 Opening the rear door, he led the way 
 through a room which was a duplicate of the 
 front one in the way of dust and odors, then 
 out on a gallery and into a small court-yard. 
 The open air was like a breath of heaven 
 when contrasted with the rooms just vacated. 
 
 The freshly reddened bricks suggested clean 
 liness unknown inside.^ Large green boxes, 
 arranged against the outside walls, were filled 
 with growing plants, whose blossoms perfumed 
 the air. Just under the hydrant and over a 
 small drain was a great tub filled with water- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 6 1 
 
 lilies. In one corner an oleander blossomed, 
 in another a huge agave spread out its barbed 
 waxen leaves. 
 
 Noting John s look of pleased surprise, the 
 little man said, 
 
 " Oui, mo su , when I work I work, and think 
 of nothing helse ; but out here it is where I 
 take my plaisure." 
 
 He whistled, and a mocking-bird came float 
 ing down from somewhere, and settled on his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Thes is my Marie s pet. She must mek 
 heem sing fo you." 
 
 Marie came obedient to the front, and call 
 ed the bird softly, cherie ! cherie ! He circled 
 around a moment, and then perched on her 
 forefinger. She began humming a simple 
 French waltz, when suddenly the bird took up 
 the air and carolled it forth in full musical 
 tones. 
 
 " Yes, he is one fin bird, an Marie liges 
 heem, but he s not som ting strange, lige I 
 want sho you." 
 
 In the shade of a crape-myrtle was a large, 
 handsome cage swinging by a cord from one 
 of the branches and inside of it, a slender, 
 
62 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 graceful white bird, resting quite still upon its 
 perch, with its head turned on one side, and 
 peering curiously out of its bright eyes. 
 " He is som ting strange, eh ?" 
 " I never saw anything like him." 
 " Non ? An mebbe nevva will," said the 
 little man, drawing himself up to his full tip 
 toe height, and coming down again with em 
 phasis upon his heels. " He s what you call 
 one freak, an no mo lige heem in the contree. 
 He s one white blackbird." 
 
 " Ah !" said John. " You ought to exhibit 
 him. He would probably bring you in more 
 money than your shop with all its stuffed birds 
 and skins and other curiosities." 
 
 " Non, non !" said the little man, somewhat 
 resentfully ; " I ham no sho man. My Marie 
 an me, we lov hour lill shop, we hav all we 
 wan ; for mo monaie " he sank his head be 
 tween his shoulders, threw out his elbows at 
 right angles, and turned his broad hands up 
 ward " we doan care. Long time I had som 
 birds fo sell; mais Marie she feed heem an 
 lov heem, an when som customaire com , she 
 say, Doan sell heem ; an som mo com, an 
 she say, Doan sell heem ; till one da I geev 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 63 
 
 up an say, We doan mek som monaie lige 
 these, an I buy nothin mo fo sell but som 
 skin an som curhosities. Now these lill shop 
 is ours, these yard, these lill birds, an we are 
 happy. I would not try som ting helse, fo 
 we doan know." The inevitable shrug em 
 phasized his meaning. " But," he added, apol 
 ogetically, " I ham glad to sho my birds to 
 anybodie who is pleas ." 
 
 John was more interested in the taxider 
 mist than in ornithology, but he pursued the 
 subject which most delighted the little man. 
 
 " You say the bird is rare ; have you never 
 heard of another like him ?" 
 
 " Mais, oui, mo su . There was one in Par 
 is, once ; he died in the Penetentier. You 
 laf, mo su , but all the same hit was tru . 
 He was own by one marquise. One da de 
 kedge do was lef hopen an he disappear. 
 You ma be shu he was foun an pick up by 
 somebodie. Then there was trub . He was 
 va u ble, an made one great case in court. 
 Lawsuits 1 Yes, many ! He was seiz by the 
 police, an he go to preeson, all becos of de 
 color. Between them all, po lill bird he geev 
 up and die." 
 
64 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " They stuffed him, of course," said John, 
 continuing to humor the little man s fancy, 
 " and gave him a place of honor." 
 
 " Non ! He belonged to nobodie, an they 
 was stupid ; but plenty, yes plenty went to see 
 him when he was dead." 
 
 The bird on the perch uttered a subdued 
 croak, and the little man, elevating his chin, 
 responded with a brisk chirrup, then contin 
 ued: 
 
 " One cla I say to Marie, * Marie, our lill bird 
 loogs lonely. If his feather is w ite, he is one 
 blackbird after all. We will gif him som 
 compagnie. Mais, mon Dieu, hees color did 
 not suit the compagnie ! My lill bird he go 
 to the corner, while the compagnie sit on the 
 perch an not look at all plaisant. I say, Marie, 
 tis impossib ; Nature is mo strong han we. 
 Po liir bird ! He kin newer fin his own 
 feather. He has no mate. He is ver lonely. " 
 
 So the little man chattered on until John 
 took his way through the shop into the street 
 again. The obscurity of the night, which had 
 precipitated itself suddenly, the darkness, which 
 every inanimate object exhaled, the absence of 
 all sounds, served to increase a peculiar men- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 6$ 
 
 tal impression he received. As he walked 
 along he seemed to hear a refrain .ringing, now 
 comically, and again pathetically, " Po lill 
 bird. He has no mate. He is ver lonely." 
 
 The incident amused him, and a smile still 
 lingered on his face as he closed the door of 
 the old house behind him and sought his sis 
 ter. 
 5 
 
66 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Miss ISABEL always heard the faint clink of 
 glasses in the dining-room with a sensation of 
 relief. It was the signal announcing the ap 
 proaching departure of her father s guests. 
 The visits of the old men emphasized her 
 loneliness. While they drifted away in their 
 discussions to a remote past, her isolation was 
 complete. She might have fallen into a state 
 of utter despondency, and felt more keenly the 
 oppressiveness of her vacant life, but she was 
 blessed with that wonderful faculty frequently 
 found in her sex, an imagination so vivid that 
 it constructed for her an ideal world into which 
 she entered at will, with surroundings and ef 
 fects that satisfied her most ambitious long 
 ings. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fact that she had long 
 passed the romantic age, she had visions of 
 social triumphs and delights as gorgeous and 
 full of changes as her real life was monoto 
 nous and dreary. One might have wished 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 67 
 
 nothing better than such abstract happiness; 
 but the sustaining power was unequal to out 
 side pressure. Her beautiful world had a hab 
 it of vanishing whenever she caught the drone 
 of voices not in harmony with her ideals, and 
 her sighs punctuated the periods. 
 
 Her dreams were not always selfish. It is 
 doubtful if the dreams of any woman are ever 
 entirely so. The law of her development pro 
 vides a sacrificial altar upon which she may 
 offer up selfhood to some idolatrous affection, 
 which sooner or later takes possession of her. 
 The idol may be no higher in the scale of ex 
 istence than a green parrot or a pug-dog, but 
 merit lies in the sacrificial act. 
 
 The central figure in Miss Isabel s dreams 
 was her brother. Her chaste fancy, purified 
 by years of quiet domesticity, never included 
 an alien image. She desired earnestly for him 
 all that had been lost to the family of wealth 
 and influence, absolutely forgetting at times 
 to dwell upon the reflective beams which this 
 acquired splendor might cast upon her own 
 pathway. 
 
 How it was all to be brought about never 
 troubled her. No wonderful series of step- 
 
68 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 by-step struggles, to be at last crowned with 
 success, rose before her fancy. The influ 
 ences moulding most women s lives, making 
 chance rather than personal effort the auto 
 crat of their future, were powerful in her case, 
 for all the chances had heretofore been in 
 favor of the women of her generation. No 
 wonder her trusting spirit took airy flights 
 beyond the pale of logical sequence com 
 monplace adventures, after all, but full of the 
 charm of novelty to her, with the old goddess 
 of Good-luck always just beyond her. 
 
 While the thought of marriage for her 
 self never obtruded itself, it was one of the 
 chances for her brother which she builded 
 upon and expanded until the idea assumed 
 magnificent proportions, and became one of 
 the flighty images which returned oftenest 
 upon her busy fancy. 
 
 A brilliant marriage ! It was no new thing 
 in the family history, nor yet beyond the 
 bounds of probability. 
 
 A fresh impetus was given to the thought 
 one evening when, in the excitement of -read 
 justing a confused idea, she very naturally re 
 adjusted her prim neat necktie. Her fingers 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 69 
 
 touched a precious heirloom in the shape of 
 a brooch which she always wore. It was an 
 exquisitely painted miniature of a young 
 woman with short, dark curls, slender, oval 
 face, brilliant black eyes, and very white 
 shoulders rising out of misty clouds. On 
 the reverse of the gold case was traced the 
 name " Ameniade," the very same sweet, 
 French name which was graven years ago on 
 the marble slab which closed upon all that 
 was mortal of old Madam Morant. 
 
 At the touch memory evoked many tradi 
 tions of the household, not the least splendid 
 of which clustered around the period when a 
 young bride brought a rich dower to the old 
 house, adding prestige to it, and setting the 
 name she bore still higher above the ordinary 
 level of life. 
 
 A fact in the past might be repeated in the 
 future. Why not? Immediately a delight 
 ful little drama presented itself to Miss Isa 
 bel s mental vision, invested with an external 
 reality of glow and color that was gorgeous 
 and enlivening. The air was filled with joy 
 ous excitement. Emerging softly from the 
 shadows of the old drawing-room, came a 
 
70 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 youthful figure clad in white, with a sweet 
 face smiling behind the diaphanous cloud 
 which floated around her and beside her tall, 
 handsome Ah ! surely this was no vagary 
 of the imagination, but the real brother John 
 who stooped and kissed her, and laughed at 
 the bewildered look, which proved it hard to 
 return to the boundary line of material 
 things. 
 
 A suspicious moisture in her eyes and a 
 half -repressed sob made him wonder if she 
 was ever glad to see him, since his coming 
 seemed to be a signal for tears. Miss Isabel 
 could only respond with a smile which made 
 her seem years younger, and her tears as 
 sparkling as the rain -drops from a cloud 
 through which the sun suddenly shines. 
 
 " Have the cronies gone ?" he asked, with a, 
 slightly irreverent laugh. 
 
 The solemn groan of the old front door 
 uttering its good-by note answered his ques 
 tion, and hearing it Miss Isabel rose and led 
 the way to the room just deserted by the 
 friends. * 
 
 There sat the major, graver than usual 
 The evening s discussion had been full of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 7 1 
 
 turbing influences. Byrne particularly had 
 been uncomfortable in the revival of that 
 long-forgotten story, in holding up that old 
 offence of Billy Bush in the light of a cumu 
 lative wrong with disagreeable contingencies, 
 forcing one to acknowledge that consequences 
 might be less compassionate than the mood 
 of the day which gave them impulse. Not 
 that the major believed that the consequences 
 could have any relation either nearly or re 
 motely to himself, but they were unpleasant 
 to keep in one s mind. 
 
 One could see that the major was troubled. 
 Jn _the dim light which Miss Isabel s prudent 
 calculation of resources made advisable, with 
 his gray locks fringing the small skull-cap 
 which he constantly wore, and his shrunken 
 figure lost in the ample folds of his antique 
 dressing-gown, he looked older and feebler 
 than usual, weighed down, perhaps, under the 
 .burden of responsibility which sometimes 
 strangely takes possession of a man when he 
 is confronted by the evil to which he has 
 beeit dumb, and which suddenly voices itself. 
 
 What relief to throw it all aside in the new 
 greeting, the coming of his son whom he em- 
 
72 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 braced with a new tenderness, his youngest 
 born, the Benjamin of his old age! Solaced 
 by his presence, the major s light-hearted, mer 
 ry nature seemed to rise above the infirmities 
 of age and the burden of circumstance. With 
 what spirit did he enter into the minutest de 
 tails of his son s plans, slight as his influence 
 was in shaping them ! 
 
 Of the mysterious undercurrent of senti 
 ment which was bearing his son away from 
 present sympathies he was ignorant. How 
 could he guess that even as John talked calm 
 ly of other things, his pulse was bounding at 
 the memory of a sweet face and the expres 
 sion of a pair of wondrous eyes. 
 
 Miss Isabel alone, with womanly instinct, 
 divined that some change had passed over 
 him. His preoccupation, the smile with which 
 he roused himself from some irrelevant reply, 
 awakened her curiosity. 
 
 "John," she said, under her breath, sud 
 denly drawing her chair closer to his side, 
 and intently regarding him, "if I were not 
 
 sure" 
 
 He laughed heartily, and the clear, frank 
 light in his eyes dissipated her suspicion. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 73 
 
 Ah ! but he was under the influence of a 
 stronger, sweeter intoxicant than she sus 
 pected. 
 
 " You are in a strange mood, John. What 
 has happened to you ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 She was not satisfied with his answer, as 
 her disturbed expression indicated. The irre 
 sistible force which impels a woman to go to 
 the bottom of a mystery denied to her was 
 evidently at work, and John enjoyed the con 
 templation of it, while he recognized the fact 
 that he must eventually succumb to it. 
 
 " John," she at length said, in a coaxing 
 tone, the sweetness of which was in no way 
 impaired by her keen desire to fathom his 
 thoughts, "tell me; you cannot deceive me. 
 For ten minutes you have been answering 
 papa at random. What does it mean ?" 
 
 " That I am possibly sleepy." 
 
 " Nonsense." 
 
 There was energy and unsilenced curiosity 
 in the tone. 
 
 Tlie good old major, soothed by their con 
 fidential aside, leaned back in his comfortable 
 chair, with a dropping of eyelids and chin 
 
74 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 which suggested a dropping out of interest. in 
 the .conversation. ; 
 
 Then, in pity of Miss Isabel s suspensive 
 solicitude, John said, " You are right. There 
 is something I wish to tell you." 
 
 " I knew it," she replied, triumphantly. "Let 
 me guess it." And with the facility of her 
 sex she guessed correctly. 
 
 "John, you are in love." 
 
 He changed color slightly under the force 
 of the accusation, but the initiative of his> 
 confidential disclosure seemed by no means 
 unpleasant. 
 
 " Well the truth is " 
 
 She did not give him time to explain. In 
 her limited, mental survey the main points of 
 interest were easy of apprehension. 
 
 "Is she lovely?" 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 "Rich?" 
 
 Something jarring in the word made John 
 hesitate.. Its meaning was outside the vocab 
 ulary of romantic intelligence. 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you do not 
 know?" 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF, 75 
 
 There was distress and some indignation 
 in Miss Isabel s voice, a betrayal of a shock 
 ing sense of collision between fancy and hard 
 facts. In all her dreams there had never oc 
 curred the impetuous advent of a disastrous 
 
 image. 
 
 Poor Miss Isabel! Her sympathies could 
 reach no broader range than the field of emo 
 tion in which they had been nurtured. Were 
 poverty and obscurity, after all, to settle down 
 more closely around the old house, and were 
 they to come from the point towards which she 
 had always turned for the maintenance of all 
 her hopes ? 
 
 "Oh, John! Are you wise? are you pru*- 
 dent ? Remember how much depends upon 
 you." 
 
 The strength of her fears .prevented her 
 from seeing that she had wounded the self-es 
 teem which is never more sensitive than when 
 a man is under the influence of a passion 
 which demands that all the advantages be on 
 his side. It seemed the confirmation of her 
 anxiety when John answered, 
 
 "Prudence is a possible road in the affec 
 tions, but a man doesn t discover it until he 
 
?6 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 has lost himself in a more probable direc 
 tion." 
 
 " At any rate, I do hope you will be happy," 
 said Miss Isabel, with a disconsolate accept 
 ance of facts in which she saw the accustomed 
 pattern of her life robbed of its brightest 
 threads. 
 
 " Cease to torment yourself with doubts of 
 it," said John, amused at her tragic tone ; and 
 he drew such a picture of the woman he loved 
 in her attitude towards himself rather than 
 towards the world, that Miss Isabel once more 
 rose to the region of romance. 
 
 This time she felt the need of larger sym 
 pathy. The sudden expansion of her mood 
 found expression in a little shriek. 
 
 " Oh, papa, papa !" 
 
 " What is it, my daughter ?" exclaimed the 
 major, waking from the slight doze into which 
 he had fallen, very much startled by Miss Is 
 abel s outburst. 
 
 Receiving no prohibitory glance from John, 
 she explained. 
 
 " Oh, papa, he is going to be married !" 
 
 " Married ?" said the major, as if he did not 
 quite believe that he had heard accurately. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 77 
 
 " Yes, married." 
 
 Then the major sat bolt upright, fixing his 
 eyes wonderingly upon his son. He could 
 not reconcile his every-day idea with this new 
 one ; his mental youngster never reaching ma 
 jority with this new young man, with all the 
 dignity of manhood asserting itself in elevated 
 head and undaunted presence. 
 
 His need of expression was as strong as 
 Miss Isabel s. There must have been, some 
 where in his early associations, a tendency 
 towards vigorous English, which he had com 
 promised in the expletive to which he now 
 gave vent the only one he was ever known 
 to use. " By George !" 
 
 John flushed under the profound astonish 
 ment of the tone. 
 
 " Don t pass judgment upon me just yet. 
 My sister has jumped to a conclusion." 
 
 " Not an unwarranted one, I presume," said 
 the major, slowly regaining his kindly look, 
 and pursing his brow and mouth with the air 
 of one who has made just the same jump. 
 
 " Perhaps not," responded John, deprecat- 
 ingly ; " but there has been nothing very def 
 inite in what I have said." 
 
78 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " Then we may hope that you have been 
 as limited in declaration elsewhere," said the 
 major, with less anxiety in his tone. " It is an 
 affair in \vhich one must move slowly. I do 
 not claim your confidence, but if you choose 
 to give it We are ready " 
 
 The major leaned forward with interest in 
 every line of his good old face. He listened 
 with the sensations of the profoundly experi 
 enced to the growing eloquence of youthful 
 fancy. 
 
 In very defence of himself he felt finally 
 obliged to interrupt it. The aged father no 
 less than the romantic sister must be assured 
 upon certain points. 
 
 " Yes, yes, we will take her beauty and fas 
 cinations upon trust. You are a good judge 
 of such matters ;" and with an indulgent smile, 
 " a fair relater of them. But who is she ? What 
 of her family ? You know we Morants hold 
 good lineage above everything else." 
 
 " We may take that on trust too, papa," said 
 Miss Isabel, loftily. 
 
 There was an irritating principle in Miss 
 Isabel s supreme belief in him which roused 
 John to criticism of the Morant creed, even 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 79 
 
 though he felt he would never be in danger 
 of violating it. 
 
 " You have given me credit for an amount 
 of hereditary pride which I do not possess. 
 Beyond the fact that grandfathers lived and 
 died I do not care to go. I am content with 
 the merits of the present generation. For me 
 it is enough to know that my wife will occupy 
 the position I give her, and if she pleases me 
 and makes me happy I will be content." 
 
 A contemplation of the superb egotism of 
 the divine passion in its masculine phase 
 hushed for a moment any protest on the part 
 of the hearers. 
 
 In that moment the major felt the depres 
 sion of spirits which had once before seized 
 upon him. 
 
 Miss Isabel jumped to another conclusion. 
 
 " Papa." 
 
 " My daughter." 
 
 " There is nothing to fear. It is the stamp 
 of the Morant pride which makes him speak 
 as he does." 
 
 On this basis cordial humor was restored, 
 and in the semi-darkness of the old rooms 
 they pursued the conversation, kindly, gen- 
 
8O TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 tly, softly, the major going over the familiar 
 ground whereon family pride had builded, em 
 phasizing lightly here and there a ruin, but 
 throwing over all the rosy light which age 
 flashes prodigally only upon the pathway 
 which lies behind it : Miss Isabel confining 
 herself to no boundary lines, and John indulg 
 ing the beautiful present, the present which 
 held for him no shadows deeper than the 
 changing lines of a woman s face. 
 
 Later when Miss Isabel went to her own 
 room and unpinned her precious heirloom 
 preparatory to putting it away in its little 
 worn leather case, she held it an instant lon 
 ger than usual in her hand, and then laid it 
 away with a triumphant smile. It was a se 
 curity of the past that had become a pledge 
 of the future. 
 
 John, wending his way back through the 
 sombre streets, over which the full moon was 
 just beginning to shed her light, reflected 
 rather discontentedly that he had expected a 
 less materialistic view of his confessions. Was 
 it the unselfishness or the complete selfish 
 ness of his passion which forced this conclu 
 sion of his thoughts ? 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 8 1 
 
 " Nothing can prevent me from marrying 
 the woman I love, if she loves me." And as the 
 moon rose higher and brighter, and shed a 
 silvery radiance just across his pathway, it 
 roused him to daring assertion, and he whis 
 pered with a smile, " I believe she does." 
 6 
 
82 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHILE rust and decay took possession of 
 the old French quarter of New Orleans, the 
 garden district, as the people delighted to call 
 it, blossomed in the sunshine of wealth and 
 prosperity. 
 
 In spring days a freshness of verdure and 
 fragrance pervaded the whole extent of it. 
 The scent of orange-flowers, sweet olive, and 
 violets floated up from every side. Through 
 open windows the breeze laden with this per 
 fume came like a diffusive elixir. Each green 
 enclosure fronting the broad streets seemed 
 to the passer-by like a new laboratory for the 
 combination of Nature s sweetest odors. The 
 great live-oaks, neighbored by stately magno 
 lias, shaded velvety lawns and made solid com 
 fort for the hot days of the later season. Birds 
 nested and sang in their branches. 
 
 The houses, as a general rule, conforming 
 to no order of architecture, and retired as far 
 as possible from the gates and fences, might 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 83 
 
 not have claimed consideration from one drink 
 ing in the delicious delights of color, fragrance, 
 and melody, but here and there a residence 
 stood out from its neighbors, as if demanding 
 criticism, and sometimes securing more than 
 a fair share of it, maintaining its importance 
 with the thoroughly light-hearted look of fresh 
 white paint. If there was an expression pre 
 vailing above all others in the houses great 
 and small, it was that of a desire to secure the 
 deepest inspiration of the south wind. The 
 brightest, cheeriest windows turned to that 
 point of the compass to hail its coming. 
 
 Alfred Muir had made his selection of a 
 home with an Englishman s instinctive ten 
 dency towards space-room for the typical el 
 bows which occupy every inch conceded to 
 them. His extensive grounds were full of 
 large effects, masses of color in shaded spots, 
 great grass-plots vividly green in the open sun 
 shine, and luxuriant borderings kept with a 
 nicety of detail that would have astounded a 
 champion of the brick and broken glass era. 
 Personally he was very much like his grounds, 
 large, well -shaven, and clean -looking. The 
 son of a respectable Liverpool merchant, he 
 
84 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 had become, at a very early age, a commercial 
 agent of his father s house, extending more 
 particularly its American interests. In one of 
 his trips across the Atlantic, he formed the 
 acquaintance of a young girl, an orphan, who 
 was being sent abroad to complete her educa 
 tion at a celebrated convent near Paris. A 
 profound impression was made upon him by 
 her gentle beauty. Her tall, slight figure, slen 
 der face, brunette complexion, and sad brown 
 eyes, provoked an interest which was supple 
 mented by the knowledge of a fact as pow 
 erful in its influence upon an Englishman s 
 heart as personal beauty. She possessed a 
 fortune large enough to warrant his most as 
 siduous efforts to obtain her favor, notwith 
 standing the fact that it was invested in a man 
 ner distasteful to the average sentiments of 
 his class, in plantations and negroes. So per 
 sistent were his attentions, and so unexcep 
 tionable his address, that at the completion of 
 her studies he secured the gentle, beautiful 
 girl for his wife, and settled down in England 
 to enjoy his American possessions. 
 
 The delicate beauty which had charmed 
 him did not ripen into the florid vigor of his 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 85 
 
 matronly countrywomen. The frail physique, 
 burdened with an insidious lung trouble, grad 
 ually succumbed to its advances, and faded 
 away forever in the second year of marriage. 
 
 There was left to the young Englishman a 
 little daughter to whom he devoted himself. 
 The mother had overruled the husband in 
 naming the child. Local-attachment was more 
 intense with her than any other sentiment, 
 and she cherished the memory of her former 
 home, beautified by every pleasant impression 
 which early associations can fix in the mind 
 with passionate tenderness. 
 
 It was a veritable homesickness which made 
 the beautiful Indian name of her native State 
 the most fascinating of sounds. How many 
 things it recalled to her! the far-away fields, 
 the white plantation house gleaming amid the 
 trees, a little girl bending over the balustrade 
 of the long galleries, watching the frolicsome 
 antics of ragged ebony-faced children just es 
 caped from the quarters, the cotton -picking, 
 the negro Christmas all her childish life pict 
 uring itself in never-to-be-forgotten scenes. 
 
 A strange name to give a child, but it 
 pleased her fancy; and it so happened that 
 
86 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 instead of the stately Saxon Edith, favored by 
 the father, the mother s loving persistence 
 gained for the infant daughter a name which 
 embodied her faithful retrospect. 
 
 She called her Alabama. 
 
 Afterwards a pet diminutive came to super 
 sede it, and those who loved the child best 
 called her Bamma. 
 
 It would have required a broad stretch of 
 the imagination to have connected the idea of 
 constancy to a wife s memory with Alfred 
 Muir s cheerful type. One would have said 
 that he was the man of all others to have 
 fitted himself snugly into a new affection. 
 That he did not, proved that one might have 
 been mistaken. He enjoyed thoroughly the 
 social side of life, but whenever his friends 
 rallied him upon the prospect of a second mar 
 riage he dismissed the question lightly " I 
 have had my share of happiness," and he de 
 voted himself to the child. 
 
 Some one has said that an Englishman can 
 never travel without his wife and his umbrella. 
 In Mr. Muir s case one might have put in 
 place of wife his little daughter. She went 
 with him everywhere, and made it home for 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 8/ 
 
 him wherever he went. Inheriting the moth 
 er s grace and delicacy, she possessed an inex 
 haustible gayety of heart that was a fountain 
 of delight to the father. He spared nothing 
 to make her happy. 
 
 There were many journeyings to and fro 
 upon the Continent before he brought her 
 home at last to her mother s country, journey- 
 ings in which she seemed to have garnered 
 nothing more ponderous than golden sunshine 
 and a bit of song. 
 
 The atmosphere of the joyous Southern 
 city suited her. A native could have entered 
 no more vehement protest than she against 
 the good-natured sneer with which in the car 
 nival days the practical Englishman, her father, 
 suggested that men might find better employ 
 ment than in making monkeys of themselves. 
 
 The far-sighted business man saw the shad 
 ow of a day of reckoning in the folly of the mo 
 ment, the young girl only danced and sung. 
 Nevertheless the day of payment came swift 
 ly and in a most unexpected manner to her. 
 
 One bright spring morning when the hours 
 had advanced to a period of special interest 
 for her, she opened the broad Venetian win- 
 
88 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 dow which invited the south wind, and raised 
 her face to catch a breath of it. She uttered 
 a soft sigh of content as it stirred her hair and 
 fluttered the lace at her throat. 
 
 A slight shiver passed through her, and she 
 stretched her hands upward to meet the sun 
 shine which found its way through a lattice 
 of leaves formed by the branches of the oak 
 near by, that shaded half the window. 
 
 The sunshine touched the outstretched 
 palms, crept up the rounded arms, and then 
 glorified her face. It brightened her very dark 
 hair and glittered upon the small white teeth 
 shining behind the parted crimson lips. 
 
 The cheeks usually too pale took on a tinge 
 of color that gave depth and lustre to the eyes, 
 and the few brown freckles that came out dis 
 tinctly in the bright light served to enhance 
 the beauty of the cream-white complexion. 
 
 Material beauty breathed through every line 
 of the face and the lithesome figure. 
 
 Something pleased her. She swayed to and 
 fro, as if in response to some unuttered musical 
 rhythm. Now and then a slight blush suffused 
 her cheek, and her hand went instinctively to 
 her heart, as if to stay the warm color there. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 89 
 
 Again covering her eyes with both little palms, 
 she laughed softly, and swayed again to the 
 melody she alone could hear. 
 
 Just here by this very window he had taken 
 her hand, and yes had kissed her! The 
 spot where his soft mustache had touched her 
 cheek glowed vividly. No one had ever dared 
 to kiss her; but and the quick blush came 
 again she had given some one the right to 
 dare it. Oh, supreme confession ! She fled 
 from the magnitude of it. 
 
 Catching up her garden-hat, she went out 
 among the flowers, as if they could deliver her 
 from the weight of it. 
 
 The world outside was brilliant ; the little 
 bunches of violets growing by the steps sent 
 up a delightful fragrance as her skirts brushed 
 them. She stooped to gather two or three, and 
 farther on she added to them a rose-bud. 
 
 There was method in the arrangement One 
 might have seen the ultimate design shaping 
 itself in the conscious smile about the full, 
 rosy mouth. 
 
 A sound startled her. 
 
 Swift as the movement of a bird, one little 
 hand disappeared, and nestling at the back 
 
QO TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 upon her slender waist, defied a chance betray 
 al of the floral treasures. Their time was not 
 yet come. The footsteps and figures upon the 
 banquet were unresponsive and unfamiliar. 
 
 She laughed softly, very softly, two or three 
 little silvery trills, with a slight catch of the 
 breath at the last. Then she became full of 
 artifice. 
 
 She turned her head, elevated her pretty 
 face, and looked far away through the branch 
 es of the live-oak into the blue sky beyond, 
 while her hand dropped slowly down from its 
 perch and hung by her side, quite still for a 
 moment. She raised it stealthily, until the 
 flowers touched her lips, and caught a light 
 kiss upon their cool and fragrant leaves. 
 
 Was ever fresh young life more fair and 
 sweet ? 
 
 John Morant coming at this moment and 
 standing beside her, must have answered some 
 such mental question one could have guess 
 ed how satisfactorily to himself by the glow 
 upon his face, and the look of pride and fer 
 vid admiration in his eyes. He was moved to 
 the depths of his appreciative nature by her 
 innocent loveliness. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF, 9 1 
 
 Little wonder that he gazed at her exult- 
 ingly in the light of so fair a day. Man s love is 
 conquered, won, and thrives best in the atmos 
 phere of physical beauty, and she was his own. 
 
 In the great oak a red-bird sent out a shrill 
 triumphant note. 
 
 It was the essential harmony of a moment 
 which expanded John s soul with the godlike 
 conceit of his ability to command his fate, his 
 own pre-eminence seeming to be the one man 
 ageable fact of his existence. 
 
 " For me ?" he said, confidently touching the 
 suggestive flowers. 
 
 She shook her head and carelessly pinned 
 them in the lace at her throat. It was a 
 very indirect way of approaching an intention. 
 Possibly she resented a certain air of pro 
 prietorship which might lessen her power to 
 sway him. If so, her small coquetry re-estab 
 lished her feeling of security, for a shade of 
 disappointment passed over his face. By so 
 slight a caprice may profound emotion be 
 dominated in a time which seldom repeats it 
 self in a man s life. 
 
 " You expected me. I thought, then, they 
 were gathered for me." 
 
Q2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " And if they were not?" 
 
 " Then their value lies in the intention which 
 holds them. To prompt it would be to de 
 preciate them." 
 
 " Are you quite certain you will never ask 
 them of me ?" 
 
 " Quite certain." 
 
 He had regained his look of confidence, 
 while she nestled her chin close against the 
 flowers, as if they might betray a secret. 
 
 " But you will be kind to me," he added, " if 
 I tell you I am come to ask a greater favor ?" 
 
 Among the pleasant thoughts which filled 
 his mind, was one whose origin was in a cer 
 tain discussion of his happiness, which had 
 urged his consideration of all the articles of 
 family pride. 
 
 How thoroughly he had considered them 
 he desired to prove to the two who rested 
 their faith on him. Their retired life had 
 given them no opportunity of meeting this 
 beautiful girl, and it was his urgent wish to 
 present her to them, his promised wife, as fair 
 a woman, he exultingly believed, as any Mo- 
 rant had ever brought to his home. As much 
 of the circumstances surrounding them as 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 93 
 
 needed explanation he told to Bamma, and 
 then he asked if she would go with him to 
 see them. 
 
 " You know the custom of the old French 
 district demands a first visit from the stranger. 
 And," he continued, responding to a look in 
 her eyes which for a moment suggested de 
 liberation, " it will only be a new field of con 
 quest. They can but love you as I do." 
 
 She blushed rosy red at this assurance. 
 Flattery was no new thing in her life, but it 
 was very fresh and sweet in this new relation. 
 If the contemplated visit possessed a debata 
 ble point, it was lost in the subjection of her 
 will to a guiding power stronger than any that 
 had ever influenced it. She consented. 
 
 Slight a concession as this was, it caused 
 John to feel a sudden elation, an added sense 
 of security in the supreme results. His pulse 
 beat high with pride and joy. The vision of 
 Bamma by his father s side, lighting with her 
 joyous presence the shadows of the old house, 
 illumined his eyes. Was it instinct that made 
 her shrink from their brightness ? Could she 
 ever comprehend the high-strung romantic 
 side of his nature, which evoked the images of 
 
94 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 all the noble women who had borne the fam 
 ily name and honor, that he might place her 
 beside them and glory in his choice ? 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed she, hastily, with a down 
 ward sweep of the curling lashes which shield 
 ed her eyes from his ardent gaze, " I am not 
 sure. Your judgment is prejudiced. They 
 may be able to form an opinion of me less 
 favorable than yours." 
 
 " Take courage," he responded, with the 
 quick instinct of his gallant French blood, 
 " if I acknowledge that they may ; for it would 
 only imply the superlativeness of my own." 
 
 The color rose in her face, and her eyes 
 sparkled at his words. What woman s heart 
 ever failed to grow warm at honeyed speech ! 
 
 " Name a day, then, and compel me to the 
 engagement, or I may be tempted, after all, to 
 run away from it." 
 
 " To-morrow ?" 
 
 " When you please." 
 
 " To-morrow, then, it shall be. But how shall 
 I bind you to your word if you grow timid ?" 
 
 " I will give you a pledge." She took the 
 flowers from where they had nestled against 
 her delicate throat and offered them. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 95 
 
 " So I must take them, after all, with con 
 ditions. Well, I have need of lessons of pa 
 tience, and you shall teach me." 
 
 " No," she responded, with a light laugh ; 
 " take them unreservedly. I can never have 
 you think of me as a teacher." 
 
 Contemplating her from a stand-point be 
 yond the sympathetic influences of youth and 
 beauty, one would have echoed her words, 
 " Never a teacher," and still thoughtfully re 
 garding her, it might have been said that but 
 for an indefinable lack of spirituality in a 
 loveliness which glowed in the morning sun 
 shine with all the vigor and color of the flesh, 
 one would have called her an inspiration. 
 Truly a notable woman ! with her full round 
 ed shoulders and beautiful bust, her large 
 eyes gushing with tender light, her straight 
 and delicate nose, her exquisite teeth, and 
 that singularly subtile, sensuous charm about 
 the lower half of the face, for which disap 
 pointed men have been known to kill others 
 or themselves. 
 
 John held her flowers, the fragrant essence 
 of her thoughts of him, and his eyes distinctly 
 implored her to pin them in his coat; but she 
 
96 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 glanced reproachfully at the passers-by who 
 looked in, all unconscious of the little drama 
 before their eyes. 
 
 " It is nothing," he said ; " you will not 
 
 care." 
 
 Bending forward, her fingers fluttered for 
 an instant near his heart, and repenting of all 
 coquetry, she gave him a glance of such won 
 der-working power that a blessed calm seemed 
 to settle upon the whole world. Button-hole 
 bouquets and every other fact but that she 
 loved him were forgot. Foolish drama ! fool 
 ish words ! Reproduced for each new-comer 
 to the fairy land pre-empted by youth. The 
 spirit moved them and they spoke, and the 
 shallowness of words no more disturbed them 
 than the rustle of the south wind. The cur 
 tain might ring down upon their happiness, 
 while the sweet applause of hidden voices 
 sounded upon the ear and re-echoed along 
 the secret chambers of the heart. 
 
 When she had dismissed him with a nod 
 and a smile which were fitting accompani 
 ments to his thoughts, he stood still an in 
 stant looking tenderly at the little bouquet 
 upon his breast ; then touching it gently he 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 97 
 
 laid back the lapel of his coat, and took from 
 the inner pocket the next best comfort that 
 he carried near his heart. 
 
 Lighting his cigar as he moved away, he 
 watched the smoke float upward, break into 
 rings, and spread away into illimitable space, 
 carrying with it a host of pleasant dreams 
 which rose just as lightly far above material 
 things. Yet material things were the domi 
 nant tones of his dreams. 
 
 In after-years, if there came to him a breath 
 of spring morn, the odor of violets, the note 
 of a bird, there came back to him the full 
 melody of that time. Memory instantly re 
 produced that scene. The touch of one sin 
 gle note of that sweet harmony of light, fra 
 grance, and sound brought back the vision 
 
 " Striking th electric chain wherewith we are darkly 
 bound." 
 
 7 
 
98 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN the drive through that portion of the 
 city which Bamma had never visited, the per 
 fect fitness of day and hour impressed itself 
 pleasurably upon John Morant. The dancing 
 waves of the crystalline atmosphere conveyed 
 a sensation to sight as well as touch. There 
 was not a silvery drift across the blue sky to 
 cast a shadow. Nature was respondent to 
 gladsome thought and feeling. 
 
 As he contemplated the pretty figure be 
 side him, an analysis of his emotions would 
 have disclosed his complete subjection to the 
 spell cast upon him by the glance of an eye, 
 a soft, sweet smile, and the gracious droop of 
 a pretty head. Precedents as innumerable as 
 the human race itself would have established 
 the invariableness of the condition under 
 given circumstances ; but to John it seemed 
 that the world had returned to pristine beauty, 
 and he alone admitted to a knowledge of it. 
 
 Fair to look upon and full of unspeakable 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 99 
 
 grace was Bamma, as, with her parasol held 
 lightly above her head, she leaned forward, 
 swaying from her slender waist with willowy 
 ease, noticing everything, enjoying everything, 
 animating the world around her with her fresh 
 young life. 
 
 Exclamations of interest momentarily es 
 caped her. The swift passage from the new 
 ness and freshness of progress and improve 
 ment into regions which represented an energy 
 long since expended, would have conveyed but 
 one meaning, that of novelty, to an unimpres 
 sionable observer; but to Bamma the laby 
 rinth of dismal streets occasionally appealed 
 to a sense of acquaintanceship the tall houses 
 with drearily closed shutters and overhanging 
 balconies, long since unsafe to tread of human 
 feet ; the little ones resting against each other 
 as if for support, extending modestly upon the 
 banquet two or three worn steps, waiting wea 
 rily for feet that never seemed to come : row 
 after row repeating themselves in a likeness 
 which grew upon her as they advanced. 
 
 " So much for travel," said John, answering 
 her suggestion of its familiarity. " You have 
 been robbed of the possibility of a new im- 
 
100 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 pression. It is the type you recognize. Here 
 are transplanted France and Spain, and you 
 know immediately the inspiration of earthen 
 tiled roofs, plastered walls, small, closed win 
 dows, and half ruinous habitations. But," he 
 continued, with mock solemnity, " I must not 
 forget to make due allowance for the spirits 
 which haunt this old section, ready to take 
 possession of every romantic invader of it, and 
 I must warn you that they are proverbially 
 untruthful. If you breathe this atmosphere 
 long, you will begin to people these houses 
 with creatures of your imagination who will 
 bear not a shadow of moral or mental likeness 
 to those who have tenanted or do tenant them, 
 but you will be able to fit them into every 
 available space, and make them play their parts 
 as naturally as the original inhabitant." 
 
 " You would like me to believe," said Bam- 
 ma, " that it is a medium for a sort of spiritual 
 seance." 
 
 " That is just what the coming novelist will 
 find it ; and if he wields a facile pen he will so 
 thoroughly materialize his phantoms that they 
 will be accepted as historical." Turning a 
 corner, a sudden shadow fell upon them. The 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. IOI 
 
 carriage had rolled into a street so narrow that 
 high brick walls on either side shut out the sun 
 shine. Bamma closed her parasol and leaned 
 back with a shade of uneasiness upon her face. 
 
 Her sensitiveness to external impressions 
 had increased to that degree that she felt a 
 shuddering awe of the deserted houses about 
 her. 
 
 One house especially obtruded itself upon 
 her with a peculiarly insinuating personality 
 long before they neared it, a dark, square, 
 many -shuttered house, with a large arched 
 gate-way at the side, barred and padlocked so 
 long ago that the years were wearied of eat 
 ing into the heart of the great iron bolts, and 
 avenged themselves in the rotting panels 
 through which one caught glimpses of the 
 walled - in yard beyond, glimpses which dis 
 closed a growth of waving grasses, tangled 
 vines, and such wild vegetation as in that 
 generous soil expends itself luxuriantly upon 
 places forgotten of men. 
 
 John followed the direction of Bamma s 
 eyes in their fixed attention, and asked, 
 
 " What is it that interests you so deeply ?" 
 
 " A dreadful old place," she answered, with 
 
IO2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 a shiver, and then instinctively drew nearer to 
 John as they rolled by it. 
 
 It was weird - looking enough in the som 
 bre light. Time had clothed it with singu 
 lar sadness. There was nothing of to-day 
 in its hapless aspect. The filmy seals which 
 the industrious spider had placed upon shut 
 ters and door -way were old and dusty; the 
 years had branded it as an outcast, and man 
 had abandoned it. 
 
 To John, whose perceptive faculties were 
 blunted by familiarity with its grim outlines, 
 there was nothing in its appearance to stir 
 one to shuddering repugnance; but upon 
 Bamma it produced an impression wholly in 
 explicable, as if the sight of it had suddenly 
 annihilated all warmth and color. 
 
 " You would never guess the history of it," 
 said John. " There was a time when it wield 
 ed a momentous power in shaping the des 
 tinies of some of God s creatures. It was an 
 old slave-yard. Fancy the long dark proces 
 sions that have filed in and out of that 
 wretched gate-way, while the prophets of the 
 day looked on and saw only the visions of 
 mighty empire." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 103 
 
 " It is haunted/ said Bamma, in a depress 
 ed tone. " Do not tell me anything more of 
 it." 
 
 u That you should believe a thing so ab 
 surd!" responded John, now thoroughly aroused 
 to the reality of her dread. "Suppose I 
 translate your fear into the vernacular of 
 fetichism, and say, The place is voudoued. 
 Are you superstitious enough to endure that 
 way of putting it ?" 
 
 " Make it appear as ridiculous as you 
 choose," said Bamma, somewhat nettled at 
 his tone. " I cannot deny that I am supersti 
 tious. I have usually listened to hints of the 
 supernatural with little chills creeping over 
 me, yet they possess a fascination for me that 
 I can never withstand, A treacherous sort 
 of pleasure it has proved itself, leaving me 
 sometimes afraid of a shadow. Oh !" she con 
 tinued, shrinking closer to his side, " if I could 
 only tell you how often and completely my 
 nerves have failed me." 
 
 " A natural conclusion to the indulgence 
 in superstitious fancies," said John, smiling 
 in a way which denoted his superior freedom 
 from them. " Unknown spiritual quantities 
 
104 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 always resolve themselves into a problem of 
 the nerves." 
 
 Bamma declared that he was not half as 
 brave and unbelieving as he assumed to be. 
 His self-complacent armor did not deceive 
 her. There was a vulnerable spot, she was 
 sure, and she would some day see him suc 
 cumb to the shock of a ghostly visitation. 
 This vehement little speech she delivered in 
 a voice fast recovering from timorousness ; 
 but there was just that shade of almost im 
 perceptible coquetry in her manner which 
 made John feel the admiration with which 
 she really regarded his anchorage upon firm 
 er ground. 
 
 He was well satisfied to receive her predic 
 tion, with no other opposition than a slight 
 uplifting of his shoulder, the faintest approach 
 upon his part to the Creole method of a possi 
 ble admission. Some humorous association in 
 his mind followed the shrug, and that he pur 
 sued it one might conjecture from the sud 
 den interest with which he glanced about him. 
 
 The mental association evidently included 
 a near object. Premonitory images of that 
 which he expected issued from the adjacent 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 10$ 
 
 walls vague resemblances in broken plaster 
 and unwashed windows which vanished on 
 closer inspection. 
 
 At last encroaching slowly upon his line 
 of vision came the little taxidermist s shop. 
 He remembered it as the chance occasion of 
 an amusing half-hour, and in pointing it out 
 to Bamma he recalled with much spirit the 
 impressions of his initial exploration of it. 
 So picturesquely did he sketch its peculiar 
 features, its inmates, and their singular pets, 
 that she was immediately seized with the de 
 sire to give it more than passing attention. 
 
 " May we not stop a moment ?" she in 
 quired, eagerly scanning the wretched exte 
 rior. 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it," he replied, at 
 once checking their course. 
 
 She was in no way intimidated by the dis 
 closures he was prompted to make of the dis 
 agreeable features of the little proprietor s 
 workroom, and sprang lightly to the ban 
 quet when they stopped in front of it. 
 
 Surely the small shop had never admitted 
 finer customers in a finer way. The sun rose 
 high over the tall houses at the very moment 
 
IO6 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 of their entrance. With the current of air 
 that rushed in at the opening door, was sent 
 a luminous stream which caused the tiger to 
 shift his nose restlessly and fold his great 
 velvety paws protectingly over his eyes. The 
 dust whirled from every projection, and ris 
 ing from the floor, floated down and up and 
 through the intrusive beams animated frag 
 ments, glittering or gray, just as they touched 
 or receded from the golden light. The shab 
 by specimens on the shelves lingered in the 
 shadows, while the mouldy odors floated back 
 towards the dim corners from which they 
 emanated. 
 
 The little owner came forward with quick 
 recognition. 
 
 " Ah !" said he, bowing profoundly, " it is 
 mo su and," with an interrogatory inflection, 
 " madame ?" 
 
 Bamma blushed rosily, while John smiling 
 ly said, 
 
 " Mademoiselle has heard me speak of your 
 curiosities, and I hope you will be so good as 
 to allow her to see them." 
 
 " I shall be much pleas ," he responded, with 
 another profound bow, as an expression of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. IO/ 
 
 apology to mademoiselle, " but it is not much 
 I haf now, an everything is dull without 
 Marie. She is gone." 
 
 " Gone ?" repeated John, inquiringly, afraid 
 to risk further question because of the lugubri 
 ous tone with which the assertion was made. 
 
 "Yes," said the little man; "but she will 
 come again, mebbe, soon. Tis troo," he 
 continued, turning his head on one side with 
 a pensive contemplation of the fact to be an 
 nounced, " we got no HI! one howselv , but 
 there is one godchil ; fo troo, we got two god- 
 chil , an we get all the tim some troub an 
 hexpense. Well," with a long-drawn sigh, 
 " it is all rhight. Tis to one fun rhal she go 
 to-da . Som da the fun rhal will be fo me, 
 som da fo Marie, an we will wan som boddie 
 fo ride in the carrhidge." 
 
 The solemnity of this idea did not long op 
 press him. His volubility, like that of all his 
 Creole compatriots, necessarily forced him into 
 precipitate changes of thought and topic, and 
 an unexpectedly lively exclamation, followed 
 by a low, short laugh, contained not an atom 
 of disrespect towards the casual exigency 
 which his quick imagination had just intro- 
 
IOS TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 duced. Both exclamation and laugh were 
 called forth by a sudden contemplation of his 
 savage pet, which, as it rested with the sun 
 shine on its thick, fine, shining hair, deepen 
 ing the transverse shadows and reflecting the 
 tawny yellow and white lights upon its throat, 
 was a thing of beauty to move the little man s 
 good-humored admiration. 
 
 " Yes," said he, nodding emphatically tow 
 ards the animal, " he loog nize, don t he ? 
 But som da he mus go too." 
 
 Then, as he approached and gently roused 
 it, Bamma admired the cat-like grace with 
 which the young tiger lazily rose to its feet ; 
 but she shrank from the glaring eyes and sar 
 donic grin with which it regarded her. She 
 could only wonder at Mane s infatuation, 
 upon which the little man descanted largely, 
 and feel immensely relieved at the movement 
 towards the garden, where the flowers bloom 
 ed fresher than ever in their stiff, green boxes, 
 and the white bird peered curiously down at 
 them from the myrtle-tree. 
 
 The small court-yard fascinated her. She 
 scarcely listened to the voice of the little man, 
 who with unflagging humor gave himself up 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. IOQ 
 
 to the pleasant task of repeating his little 
 stories, the details of his narrow life. 
 
 What spirit of refinement and beauty had 
 prompted this garden-spot, and endured here 
 through all the years that it had taken to 
 grow the splendid shrubs, now advancing al 
 most to the rank luxuriance of climes still 
 farther south, and the rough knotted vines 
 which spread themselves in verdant masses 
 over unsightly walls. 
 
 How old must be the great agave ! And 
 there, throwing a long lace -like shadow just 
 beyond it what was that ? Her eyes wan 
 dered around the enclosure, but were at fault. 
 Raising them higher, still higher than the 
 walls which surrounded her, she saw, waving 
 its sharp thin foliage gently in the air, the 
 graceful crown of a palm-tree. Was it far 
 away? She could not tell. Magic in its 
 mould, impressing itself vividly against the 
 deep blue sky, it might be either a stone s- 
 throw off, or immeasurably distant in the 
 tropical vistas it suggested, growing under 
 man s kindly care, or at the will of heathen 
 nature untrammelled by human law. 
 
 /Vs at the waving of a magician s wand, it 
 
1 10 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 evoked vague fancies. It touched her like a 
 recollection of her childhood. Dim and shad 
 owy, vanishing and returning, the quickened 
 remains of some anterior impression led her 
 into strange confusion. 
 
 Her uplifted eyes saw more than a feathery 
 shape and illimitable space. But that vast 
 plain rising from the deep blue ocean might 
 be, after all, only a cloud floating up to the 
 level of her vision, as quick to dissolve and 
 recede from the light as the mutilated memo 
 ries stirred from their hiding-places in the 
 dimmest corners of her mind. Be the optical 
 deception what it might, there was no disput 
 ing its mysterious fascination. The enchant 
 ing atmosphere favored illusions, and the 
 complexion of her mind inclined her to in 
 dulge them. Essaying to trace the tessellated 
 shadows below, she had reached a region of 
 more fantastic shadows above. 
 
 The little taxidermist seemed very far away 
 just then, though she still heard his accents 
 quaintly rising and falling in the progress of 
 his efforts to please and interest. It was to 
 John he was addressing himself, though an 
 occasional sentence reached her. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. Ill 
 
 " One da I say to Marie, If his fe ther is 
 w ite " Then more distinctly she heard a 
 plaintive expression of concern almost comic 
 in its emphasis, and more clearly still John s 
 bantering inquiry, 
 
 " And you would not part with your bird 
 at any price ?" 
 
 " Non, mo su , not while he lives, fo no 
 
 monaie." 
 
 " But some day, after he is dead," persisted 
 John. 
 
 " Ah," said the little man, roused at last to 
 the spirit of his trade, " mebbe yes, when we 
 stuff him." 
 
 " Bamma," said John, and Bamma now came 
 out of her dreams with a smile, " remember, 
 we are to have this wonderful bird some day. 
 He has promised, and we must not let him 
 forget." 
 
 " Non, non, mo su mebbe shu I will nevva 
 fo get." 
 
 And a few moments later, when he bowed 
 them out of his shop, the little man repeated, 
 " I will nevva fo get; I will rhemember it," add 
 ing, with a beaming smile and profounder bow, 
 " lige I will alway rhemember mademoiselle." 
 
112 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Bamma smiled still more graciously upon 
 the little taxidermist as a reward for the amus 
 ing courtliness of his last speech, while, as 
 they turned away, John declared him to be a 
 true Creole a veritable type of the race to 
 whom gallant speech was native, and incident 
 to no special state or condition. 
 
 As for the little man, he remained long in 
 his door-way gazing after the gracious made 
 moiselle, his elbow resting against the defaced 
 lettering upon the frame, and his hand shad 
 ing his keen bright eyes. After a while he 
 ran his fingers slowly through his hair, pull 
 ing it upward straight from his head, as if to 
 relieve even that pressure upon his burdened 
 brain, then he suddenly folded his arms, 
 smiled, and bowed once twice three times, 
 in the direction which was now vacant of any 
 moving object. He seemed suddenly to have 
 recognized a type. 
 
 To those departing, the small shop quickly 
 became a forgotten incident. In the dull 
 streets a slight current of activity began to 
 be noticeable. Those whom they most fre 
 quently met were young girls in white, with 
 blue ribbons and pendent silvery medals, and 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 113 
 
 women in black, whose features were set in 
 the calmness of that devotional spirit which 
 marks a conscience given to the keeping of a 
 superior power. The point towards which 
 all were tending was a small gray church, 
 with one solitary circular window over the 
 door-way, like a great eye looking down with 
 watchful intent upon the coming of the faith 
 ful. Passing that, silence and dulness again 
 fell upon the streets. 
 
 " Come," said John, gayly, as once again he 
 checked their progress, and Bam ma recog 
 nized all at once the importance of the one 
 little word of entreaty and encouragement 
 
 The ancestral establishment was indeed be 
 fore them. Tall and forbidding, inhospitable 
 in every line of the closed shutters which an 
 upward glance surveyed, its once aristocratic 
 face was turned upon the outsider with a 
 haughty protest against intrusion. " Pass 
 on," it seemed to say to every challenging 
 glance, and Bamma, influenced by its air of 
 disapprobation, would willingly have turned 
 away from it. A wild desire seized upon her 
 to fly at once from its mysterious hostility. 
 In the instant of conflict with this impulse, 
 8 
 
114 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 when she involuntarily sought to satisfy her 
 self of the possibilities of indulging it, she 
 was again confronted, in every surrounding 
 object, with a confusing, tantalizing suggestion 
 of some former association. It was strange 
 how steadfastly the tiled-roof cottage held her 
 attention. If it had only been to enter there 
 But again John s voice entreated " Come !" 
 and half sighing she consented. 
 
 Her smaller hand lay lost for a moment in 
 the one he extended ; then descending from 
 the carriage they entered the house. 
 
 The old door groaned more dismally than 
 usual as Celine opened it, and as she stood 
 aside, stately and solemn, to allow them to 
 pass, her face was less impassive than usual. 
 It expressed something of the curiosity which 
 she might be supposed to feel at this depart 
 ure from the ordinary routine in the quiet 
 household. 
 
 Bamma glanced with undeniable interest at 
 the old negress. Unconscious of demanding 
 leave of her own will, she turned again to 
 look upon the dark face, and something riv 
 eted her gaze. Her heart gave a great bound, 
 and there sounded in her ears the dull stroke 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 15 
 
 of its excited action. Everything was lost to 
 her vision but a pair of glowing black eyes 
 wide open and staring, full of a mysterious ter 
 ror which held her for an instant spellbound. 
 
 With one deep inspiration she freed herself 
 and turned towards John. Reassured by his 
 unconsciousness of her emotion, she looked 
 again at Celine, and saw only the respectful 
 bend of the old woman s turbaned head. 
 
 Certainly her imagination was oddly active, 
 and her nerves responded in long lingering 
 vibrations. Her condition was irrational. A 
 consciousness stirred within her which was in 
 strange communion with objects about her. 
 The evidences of the past which she had seen 
 for the first time, accommodated themselves 
 to the confusing memories which persistently 
 haunted her. She was overpowered. For a 
 moment she leaned heavily upon John. 
 
 "Courage," he whispered, mistaking her 
 emotion, and thinking of the little speech she 
 had once made him. " It is too late to run 
 away. See! the father s spectacles have 
 been brightened for the occasion. They are 
 already regarding us." 
 
 And it did seem, when the good old major 
 
Il6 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 greeted her, as if they beamed down upon 
 her with an additional sparkle. His nod of 
 satisfaction sent forth such a prismatic gleam 
 that one could not mistake the extent of his 
 approbation. 
 
 Miss Isabel watched with more critical eyes 
 the fair face softened by a shade of timidity 
 as it lifted itself to her welcome. Its beauty 
 evidently penetrated her reserve, for a glitter 
 of tears on Miss Isabel s lashes proclaimed 
 the fact. 
 
 Ah, what a golden day that was ! It is im 
 possible to say how long its freshness and 
 glory remained with John ; and Bamma, con 
 scious of its subtile charm, became an enchant 
 ing maiden so joyous and simply happy that 
 she seemed the perfection of Nature s mood. 
 
 " A very nice young woman, indeed !" as 
 serted the major, when he found himself once 
 more alone with his daughter. " And my son 
 tells me the father is an Englishman of most 
 excellent family, and a man of wealth too." 
 
 "And the mother?" prompted Miss Isabel. 
 
 " And the mother," continued the major, 
 "was a very nice person also, who left her 
 daughter a fine inheritance." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 1? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ONE S life sometimes reaches a period when 
 the inevitable struggle against human will 
 slackens or is intermitted, and opposition to 
 forward movement ceases ; when one s path 
 way seems to be rolled and smoothed by 
 giant forces, and the world resolves itself into 
 such an easy problem that it is almost impos 
 sible to resist the belief in one s own peculiar 
 fitness for its finest results. 
 
 The years roll on, and the retrospective eye 
 turning towards such a period sees the pleas 
 ant pathway leading up no surmountable ac 
 clivity, but marks clearly and distinctly a 
 downward grade from which comes an echo 
 of straying footsteps. It holds a poignant 
 sorrow, and the heart throbs painfully under 
 the weight of that subjunctive form of self- 
 reproach which is the heaviest of all to bear. 
 If one had not been blind ! If one could 
 only have known ! 
 
 3 The period which John Morant had just 
 
Il8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 touched might never be the centre of a sad 
 retrospect, but it possessed all the elements 
 of smoothness and facility which accommo 
 date themselves readily to the lurking humor 
 of fate. 
 
 The objective point of his happiness his 
 wedding-day was fixed, and he was no longer 
 troubled by a lover s doubts and fears. Con 
 gratulated upon all sides, he might well have 
 been pardoned a trace of arrogance. 
 
 Exceptionally pleasant was the fact that his 
 vast heaven was unclouded by a suspicion that 
 an uninterrupted sequence of happiness might 
 include some very selfish motives. A wealthy 
 marriage possessed undeniable advantages; 
 but John s heart recorded impressions beyond 
 their influence. 
 
 Major Morant, with the fine instinct of one 
 who had enjoyed the benefits of capital, recog 
 nized more clearly the importance of such fa 
 vorable circumstances. 
 
 " You will have the opportunity," he said, 
 on one occasion, " and I would urge you, my 
 son, to take advantage of it, to quit a commer 
 cial life. Go back to the ways of the old Mo- 
 rants. The old plantation is waiting for you. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 19 
 
 What comparison can be drawn between a 
 merchant s and a planter s life, which is not 
 favorable to the latter ? The one full of sub 
 serviency, of waiting upon men s leisure, bend 
 ing to men s whims, of trembling at the shad 
 ow of richer men who can corner one s lesser 
 earnings, and the other full of freedom and in 
 dependence. Perfect safety and security in 
 trade are unknown to the average toiler, but 
 the one grateful thing in nature is the fruitful 
 soil. The man who depends upon it can count 
 upon peace of mind as well as dollars and 
 cents." 
 
 " All very fine in the abstract, father," re 
 plied John ; " but times have changed since 
 you were young. The merchant is master of 
 the situation now. Even Nature seems less 
 generous than she was in the good old times, 
 and the planter finds himself almost wholly 
 dependent upon the man at the desk." 
 
 " A very good arrangement," said the ma 
 jor ; " one s comfort must be greatly enhanced 
 by the knowledge of a middle man upon whom 
 one may cast all cares and bad debts. But 
 even under changed conditions," continued 
 the major, returning to his proposition, " I 
 
120 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 think success lies in the old place. Life would 
 be worth something to see its fields green 
 once more." And he grew triumphant when 
 his son came to regard in a favorable light the 
 thought of a regeneration of interests which 
 represented the glory of olden days. 
 
 " I have always said the place would be of 
 value again, and I will live to see it." 
 
 " We must not underestimate the chances 
 against us," said John, with a knowledge of 
 the accidents and failures recorded in the 
 pages which he daily turned. 
 
 " No," said the major, elated by the revival 
 of an almost extinguished hope. " It will be 
 an experiment, but if you succeed " 
 
 There could have been no vision finer than 
 the one which then filled the major s eye. A 
 vast plain blossoming, ripening, whitening un 
 der the fervid rays of a midsummer sun, and 
 here and there, bending to the toil of the day, 
 moving lines of laborers whose dark faces, 
 with changing aspect, showed occasionally 
 above the broad, level, smooth roadways lead 
 ing up to the great gin-house, over which 
 rolled and swelled with the light breeze a 
 fleecy cloud of escaping steam, and brown 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 121 
 
 lines of fencing lost in the dim woods touch 
 ing the horizon. Ah ! if it could all come 
 back. One might accept willingly any modi 
 fied conditions if prosperity would only come 
 to the desolated lands again ! 
 
 This discussion of John s possible future 
 took place one evening upon the gallery 
 where Miss Isabel loved to sit. While it en 
 gaged the attention of the little group to 
 whom it was most momentous, the old ne- 
 gress sat out under the fig-tree strangely si 
 lent. The low humming tune with which she 
 usually solaced her hours of rest was hushed. 
 She sat motionless, watching with patient vig 
 ilance every movement of the speakers. 
 
 By-and-by she grew restless and glided like 
 a dark shadow through the grounds, her eyes 
 always turned uneasily towards the point from 
 which the voices came. Her restlessness in 
 creased as time passed on. 
 
 It was not until John rose to go that the 
 opportunity for which she seemed to have 
 waited presented itself. She hurried to the 
 door, and stood anxiously but respectfully 
 ready to open it for him. 
 i The suppressed excitement of her manner 
 
122 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 impressed him. He turned to speak to her. 
 In the greed of happiness he desired even her 
 good wishes. 
 
 " Are you going to wish me much joy, Ce 
 line?" 
 
 " Ah, Mars John," she said, with a mourn 
 ful shake of the head, " how can I ?" 
 
 " Why, what is the matter?" he said, slight 
 ly amused at her dejection. 
 
 " En t I nuss yo sence yo was teenty baby, 
 an don yo believe I wan efry tin good for 
 yo . Tain t comin dat way, Mars John. Will 
 yo lis en to me ? Dar s sumpin wrong. I 
 kin tell yo , but yo won believe." Her voice 
 grew husky and she broke down utterly as he 
 recoiled from her. There was anxiety and 
 even fright, yet persistent purpose in her set 
 face. 
 
 " Out with it," he said, roughly, making an 
 impetuous movement towards her. 
 
 " Yes, Mars John," she replied, more firm 
 ly, " I must say it. Sumpin here " striking 
 her heart with her closed hand " tells me I se 
 got to do it. I members far back. Sum 
 folks kin never fo git if dey libs to de Jedge- 
 ment-day, an I se one dat can t fo git. It 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 123 
 
 don need no sperrit to come back from de 
 dead to tell me nothin . I looks into sum 
 eyes an I sees straight back, Lord ! how far 
 back !" She drew her breath heavily, and then 
 continued, " Back to de fount in head whar 
 de stream is clear an whar it s muddy ; don 
 go dat way, Mars John ! It s mizry," 
 
 " Is the woman crazy ?" said John, as he 
 gazed at her in blank amazement. 
 
 Glancing behind her as if she feared space 
 itself, Celine advanced a step or two and low 
 ered her voice to a terror-stricken whisper. 
 
 " It s de eyes. Dey can t deceive yo , Mars 
 John. Lemme tell yo all I sees. She is jus 
 lige her cousans." 
 
 " What cousins ?" said John. 
 
 " Dem what leef oppozeet long time go." 
 
 " Speak out and tell me plainly what you 
 mean." 
 
 He listened for a moment to her quivering 
 sentences, and then a torrent of indignation 
 leaped from his very soul. How dared she ? 
 She had spoken truly when she said that she 
 had nursed him, and tended him, and loved 
 him. Her fidelity was unquestioned and his 
 hand was stayed ; but how dared she find 
 
124 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 words for a suspicion so unwarranted, and 
 which entered like poison into his brain? The 
 hot blood danced in his veins. He did not 
 wait to look again at the old creature, who re 
 treated into the darkest recess of the hall, par 
 alyzed at the deadly resentment of his first 
 glance. 
 
 The open air into which he rushed felt like 
 a breath of heaven, and reason returned to 
 him. A vague terror possessed him even as 
 he resented Celine s words. Had she a foun 
 dation for them ? Could it be possible there 
 were characteristics patent to her experience 
 which escaped others ? 
 
 There came suddenly to his memory a story 
 that had once been told him. All its details 
 flashed before him, with the tragic sequel 
 which had always thrilled him with its unut 
 terable pathos. Two brothers had been high 
 ly esteemed in the social circles of a neighbor 
 ing city, which boasted alike of its gallant men 
 and remarkably beautiful women. Educated 
 abroad, introduced as the nephews of an hon 
 orable man, no suspicion of their birth had 
 ever been aroused. Coming one winter with 
 a gay party to the old St. Charles Hotel, they 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 125 
 
 had entered with zest into all the amusements 
 which New Orleans afforded. The first even 
 ing that they presented themselves at the 
 French Opera-house, an old employe singled 
 them out of the party just taking possession 
 of a proscenium box, and touching each upon 
 the shoulder, pointed to a gallery set apart for 
 a special race. In the excitement consequent 
 upon his action the employe stood firm. 
 
 " It is my business to know. I am never 
 deceived." 
 
 Investigation verified his assertion. John 
 shuddered anew at the horror of it. Suppose 
 he, John Morant, should inadvertently ally 
 himself His heart stood still. All the 
 blood of his race protested against the thought; 
 but even as it rushed passionately to the de 
 nial of the possibility of a fatal circumstance, 
 there rose upon his mental vision a picture as 
 enchanting as ever seduced great Antony. In 
 the inthralment of his senses he could see 
 the droop of a pretty head upon his breast, 
 and feel about his neck the pressure of soft 
 arms. If fate should come like that ! 
 
 " Bamma," he murmured, " my Bamma 
 that any one " How tight that clasp seemed 
 
126 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 about his throat ! " That any one could come 
 near you with a breath of that deepest curse 
 of all ! That would be, indeed, a gulf of de 
 spair !" 
 
 Was it because of the neighborhood that 
 there suddenly went sounding through his 
 brain the refrain of the little taxidermist, 
 " Poor lill bird, he has no mate ?" 
 
 There just beside him certainly was the 
 small shop. It irritated him to see its shabby 
 window shining in the moonlight with preter 
 natural brightness. His thoughts were shap 
 ing themselves in the channel of his desires, 
 and it touched him with a sense of imperti 
 nent intrusion. Half vindictively he ap 
 proached and glanced in upon the dusty relics. 
 The moonlight had exhausted itself upon the 
 exterior, and there was but the faintest radi 
 ance inside. The shadowy outlines of birds 
 and reptile were just visible in the dim light, 
 and silhouetted themselves against the walls 
 in absurdly grotesque forms. The little owl 
 spread himself out to enormous size, and the 
 small alligator cast a crocodilian shadow as 
 gigantic as that of some antediluvian progen 
 itor. The duckling developed into a superb 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. T2/ 
 
 swan, swaying up and down on a white sea, 
 while the coral branches reached out like the 
 tentacles of a great octopus. Strong emotion 
 is an accident in life which Nature sometimes 
 repairs with such insignificant facts that one 
 is tempted to wonder at the facility with which 
 the jarred machinery is balanced and sent mov 
 ing in a reverse direction. The very exagger 
 ation of the inanimate objects on which John 
 gazed, introduced an element of burlesque into 
 his thoughts. He laughed at their curious 
 distortion and then grew wrathful and con 
 temptuous of himself. They were no more 
 absurd than the vagaries of an old negress s 
 imagination. Why had he tormented himself 
 in listening to her words ? A stern rebuke 
 of their fantastic improbability would have 
 been more fitting than all this expenditure of 
 feeling. He could have relied upon the old 
 creature s faithfulness never to so offend again. 
 What so easy, if he ever seriously considered 
 them, as to prove their falsity ? Like a man 
 who had thrown off the heavy burden of a 
 nightmare ha exulted in his awakening. He 
 fixed his face steadily towards a point where 
 brighter lights were beginning to be visible. 
 
128 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 He was coming up out of the world of shad 
 ows. 
 
 And yet that night was a restless night, 
 haunted by evil dreams, in which the tiger, 
 full-grown and escaped from his cage, the 
 white blackbird slowly transforming into a 
 woman, Bamma, himself, and a deep, dark, 
 swiftly descending current, bore unintelligible 
 parts over all these were ancestral voices of 
 warning and threatening, and he started once 
 from his sleep, exclaiming aloud, 
 
 " Descending towards the gulf !" 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 129 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IT is not to be supposed that the words of 
 old Celine failed to return again and again to 
 John s mind. Though he encouraged a light 
 view of them, and tried to avoid all trains of 
 thought leading to conclusions other than 
 those consonant with his feelings, he could 
 not banish them at will. Like the seeds of 
 every wretched suspicion they sprang up, blos 
 somed, fruited, and died, and sprang up anew 
 to torment him. Eventually the reaction from 
 their first impression was very great. In the 
 sunshine of the following days they once more 
 appeared absurd, and resolved themselves into 
 the phantasm of an irresponsible mind. One 
 fact alone he resented, that he had been com 
 pelled to listen to them. A chivalrous desire 
 stirred within him to shield his love from the 
 very shadow of calamitous thought. Insinua 
 tions as baseless as the fabric of Celine s im 
 agination had touched others. To become 
 Sangttince clarus had sometimes involved a 
 9 
 
130 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 legal decision. The records of years gone 
 by contained many such cases. There were 
 others which had been settled by a higher 
 code upon the field of honor. He knew which 
 code would have suited his temperament. He 
 almost wished that the thoughts which trou 
 bled him had shaped themselves from a point 
 and in a manner that he could have boldly 
 challenged their truth and proved the might 
 of his arm and his affection. 
 
 There was one thing, however, within his 
 power, and it was as alluring as his vision of 
 triumphant vindication. He could compen 
 sate by his increased devotion for the one 
 breath of detraction which could never reach 
 Bamma. In the atmosphere of his love there 
 should exist not even a shadow s shadow. 
 
 The days progressed all too slowly towards 
 the period when she would own his supreme 
 protection. His words and actions formulated 
 but one idea and became the medium of but 
 one manifestation, his affection for her. 
 
 It was not difficult in the course of events 
 to acquire much knowledge of Mr. Muir s 
 claim to that position in the social world 
 which he had assumed. Little by little it 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 131 
 
 unfolded itself, through a chance remark, 
 through the unreserve of friendly intercourse, 
 in which the pardonable pride of the well-born, 
 well-bred man, found expression giving clear 
 insight of his antecedents, and always con 
 vincingly of the worthiness of his claim. It 
 startled John on one occasion, when Mr. Muir 
 was peculiarly communicative of past events, 
 to hear him say, 
 
 " My wife, you know, was an adopted child." 
 And the subsequent assertion was received 
 with interest : " She was a near relative of 
 her adopted mother." 
 
 In pronouncing the name of the family he 
 gave one noted in the history of a State which 
 had honored it in more than one instance by 
 the highest official position at its disposal. 
 The earth grew firmer under John s feet with 
 every advance. Supported by facts which he 
 carefully gleaned, there appeared not a single 
 defect in the structure upon which he rested 
 his pride and faith. 
 
 The slight shock, the loosening of the sin 
 gle stone by the hands of the old negress, 
 passed beyond notice, with the solution given 
 of her singular declaration that age was tell- 
 
132 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ing at last upon her and clouding her facul 
 ties. 
 
 If one could have only seen the despairing 
 look with which she turned away from repri 
 mand, and with this assertion, 
 
 " He was warn . He won believ ." 
 
 Society approved the approaching marriage. 
 A feminine reporter of later date, industrious 
 of pen and lax of reserve, might have found 
 in it elements commending themselves for in 
 teresting detail. It was commented upon, gen 
 erally discussed, and produced an ever-increas 
 ing demand of attention from the class which 
 faithfully ranges itself upon the brilliantly 
 conventional side of life. 
 
 It even aroused Major Morant s old friends 
 to a sense of its social importance. To have 
 the quiet comfort of their Sunday talks broken 
 in upon by the major s interest in events more 
 recent than those of a quarter of a century 
 past, was, to say the least of it, trying. Their 
 combined discontent manifested itself in the 
 reserve with which they listened to him, and 
 the perfect freedom with which they discussed 
 him and his new topic. 
 
 " I suppose," said Mr. Byrne, as the two 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 133 
 
 were finding their way as usual to the old 
 house down-town, "that every man takes a 
 degree of comfort in seeing his son well mar 
 ried ; but there seems to me no reason why 
 he should be aggressively jubilant over it." 
 
 " You think he ought to be sobered by a 
 calculation of the chances against happiness 
 in the long-run. It is not to be expected that 
 an old bachelor like you would take any other 
 view of the case. " 
 
 " I have no views at all about it," said Mr. 
 Byrne, " I simply resent the intrusion of a 
 matter with the expectation that I will join in 
 any rejoicing over it." 
 
 " You are true to your principles, then, and 
 would encourage celibacy by refusing to sym 
 pathize with a departure from it." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I am not against any man s 
 marrying; but if you make a demand upon 
 my sympathies you will find them engaged by 
 the other party to the contract." 
 
 " There !" said Mr. Burton, triumphantly, " I 
 knew you had some theory of matrimony, and 
 it develops itself in your taking the woman s 
 side of the question. What will happen next ? 
 The chances are that your sympathies will 
 
134 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 some day outweigh your discretion and make 
 a married man of you." 
 
 Notwithstanding their long, intimate asso 
 ciation, Mr. Burton s jests sometimes jarred 
 upon his friend. This time it made him glare 
 almost fiercely into Mr. Burton s mocking face, 
 and the good-fellowship of years might have 
 been marred ; but just then the door of the 
 old house before which they had paused, 
 opened more quickly than usual in answer to 
 their summons, and Miss Isabel s pathetic face 
 dawned upon them. 
 
 " For the first time in all these years," she 
 explained, "old Celine is unable to attend to 
 her duties, so it falls upon me to be house 
 maid." 
 
 Mr. Burton made a gallant speech, in which 
 he commented upon the very pleasing substi 
 tute ; but Mr. Byrne said nothing. It was en 
 tirely inexplicable that he should flush to the 
 very crown of his venerable bald head. Per 
 haps it was the result of that sharp, quick in 
 dignation against Burton. He could not an 
 alyze it, but felt its momentary discomfort, and 
 hastened forward to meet his old friend Mo- 
 rant with more than usual eagerness. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 135 
 
 The wedding morning came. There was 
 an early promise of unclouded skies, but later 
 on a pale gray mist crept over the sun. It 
 came up slowly, deepening gradually into that 
 darker tint which made the weatherwise scan 
 the heavens for one little patch of blue to en 
 courage a hope of brightness by-and-by. Now 
 and then a heavier vapory mass was caught 
 in the brisker undercurrent blowing up from 
 the east, and drifted swiftly across the face of 
 the heavens. Impalpable shadows flitted over 
 the gray walls of the church on the great 
 central thoroughfare, and, quick and tremulous 
 as a swallow s wing, half smothered for a mo 
 ment the light of the Gothic windows. Pretty 
 girls wreathing the chancel with flowers, looked 
 anxious at the ominous obscurity, and smiled 
 when the shadows lifted. The wedding-bell of 
 flowers, deftly hung in the green arch, occa 
 sionally swung lightly to and fro in a gust of 
 wind that swept down the aisles. Then, when 
 the pretty girls had finished their pleasant 
 task, and at the door turned from a last linger 
 ing look at the artistic result to a view of low 
 ering clouds without, many shrugs and " ahs !" 
 and " ohs !" filled up a measure of regret. 
 
136 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Darker grew the clouds even to the mo 
 mentous hour which was to usher in the bridal 
 train. The big clock at the Jesuit Fathers 
 not far away sounded the hour clearly and 
 distinctly. There was a rush for good places 
 of observation in the aristocratic church, and 
 many unbidden guests gloried in the finest 
 gallery seats. From that point came the sound 
 of movements somewhat restless, and a mur 
 mur of voices very pronounced ; but this lack 
 of decorum was counterbalanced by the re 
 pose of mien which characterized those in the 
 body of the church. There was a flutter of 
 fans, the nodding of plumed bonnets, and then 
 the grand swell of the organ. 
 
 Close by the door stood old Celine, tall, 
 slender, impassive, her turbaned head bent in 
 an attitude of attention, her great circular gold 
 earrings gleaming against her swarthy skin 
 and vibrating with every breath of the form 
 otherwise so still. 
 
 The not too well repressed buzz of excite 
 ment increased for a moment. 
 
 A crowd upon the banquet watched a line 
 of carriages come and depart, until one, more 
 important than all the rest, became an object 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 137 
 
 of interest. It swept up and stopped. One 
 heard the click of the open door, and then its 
 heavy closing. 
 
 " Ah !" The accent of consternation was 
 distinct, as a heavy shower of raindrops fell 
 and dispersed the lookers-on, but not before 
 they had caught glimpses of snow-white dra 
 peries and the flash of jewels, and they were 
 satisfied. A pause within the darker vesti 
 bule, and then full upon the bride streamed 
 the lights of aisle and chancel. 
 
 Old Celine bent forward eagerly. There 
 stole over her face a sudden, strange look of 
 awe ; for upon the veil which fell in soft folds 
 to the hem of the bridal robe, were two or 
 three great drops like shining tears. 
 
 " De good Marster knows," whispered she, 
 and once more her dark face resumed its calm 
 immobility. 
 
 A crescendo of the grand wedding-march 
 preceded the solemn hush when the minister 
 uplifted his voice. No response came to the 
 grand charge which rolled sonorously from 
 his lips ; but far back against the wall the old 
 negress stood with folded arms, and shook 
 her head slowly from right to left and from 
 
138 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 left to right, until the great earrings trembled 
 and shone like circles of fire. 
 
 Late into the night the garden district 
 echoed to the roll of carriages. Inside one 
 brilliantly illumined house the murmur of con 
 gratulations rose, mingled with an undercur 
 rent of remark, sometimes clear and unre 
 served, sometimes whispered low, and made 
 more impressive by the pantomimic move 
 ment of shoulder and brow. 
 
 Never had society made a finer display, ex 
 cept, perhaps, in the memory of the gracious 
 Creole matron, who recalled assemblages un 
 surpassed in the spirit of gallantry and unique 
 in deportment. Miss Murray, smiling encour 
 agingly into the face of her junior escort, left 
 an impression of youthfulness which made one 
 doubt the accuracy of statements which par 
 ticularized the number of seasons which had 
 passed over her blond beauty. Within an 
 open door- way posed the tall, impecunious 
 young gentleman who had been heard to de 
 clare that society cost him nothing beyond the 
 new collar in which he invariably appeared 
 out of compliment to those who invited him 
 to dinner, concert, or ball. The fatality which 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 139 
 
 had always attended his efforts to establish 
 himself matrimonially, seemed greater by way 
 of contrast to the wonderful success of one 
 whom he regarded as no more meritorious 
 than himself. His unlimited assurance ena 
 bled him to confront resignedly some half a 
 dozen reminders of his failures, but another s 
 success caused him a pang. 
 
 One would not be likely to overlook among 
 all the guests John Morant s warmest friend, 
 Dr, Ed. Dickson. His handsome face and 
 polished manners induced many to forget the 
 erratic ideas with which he was beginning to 
 be credited ; though it was hard for acknowl 
 edged beauties to forgive the persistency with 
 which he made himself agreeable to a gentle 
 girl who looked out from a shadowy corner 
 of the beautiful rooms with glances which be 
 trayed an experience less varied and extensive 
 than Miss Murray s. 
 
 In a snug recess a group of three elderly 
 gentlemen seemed to have become oblivious 
 of the gayety on every side, and, incidental to 
 this, one heard the kindly tones of Major Mo- 
 rant, the mocking laugh of Mr. Burton, and 
 the vehement assertion of Mr. Byrne. 
 
140 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " The world will not go all wrong because 
 a few enthusiasts do." 
 
 " Byrne rests his hopes with the feminine 
 element." 
 
 " I do. When it comes to sustaining every 
 honorable tradition of our race, we may rely 
 upon woman. She is the great conservator 
 of man s wisdom. When he shall have broken 
 down every barrier which the accumulated ex 
 perience of years has erected to preserve a 
 people from degeneracy, you will find her hold 
 ing with blind instinct to the mighty restrain 
 ing influences of the past." 
 
 The young girl in white, passing at that 
 moment, comprehended nothing of the old 
 man s speech, the echo only of the last sen 
 tence reached her ; but something in its tone 
 stirred her and brought a sweet smile and dim 
 ples into view, which even Miss Murray would 
 have acknowledged were pleasant to see. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 141 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN the old house down-town, Miss Isabel sat 
 and sighed more deeply than ever. She had 
 desired a brilliant marriage for her brother, 
 but she had not counted upon the weakening 
 of old ties in the strengthening of new ones. 
 
 Visits to the beautiful new home up-town 
 brought her no serenity. John s new-found 
 happiness, in which sisterly love and affection 
 had little share, could not be witnessed with 
 out a jealous pang. The old name was once 
 more influential, but its glory was circum 
 scribed. In the days gone by, each member 
 of the old family, even to the remotest kins 
 man, had gained consideration in the light of 
 its prosperity ; but the world somehow seemed 
 to have narrowed the limits of family influ 
 ence since that time. Miss Isabel lost some 
 illusions, and found she had dreamed some ro 
 mantic dreams of a revival which was never 
 to be realized. Externals had been of second 
 ary consideration while she had been filled 
 
142 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 with the importance of her inner life. Her 
 dreams and aspirations had overshadowed the 
 poverty of her surroundings. The moment 
 ous event of the wedding disturbed the pla 
 cidity of her musings. No little maid of six 
 teen could have conjured up a more brilliant 
 picture of social triumph than did Miss Isabel 
 as she tenderly patted the thin locks about 
 her temples, and smoothed out her unusual 
 flounces preparatory to re-entering the world 
 upon that occasion. She went forth with the 
 elevating consciousness of the finer clay of 
 which she was fashioned, and rejoicing in the 
 very superior quality of it. She returned with 
 a sense of failure in the general purpose of 
 her existence. One fact impressed itself upon 
 her. She had not slipped quietly away from 
 the world, as she had supposed, just for a lit 
 tle while, but it had slipped quietly away from 
 her. She belonged to the past. The fossil 
 izing process had already begun, and she was 
 taking her place in a historic period. 
 
 As she mingled with the unaccustomed 
 crowd, her sense of remoteness increased with 
 each new addition to the throng. She shrank 
 visibly from those who offered congratulations 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 143 
 
 in high-pitched voices that grated on her ear. 
 She looked in vain for the old-time courteous 
 deference of men towards the gentler sex. 
 High-bred, modest demeanor counted as noth 
 ing in an assemblage whose vim and energy 
 confused her. Instinct, education, tempera 
 ment, were all at variance with the universal 
 " go " of this new world. In the utter revolu 
 tion of thought and manners, the actuating 
 principle appeared to be a determination to 
 grasp the substance of things unmindful of 
 forms. 
 
 The very types of beauty which Miss Isabel 
 had once admired had disappeared. The slen 
 der, delicate faces, framed by bands of dark, 
 satiny hair, and soft, bright eyes shining over 
 the tips of feathered fans, in the absolute cer 
 tainty of their modest attractiveness, were no 
 longer to be seen. The observer s eye was 
 arrested by color rather than outline or ex 
 pression. There were heads crowned by 
 strange golden -colored hair, massed in won 
 derful fashion to catch every glimmer of light 
 upon the metallic-looking strands, and brill- 
 iant-hued complexions that were climatic sole 
 cisms. 
 
144 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Nothing was familiar. Nothing? When 
 her eyes were weary and her heart still wearier 
 of the unwontedness of it all, when she had 
 secured a secluded corner towards which she 
 had gravitated from the beginning, some one 
 came and sat down quietly beside her. Miss 
 Isabel had always looked upon Mr. Byrne as 
 a very aged man, separated from her interest 
 by an infinitude of years. She wondered why 
 their number seemed suddenly to have dimin 
 ished. He was old and wrinkled, and his 
 nervous hands caressed a cheek as leathery 
 as a mummified Egyptian s; but he was near 
 er her ideal world than the bustling youth 
 about her, and she beamed upon him in a way 
 that sent a warm glow to the old bachelor s 
 heart. 
 
 In the circumstances which had hitherto 
 surrounded her, there had never been any rea 
 son why Mr. Byrne should have made any 
 thing more than a slight effort to greet her 
 kindly. It occurred to him as he saw her sit 
 ting apart, the very mildest-looking of wall 
 flowers, that some small attention was due to 
 the daughter of his old friend, and he ad 
 vanced grimly to the duty. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 145 
 
 Her glance aroused a responsive enthusiasm 
 astonishing to himself. He did a thing which, 
 when he afterwards reflected upon it, filled 
 him with profound amazement. He chatted 
 with Miss Isabel the greater part of the even 
 ing, and found it interesting. As for Miss 
 Isabel, she rallied for a while from her deep 
 dejection, under the inspiring realization that 
 the latent power of fascination, of which every 
 woman holds herself possessed, had promptly 
 developed itself, even though in a very curious 
 direction ; but still she went home in a very 
 melancholy mood. 
 
 The old quiet ways became unendurable, 
 because they were robbed of the dreams which 
 had brightened them. The house was a ter 
 rible solitude. In silent dismay Celine watched 
 her mistress wander about like some disturbed 
 spirit. Restlessness grew with the advancing 
 days. 
 
 One morning the woman in the green-and- 
 white cottage over the way was astounded to 
 see all the shutters of the old Morant house 
 thrown open, and God s sunshine entering of 
 its own free will. She could see this much, 
 but she could not follow the bright beam be- 
 10 
 
146 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 yond the window ledges, and see it creeping 
 very softly at first, as if afraid of a chilly wel 
 come, and then more confidently, until it fairly 
 rioted upon the mouldy walls and moth-eaten 
 .carpets. 
 
 Miss Isabel shuddered a little at its intensi 
 ty, and then her mild face settled into a per 
 ceptibly determined expression, as if she were 
 saying to herself, " It has come in and it shall 
 stay." 
 
 The unusual illumination waked Major Mo- 
 rant from a doze in his old arm-chair. 
 
 " Bless me, my child !" he exclaimed, " what 
 are you doing? Isn t it very imprudent to 
 open the windows and let in so much air? 
 We will all be sick." 
 
 " I think not, papa. Why should we be 
 shut up with mould and damp and mildew? 
 Others let in the sunshine, why not we ?" 
 
 He looked at her helplessly. "Why, my 
 daughter, we have been very well and happy 
 in the old way, haven t we ?" 
 
 She hesitated a moment, and then respond 
 ed cheerily, " Yes, papa, but we are going to 
 improve upon it." 
 
 There was no help for it. The major rec- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 147 
 
 ognized the development of a new force in his 
 meek daughter, and permitted himself to be 
 led accordingly. She quieted his fears and 
 moved him out of the draughts. 
 
 The bright sunshine stirred her as it had 
 never done before. As she paused thought 
 fully in its shining pathway it prompted her 
 to an unusual proceeding. She turned sud 
 denly and stole timidly up-stairs, as if the very 
 walls had power to rebuke her. She came 
 down again bonneted and gloved for a walk. 
 Her head-gear was ordinarily unobtrusive, the 
 strings of her small bonnet always tied with 
 dainty care under the very centre of the one 
 dimple in her face which time would always 
 spare her. Something, however, had given an 
 air of self-assertion to a certain butterfly-bow 
 set on the very top of this bonnet, whose 
 forked ends caught the breeze and fluttered 
 out defiantly. One looking at it would have 
 said that its possessor could be very daring if 
 convinced of the necessity of progress. 
 
 The object of Miss Isabel s expedition did 
 not seem at first to be specially defined in her 
 own mind, for she paused occasionally as if in 
 doubt. There was a flush of excitement upon 
 
148 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 her cheek, and a trembling smile hovered 
 about the tightly compressed lips. 
 
 At last she moved on resolutely. Her way 
 was certainly clear before her. She passed 
 street after street, then an untended square, 
 dark, cool, and full of shadowy resting-places 
 under the trees, a broken, rusty, iron fence 
 shutting out the trespassers who never came 
 to disturb its repose. 
 
 Beyond the square the streets became nar 
 rower and more crooked, one especially, reach 
 ing a certain point, curved away to the left for 
 the distance of three or more lots, before it 
 continued on its first course. The central 
 house in the curve was taller than its neigh 
 bors, and had the air of leaning with the street 
 as it swept away from it. In fact the house 
 had made such an effort to go with the street 
 that it had quite parted company with the 
 door-step, which still held its ground inviting 
 ly firm, notwithstanding the yawning crevice 
 above it. The step was as clean as a scrub 
 bing with yellow ochre could make it, and 
 moist bits here and there attested that the 
 work upon it had been recent. 
 
 The new washed walls and general air of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 149 
 
 smartness encouraged the belief that the out 
 side world was of more importance to its in 
 mates than to those of less pretentious houses 
 adjoining it. Curtains of white embroidered 
 muslin, with ruffles fluted in most approved 
 style, hung over the half -sash doors, while 
 across the wooden shutter swung back to dis 
 close them was a square of tin painted black. 
 On this, in white letters, Miss Isabel saw a 
 name and an announcement of profession 
 
 CLEMENCE. 
 
 COIFFEUSE. 
 
 It was what she had been looking for, and 
 now, standing before it, she half repented her 
 coming. 
 
 As insignificant as is the sum demanded 
 for a daily attendance, and as necessary as the 
 hair- dresser is to the average Creole gentle 
 woman, never since her far-off youth had Miss 
 Isabel dared to indulge in the services of one ; 
 but now with the memory of the marvellous 
 heads which the fashion ruled should impress 
 the beholder, the economic instincts of years 
 
I5O TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 failed to check the rising desire to imitate 
 them. 
 
 There was no bell visible, so Miss Isabel 
 tapped gently at the door. It was immediate 
 ly opened by a genteel-looking woman one 
 might say a uniformly black woman, for there 
 was no difference of hue, scarcely a difference 
 of shade between her ebony face and the deep 
 mourning garments she wore. Miss Isabel 
 hesitated a moment, but the woman opened 
 the door very wide, and so inviting was the 
 interior that she entered at once. 
 
 There was fresh matting on the floor ; a rug 
 representing a hunting scene, in which my 
 lady s snow-white steed appeared somewhat 
 aged, but evidently well taken care of; a good 
 broad mirror, with a shelf before it, on which 
 were combs, hair-pins of every length and 
 shape, toilet -waters, and good smelling pow 
 ders ; and in front of that a pleasant chair, pro 
 tected by an immaculate apron tied behind its 
 back. 
 
 " Is this Clemence ?" inquired Miss Isabel, 
 in French. 
 
 Replying with most excellent accent, the 
 woman declared that mademoiselle had called 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 151 
 
 her by her proper name, and she would be 
 happy to wait upon her. 
 
 " You have been recommended to me as an 
 excellent hair-dresser," said Miss Isabel. 
 
 " Does mademoiselle wish to try me this 
 morning?" asked the woman. 
 
 Miss Isabel replied in the affirmative, and 
 almost before she could realize it her bonnet 
 with its daring bow was laid aside, and with 
 it went some of her self-assertion. She felt 
 now that she would be as wax in the hands 
 prepared to renew her youth. 
 
 " You are just in time, mademoiselle. I go 
 soon to one of my ladies, but I will comb you 
 nicely." 
 
 " You are much employed, I suppose ?" said 
 Miss Isabel.. 
 
 " Yes, mademoiselle ; I have ladies all over 
 the city, up - town and down - town, who will 
 have no one to comb them but me." 
 
 " Do you speak English as well as French ?" 
 
 "Yes. miss," she answered, dropping at once 
 into that language, and speaking with equally 
 good accent. " My madam gave me good ad 
 vantages. It is for her that I wear black. She 
 had me taught my trade, and I travelled with 
 
152 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 her very much. We were in London and in 
 Paris for a long time." 
 
 " You are very expert," said Miss Isabel, ad 
 miring the ease and even grace with which 
 she performed her task. The hands which 
 twisted and turned and pinned the dark hair 
 were small and well modelled, though as black 
 as flesh could possibly be. 
 
 " Yes, miss ; I minded well, and people al 
 ways get along if they mind what they are 
 about. But I was lucky, too, for my madam 
 was a fine lady. My husband, he came from 
 Virginia, miss, and knows a great deal, if he 
 is black blacker than I am, if you can believe 
 that. He thinks I know how to work, and he 
 often tells me he does, indeed, miss Clem- 
 ence, you ve had a heap of advantages, and it 
 all comes of belonging to quality people. To 
 tell you the truth, miss, I never comb for any 
 one else. I know them as soon as I see them." 
 Pausing in the progress of rolling a thin lock 
 into a puff of extraordinary dimensions, the 
 woman continued, with a smile which showed 
 a row of teeth like porcelain, 
 
 " Mademoiselle should let me do this for 
 her always. She looks handsome like that," 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 53 
 
 and she pointed to a reflection in the mirror 
 where Miss Isabel appeared so like the won 
 derful women of the new regime that her heart 
 gave a great throb of pleasure and of pain. 
 She could not resist the impression of loss as 
 well as gain. For years she had confided her 
 troubles to the reflection of a meek, demure, 
 gentle face, with well-brushed bandeaux hold 
 ing rigidly in check the ears which heard noth 
 ing of the outside world or of the prodigious 
 freedom in store for her sex, and now it was 
 gone. It was a companion which she had lost. 
 The gain was something marvellous. The 
 bandeaux had been lifted, two light wings 
 seemed to have been added just over the great 
 organs of causality, and Miss Isabel was in 
 clined to believe that she was prepared for a 
 great flight from all trouble, rather than for 
 any daily conference with it. The woman s 
 flattery, too, gave her a sense of lightness. It 
 was long since she had been told that she was 
 handsome but it was evident to her own eyes 
 that under Clemence s deft fingers she had 
 grown younger and handsomer. She rose 
 from the chair thoroughly satisfied with her 
 self and Clemence. 
 
154 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 She did not at once direct her steps towards 
 home, but following the street as it turned 
 away from the hair-dresser s, walked some dis 
 tance, stopping at last before a green gate set 
 in high white palings. A small grating just 
 above an old-fashioned knocker enabled her 
 to see into the flower-garden beyond. , A net 
 work of vines fringed the upper edge of the 
 fence, and ran luxuriantly over the arch of the 
 gate-way. A little bell tinkled as the green 
 gate yielded to her touch, and an odor of fresh 
 cut flowers came floating out with the current 
 of air that passed through the open way. 
 
 The flowers were there in all their delicious 
 dewiness. Upon benches either side of a long 
 arbor were baskets full of roses, half hidden 
 in a mass of sheltering foliage. These were 
 flanked by huge tied structures, meaningless 
 in their placid, full-blown rotundity, but help 
 ing to fill the air with delicate perfume. There 
 were beds of damp gray moss for violets, and 
 all the small, frail things that exhale a fra 
 grance. 
 
 At the end of the arbor sat the presiding 
 genius of all this loveliness a decrepit old 
 woman, whose feeble hands shook with nerv- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 55 
 
 ousness as she sorted the sweet-smelling blos 
 soms. She hailed her coming customer with 
 a nod of satisfaction, and a smile that would 
 have done credit to an arch coquette. 
 
 " Make your choice, mademoiselle. They 
 are all fresh and fine." 
 
 Miss Isabel walked softly among the flow 
 ers, inhaling with delight this pure, sweet 
 breath of Nature. She found it difficult to 
 make a selection among all the beauties that 
 smiled up at her, and with the shrewd old 
 woman at her side prompting and encourag 
 ing every fancy, it was no wonder she left the 
 garden with full hands. The few people she 
 met gazed at her lovely burden, but there 
 were no looks of curiosity to annoy her. 
 Theirs was a religion of flowers, and the bear 
 er of them a supposed votary to some shrine 
 of the Holy Mother. She stopped once on 
 her way home at a place where small varieties 
 were sold. A rabais shop, the people around 
 would have called it. 
 
 " It is mademoiselle s fete n est-ce-pas ?" said 
 the dark-eyed, slender shop-girl, as she neat 
 ly wrapped the purchase and cast admiring 
 glances at the flowers. 
 
156 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " No," responded Miss Isabel, with some 
 asperity, as she hurried away. Fete days had 
 not been remembered with her for many a 
 season. Her heart smote her for being cross 
 at such a trifle, but how could she help being 
 sensitive to a suggestion which is never pleas 
 ant to any woman whose years have begun to 
 be numbered by decades, with additional nu 
 merals. 
 
 The day was in its fullest splendor when 
 she reached home, and fatigue overpowered 
 her. It was not until some hours later that 
 she rose to the fulfilment of the purpose which 
 had fixed itself in her mind. 
 
 She decorated the parlors. Flowers here, 
 flowers there, flowers everywhere. When her 
 work was completed, it was droll enough to 
 see the change in the rooms. 
 
 " Missy done gone crezzie, fo true," was 
 Celine s muttered comment. 
 
 That opinion would have been strength 
 ened if she had followed Miss Isabel to her 
 own room and witnessed her untie with trem 
 bling fingers the little package brought from 
 the rabais shop. There was first a yellow 
 wrapper to be taken off, then a soft covering 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 157 
 
 of white tissue-paper, and then a rosy-tinted 
 something unfolded itself. 
 
 It was a pink necktie ! 
 
 Against Miss Isabel s dark, sallow face it 
 was frightful ; but this did not disturb her as 
 she complacently tied it, and arranged the 
 flowing ends exactly to balance each other 
 either side of a prim bow. It is doubtful if 
 the question of its becomingness entered her 
 mind at all. She had formulated her dreams 
 according to new light and the new philoso 
 phy, and it was in harmony with the departure 
 she had taken. She was well satisfied with 
 the effect. 
 
 In the parlor, swept and garnished as it had 
 not been for years, she took her seat and be 
 gan weaving anew the web of her life. She 
 was like nothing so much as a small domestic 
 spider waiting the unwary fly. It was a strange 
 coincidence, but that evening at precisely half- 
 past seven o clock there came a knock at the 
 front door which startled Celine. There was 
 a familiar sound in the rap which made her 
 pause a moment to run over in her mind the 
 days of the week, and finally to go to the door 
 
158 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 with a confused sense of disorder in the re 
 lation of events. 
 
 She ushered in Mr. Byrne. 
 
 At this moment Miss Isabel s face vied in 
 depth of color with her necktie. Mr. Byrne s 
 expressed a corresponding embarrassment 
 seeing which, Miss Isabel smiled serenely, and 
 taking her seat at a limited distance, contin 
 ued to weave her little web. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 159 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 RUINED cabins, broken fences, and untilled 
 fields were the prevailing features of the once 
 beautiful and flourishing plantation owned by 
 the Morants. The dwelling- house, with its 
 broad, sloping- roofed galleries, had offered a 
 brave resistance to weather and water; for 
 the overflow of the great river had deluged it 
 more than once, leaving its sign in the high- 
 water marks upon its walls. About the house 
 were acres of Bermuda grass, whose rank lux 
 uriance overmastered every other growth, and 
 formed a thick carpet of verdure even under 
 the shade of the huge live-oaks and pecans 
 which held their own against time and acci 
 dent. The grass grew green to the very edge 
 of the bayou in front, whose low banks were 
 bordered by a hedge-like growth of graceful, 
 bending willows. A short distance below, the 
 bayou widened out into a small lake, which 
 was covered by the broad leaves of a species 
 q^ water-lily, whose seed-vessels contained a 
 
l6o TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 nut upon which in the fall and early winter 
 countless thousands of wild -ducks came to 
 feed. 
 
 To the right of the dwelling stood the old 
 quarters, two long rows of cabins fast falling 
 into decay. A few of these were occupied by 
 negroes, whose local attachment had been 
 strong enough to hold them to the old place 
 through every vicissitude. 
 
 This little band of laborers, living from 
 hand to mouth, produced in a thriftless sort 
 of way from the genial soil enough to satisfy 
 the present need, and left the future to take 
 care of itself. 
 
 The patriarch of this flock was Uncle Dan l, 
 an aged negro, whose right to rule was never 
 disputed by the younger men and women. 
 He held them in subjection by the exercise of 
 supreme ecclesiastical power. A character of 
 this kind belongs to every ebony-faced com 
 munity. His importance is in proportion to 
 his ability to stimulate religious frenzy. Once 
 established as the fountain-head of it, his in 
 fluence is boundless, his authority unques 
 tioned, and his conduct privileged from error. 
 
 In days gone by, an aristocratic distinction 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. l6l 
 
 separated certain families upon the place. Vir 
 ginia negroes, who came by inheritance from 
 one branch of the Morants, held themselves 
 superior to the South Carolina connection, 
 and infinitely so to the few French Creole, or 
 "gumbo niggers," as they were contemptu 
 ously called, who had been brought from the 
 southern part of the State. A marked differ 
 ence was discernible in the manners and dia 
 lect of each, and the greater excellence cer 
 tainly rested with those from old Virginia. 
 The South Carolina negro had long since 
 gone in search of new fields, the Creole negro 
 had sought his Mecca, the Crescent City, but 
 the Virginia element clung to the old planta 
 tion. 
 
 The conservative spirit of the Old Domin 
 ion thoroughly influenced their fate, and they 
 failed to take advantage of their freedom to em 
 igrate, preferring rather to suffer want at the 
 old hearth-stone than to enjoy fulness in exile. 
 
 It was with some misgivings that Uncle 
 Dan l received the intelligence that a change 
 was to come upon the existing order of things, 
 that the place was to be planted upon the old 
 extended scale, 
 ii 
 
1 62 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " I doesn t keer to g way f m de ole place," 
 said the old darkey to himself; "but dey 
 mightn t like my way ur doin things." And 
 the thought of any abdication of his dictator 
 ship made him shake his head despondently ; 
 but for reasons of state he suppressed his fears 
 and conveyed to his hearers in his very next 
 sermon the hope that the millennium was near 
 at hand. He rolled his eyes and smacked his 
 lips as if tasting the promised sweets when he 
 gave out the hymn 
 
 " Dar rocks an brooks an hills an dales 
 Wid milk an honey flow," 
 
 and he promised the most bewildering results 
 to those who were, like himself, " Jest gwine 
 ter put dere shoulder to de wheel an holpe 
 to git dar." 
 
 " Sho !" said Aunt Priscilla, his better half, 
 with a sniff of contempt so pronounced that 
 it scandalized the whole meeting. 
 
 Uncle Dan l looked meekly at the offender, 
 and prayed " Dat all po sinners might have 
 er hang-down head an er confuse min ." 
 
 " Br er Dan l is a mi ty pow ful preacher," 
 said one of the members of his flock; "but 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 163 
 
 yer nebber knows when to pend on Sis Silla. 
 Like as not she s gwine to git huffy an spile 
 de whole meetin . Tain t so mi ty long ago 
 sence we wuz down to B ar Lake tracted 
 meetin , jes gittin our speretual stren th ro- 
 newed, an things wuz goin on mi ty fine. 
 Dar wuz Br er Dan l an de rest er de preach 
 ers in de pulpit, an de singin wuz good, fo 
 true. Br er Dan l kin beat de worl a linin dat 
 good ole hime, 
 
 "Here s all my fader s chillern, 
 
 Jerusalem in de mornin , 
 Agoin home to glory, 
 
 Je-ru-sa-lem in de morninV 
 
 Well, all de sisters wuz er rockin an er moan- 
 in when sum un axed Br er Big William to 
 give in his spe yunce. Yo know he s mi ty 
 pow ful, too, when he gits warmed up, but he s 
 hard to git agoin . He lowed his spe yunce 
 wasn t wuf much, but sich as it wuz dey wuz 
 welcome to it, an den he talked an he talked 
 about his ups an his downs an er strivin s 
 wid de sperit till Sis Silla gin to git tired, an 
 she up an sez right out in de meetin , 
 
 " God knows, Br er Big William, yo mouf 
 
164 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 orter be glad when yo eyes go to sleep. 
 Br er Big William ain t mealy-mouthed when 
 he gits cited, an he jes tole de ole oman to 
 shet up. At dat yo orter seen Sis Silla. She 
 jes riz up an rared. She lowed dat dat wasn t 
 no sorter ligion, an made sich a racket dat 
 dey come mi ty nigh turnin Br er Big William 
 outen de s iety jes to paserfy de ole oman. 
 
 " I tell yo , man, ef dey lef de ole oman 
 alone, de s iety ud bust up, sho ! Dar wouldn t 
 be a patchin lef ; but Br er Dan l kin manage 
 her, dat s er fac . Pears like dat ole man kin 
 manage anybody." 
 
 " Yes, dat s de blessed truf , but he knows 
 better an to argify wid Sis Silla. He ! he ! 
 he!" 
 
 " What yo laffin bout ?" 
 
 " De way dat ole man manages Sis Silla." 
 
 "How s dat?" 
 
 " Yo see Sis Silla is smart enuf with her 
 tongue, but de ole man never sasses her back. 
 He jes gits down an prays till de ole oman 
 is werried out an gins up. I ain t nebber seen 
 de old man git de wust uv it yet." 
 
 " But what s dat about sum un comin to 
 wo k de ole place ag in ?" 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 165 
 
 " Jes sum er Br er DanTs talk, I reckin. 
 I ain t gwine to sturb myself bout nuffin tell 
 it comes. Hear me ?" 
 
 Uncle DanTs information proved correct. 
 
 Prompted by his father s desire and his own 
 inclination, John Morant had decided to un 
 dertake the restoration of planting interests 
 which, with proper care, might be made to 
 yield a handsome revenue. Accompanied by 
 his wife he made a visit of inspection to the 
 plantation. The few happy months of his 
 marriage had been full of honey-moon, sweet 
 ness, and they both looked forward with pleas 
 ure to the " camping-out," as they termed it, 
 upon the old place with much pleasure. 
 
 It was Uncle Dan l who received them upon 
 their arrival with the respectful salutation 
 which he had learned in his youth, w Sarvent, 
 marster ; sarvent, mistiss ;" while to two ter 
 ror-stricken boys, who bobbed up from some 
 where, he muttered, 
 
 " Tears like yo can t larn no manners dese 
 days. I ll lay I ll warm yo ef I ketches yo y 
 roun agin !" 
 
 The two urchins tumbled frantically over 
 each other in their haste to join a group of 
 
1 66 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 less bold and grinning companions who were 
 bowing, scraping their feet, and mimicking 
 Uncle Dan l s every movement. Encouraged 
 by Bamma s smile and John s evident amuse 
 ment, they crowded around to say " How 
 dy ?" and were dispersed only by the moving 
 off of the carriage, to which the two boys, 
 Gabe and Johnson, clung with uproarious de 
 light. 
 
 Both the practical and the sentimental sides 
 of John s nature received a shock when he 
 first saw the old place. War had devastated 
 it, and the rich, productive soil had avenged 
 its subsequent abandonment in thickets and 
 undergrowth, which inclined one to doubt that 
 it had ever been reclaimed from primeval wild- 
 ness. Much of his happy childhood had been 
 passed there, and yet he could identify little 
 associated with it. 
 
 " I could almost wish," he said, as he real 
 ized its unfamiliarity, " that I had never re 
 turned to the spot. The growing up out of 
 illusions is not always pleasurable. All my 
 boyish impressions seem to have been mon 
 strous exaggerations. Fancy me as a little 
 fellow sitting on those steps, believing with 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 67 
 
 implicit faith that heaven was just on the 
 other side of the willows, and that the world 
 was bounded by the horizon which they 
 touched. My views have broadened since 
 then, but my faith in them has grown weak 
 er, and nothing has ever been quite so satis 
 factory and pleasing as my narrow world and 
 impossible heaven." 
 
 " It is fortunate, then," said Bamma, " that I 
 remember little of my childhood." 
 
 " You do not ! How is that ?" 
 
 " Another result of papa s love of travel. I 
 received so many different impressions that 
 each effaced the other, and I remember noth 
 ing very clearly." 
 
 " Then your first distinct recollection must 
 have been of something very superior in spirit 
 and matter." 
 
 "You could never guess it," said Bamma, 
 laughing merrily. " It was so eminently fem 
 
 inine." 
 
 " You excite my curiosity." 
 
 " I must tell you, then, even if I disappoint 
 your expectations. It was a bead bracelet, 
 given me on one of my birthdays." 
 
 " Oh, the barrenness of all theories ! You 
 
1 68 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 must confess your world was narrower than 
 mine." 
 
 " I would certainly acknowledge it if my 
 interest had been limited to the adornment 
 of my small self, but my bracelet was an amu 
 let, and held a history which made it charm- 
 ing." 
 
 " Ah, you went early into the broad field of 
 romance, and now I can trace your supersti 
 tious fancies. Congratulate yourself that you 
 will never be brought face to face with any 
 pitiful disappointments regarding them, but 
 rather be happy in having them fall away from 
 you. But see," continued he, pointing to one 
 solitary willow on the bayou bank, whose 
 branches swayed and dipped into the water 
 with the regularity of a pulse-beat, " there is 
 one object which seems never to have changed 
 since my childhood. As far back as I can re 
 member, that old tree has marked time upon 
 the bayou." 
 
 And as it was the single instance within 
 reach of his vision which brought back vivid 
 ly his childish years, it crowded his mind with 
 boyish reminiscences. There was the particu 
 lar spot where he had tied his small boat; just 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 169 
 
 on the other side of the dark, rippling furrow 
 made by one submerged limb, he had cast his 
 first hook and line ; from a certain sheltering 
 branch he had fired his first shot, and heard 
 breathlessly the whir of wings which told his 
 game. He turned at last from a contempla 
 tion of it, and protested with a half-drawn sigh 
 against the times and circumstance which had 
 dealt unmercifully with the old place. There 
 was a herculean task before him. The wreck 
 of the place seemed more complete with each 
 new observation. Would he be able to solve 
 the new labor problem and concentrate its 
 forces effectively upon the barren fields ? With 
 the devotion of all his energies to the task, 
 would he ever be able to bring order out of 
 chaos, and take the place of the princely land 
 ed proprietor of his boyish dreams ? Adverse 
 contingencies persistently loomed up, to be 
 thrust aside with the hopefulness of youth and 
 its indomitable will. Spectral disasters ap 
 peared and disappeared lightly before his vis 
 ion, and finally took flight forever before the 
 courage which met them. 
 
 He accomplished much in a limited time, 
 and some of his boyish lightness of heart 
 
1 70 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 returned to him when what seemed almost 
 insurmountable obstacles cleared themselves 
 away or became easy to overcome. 
 
 If he had suffered a shock at the unfavora- 
 bleness of his first impressions, his confidence 
 in eventual improvement was stimulated by 
 the good results which soon came to be visi 
 ble from his efforts. 
 
 Never did the world seem so broad and fair 
 as in the early days of that memorable return 
 to the old plantation. He drifted towards an 
 enchanting egoism which his domestic rela 
 tions were well calculated to promote. Bam- 
 ma belonged to no very self-sacrificing type 
 of woman, but she possessed in an eminent 
 degree the faculty of secluding her personality; 
 and if John Morant s nature had been less 
 generous, she might have transformed him 
 into the most selfish of men, so thoroughly 
 did she conform to all his tastes and desires. 
 As it was, he delighted in the agreeable sense 
 of importance and suggestions of supremacy 
 which her soft flatteries induced. Appealing 
 to his tenderness, making no demands intel- 
 lectively, she owned the thoroughly distinctive 
 charm which most quickly subdues and long- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF, 
 
 est holds possession of a man s interest and 
 affection. 
 
 It was a perfect hour of his life when, at 
 the close of the day, he went out upon the 
 open gallery, and drawing his wife close to his 
 side, watched the calm moon rise and shed 
 her light upon the waste places. The silvery 
 radiance touching the willows made them 
 seem once more the borders of a delectable 
 land. Dark, velvety shadows danced upon 
 the waters of the sluggish bayou, and lost 
 themselves among the water-lilies, while the 
 broad fields seemed less wild under its mild, 
 soft beams, and stretching away in the dis 
 tance, melted into the far off forest line, 
 
172 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AUNT PRISCILLA, as cook and general man 
 ager of the household, did credit to her early 
 training. For her assistants she chose Uncle 
 Dan l and the two boys Gabe and Johnson. 
 It took the combined efforts of all to spread 
 the table for the morning meal. So unusual 
 
 o 
 
 an event deserved the greatest consideration, 
 and the responsibility almost drove Aunt Pris- 
 cilla frantic. The sudden promotion to a post 
 of honor was too much for the flighty heads 
 of the boys, and they developed an irresistible 
 tendency to acts of legerdemain. A dexter 
 ous movement on the part of Gabe caused the 
 disappearance of a tempting biscuit. Two 
 skilful passes of the hand supplied Johnson 
 with enough sugar to moderately satisfy his 
 longing for that sweet. Emboldened by so 
 graceful and successful an act, he winked at 
 Gabe and leaned suspiciously over a glass of 
 milk particularly rich with cream, which Aunt 
 Priscilla had deposited with much pride at 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1/3 
 
 the head of the table. A lively clatter and 
 rattle of plates brought Aunt Priscilla down 
 upon him. Perceiving his cheeks distended 
 by some unknown quantity, she gave him a 
 sharp box. Her astonishment at the result 
 was as unmeasured as the grinning delight of 
 Gabe and Johnson. She could only gasp as 
 she wiped the fluid from her face and ample 
 bosom. 
 
 " You two wants killin , for a blessed fact !" 
 
 It was with the greatest difficulty she could 
 get them into a state of respectful silence 
 again. And, after all, they disgraced them 
 selves forever in Uncle Dan l s eyes. He ex 
 plained it to Aunt Priscilla as she was busy 
 frying the batter-cakes : 
 
 " Jes as Mars John and Miss Bamma was 
 er settin down, an I was a pridin myself on 
 how dem boys was goin to member deirselves, 
 Gabe gin a snort an den Johnson sniggered 
 right out, an dey run outen de house an I 
 ain t seen em sence." 
 
 "Well," said Aunt Priscilla, "ef you d hump 
 yo self, dere wouldn t be no use er pendin on 
 dem chillern. It s jes like a nigger, wantin 
 a swarm aroun him. I ll lay dey d git all dey 
 
174 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 wanted in de house ef yo wuz wuf sumpin 
 yo self. Take in dem cakes, will yo , an hush 
 a talkin ." 
 
 " Why, what s I done ?" he said, in amaze 
 ment. Receiving no response save a gut 
 tural interjection, he went in the house, mut 
 tering, " I ll leave de ole oman to sass herself, 
 jes fur to keep her hand in." 
 
 The morning repast proved more appetiz 
 ing than the surroundings would have sug 
 gested. Given a kitchen whose corners have 
 never known a broom invasion, walls festooned 
 with cobwebs that catch the unwary fly, win 
 dows stained and dimmed by time, and gen 
 eral disorder triumphant, and within so un 
 promising a domestic temple an old-time ne 
 gro cook can prepare dainties that will ravish 
 the most fastidious palate. Aunt Priscilla kept 
 the memory of her former culinary triumphs 
 alive by means of what she called her " Beat 
 biscuits." She could never be taxed with the 
 omission of a single ingredient, or the lack of 
 muscular power to bring them to a state of 
 crisp lightness. Her recipe was a simple one. 
 
 " De ingregiums am elbow-grease, dat s all, 
 honey." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 175 
 
 John declared that -the only fault he ever 
 found with them was the impossibility of de 
 termining the regulation number to be con 
 sumed. The old woman s face always glowed 
 with delight at a practical appreciation of her 
 efforts. She took Uncle Dan l to task if he 
 failed to return for fresh supplies, and made 
 it a personal matter when he declared that 
 folks had had enough. 
 
 As John rose from the breakfast-table, he 
 said to Bamma, " Can you amuse yourself in 
 this lonely old place for a whole day ? Uncle 
 Dan l and I are going on a tour of the neigh 
 borhood, and we may be gone until late in the 
 evening. I do not like to leave you alone, but 
 there seems to be no help for it." 
 
 " Do not make yourself at all unhappy about 
 it," said Bamma, " I think I will positively en 
 joy it." 
 
 " What wonderful resources do you depend 
 upon for enjoyments ?" said John, banteringly. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose," she responded, merrily, 
 " that, as a last resort, I can go to sleep." 
 
 John laughed at the words, which suggested 
 one peculiarity of hers which always amused 
 hjm. While able to sustain any tax upon her 
 
176 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 hours of rest, being notably the freshest-look 
 ing little creature at the close of any evening 
 entertainment that one s eye could rest upon, 
 she was always ready, day or night, to close 
 her eyes at a moment s notice in a sleep as 
 profound as that of any little child. 
 
 " I will return as soon as I can," said he, 
 as she followed him to the door and watched 
 with interest the preparations for departure. 
 There was no gallant steed for him to mount 
 and ride away, as in the olden time only a 
 small white mule waiting patiently the day s 
 work. 
 
 " He don look peart," said Uncle Dan l, 
 encouragingly, "but he s de fines little ani- 
 mule in de country." 
 
 John looked doubtfully at the finest, and 
 tested carefully the state of the rope girths 
 which stood between him and a possible fall. 
 Safely mounted at last, he rode off, enjoying 
 Bamma s merriment at his expense, and gaz 
 ing admiringly at the pretty picture she made 
 as she stood framed in the door-way. He fol 
 lowed her laughing eyes till they rested on 
 Uncle Dan l jogging along in the rear. The 
 old man was mounted on a wonderfully tall, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 177 
 
 rawboned mule, which never responded by any 
 sign to his occasional entreaties of " Git along, 
 Mandy !" John signalled his appreciation of 
 the comic aspect of his attendant, and drew 
 rein for his nearer approach. 
 
 " We ought to get over a good deal of 
 ground to-day, Daniel, and I am afraid you 
 haven t a very fast animal. He looks as old 
 as you do." 
 
 " He, he ! Mars John, you s jokin . Why, 
 I se nigh on to five hunderd, an Mandy - 
 well, she s lively yet. Dar s a heap o out 
 come in Mandy. Yo needn t be feared about 
 us. De roads ent so bad along here nuther, 
 an we kin keep along pooty smart." 
 
 The road, though not much travelled, was 
 still distinct, and the ground hard, even, and 
 as smooth as glass. One could not realize 
 that at certain seasons of the year this same 
 ground was almost impassable, that the win 
 ter rains converted it into a soft mass of blue 
 mud, into which one s horse might sink at any 
 moment, with small hope of extricating him 
 self. 
 
 There was no variety in the landscape, only 
 one interminable waste of open land growing 
 
 I 2 
 
i;8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 up into a wilderness again. The prodigality 
 of the soil was apparent on every hand. The 
 deserted fields had decked themselves in a 
 fantastic vesture, which only made their for- 
 lornness more impressive. A deep dejection 
 settled upon John. The spirit of the dead 
 past absorbed him. In the wreck of prosperi 
 ty which lay around him he seemed to see, as 
 in a dream, the sorrowful trials of noble hearts 
 who had gone before him, and he felt once 
 more in his own heart the sadness of the times 
 which had tried their souls. 
 
 Was it all imagination? or did he remember 
 far back in his childish days, when the fields 
 were like a beautiful garden ? Did gangs of 
 busy laborers pass up and down the long rows 
 of blooming cotton, plying deft fingers, and 
 piling the fleecy staple in great baskets that 
 always seemed to overflow their contents ? 
 Did he hear the noise of oars upon the bay 
 ou, and the corn song floating out merrily 
 upon the air? He checked his mule almost 
 in the belief that the melody was still sound 
 ing down through all these years. The gar- 
 rulousness of Uncle Dan l had been lost upon 
 him, but here it asserted itself. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1/9 
 
 " We s nigh de mounds, Mars John. Dar s 
 de ole nabo hood berrin -groun ." 
 
 Looking across the open land, one caught 
 a glimpse of three strange-looking protuber 
 ances above the dead level of the surrounding 
 country. These tumuli were supposed to be 
 the work of an ancient people ; but no anti 
 quarian interest had ever developed their mys 
 teries. They had served to confer a name 
 upon the plantation, and the centre mound, 
 the largest of the three, rising far above the 
 danger of overflow, had been considered a 
 good place of sepulture. Possibly it had 
 served the same purpose in the days of that 
 ancient people of whom nothing was left but 
 these conjectured remains. Many an old ne 
 gro grave-digger turned up with his spade 
 strange pieces of pottery and odd -looking 
 beads, which he laid away with an abiding 
 faith in their power to work charms. 
 
 This place was recalled to John s memory 
 by Uncle Dan l as " Mars Billy Bush s old 
 place." It seemed to open a fresh theme for 
 the old negro s garrulity. " Of course Mars 
 John could not recollect Mars Billy. He died 
 before Mars John was born ; but he was a 
 
ISO TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 mighty fine gentleman. There wasn t any 
 body as grand as he in the whole country. 
 When he died his place was sold to somebody 
 who never came to live on it. The old house 
 was still standing. Nobody ever touched any 
 thing in it, though it was left open all the 
 time, for people said it was haunted caus 
 Mars Billy had killed hisself ; that Mars Billy s 
 spirit sometimes came back and walked around 
 it It was just over there in that clump of 
 trees. If Mars John would like to see it, they 
 could easily go in the house." 
 
 There was something in the thought of see 
 ing a place dominated by the spirit of such a 
 man that aroused John s interest. He turned 
 into a narrow pathway which led up to the 
 house. Mildewed and gray with time, it stood, 
 the crowning desolation of a devastated land. 
 The solemn stillness of desertion was over it 
 all. A sensation almost of cowardice thrilled 
 John as he pushed open the door and printed 
 his feet on the dust -laden floor; but he re 
 covered himself with an amused smile, as he 
 saw the same emotion exaggerated in Uncle 
 Dan l s wrinkled face. 
 
 The furnishing even of a wealthy bachelor s 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. l8l 
 
 establishment in those days was simple in the 
 extreme, and there were no traces here of that 
 luxurious living which had been the wonder 
 and talk of the whole country. The dining- 
 room still retained a few chairs and the plain 
 table around which had gathered hosts of 
 friends to feasts Lucullus might have ap 
 proved. 
 
 The deep baying of deer-hounds had been 
 hushed for over half a century; but trophies 
 of the hunt in the shape of two huge antlers 
 still hung upon the walls. 
 
 Passing out of the dining-room, John en 
 tered an apartment which had evidently been 
 devoted to a library. Careless hands had scat 
 tered the books everywhere. Most of them 
 had been thrown upon the floor. Here the 
 rains of many seasons had beaten in upon 
 them from an unroofed corner of the ceiling, 
 and reduced them to their original pulp. 
 
 Projecting from this mass, John saw in a 
 far corner a bit of wood suggesting the frame 
 of a picture. With the assistance of Uncle 
 Dan l he extricated it. It proved to be an oil 
 portrait, in a tolerably good state of preserva 
 tion, and was recognized immediately by Un- 
 
1 82 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 cle Dan l as " Mars Billy hisself." With deep- 
 est interest John brushed away the greenish 
 mould which had accumulated upon the sur 
 face of the canvas, and placing it in a good 
 light, he sat down before it upon a high, dry 
 portion of the book-heap. 
 
 The touch of the artist s brush had been a 
 skilful one. From a sombre background the 
 face, head, and shoulders of a man of massive 
 proportions stood out in fine relief. There 
 was a gleam of gold upon the red-brown hair 
 and beard. The gray eyes had a half ques 
 tioning, half mocking glance under their heavy, 
 sleepy lids. The nose was Roman, and the 
 artist had faithfully deepened in it the tint of 
 the ruddy complexion. The upper lip was 
 short, the under jaw heavy and projecting. 
 As John studied the face, a strange sense of 
 familiarity with it entered his imagination. 
 This recognition of a likeness to something 
 known to him grew more puzzling at each at 
 tempt to define it. He continued to regard 
 the picture with perplexity, and at last rose 
 with a movement of irritation and turned the 
 face of it to the wall. He paused a moment, 
 then reconsidering his action, called Uncle 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 183 
 
 Dan l to his aid, and mounting the high man 
 tle-shelf with all the ease of a boy, hung the 
 picture on a nail just overhead. He rubbed 
 his hands together gleefully at this feat, and 
 springing down, retreated a few steps to see 
 the result of his work. More vividly than 
 ever came out that inexplicable likeness. 
 
 In its present position the face lost much 
 of its heaviness, and the eyes their sarcastic 
 gleam. There was a fine dignity in the pose 
 of the head, and a ray of sunshine coming 
 through one single clear spot in the dingy 
 window-panes fell across the face, and lighted 
 it with an expression of genial humor. It 
 must have been with this look that he gath 
 ered around him the numerous spirits who 
 enjoyed his hospitalities and his favors. 
 
 And now, though ready to depart, John lin 
 gered with a feeling of sadness, loath to leave 
 that grand figure all alone, smiling down upon 
 the ruins of his hearth-stone. The eyes seemed 
 to follow him, and the familiar smile haunted 
 him as with a sigh he closed the door and 
 went out in the open air and sunshine. 
 
 Uncle Dan l had busied himself searching 
 the debris of the library, and now recovering 
 
1 84 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 his voice and spirits, which had been much 
 subdued in-doors, approached John, and placed 
 in his hands a curious collection of greenish- 
 colored beads, like polished malachite. 
 
 " Dar ain t no use leavin dis Injun trash in 
 dar. Sum folks used ter think a heap uv it, 
 an mebbe you ll like it. Ony way, it s good 
 to keep fo luck. I se seen lots er dem beads 
 from de mounds." 
 
 " Yes," said John, gazing at them with some 
 curiosity. " They must have been taken from 
 the mounds ; but where did you get the idea 
 that they would bring good-luck ?" 
 
 " Dunno, sah ; but dat s what folks allus 
 said. White folks used ter set em in gol an 
 w ar em. Dey keeps away sickness, sho . I se 
 tried em." 
 
 " Well, we ll take them to your mistress," 
 said John, smiling, as he mounted once more 
 his little mule, " and help her to long life and 
 good-luck." 
 
 They turned their way homeward, and the 
 old negro again became garrulous. John list 
 ened attentively to the olden -time stories of 
 the country, which had almost passed out of 
 mind, and he asked many questions concern- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 185 
 
 ing the man whose portrait had interested him. 
 One old scandal particularly gave him a curi 
 ous shock. He had heard it before, but nev 
 er had it seemed so pregnant of evil. It was 
 a story shrouded in mystery, but clear enough 
 in one thing, that human, as well as divine 
 law and statute, had been overthrown by the 
 greater strength of human passion. 
 
 It was told dramatically, and as if this was 
 the climax of all converse, the old negro grad 
 ually fell back far in the rear and was silent, 
 while John sank into profound reverie. 
 
 Where had he seen somebody who resem 
 bled that fine-looking old planter? 
 
1 86 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BAMMA danced along the broad galleries 
 and sang snatches of song in the deserted 
 rooms. Upon one melody of peculiar sweet 
 ness she sang such varied changes that Aunt 
 Priscilla, at work in the kitchen, paused to 
 mutter, 
 
 " Tears like all de mockin -birds in de coun 
 try is comin back to de ole place." 
 
 Her voice rose at first in a joyous outburst, 
 and she dropped her notes in a clear staccato 
 way which might well have deceived the old 
 woman ; but the silence of the house gradu 
 ally told upon her song, and it fell into a soft 
 minor, which finally exhausted itself in a sigh. 
 The day was to be interminable, after all. 
 What was she to do ? She gathered up her 
 dainty skirts and ventured into Aunt Priscil- 
 la s sanctum. 
 
 " Deed, honey, an tain t no fittin place for 
 you," said the old woman, as she dusted a 
 bench for her; but Bamma sat down, and 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 1 87 
 
 very soon found herself listening with inter 
 est to stories of the grandeur of olden days 
 which her numerous questions drew from 
 Aunt Priscilla. To ask about the family was 
 to loose the old woman s tongue and start her 
 upon many an absurd flight of fancy. Her 
 stories were all told with an exaggeration of 
 dignity infinitely amusing. It seemed as if 
 the stateliness of some of the old Morants en 
 tered the soul of Aunt Priscilla as she de 
 tailed their former greatness, but she mixed 
 things sadly in the dates gone by. Bamma 
 grew weary at last of the effort to untangle 
 the maze into which the vivid imagination of 
 Aunt Priscilla led her, and she had to fall 
 back upon the resources of which she had 
 boasted sleep. 
 
 The day was far gone when she was roused 
 from a dreamless doze by a curious sound, 
 which, as she became fully conscious, resolved 
 itself into a prolonged bray from Uncle Dan l s 
 Mandy. 
 
 She rushed out childishly, full of life and 
 spirits, forgetting the day s discomfort in the 
 delight of her husband s return. It was, per 
 haps, her greatest charm that she was always 
 
1 88 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 thus childlike and good-humored. To extract 
 sympathy for small trials was a feminine mis 
 take which she never made; not that she ever 
 thought at all upon the subject, any playful 
 kitten s logic might have been the same. 
 
 She clung to John and plied him with ques 
 tions. 
 
 " Was he tired ? Where had he been ? 
 What had he seen?" 
 
 " My dear," he responded, with mock so 
 lemnity, " let me give you a word or two of 
 advice which will be well worth your atten 
 tion. Never ask questions of a hungry man. 
 He has returned to the condition of his Dar 
 winian ancestors, and may be marked Dan 
 gerous. If Aunt Priscilla has anything de 
 lectable to satisfy the small tiger which has 
 taken possession of me, will you please order 
 it served ?" 
 
 She uttered a slight cry of self-reproach, and 
 hurried away to see it done ; but Aunt Pris- 
 cilla s training had been good, and she was 
 equal to the emergency of an irregular meal. 
 Very soon John was handling a carver with 
 the energy of waiting appetite. 
 
 " Is the tiger sufficiently appeased for you 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 189 
 
 to be communicative ?" said Bamma, at last, 
 no longer able to restrain her questions. 
 
 " Did you really think I was so hungry that 
 I could not talk ?" 
 
 "Certainly I did," she said, in an injured 
 tone. " You have not given me a word yet in 
 answer to all my questions." 
 
 " Haven t I ? The fact is that I have been 
 busy ransacking my memory for a lost link, 
 but the more I search for it, the more difficult 
 it is to find." 
 
 " Perhaps I can help you." 
 
 " You ? Oh no ! It is so far removed from 
 you that you would not have the shadow of a 
 chance in the search. I think I will not even 
 tell you about it until I smoke my cigar." 
 
 " Do not make me wait for the cigar," she 
 said, with a little moue of disgust, " for then 
 you will be in a denser fog than ever." 
 
 " No," responded John, prepared to defend 
 the weed vigorously. " If you could only know 
 what a help it is to the dull brain, how it starts 
 the machinery of that delicate organ without 
 a jar, you would hail its coming with delight." 
 
 " Well, if your cigar can arouse you to con 
 versational pitch,- 1 will do as Uncle Dan l did 
 
I QO TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 yesterday, bring you a live coal from the kitch 
 en, and hold the tongs myself for you." 
 
 John declared that the method she suggest 
 ed was unique, and so very much superior to 
 all modern innovations that he would insist 
 upon her carrying the proposition immediate 
 ly into effect. 
 
 " Fetch the tongs," he cried, pushing back 
 his chair and opening his cigar-case. 
 
 She disappeared, and soon returned with the 
 coal held between two small strips of wood, 
 and offered it to him with a courtesy. 
 
 " Aunt Priscilla showed me exactly the way 
 old master always had it brought to him, and 
 she enjoined upon me the necessity of drap- 
 pin a curchy when I handed it. How do 
 you like my effort?" 
 
 " Astonishingly well," he said, regarding her 
 with admiring eyes. u For a novice you are 
 wellnigh perfect." 
 
 He touched his cigar to the coal, drew in 
 the fresh clean smoke, and exhaled it slowly 
 with a look of perfect content. 
 
 " Old marster s way was a good one. What 
 a pity that it was ever supplanted by wax 
 tapers or lucifer matches! It is the penalty 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. IQI 
 
 of progress to deprive us of many a simple, 
 exquisite pleasure." With a mock sigh he 
 linked Bamma s arm within his own and 
 passed out on the gallery. 
 
 "You are just in the mood to try another 
 phase of rusticity," said she, disengaging her 
 self and suddenly disappearing in-doors. She 
 returned in a moment with the little bench 
 from Aunt Priscilla s kitchen. 
 
 "What are you going to do with it?" said 
 John, watching her with amusement, and ad 
 vancing to her assistance. 
 
 " I want to place it under the big oak. Ev 
 erything outside suggests such perfect harmo 
 ny with your present humor. I am sure it 
 will be delightful to sit there." 
 
 Like two merry comrades they adjusted 
 themselves to the pleasurable influences of 
 the scene. The evening was beautiful. Trees, 
 grass, earth, and sky were illumined by the 
 radiance of the setting sun. John looked with 
 beaming eyes upon the gilded expanse before 
 him. 
 
 " We might make a very Eden of it !" he 
 said, with enthusiasm. " The old place is full 
 of^ wonderful possibilities." 
 
I Q2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " And malaria," added Bamma, with mock 
 ing sweetness. 
 
 " Yes," said John, amused at her pertinent 
 sarcasm ; " that is a fatal defect in our Eden. 
 But one would never suspect danger lurking 
 in this atmosphere." He lazily expelled a 
 cloud of smoke, removed his cigar for a mo 
 ment from his lips, and then returned it with 
 a sudden exclamation. Thrusting his hand 
 into his pocket he brought to view the Indian 
 beads which Uncle Dan l had given him. 
 " There," he continued, " I had almost forgot 
 ten a pretty gift for you, and Uncle Dan l says 
 a veritable charm against all evil, possibly in 
 cluding malaria." 
 
 " Ah !" said she, receiving them with pro 
 found astonishment. " How odd ! My own 
 beads again !" 
 
 " Your beads ?" 
 
 " No, they cannot be, but strangely like. 
 Do you remember my bracelet the one given 
 me when I was a little child ? I told you it 
 was an amulet and held a history. Wait a 
 moment, I will show it to you ; but," continued 
 she, pausing an instant on rising, "what will 
 you say now of my superstition when you find 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 193 
 
 I am credulous of its merits and have even 
 brought it with me here to protect me ?" 
 
 She looked so archly sweet as she made 
 her ridiculous confession, that John gave 
 her a tender command with a very indulgent 
 smile. 
 
 " Go get it, and I will reserve my opinion." 
 
 She returned in a few moments, bringing 
 with her a slender string of green -and-gold 
 beads, fastened with a singularly realistic ser 
 pent s head. 
 
 Placing it in John s hand, .she put the In 
 dian beads which he had brought her beside 
 it. The beads were identical with those of 
 the bracelet of the same roughly polished 
 stone and might have replaced each other 
 without chance of discovery. 
 
 " What do you know of its history ?" said 
 he, with sudden interest. 
 
 " Very little, after all," answered Bamma. 
 " My childish imagination builded greatly 
 upon the fact that it belonged to my mother s 
 mother, and was reported to possess some 
 strange, mysterious power for good or evil, 
 just as one desired it. The beads were said 
 toshave been dug from an Indian mound on 
 
194 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 my grandfather s estate, and mounted in their 
 present fashion for my grandmother." 
 
 " Your vivid imagination might make some 
 thing of the coincidences of Uncle Dan l s 
 beads," said John, twining the bracelet in and 
 out, and allowing it to slip slowly through his 
 open fingers. " We must have them set as a 
 companion trinket, and you may believe your 
 self doubly guarded. I should not care, how 
 ever, to trust myself to the tender mercies of 
 that vicious-looking snake s head. How will 
 you be able to tolerate two of them ? There !" 
 he exclaimed, as he pressed unconsciously the 
 spring of the clasp and fastened it again with 
 a sudden snap, " I believe it has spitefully 
 stung me, for I distinctly felt the pain." 
 
 Bamma laughed merrily at his mock ex 
 pression of horror, while he declared that he 
 was demoralized, and quite ready to enter 
 tain any monstrous idea that might present 
 itself. 
 
 It really seemed as if the bracelet possessed 
 a curious fascination for him. He contem 
 plated it with a puzzled expression, which 
 grew as he included Uncle Dan l s offering. 
 The beads evidently bore some relation to 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 195 
 
 each other. In both cases the ancient mound- 
 builders had been despoiled ; but for the brace 
 let, when and where ? Speculation gradually 
 came to be an effort in the delicious softness 
 of the evening, and his mind slowly fell into 
 the dreamy inertness of perfect content. 
 
 A mild breeze was blowing, and there was 
 an occasional little gust that turned up the 
 dead leaves, sending them flying about with a 
 gentle vibratory motion. How pretty Bamma 
 looked ! She had loosed her hair, and permit 
 ted the wind to toss and turn it into little 
 rings and curls about her head. The wind 
 and the sunshine seemed to bring to her a 
 sweet languor. Curving her arms upward, 
 she leaned against the tree, and the breeze 
 swept around her and over her softly, caress 
 ingly. A gleam of sunshine flickered a mo 
 ment in the branches, then shot a sudden, 
 steady gleam across her smiling face, and then 
 circumstances lent to that small beam a 
 startling force. Along its golden pathway 
 was borne like an electric shock a conviction 
 which burned itself into John s brain. The 
 strange likeness which had baffled him when 
 he stood before the portrait in that old de- 
 
196 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 sorted house was no longer a mystery. It 
 stood out clear and distinct in his wife s face ! 
 
 Was it accidental ? What connection did 
 it suggest ? And those beads ! They rested 
 like a coiled green serpent upon his knee. 
 
 The warning of old Celine came back to 
 his memory with the vividness of a lightning 
 stroke, and quick upon it the story he had that 
 day heard recalled. His mind went straight 
 to a conclusion which held for him the bitter 
 ness of despair. 
 
 That strange, strange likeness ! Would he 
 ever be able to trace its origin, and if he did, 
 what would stare him in the face ? There 
 could have been no fate so cruel as that which 
 thus confronted him and crucified him in his 
 tenderest affections. 
 
 At the moment that this knowledge was 
 forced upon him, Bam ma was resting against 
 the tree with eyes closed to the bright gleam 
 playing over her face, and disclosing the tragic 
 element of her life. 
 
 John s emotion had touched its profoundest 
 depth when the beam withdrew itself and she 
 opened her eyes. Startled by his strange man 
 ner, she sprang towards him. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 197 
 
 " Are you ill ? Oh, John, what can it be ?" 
 
 " Nothing," he answered, slowly and hoarse 
 ly, looking at her with the expression of one 
 who sees beyond material things into the re 
 gion of horrible mystery, and then with a shiv 
 er he turned away from her. She clasped his 
 arm with a movement of terror, and again ap 
 pealed to him. 
 
 "Tell me, are you ill?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, brokenly, " I am ill I will 
 go in and rest. Do not follow me I would 
 rather be alone." 
 
 She checked herself as if she had received 
 a blow, and gazed after him as he moved in 
 the direction of the house with a look of pain. 
 He reached a large arm-chair upon the gal 
 lery and sank into it, resting his head upon 
 his hands. Then he went over the past and 
 thought out the future. 
 
 How slight the evidence that connected 
 her with that old story, and yet how clear 
 it all seemed to him ! Would any one else, 
 could any one else, ever trace it as he did ? 
 He shuddered while he wondered how much 
 of the sin and shame of it all had been blot 
 ted out in the two generations that stood 
 
198 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 between time present and that dreadful past ! 
 The boundaries of his own dishonor seemed 
 limitless. An immeasurable waste lay be 
 tween him and the long-accumulated pride of 
 his ancestors. Revolt swept like a passion 
 ate tornado through his soul, and then left 
 him shorn of strength. In the weakness that 
 followed, a boundless pity took possession of 
 him. It was for her who was bound to him 
 by every tie of love and honor. How he loved 
 her ! The vitality of his great affection could 
 never be destroyed, for all the chivalry of his 
 nature gathered to the defence of it. He had 
 incurred a responsibility on her behalf which 
 could never be thrust aside, and in his min 
 gled passion and pain he planned only to car 
 ry the burden of it in that way which should 
 never disclose to her the secret of his agony. 
 He could never tell her now the story which 
 had led his mind to such strange results. He 
 must obliterate every trace of the evidence 
 which had been proof to him ; and as this 
 thought came to him a murderous instinct 
 rose in his heart against the presentment of 
 that face smiling down from the walls of the 
 old house, as if in mockery of the deed for 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 199 
 
 which no vengeance could be wreaked save 
 upon the innocent one. Ah, Bamma! there 
 was the pang ! Through and through all his 
 loving thought of her there ran an undercur 
 rent of passionate resentment at his owniate. 
 
 Soul -sick and weary, he raised his head. 
 A pair of soft arms encircled his neck, and 
 a voice whispered his name. 
 
 No tones had ever been invested with a pro- 
 founder pathos ; they appealed to every gen 
 erous instinct of his heart. 
 
 A mist clouded his vision, and as he drew 
 her close in his arms he silently registered 
 anew his vow to love and cherish her. 
 
200 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOHN struggled against placing an exagger 
 ated estimate upon the suspicion which con 
 tinually confronted him. Investigation might 
 have disclosed no fact confirming its truth, 
 but there remained always the other tragic 
 possibility. Better a thousand times to live 
 with doubt than come face to face with what 
 he believed to be the shortened measure of 
 his honor. 
 
 Reason and argument were powerless 
 against the prejudices which the habits and 
 modes of thought of generations had fixed. 
 His mind had drawn its nourishment from 
 traditions so authoritative that it rose again 
 and again in conflict with the passionate in 
 stinct of his heart, and but slowly accommo 
 dated itself to the meaning and the inevitable- 
 ness of his condition. 
 
 The struggle with the influences which had 
 moulded his character was long and bitter, 
 and freedom from the galling bondage of re- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2OI 
 
 sentment was reached only in a state of moral 
 inertia. Some perception of the beauty of 
 that generous, self-forgetting spirit which rises 
 above memories of wrong manifested itself in 
 his bearing towards his wife. An infinite ten 
 derness pervaded his manner, and under the 
 magnetic influence of her sweet, womanly 
 ways he seemed to find justification of his po 
 sition, and to feel the supreme pathos of hers. 
 
 The mental torture which he suffered told 
 upon him physically, but did not entirely par 
 alyze the energy which had directed itself tow 
 ards the restoration of the old estate. 
 
 While the world at large was robbed of all 
 delight for him, while a disenchantment, a 
 sad and bitter dreaminess hung over all his 
 former associations and pursuits, he permitted 
 himself one hopeful anticipation, and the pros 
 pect of taking supervision of the affairs of the 
 old plantation grew daily more inviting. He 
 roused himself to an active interest in all de 
 tails of the work before him, projecting great 
 changes and improvements, and infusing such 
 life and vigor into the dead course of things 
 around him that one might prophesy the re 
 generation to come. 
 
202 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 An inflexible sadness settled upon his hand 
 some face which all of* Bamma s gentle and 
 winning ways could not dispel, and she grew 
 restless and unhappy as this conviction forced 
 itself upon her. The days passed and their 
 stay was protracted far beyond the period they 
 had anticipated. 
 
 In his sad self -absorption he forgot how 
 lonely she might be in the dreary country- 
 place, and was filled with self-reproach when 
 one morning she timidly approached the sub 
 ject of their departure. 
 
 " Let us go back to the city !" she exclaimed, 
 almost with tears, " and forgive me for wish 
 ing to go." 
 
 " Certainly," he responded. " We will go at 
 once. I have been cruel to keep you here so 
 long. There is nothing to prevent our leav 
 ing, and I can return here at any time that I 
 am needed." 
 
 She threw her arms around his neck in 
 childish abandon. 
 
 " Ah, now we will be happy again !" And then 
 growing serious once more, she said, thought 
 fully, " It must be a long, long time before I can 
 consent to your return to this place. There 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2O3 
 
 seems to be an ugly, melancholy spell about 
 it that I cannot exorcise. See !" she contin 
 ued, softly touching the shadow of a wrinkle 
 between his eyes. " It has already begun to 
 do its work. We must go immediately." 
 
 " Then be ready at a moment s warning," 
 he answered, lightly. 
 
 She glided away with that rhythmic move 
 ment peculiar to her, eager to begin prepara 
 tions for departure. 
 
 John gazed after her curiously. He had fallen 
 into the habit of studying her attentively, and 
 meditating upon every action and trait of her 
 character. In this mental process there was 
 a significance attached to every trifle. He 
 seemed to be measuring her by some great 
 need apart from the completeness of his own 
 affections, and the result was reached always 
 with a deepening of that melancholy which 
 shadowed his features. 
 
 Bamma s spirits rose to a state of joyous- 
 ness pleasant to see with each degree of prep 
 aration for leaving the place. The gathering 
 together of the pretty bits of feminine belong 
 ings which had been brought forth from the 
 big trunks to adorn the apartments ; the dis- 
 
2O4 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 mantling of the toilet at which Aunt Priscilla 
 had gazed with amazement, and feared to 
 touch ever so lightly with her turkey-tail dust 
 er ; the hunting of some pieces of finery for a 
 parting present to the old negress all created 
 a pleasant excitement. There was a happy 
 light in her eyes and a bright flush upon her 
 cheeks when, near the close of the next day, 
 she found herself seated in the carriage which 
 was to take them to the river where they were 
 to meet the steamer for the city. Beyond ques 
 tion she was glad of the possible lifting of 
 the cloud which seemed to have settled upon 
 John s spirits, but she was happy too, in that 
 irresponsible butterfly fashion which chimes 
 in with all movement. 
 
 Aunt Priscilla and Uncle Dan l busied 
 themselves officiously about the packages to 
 be stowed away, the one inspired by the pros 
 pect of the withdrawal of a master s eye too 
 far-seeing for comfort, and the other by the 
 gift of a gorgeous shawl which she intended 
 to display at the next meeting. Several ne 
 gro boys, headed by Gabe and Johnson, darted 
 here and there with a vague idea of being use 
 ful, ending all their efforts with a giggle and 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 an immediate disappearance from the scene, 
 to reappear with a loud guffaw as the carriage 
 rolled away. 
 
 " They have gone back to first principles, 
 despite Uncle Dan l s teachings," said Bam- 
 ma, listening to their voices and looking back 
 upon them with a smile. 
 
 John briefly assented and then was silent. 
 His face was turned towards the old place. 
 He watched it recede in the distance, and 
 along the level surface of the open country 
 before him marked its vanishing lines. As it 
 reached that point where it rested like an in 
 distinguishable blot against the sky, he real 
 ized more thoroughly than ever how much 
 had been taken out of his life and buried 
 there. Through a blinding mist which rose 
 hastily before his eyes, he saw another self, 
 younger, hopefuller than he, for whom would 
 come no resurrection this side of the eternal 
 heavens which seemed to touch the place of 
 sepulture. 
 
 How firmly the minutest details of the past 
 few months were fixed in his memory ! and 
 what torture keener than the sudden rush of 
 them all into his unwilling thought ! 
 
2O6 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Dual voices interpreted his emotion to his 
 inner ear : one a wave of light laughter floating 
 down from the memorable hours of his earli 
 est love, when the light of his own happiness 
 was reflected in every eye ; the other a moan 
 of that fathomless despair which dashed itself 
 against impassable barriers. 
 
 Low down upon the horizon appeared the 
 sun. Not like the usual insensate copper 
 globe dropping mechanically below the bor 
 der-line of vision, but as a gigantic human face 
 with a derisive smile for the lesser life of the 
 world below. 
 
 A soft sigh claimed John s attention. He 
 withdrew his gaze slowly, and turned towards 
 Bamma. It was the first genuine sigh he had 
 ever heard his wife utter, and it struck him 
 painfully. He wondered if, with a woman s 
 instinct, she had divined his emotion. 
 
 A glance disclosed the fact that her thoughts 
 were not with him. Her sigh was no sympa 
 thetic note responsive to his mood, but the 
 audible expression of a sensitiveness touched 
 by some pleasant visual impression. She bent 
 forward with slightly parted lips, exclaiming, 
 
 " There, it has gone at last !" 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2O/ 
 
 " What has gone ?" he asked, slightly star 
 tled by her enthusiasm ; but even before she 
 explained, he had caught her meaning and 
 turned his face once more towards the west 
 ern sky. 
 
 " Isn t it lovely ?" she continued. " Were 
 you not watching it go down upon the old 
 place ?" 
 
 He paused an instant before he replied. 
 Consistent with the jeering, heartless face of 
 the great orb was the brilliant after- glow, a 
 trail of red and yellow splendors sweeping for 
 a moment across the drifting clouds, and then 
 leaving them dark and dull upon the leaden 
 sky. To John s mood it seemed a mocking 
 radiance. All perception of its beauty was 
 dimmed, and it stirred a spirit of rebellion 
 against the inscrutable shadows that were 
 deepening around and within him. The de 
 spair which might never hope for direct ex 
 planation sought every collateral exposition. 
 
 " Yes," he said, slowly responding to her 
 question, in a tone strangely emotional. " I 
 have been watching it, and wondering why I 
 should ever care to see it rise again upon my 
 old home." 
 
2O8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " John !" she exclaimed, with a long, low, lin 
 gering note of surprise, "what change has 
 come upon you ? I fancied you loved the old 
 place." 
 
 " Yes, I do love it," he said, passionately. 
 " How could I help loving it ? I drew love of 
 it in with the first breath that proclaimed me 
 a living Morant. It was the heritage of my 
 family. It cradled the hopes and ambitions 
 of my generation, and if it were a thousand 
 fold greater wilderness than it is, I would treas 
 ure every foot of its soil. I have linked my 
 fortune with it again, and will struggle as oth 
 ers did before me, and will probably fail as 
 they did, handicapped by burdens not of my 
 own choosing." 
 
 By no intuitive knowledge could Bamma 
 follow his mood. She could only place her 
 small hand in his, like a child who hazards a 
 caress when it does not comprehend. 
 
 The touch of the little palm caused him a 
 pang of keen self-reproach. He strove to gain 
 mastery of himself, feeling something of the 
 deep shame one should feel who strikes at a 
 defenceless thing and sees it turn with pathet 
 ic gesture to caress the hand raised against it. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 209 
 
 The chivalric sentiments which were the 
 supreme guide of his life recalled him to less 
 bitter thoughts. At once the scene changed 
 for him. Nature seemed no longer unfriendly. 
 
 They were passing through a wild and 
 swampy woodland near the river. The main 
 road had been cut like the path of a cyclone, 
 straight and clear through the heavy timber. 
 It was occasionally obstructed by under 
 growth, and now and then by a fallen log, 
 which drove them away from the highway 
 into gloomy depths of the wood, where the 
 gray moss swung down from swaying branch 
 es like grim skeletons of vegetation. Surfaces 
 which appeared deceptively dry were moist 
 places, into which the carriage - wheels sank, 
 leaving behind them long silvery rivulets, 
 meeting like shining threads in the dim per 
 spective. 
 
 The voices of the forest were hushed as 
 they entered its depths ; but as they rolled 
 out again into the open way the soft glow of 
 the hidden sun still rested upon the scene, 
 and from every trunk and branch the shrill 
 katydids sounded their notes, and above and 
 below their din were major and minor notes 
 
210 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 in infinite variety. As they advanced there 
 came into view a firm, beautifully level road, 
 then a green-swarded levee, and just beyond, 
 sweeping against the frail - looking barrier 
 which held it in bounds, the mighty river. 
 
 Those only who have lived upon its banks, 
 and have lost for a time the sight of the grand 
 old Mississippi, can understand the home-feel 
 ing which a glimpse of its waters brings. Full 
 of lawless caprice, alternately kind and cruel, 
 it possesses a peculiar fascination for* all who 
 have once dwelt beside it. As deep and strong 
 as human passion when pent within the lim 
 its raised by man s experience, it betrays upon 
 the surface no trace of turbulence, no evidence 
 of the fierce undercurrent which is sweeping 
 it to the sea ; but once the barriers are broken, 
 it riots in heartless destruction. 
 
 With all its changes, its wholesale oblitera 
 tion of boundaries, its swallowing up of men s 
 substance, John Morant loved the river. A 
 hundred times mightier than human passion 
 it now seemed to him. The sight of it calmed 
 his troubled thoughts. Come what might into 
 his life, its current must flow like that of the 
 river, with all its accidental burdens, surely, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 211 
 
 irresistibly to the great gulf fixed for its end 
 ing. For the moment accepting the inevita 
 ble, all bitterness seemed to take flight. 
 
 He clasped his wife s hand with a firm, 
 warm grasp. They could but drift together, 
 whatever the gulf might be towards which 
 they were drifting. 
 
212 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN the year following John Morant s mar 
 riage, his friends all agreed upon one point, 
 that a curious change had come upon him. 
 The frank gayety which had made him the 
 pleasantest of companions was gone. In its 
 place was a grave listlessness which excited 
 comment. The despondent state of mind 
 which it suggested was not compatible with 
 his surroundings, for it was generally con 
 ceded that few men possessed greater advan 
 tages in those things which help to make life 
 move very smoothly. Wealth, fortunate ties, 
 and the consequent good -will of the social 
 world, were circumstances calculated to make 
 any failure of happiness conspicuous. Vari 
 ous plausible reasons were suggested regarding 
 it, but none quite satisfied those who knew 
 him. His domestic relations seemed perfect. 
 Evidently the cause of trouble was not to be 
 searched for or found in that direction. No 
 positive clew ever presented itself, and finally 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 213 
 
 most interested friends admitted that it was 
 an unsolvable problem, and one which they 
 tired of trying to solve. 
 
 And yet they were sometimes nearer the 
 solution of the mystery than they supposed. 
 
 Among his friends were some who gave 
 thought to the vital questions of the day, and 
 conversation often touched upon the subject 
 which was always cruelly present in John 
 Morant s mind. 
 
 His need of kindly counsel and sympathy 
 w r as great, and sometimes the temptation was 
 strong to place his case fairly before some 
 one who might aid him in the reconstruction 
 of his shattered self-respect. There seemed 
 a possible chance of dulling his pain through 
 such confidence, even if his degradation was 
 made more clear to him ; yet pride kept him 
 silent. 
 
 In all discussions he listened with bated 
 breath to the voices of small philosophers 
 and greater ones, to the voices of men with 
 views discarded in the Middle Ages, to those 
 with one line of conduct for themselves and 
 another for the world at large ; but beyond 
 all philosophy, above all protestations of phi- 
 
214 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 lanthropy, rose the still, small, cruel voices 
 of hereditary prepossessions and prejudices, 
 growing sharper and more ferocious with 
 every struggle to repress them. 
 
 " How can I be reconciled ?" was his per 
 petual but silent wail " how can I be recon 
 ciled ?" 
 
 Notwithstanding the gentleness and ten 
 derness of his manner towards his wife, she 
 felt the shadow of the change that had come 
 upon him. 
 
 Almost imperceptibly there had grown 
 upon her a sense of mystery in their relation 
 to each other. Every available feminine 
 charm against unknowable trouble, her bright 
 est smiles, her tenderest caresses, were futile 
 to banish it. It settled down upon the house 
 hold like an unbidden guest, determined to 
 make the most of an unwarranted intrusion. 
 It rested in the beautiful drawing-room, even 
 when they were filled with as light-hearted 
 material as ever gathered together to drive 
 away care. It sat down beside Bamma when 
 she ate and drank. It took its place promi 
 nently in the cosey library. 
 
 Yes, there was not a shadow of doubt that 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 215 
 
 the library was its favorite haunt. It was 
 there that it gathered force and thence dif 
 fused itself. Tears rose in Bamma s eyes as 
 she thought how pleasant a place the library 
 might be and was not. When the lights were 
 turned up, the fire burning brightly on the 
 hearth, and John had selected his book from 
 the broad, low, convenient shelves, the out 
 ward charm of the situation was great, but the 
 brightness and beauty of it became daily less 
 effective. 
 
 She was proficient in music, elegant in man 
 ners, and charming in conversation; but Bam- 
 ma had never cared for books. She had never 
 needed them. They had only existed for her 
 as the inevitable ornaments of certain desig 
 nated spaces. To have taken them from their 
 places would have been simply, so far as she 
 was concerned, distasteful to her sense of or 
 der, destroying the sequence of symmetrically 
 arranged series. If she chanced occasionally 
 to remark a gilded name upon a cover, it con 
 veyed little or nothing to her narrow literary 
 experience. Thus ignorant of that which 
 claimed a large share of her husband s atten 
 tion, she was lono^ incurious re^ardinsr the 
 
216 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 books which absorbed him ; but in time they 
 became the centre of a strange interest for her. 
 
 Something of the darkness which was clos 
 ing around her certainly emanated from the 
 sombre bindings and rustling leaves over which 
 her husband bent with contracted brow and 
 contracted heart. Quatrefages on the Negro 
 Races, Gobineau on the Inequality of Races, 
 Ribout on Heredity, Perier on Ethnical Cross 
 ings, Knox on Race, and others. Such per 
 plexing books ! Even when she had conned 
 the title-pages and turned the leaves, what 
 could they tell her? What could she ever 
 come to know of Ethnology, Heredity, and 
 all the profound enigmas of Race ? Obscure 
 ly apprehended as they must ever remain, how 
 hopeless the task of fathoming the interest 
 which led her husband to devote his attention 
 to them ! And yet she felt his studies were 
 inimical to her. The untutored little brain 
 could never reach scientific causes ; but even 
 unlettered instinct might comprehend effects. 
 
 The sinking of her husband s attention in 
 the ponderous volumes was like the with 
 drawal of the sunshine she loved so well; and 
 there were times when John Morant, rousing 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2 1/ 
 
 himself from a despairing pursuit of knowl 
 edge which should satisfy him of one truth, 
 forgot Nature s tyranny of Selection, her per 
 sistent preservation of types, and all the phi 
 losophy of the scientific world, in his tender, 
 remorseful contemplation of the pretty little 
 figure which sat by his fireside and smiled or 
 sighed at his will. 
 
 But it was not often that they were uninter 
 rupted in their evenings at home. The social 
 life which had been long disturbed, and was 
 still undergoing radical changes, had not be 
 come so fixed in the new forms that the pleas 
 ant, easy hospitality of one not far removed 
 from a hospitable generation could fail to 
 draw around him an agreeable circle of friends. 
 
 Among those admitted to intimacy in the 
 household, who found John s library a particu 
 larly pleasant spot, were two men for whom he 
 entertained the highest regard. No two per 
 sons could have been found less adapted for 
 a common friendship than the Rev. Mr. Shri- 
 ver and Dr. Edward Dickson. Entirely op 
 posite in mental constitution, differently edu 
 cated, holding antagonistic opinions on every 
 subject, hopeless of agreement on any point, 
 
218 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 each strong in his own way, the theologian 
 almost passionate in the maintenance of his 
 faith, the physician keenly critical of old be 
 liefs, but broad and more than liberal towards 
 new ones, they might have swung quietly into 
 different orbits but for John Morant. His 
 home was their common centre of attraction ; 
 there they met, repulsed each other, and came 
 again to a collision of contradictory forces. 
 With the instinct of a religious patriot the 
 minister was always ready to respond to the 
 wave of a radical red flag, and one always ap 
 peared to be flaunting itself in the cool, steady 
 glances of the young physician. 
 
 John Morant watched with some interest 
 the rousing of this gladiatorial spirit, for by 
 subtle leading he could sometimes bring his 
 two friends together in opposition upon themes 
 of moment to himself. Most frequently he 
 had only a dull, despairing sense of the weight 
 of traditional reasoning against advanced sen 
 timent; but now and then every fibre of his 
 nature thrilled to some eloquent outburst of 
 that enthusiasm of humanity which often led 
 his medical friend to relax all rules, abandon 
 all special precepts as authoritative guides of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2IQ 
 
 conscience and conduct, that he might follow 
 only the generous impulses of his always gen 
 erous heart. 
 
 It chanced on one occasion that the minis 
 ter was called upon to deliver an address to 
 his congregation upon a great missionary 
 cause. It was a theme peculiarly fitted to his 
 temperament, an opportunity of indulging his 
 warlike zeal. Delivered upon a day when he 
 was not limited, as upon the Sabbath, by the 
 time consumed in the forms and ceremonies 
 of his church, he was at his best in recalling 
 the historic battle-fields of his faith, in waving 
 the banners aloft with an encouraging cry, and 
 urging the Christian advance. His passionate 
 peroration thrilled his people, and waked the 
 small, keen, alert senior- warden to more than 
 usual interest in the financial result. In the 
 last peal of the organ which dismissed his al 
 most spellbound auditors, there seemed to be 
 a triumphant note thoroughly in accord with 
 the minister s masterful sense of his own able 
 leadership in the march upon hostile legions. 
 The spirit of his address lingered with him 
 long after its delivery, and gave an increased 
 aggressiveness to manner and tone formed at 
 
220 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 no time upon a model of humility. He was 
 prepared to make as vigorous an advance upon 
 heresy as he would have made upon ignorance, 
 and there was something stimulating to this 
 temper in the atmosphere of John Morant s 
 library, when he entered there and found him 
 self confronted by Dr. Dickson. 
 
 In the small extension apartment, separated 
 from the library by a draped archway, Bamma 
 sat at her piano playing a characteristic com 
 position of Gottschalk s. Its inimitable mim 
 icry, catching the very twang of an instrument 
 whose vibrating strings seemed to sound all 
 through the unvaried cadences of the simple 
 harmony, was all the more remarkable because 
 of Bamma s delightful interpretation. It was 
 instinct with life. One felt the movement of 
 invisible dancers, the marking of the rhythmic 
 measure by light-tapping feet, and almost ex 
 pected to hear a merry echoing " Juba" follow 
 the brilliant closing chords. 
 
 " Bravo !" said the doctor, half under his 
 breath, as a deep, resonant bass sounded the 
 introduction of another measure, the famous 
 Bamboula, while John glanced towards his wife 
 with a sensation of renewed pain. What pe- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 221 
 
 culiar charm did she find in the Creole com 
 poser s music ? And how she abandoned her 
 self to it ! So rapidly and powerfully did her 
 delicate fingers give the quick, jerking move 
 ment of the " Danse des Negres," that each 
 sharp staccato note seemed a fresh inspira 
 tion, thrilling nerve and muscle with a dancing 
 madness. 
 
 The fantastic music illy suited the minis 
 ter s mood. To the grand organ notes which 
 still moved him, it was like a sportive insult. 
 He responded to the doctor s exclamation of 
 pleasure with the assurance that he greatly 
 admired and appreciated Mrs. Morant s skil 
 ful performance, but was inclined to criticise 
 her selections. He had little patience with a 
 composer who could waste his talents npon 
 anything as heathenish and devoid of merit 
 as a negro melody. 
 
 " It is the province of the artist," said the 
 doctor, " to preserve the distinctive features 
 of a departing generation." 
 
 " And the province of the critic," responded 
 the minister, " to condemn whatever may be 
 calculated to vitiate the taste of the rising 
 one." Whereupon the doctor intimated that 
 
222 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the standard of taste was as far from being 
 thoroughly established as its ethical relations 
 were from being beyond dispute ; and with 
 that began a discussion so prolonged that 
 Bamma, no longer inspirited by the conscious 
 ness of pleased attention, softly rose, and clos 
 ing the draperies of the archway, gave herself 
 up to vagrant medleys and thrilling little rou 
 lades, always ending in pathetic diminuendos. 
 Through the ensuing conversation they occa 
 sionally might be heard as a faint running ac 
 companiment to thoughts and words, which 
 flowed more freely at the sound. 
 
 As may well be imagined, when the minis 
 ter was given a fair opportunity, the discus 
 sion could not confine itself to one question. 
 As it passed beyond the original limits, John 
 noticed that Dr. Dickson was less clever than 
 usual in either offensive or defensive argu 
 ment. He yielded to fits of abstraction, rous 
 ing himself at times with apparent effort. 
 Something beyond the minister s logic had 
 evidently impressed him, though he appeared 
 inclined to allow Mr. Shriver the pleasure of 
 believing that it had been invincible. 
 
 In the midst of an earnest discussion upon 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 223 
 
 the influence for good of an open profession 
 of faith, a solemn declaration of principles, 
 the doctor suddenly drew a long, deep breath, 
 stretched himself wearily in his chair, and 
 clasping his hands behind his head, inter 
 rupted the minister with the remark " that 
 personal influences were mightier than logi 
 cal ones in developing the good in man ; that 
 spiritual struggles were oftener determined 
 by sympathy than by creeds." 
 
 " The principle of sympathy may become 
 too active," said the minister, u and lead one 
 into very grave error. It is necessary to thor 
 oughly fortify one s self against the contagion 
 of misplaced compassion." 
 
 " I wonder," said the doctor, with a slight 
 pause, as if doubtful whether he should pro 
 ceed "I wonder what you would think of 
 Royston s case !" 
 
 Knowing his friend as one who took upon 
 himself the burdens of much of the suffering 
 humanity with which his profession associated 
 him, John Morant felt that he had found a 
 clew to the unusual gravity which had taken 
 possession of the doctor on this occasion. Un 
 doubtedly, Royston s case had been prolific of 
 
224 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 troublesome thought. The minister waited a 
 moment for the doctor to continue, and then 
 remarked that he was quite willing to express 
 an opinion should the doctor care to explain 
 the case in question, though his opinion might 
 chance to conflict with the one entertained by 
 the doctor himself. Something like a chal 
 lenge expressed itself in the minister s tone, 
 and there was nothing left for the doctor but 
 to tell Royston s story. 
 
 " You will remember," said he, turning tow 
 ards John, " that several evenings ago I was 
 suddenly sent for on an urgent call. It came 
 from Royston. He was a stranger to me, and 
 I found him to be a man utterly broken down 
 by hard work and heart disease. His sur 
 roundings were peculiar, and excited my curi 
 osity. I determined to know more of him, 
 and to-day, after prescribing for him, I induced 
 him to talk of himself, to tell me his story, a 
 story of such unexampled self - sacrifice that 
 one may well be in doubt whether his convic 
 tions have made him a fool or a hero." 
 
 The doctor was a restless man when much 
 moved, as he now seemed to be by his own 
 words, and rising from his chair, paced a few 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 22$ 
 
 steps back and forth in the room, stopping an 
 instant to listen to a melody, which became 
 more sonorous as he approached the archway, 
 and then, once more seating himself, resumed 
 the story. 
 
 " He was once a wealthy planter in the sug 
 ar country. Morally he was neither better 
 nor worse than his class ; but he must have 
 been a brave and gallant fellow, for he had 
 served with distinction as a soldier. His fort 
 unes were wrecked, his plantation was over 
 flowed and caved into the Mississippi until the 
 remnant of it was seized and sold for debt, and 
 he found himself thrown upon the world an 
 educated, gentlemanly idler, entirely without 
 resources. In the easy life which he had led, 
 he had incurred certain grave responsibilities, 
 and his changed condition caused them to 
 press upon him heavily. One of his old slaves, 
 then dying of consumption, was the mother of 
 four beautiful little quadroon girls. His rela 
 tion to them was no secret. With her dying 
 breath the poor mulattress besought him to 
 save them from vice and crime, and rear them 
 religiously. What was he to do with them? 
 Through many influences he had become a 
 15 
 
226 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 sincere Christian, with new ideals, new views, 
 new readings of humanity, and the way seemed 
 open for him only to unique suffering. He 
 could not raise them to his level. Only by 
 sinking to theirs could he always be with them, 
 watching over them, moulding their habits, 
 and by personal influences making their mor 
 al discernment clear. He cast his lot with 
 them. Deserted and execrated by all his old 
 friends and relatives he began teaching, and 
 supported them in an humble way. Driven 
 out of white schools by the feeling against him, 
 he opened a negro school and worked away, 
 solitary and alone but for negro associates. 
 Amid all his profound humiliation he is still 
 an elegant gentleman in speech, sentiments, 
 and manners ; but for so long has he been de 
 nied the companionship of his equals, that his 
 heart is a great reservoir of pain, and he will 
 die, perhaps, to-morrow as thoroughly despised 
 of men as if he had betrayed trusts and ruined 
 other lives rather than his own." 
 
 John remarked, with a depth of feeling in 
 his tone which made the doctor scan his face 
 curiously, that in forsaking the obligations of 
 his birth the man had betrayed a very sacred 
 
TOWARDS THE OULF. 2 27 
 
 trust, while Mr. Shriver looked grave and 
 thoughtful as he acknowledged that the case 
 appealed strongly to his sympathy ; that the 
 man s carelessness of his personal lot, except 
 for its advancement of a possible good, estab 
 lished a certain nobility of motive; but in 
 abandoning the brotherhood of his race he 
 had incurred, and must accept and suffer, a 
 heavy penalty. 
 
 " Strange," said the doctor, " how intolerant 
 that question of race makes one ! I suppose," 
 continued he, directing his words to Mr. Shri 
 ver, " that it would be impossible for you to 
 entertain the idea that the barriers which 
 Royston overleaped, and which forever after 
 wards shut him out from his kind, should nev 
 er have been erected?" 
 
 " Not for one instant could I tolerate any 
 levelling opinions," said Mr. Shriver, obedient 
 at once to his combative instincts and his prin 
 ciples. " I recognize too clearly the wisdom 
 which has builded these barriers ever to calmly 
 contemplate any question of their right to be." 
 
 John Morant s profound attention was fixed 
 upon the arguments which followed this asser 
 tion. 
 
228 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Mr. Shriver stoutly contended, with Gobi- 
 neau and other naturalists, that all admixture 
 of races is an abomination ; that they differ 
 organically and radically from each other like 
 wine, milk, and water, and that any mingling 
 degrades the higher type without raising the 
 inferior type an iota. On the contrary, Dr. 
 Dickson insisted, with Serres and kindred phi 
 losophers, that civilization everywhere gains 
 by contact, mixture, and union. In the strug 
 gle which ensues the more perfect type always 
 prevails, and assimilates all the others to it 
 self, providing a new composite form, by which 
 the average level of humanity is always ele 
 vated towards higher standards. 
 
 " If this were not scientifically true," added 
 Dickson, " still the spirit of caste which is en 
 gendered by the enforced separation of the 
 races, whether by law or by public opinion, is 
 inimical to the Christ spirit, and must inevita 
 bly give way to the development of a living 
 Christianity." 
 
 "Not at all," said Mr. Shriver; "caste is 
 only an expression in the social world of or 
 ganic and immutable differences which God 
 and Nature, or rather which God for Nature, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 22Q 
 
 has established as the true order of things. 
 The human body is the wisest book of phi 
 losophy next to the .Word of God. It is the 
 true socialism in living operation. Its various 
 parts and organs differ immensely in dignity, 
 use, beauty, and vitality, but each knows its 
 own place and function, and although thor 
 oughly co-operative with all, never attempts 
 to encroach upon the forms or powers of any 
 of the others. So it should be with the human 
 races. An amalgamated or composite race is 
 like the blood, nervous fluid, bile, etc., all churn 
 ed up together, a monstrosity productive of 
 disease and death, not of life. The highest 
 Christianity will have been attained when the 
 races, pursuing their radically and perpetually 
 distinct lines of destiny, shall be spiritually 
 united in bonds of charity and brotherhood." 
 The doctor did not seem inclined to pursue 
 the question. Evidently he felt, as he sug 
 gested to Mr. Shriver, that it was harder to 
 break with prejudice and conquer convention 
 ality than to enter upon a conflict with the 
 fiercest heathen that ever tempted Christian 
 conversion. He rose to go, and was soon fol 
 lowed by Mr. Shriver. 
 
230 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Left alone, John Morant remained a few 
 moments lost in bitter thought, then with a 
 sigh turned to his books. He took up a vol 
 ume on Heredity and soon became immersed 
 in its pages. He read not only of the trans 
 mission of mental qualities in both animals 
 and men, but of the return of psychological 
 conditions in children and grandchildren in 
 the most unexpected manner; of a woman 
 seized with a sudden and irresistible desire to 
 steal because her grandfather had been a thief; 
 of a man affected with an unaccountable and 
 ineradicable dread of going into water whose 
 grandfather had been nearly drowned, and 
 ever afterwards dreaded the sight of that ele 
 ment. He suddenly threw the book upon the 
 table and uttered a low cry of pain and hor 
 ror. A sensitive chord of memory had been 
 touched, and he recalled the singular feeling 
 of dread and terror which Bamma had expe 
 rienced upon surveying the old deserted slave- 
 yard on her first visit to his father and sister. 
 Neither she nor her mother had ever been in 
 such a place, or knew anything personally of 
 its horrible surroundings and experiences. 
 But the grandmother might have been bought 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 231 
 
 out of that very slave-pen by Billy Bush, and 
 transferred to his plantation. It was a clear 
 case of psychological transmission. Connect 
 ing this startling explanation with Celine s 
 positive conviction, with the distinct likeness 
 of his wife to the portrait of the wicked old 
 planter, and with the two sets of beads from 
 the mounds on the plantation, showing that 
 his wife s mother had come from that locality, 
 he struck his clinched fist against his fore 
 head, and exclaimed, aloud, 
 
 " Tis all too true ! She is a white black 
 bird, and has no mate." 
 
 What was his life worth, now that it was 
 all plain to him ? His head sank upon his 
 arm. Not even alone, with no eye upon him, 
 could he bear to raise his own eyes and feel 
 the scorching drops just ready to fall. Was 
 he becoming womanish ? To what depths 
 might he not yet sink ? " Poor Royston !" 
 But his degradation had been proportionate 
 to his transgression. 
 
 The room grew strangely silent. What 
 was it that he missed ? His thoughts invol 
 untarily suspended themselves, and he was 
 conscious only of a dull, throbbing pain, and 
 
232 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the fact that the melody which had all along 
 forced itself upon his attention had been 
 hushed. 
 
 Bamma had been startled by his first faint 
 cry. Now she stood in the open archway, to 
 which his back was turned. That agonized 
 expression which she had heard, whose mean 
 ing she could not comprehend, that utter aban 
 donment of manner, what did it mean ? She 
 trembled violently, and remained perfectly 
 still, half paralyzed with an inexplicable horror. 
 
 John felt that she was there, and that he 
 must face her calmly. He turned towards her, 
 and the feeling which had held her spellbound 
 gave place to higher courage as she met her 
 husband s glance. 
 
 She advanced towards him. Her face was 
 flushed, and her eyes more brilliant than he 
 ever remembered to have seen them, while a 
 firm compression of the mouth took away the 
 look of soft, womanly indecision which it usu 
 ally wore. He shuddered as it flashed upon 
 him how like she was to that old picture in 
 the deserted house. She seemed conscious 
 of that thrill, and drew herself slightly farther 
 away. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 233 
 
 "John," she said, in a clear, steady voice, 
 " will you tell me of your trouble ?" 
 
 " I cannot," he responded, feeling in some 
 way a strange, new resolution in her manner. 
 
 " Who knows of it ?" 
 
 " No one." 
 
 " Not even your father ?" 
 
 - No." 
 
 " Nor your sister?" 
 
 " Nor my sister." 
 
 "Nor Celine?" 
 
 He was startled. Could he, with her steady, 
 bright eyes fixed upon him, answer falsely? 
 For the sake of those bright eyes he did an 
 swer. 
 
 " There is nothing to tell." 
 
 Suddenly she threw her arms about his 
 neck, and covered his forehead with kisses. 
 Bamma said nothing more, but after that she 
 became possessed of one fixed idea which 
 often translated itself into words 
 
 " It is through Celine I shall hear it" 
 
234 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE plantation claimed much of John Mo- 
 rant s time and attention. He made many 
 and prolonged visits to it, and became daily 
 more absorbed in its interests. There was a 
 pleasant sense of duty done in overlooking 
 the details of his new planting ventures, and 
 with it relief from burdensome thought. In 
 the fresh green fields, under the open sky, he 
 lost the feeling of man s nearness and all the 
 responsibilities of his social relations. There 
 were even moments when he gained a sense 
 of higher companionship, and came almost to 
 that whispered confidence which sweetens the 
 cup whose first draught is bitterness on the 
 lips. 
 
 Bamma protested against his frequent ab 
 sence, and on one occasion, when he was mak 
 ing preparations for a hasty trip, she urged 
 him to allow her to go with him. 
 
 He hesitated a moment as he saw how 
 much in earnest she was, and then declared 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 235 
 
 that it was impossible. " Circumstances," he 
 said, "are more unfavorable just now than I 
 have ever known them. The river is danger 
 ously high, and with watching the levees day 
 and night I would be absent from you almost 
 as much as if you remained here in your com 
 fortable home." 
 
 Bamma shuddered as she thought of the 
 dreary plantation house, with only Aunt Pris- 
 cilla for company, and recognizing the neces 
 sity of the situation, agreed to remain con 
 tented if only he would promise to return 
 soon. When he was at last ready to go, and 
 she came to give him a last kiss, John felt her 
 arm tighten around his neck as if it could 
 never willingly loosen itself, and again she de 
 manded his promise to make no protracted 
 stay. He promised, and gently releasing him 
 self, waved her a final good-by. 
 
 If he only could have known how much it 
 meant for him ! 
 
 As already stated, it was something more 
 than his plantation interests which had drawn 
 John Morant away from the city at this junct 
 ure. The danger of overflow, the loss of his 
 crop, the shock to his fortune, were all serious 
 
236 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 things, no doubt, but there was something 
 still more important, more imperative, and, as 
 he bore the burden alone, still harder to bear. 
 What was he to do with his dreadful secret ? 
 He sought the solitude of the country the 
 soft and equable repose of Nature to cool 
 the fever of his brain, to quiet the painful 
 throbbings of his heart, to reconcile himself 
 to its burden, and to gain time for reflection as 
 to the best course he ought to pursue. 
 
 When conversing so freely with Mr. Shriver 
 and Dr. Dickson about the races and the race 
 problem, he had often longed to confide to 
 them the secret of his own position, and to ob 
 tain their advice as to his duties under the 
 peculiar circumstances to Bamma, to his own 
 family, and to the public. But as soon as the 
 question of amalgamation was approached, he 
 shrank back instinctively from its considera 
 tion. He dared not tell them what weighed 
 so heavily upon his soul, and instead of being 
 communicative he would sink into a melan 
 choly silence, which became so frequent that 
 it began to excite their curiosity and commis 
 eration. 
 
 And how was he to broach such a delicate 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 237 
 
 and painful subject to Bamma ? How could 
 he afflict her gentle and innocent being with 
 a discovery which would overwhelm her with 
 sorrow and dismay? He already perceived 
 by her slightly saddened and questioning face 
 that she was vaguely overshadowed by some 
 apprehension of impending evil. Dearly as 
 he loved her, he wished to get away from her 
 pensive atmosphere for a little while, and pon 
 der alone upon the strange and cruel outwork- 
 ings of their destiny. 
 
 Burdened with such a painful secret, he be 
 gan to suspect thafother people knew it. He 
 could rely generally on Celine s natural reti 
 cence and her tender regard for his family, 
 but he feared that the garrulousness or for 
 ge tfulness of old age might reveal the facts 
 to some fatal gossiper. From certain hints 
 which the little taxidermist let fall, he inferred 
 with a shuddering dread that the dwarfish 
 curiosity-hunter had penetrated other mys 
 teries than those belonging to the animal or 
 vegetable kingdom. He also remembered that 
 he himself, in his own intense anxiety, had 
 made inquiries and put leading questions to 
 various people, which might have already 
 
238 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 planted the germs of suspicion in the public 
 mind for a future terrible harvesting. From 
 all these things and the memory of them he 
 wished to escape and hide in the country un 
 til he could devise some sure plan to meet 
 emergencies, or nerve himself up to embrace 
 the inevitable. 
 
 On reaching the plantation he found the 
 condition of affairs more serious even than he 
 had pictured it, and there followed days and 
 nights of activity and intense excitement. 
 
 Situated unfortunately with regard to two 
 or three weak points in the levee on the river 
 front, the place was continually in peril from 
 threatened crevasses. Danger was apprehend 
 ed throughout the entire parish. Men rode 
 from place to place, agitated and anxious, gath 
 ering help from every quarter to repair and 
 strengthen insecure points. In the middle of 
 the night one might expect to be wakened by 
 a stentorian " Holloa !" and urged to speed to 
 Lookout, or Terrapin Neck, or Diamond Isl 
 and to save the levee. There would be found 
 active gangs of laborers, straining every nerve 
 and muscle in the supreme effort to preserve 
 from overwhelming destruction the fruit of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 239 
 
 months of toil, spading and digging, building 
 and strengthening and resting, only to begin 
 anew the work which melted away even as 
 they completed it. 
 
 With all his energies quickened by the 
 struggle against the tremendous forces of Nat 
 ure, John, day after day, and night after night, 
 joined those who exerted themselves to keep 
 the great swollen river in bounds. It rushed 
 and beat against its embankments like a 
 mighty giant. Here it dashed a furious wave 
 over a low spot, there it crept like a thief 
 through a crevice made by some crustacean 
 ally, and bubbled up at the very feet of those 
 contending against it. Checked in its insidi 
 ous entry by new embankments thrown like 
 elbows from the main levee around the treach 
 erous opening, it swelled and pressed against 
 the strong barriers until it seemed that only 
 superhuman power could curb it. 
 
 On the summit of the levee, fifteen or twen 
 ty feet above the level of the county, one might 
 stand even with the surface of the stream, and 
 feel the throb of the great artery in its con 
 straint. Far away stretched the low, flat, fer 
 tile lands, rich in every element of productive- 
 
240 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ness. Beyond the woodland, which shut it 
 out from the river view, the old Morant place 
 extended like a great open prairie, its broad 
 acres now crossed by innumerable parallel 
 green lines, tracing the vigorous growth of tho 
 great staple just coming again into its king 
 dom. Wherever the eye rested the earth was 
 full of promise, putting forth its abundance in 
 very mockery of destruction. Each green 
 branch grew greener, and the luxuriant foliage 
 quivered defiantly at danger. Man might 
 shudder at the imminent cataclysm, but inan 
 imate Nature, true to established ways, decked 
 herself in gayest vesture on the brink of ruin. 
 
 The issue was still a doubtful one, when, 
 broken down by the strain upon mind and 
 body, John Morant was forced to rest, and re 
 tired to the plantation to await the end. 
 
 Twenty-four hours later, in the early morn 
 ing hours, a long line of silvery light touched 
 the outer edge of the green fields, and behind 
 it could be seen a dark, dun-colored surface 
 void of shadow water! water! 
 
 Miles distant the mighty Mississippi rushed 
 with a roar through a great crevasse. Here 
 its voice was silent, but slowly and surely it 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 241 
 
 swallowed up the land, spreading itself into a 
 vast ocean, with only a tree here and there to 
 mark the face of the earth. Inch by inch, 
 foot by foot, it covered the old Morant place, 
 until the waving cotton-fields disappeared and 
 the work of destruction was complete. 
 
 When the worst was done, John looked with 
 hea%y heart upon the vast expanse of water, 
 under which was buried all hope of reward for 
 the valuable labor of months. Nothing rose 
 above the surface of the liquid waste but the 
 trees, the plantation houses, and in the dis 
 tance, just visible to straining eyes, the dim 
 outlines of the mounds. 
 
 " You orter go over dar," said Uncle Dan l, 
 as he noted John s attention fixed upon them. 
 "You d see a quar sight, Mars John. Ef it 
 warn t fo dem mounds dar wouldn t be a crit 
 ter or a varmint lef in de country." 
 
 " How can we get there ?" inquired John, 
 upon whom the possibility of traversing the 
 broad waste had not yet dawned. 
 
 Uncle Dan l looked at him in sincere as- 
 tonishment. " Why, dar s plenty er dugouts 
 around, Mars John ! I kin take yo dar in no 
 time." 
 16 
 
242 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 The old negro hastily pushed out from the 
 edge of the gallery on a small raft with which 
 he had been navigating what had been so short 
 a while since the green lawn. He returned 
 in a long, slender boat which rolled from side 
 to side in a perilous way as he paddled it 
 along. Hewn and literally dug out of a solid 
 log, it was scarcely more manageable than one. 
 John took his seat in it, and allowed Uncle 
 Dan l to steer his way as he pleased over the 
 overflowed fields. Water, water everywhere. 
 One moment the paddle in the old negro s 
 hands cut down deep into the turbid element, 
 and they floated smoothly and swiftly through 
 it, the next instant it stirred the black mud, 
 bringing up from the furrows below the cling 
 ing roots and branches of the still living plants 
 over which Uncle Dan l had to push his way. 
 As the boat neared the one bit of land visible 
 for miles around, John began to understand 
 the negro s reference to it as the place of safe 
 ty for "critters" and "varmints." Huddled 
 together on the summit of the nearest mound, 
 the length and breadth of which scarcely ex 
 ceeded a quarter of an acre, was a motley col 
 lection of animals horses, cows, mules, wild 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 243 
 
 hogs, and one big antlered buck with a doe 
 and fawn whose large, dark, pathetic eyes were 
 fixed upon a wild-cat which crouched wet and 
 panting upon the ground, lost to every instinct 
 but that of fear. Strange companions in mis 
 fortune, the fiercest and the most timid equal 
 ly overawed by the unfamiliar conjuncture. 
 Not a movement disturbed the outline of the 
 group as the little boat approached, but each 
 creature watched it glide across the water 
 with almost human interest. In the silent, 
 hopeless concentration of the brute appeal 
 there was something of human intelligence. 
 It awoke John s keenest compassion, but de 
 liverance could not come through him, and he 
 bade Uncle Dan l turn his boat homeward. 
 
 " It do look like de lion and de lamb," said 
 the old negro, impressively. " It s mighty 
 strange, but dem varmints ain t gwine to do 
 one anuder no harm. Mebbe a bar or two ll 
 be up dar fore night, an when dey gits rested 
 dey ll jess drap in de water and go off some- 
 whar else. De oder mounds is all jess like 
 dat." 
 
 John scanned the country far and wide. 
 Uncle Dan l was right. Save the refugees upon 
 
244 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the mounds, not a living thing was visible. 
 There, patiently waiting the caprice of Nature, 
 they lingered, deaf and blind to every impulse 
 but that towards existence itself. He won 
 dered how long the sense of unwontedness 
 might hold them in check, how long the in 
 congruous assemblage might remain without 
 the awakening of that repulsion which could 
 rouse them to a struggle that was now sus 
 pended. 
 
 The very skies were unkind. A splash of 
 rain-drops rippled the smooth surface of the 
 water, and then a driving shower shut out all 
 distant objects. Gaining the shelter of the 
 broad galleries, John shivered in contemplat 
 ing Nature s unfriendliness, and he felt the 
 paralyzing power of her darker moods. 
 
 Never in the whole course of his life had 
 the logic of events appeared more inscrutable. 
 He seemed to have fallen into a groove of 
 never-ending calamity, and, silent and moody, 
 he saw no outlook beyond it. 
 
 The work before him was to alleviate as 
 much as possible the distress occasioned by 
 the flood. There was the stock to be rescued. 
 The poor brute creatures which had escaped 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 245 
 
 drowning with the first advance of the waters, 
 were to be placed on rafts or platforms built 
 for them. Floors were to be laid in the houses 
 thought to be above overflow, but into which 
 the steadily rising water threatened to come, 
 while boats were to be overhauled or new ones 
 made for the convenience of those upon the 
 place, or for the rescue of others from whom 
 might come at any moment an appeal charged 
 with every element of despair. 
 
 To the negroes upon the place the adverse 
 crisis brought a season of gayety rather than 
 gloom. Discharged from all responsibilities 
 and relegated once more to a condition of de 
 pendence, they fell very readily into the easy, 
 pleasure-loving ways of the olden times. Loud 
 laughter issued from the cabins, and out upon 
 the water one heard the boat songs swelling 
 and dying away with a monotony of effect pe 
 culiar to the minstrelsy of the music -loving 
 African, while the echoes brought back har 
 moniously the single voice or full chorus. Be 
 side each door-step in the quarters, planted 
 lightly in the mud beneath, Xvas a long, slen 
 der stick used to mark the state of the flood. 
 Great interest was manifested in the frequent 
 
246 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 consultings of these registers, but whether the 
 report was " rising " or " falling " or " on a 
 stand," it was followed by explosions of merri 
 ment, greatly increased by the flutter of wings 
 and answering cries of the feathered stock 
 taking refuge upon roof, chimney, and gallery. 
 Terribly lonesome were the long evenings, 
 when John sat amid the deepening shades on 
 the long gallery of the old plantation house, 
 fighting off the gathering mosquitoes, and list 
 ening to the dull slosh of the muddy water all 
 around against the houses and fences. Then 
 would his meditations take on a most sombre 
 hue. The questions of races and heredity 
 would come up in their most formidable 
 shapes. His intense love for Bamma would 
 reconcile him to their individual union ; but 
 what of their progeny ? Would they not re 
 vert to the darker type ? Would they not be 
 tray with successive generations the ignoble 
 marks of African descent ? Then, if such mar 
 riages were not mere liaisons, but genuine mar 
 riages, they must be as allowable and justifiable 
 to other parties as to themselves ; and if mis 
 cegenation should become general, would not 
 the whole Southern race, of which he was in- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 247 
 
 stinctively and organically proud, be precipi 
 tated headlong into a gulf of degradation, de 
 generation, and despair? Was not his own 
 unfortunate mesalliance a proof and a proph 
 ecy of the possibility of a general drifting tow 
 ards that gulf ? 
 
 Ceasing to confront these general questions, 
 he would then turn to his personal interests. 
 He would debate with himself whether it were 
 not best to break away at once on some plaus 
 ible pretexts, and go to Jamaica or Mexico, 
 where the race barriers had been already bro 
 ken down to a considerable extent. No, he 
 would vehemently exclaim, 
 
 " Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay." 
 
 Every night he would fall into his late slum 
 bers resolving to accommodate himself quietly 
 and bravely to his fate, and every morning he 
 would awake with the old, heavy burden upon 
 his heart. After many days of anxious thought 
 and suffering, he saw that he had made no 
 progress towards the solution of what he con 
 sidered the formidable life - questions that 
 stared him in the face. He lost all interest 
 in the plantation, and without having any act- 
 
248 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ual premonition of impending evil, he began 
 to think more constantly and tenderly of Bam- 
 ma than ever before, pity contending with love 
 in his regard for that beautiful and innocent 
 woman, bearing unconsciously in her delicate 
 veins the curse of tainted blood. 
 
 For the present there was nothing more to 
 be dreaded on the plantation. Measured by 
 previous years, the water had done as much 
 damage as unless it rose beyond all precedent 
 it was likely to do. Until it began to recede 
 the master s presence would not be required, 
 and John made preparations to leave. 
 
 Even before he left, there came a summons 
 for him to return home. Care had been taken- 
 to avoid alarming him, but the tidings con 
 veyed were of the serious illness of his wife. 
 
 All other troubles were dwarfed in the anx 
 iety which took possession of him, and in a 
 state alternating between hope and despair he 
 began what seemed the interminable journey 
 which separated them. 
 
 As he passed through the swampy wood 
 land near the river, it was denser and darker 
 than ever. Among the floating logs and oth 
 er drift which gathered to obstruct his way, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 249 
 
 the little boat which he cautiously steered was 
 frequently in danger, and from the overhang 
 ing branches the gray moss occasionally swept 
 over him, damp and chilly as the touch of 
 Death. Often as he forced his way along he 
 recalled that other journey, when Bamma had 
 been beside him, fascinating and pleasing to 
 every sense, pliant and loving, the very incar 
 nation of full, rich life. Shrinking from a 
 thought which smote his heart with cruel force, 
 he tortured himself with a vision of life with 
 out her presence ; and again admitting some 
 light in all his dark forebodings, he experi 
 enced the reaction of full hope. 
 
 As he took his seat upon the deck of the 
 steamer at the river landing, and watched the 
 swift current sweep by him towards her he 
 loved, he could not believe that it would bear 
 him to anything but her bright and loving 
 smiles. 
 
 The sound of a great bell startled him. The 
 boat was pushing out from shore. He looked 
 up and caught the eye of the captain as he 
 gave the last vigorous tap. 
 
 " Dreadful hard luck for these people, ain t 
 it?" said that officer, reflectively turning his 
 
250 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 good-natured face towards a point of land for 
 which he headed. " But then luck is always 
 down on em, there s no denying that It might 
 have been the drought, or it might have been 
 too much rain, or it might have been the army- 
 worm. They all come in their turn." 
 
 John nodded assent 
 
 " But I have been going up and down this 
 river nigh thirty years, and I declare I never 
 saw anything worse. There s a fine place now 
 just back of the landing. You can see the 
 house in a clump of trees behind the levee. I 
 tell you I hated to see that place go under. 
 It belongs to a nice woman," and the captain 
 ran a gamut upon the word " nice " which 
 made it comprehensive. 
 
 John responded with a monosyllable which 
 might mean anything, a simple assent or the 
 intimation of a desire to hear more. 
 
 " Yes, she s a nice woman," continued the 
 captain. " I know her ; I know everybody 
 along this river-bank. She s a widow." 
 
 A contemplative smile spread over his broad 
 face, as if he were not averse to. dwelling on 
 that fact. 
 
 " I don t recognize the place," said John, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2$ I 
 
 trying to identify the desolate picture; but 
 there was nothing in the place before him to 
 recall any former memory of it. " The river 
 seems to have changed its course here." 
 
 " Yes," said the captain, " the house used to 
 be a mile or two back from the levee ; but the 
 river has washed in here and taken a slice out 
 there, and forced them to move the levee so 
 often that they are now afraid the next move 
 will carry it behind the buildings. If the big 
 river don t begin to make a sand-bank in front, 
 as it did at Berry s, we ll have to say good-by 
 to the old Marston place." 
 
 " Marston ?" said John. " There was a large 
 family of that name. I remember them very 
 well." 
 
 " Mighty good stock they were, too," said 
 the captain, impressively. 
 
 John answered heartily that he believed they 
 were, and asked what had become of them all? 
 
 " Dead, all dead, but the widow. She s had 
 a hard time of it lately ; but I remember the 
 time," said the captain, " when nothing in this 
 wide universe was too fine for her. I wonder 
 what her old grandfather would say if he could 
 see her now. You never knew old man Tur- 
 
2$2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ner, did you ? No, that was before your day. 
 Well, that man s pride was about the biggest 
 thing I ever knew. Why, one day when we 
 were all hurrahing over the last election, he 
 swore I can just sec him now as he stood in 
 the cabin of the old Southern Belle, with a 
 sneer on his face, and swore that his hat had 
 never gone up, and never would go up in the 
 air for any man. He hated democracy, and 
 declared it would yet ruin the country ; that 
 no one could tell what his children might come 
 to, and, for his own, he hoped that fifty years 
 after his death his blood would run in no man s 
 veins. It does look as if his desire is going to 
 come to pass." 
 
 Brutal as the patrician s wish had sounded, 
 John felt a responsive thrill. Extinction might 
 be, after all, the kindest destiny. 
 
 " Are there many of the old families left in 
 the parish ?" he asked. 
 
 " Very few," said the captain, " and they are 
 mostly represented by widows. The fact is," 
 continued he, emphatically, "that country is 
 chock full of widows." 
 
 " Naturally enough," suggested John, " when 
 so many lives were given to their country." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 253 
 
 The captain s explanation was significant. 
 " No, the war was not responsible for it all. 
 There had been another mighty agent at work." 
 His voice fell to a whisper as he enunciated 
 it : " Whiskey !" There hadn t been a man in 
 that country for two generations who didn t 
 drink like a fish. They had a notion that 
 it kept off the chills ; but his private opinion 
 publicly expressed was that the fashion was 
 set years ago by Billy Bush, and nobody had 
 ever had the courage to change it. 
 
 " You ve heard of Billy Bush, haven t you ?" 
 he asked ; " splendid old fellow he was too." 
 
 John nodded his head only, and moved 
 away. The old captain, somewhat disconcert 
 ed, looked after him with a significant grunt, 
 and then he too moved off to console him 
 self, probably with one of Billy Bush s favorite 
 mixtures. 
 
 John lighted his cigar and paced the deck 
 restlessly. Billy Bush again ! Was that name 
 always to pursue him ? Had the man so im 
 pressed himself upon the world that he could 
 never lie forgotten ? What other sins might 
 not yet be laid to his charge ? Was there no 
 
254 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 way to escape the wickedness of this trans 
 gressor of every law, social and divine ? 
 
 The night wind blew softly, and weird shad 
 ows danced upon the water, and he felt as im 
 potent against the influences which he fancied 
 had entered into his life through the far off 
 dead as he was powerless to stay the wind or 
 grasp the shadows. 
 
 " Concealment," he muttered, " concealment 
 is now the only hope; concealment from Bam- 
 ma, from my family, and from the world." For 
 he foresaw in the promulgation of his dread 
 ful secret the agony of his wife, the misery of 
 his proud relatives, and the social ostracism 
 which would inevitably follow. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BAMMA declined visibly after her husband s 
 departure. She became subject to spells of 
 abstraction and despondency which quite 
 alarmed her friends. A sudden illness im 
 pelled them to inform her husband of her 
 condition, and to solicit his return. She re 
 covered, however, more readily than was ex 
 pected, and was able to resume a daily ride 
 in her carriage. 
 
 It was towards the afternoon of one day that 
 she prepared to make a visit which had become 
 one of pleasant duty since her marriage. 
 
 Down in the old French district she was 
 always received with a warmth of welcome 
 very grateful to her childlike nature, and the 
 pleasant greetings of the devoted sister, and 
 kindly smiles of the gray- haired old gentle 
 man, whom she now called father, were potent 
 to dispel any prejudices which the strange il 
 lusions of her first visit there might have en 
 gendered. 
 
256 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 How well she remembered that first visit ! 
 To-day its details were more vivid than ever 
 the very clearness of the sky, not" dimmed as 
 now by the white cumulus passing over its 
 deep blue, the fresher breeze, the enchantment 
 of her new position, and John s eyes so eager 
 and tender. Surely she who then turned her 
 head with fine coquetry from that ardent gaze, 
 and lifted it with outbursts of lively curiosity 
 and whimsical assertion, was other than the 
 young matron now leaning against the soft 
 cushions of the luxurious carriage, very pale, 
 and languid with the unusual warmth of the 
 initial summer days, but smiling with the su 
 perior little smile which comes upon the face 
 of a woman quite satisfied with her new king 
 dom. And yet she was vaguely conscious of 
 the cloud somewhere over her head. 
 
 Every turn of the way brought fresh recol 
 lections. As she passed the taxidermist s shop 
 she stopped, for she fancied she saw in the 
 window, in the place of honor once occupied 
 by the great alligator, a new specimen, an 
 unique sample of the taxidermist s art, a white 
 bird with out -stretched wings, just ready to 
 take flight from a moss-covered globe. There 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 257 
 
 was no doubt of it. It was the little man s 
 treasure. What an air of grace was there in 
 the light poise of the delicate frame, the in 
 stant of gathering force for a strange venture ! 
 it might be in search of better " compagnie " 
 than any he had ever found upon the globe he 
 was leaving. 
 
 It was all Marie s fault, the little man ex 
 plained. She had been too kind. There had 
 to be a limit to kindness. One must know 
 how much, and what to give, when they have 
 the opportunity of giving, and Marie had not 
 been wise. 
 
 " An so yo see fo yo se f," he said, discon 
 solately. " But I keep my word, madame. I 
 haf yo name, an I sen heem to yo soon." 
 
 " You have my name?" said Bamma, in some 
 surprise. " Then you know that I am Madam 
 Morant ?" 
 
 " Ah, oui, madame," returned he, " I see yo 
 usban sev al time." 
 
 So John had not lost his interest in the lit 
 tle shop, thought Bamma, as she left it. What 
 was there in it that attracted him ? And the 
 curious bird which pleased him, or did it please 
 him ? Any way it was at last to be theirs. 
 17 
 
258 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 She smiled as her tasteful instincts failed to 
 imagine a decorative position for it. If it had 
 been of its own proper color, there was the li 
 brary. Yes, she and John had discussed the 
 raven that was to be placed just above that 
 door. 
 
 That thought of the library was oppressive. 
 With it something of the brightness of the 
 day past and the day present was blotted out 
 Most distinctly was revived the impression of 
 that evening before her husband had gone 
 away, when she had desired his confidence 
 and gained only a strange conviction. Why 
 had it never occurred to her before to act 
 upon it? His trouble might be, after all, a 
 family affair, with which he did not care to 
 burden her, and which she thought she ought 
 to know. At any rate there could be no harm 
 in simple inquiry of the father and sister; and 
 even if she consulted old Celine, what impro 
 priety could there be in that ? Was she not 
 a faithful old nurse, discreet and deserving of 
 confidence ? And if once she had a clew to 
 that inexplicable sadness, might she not be 
 able to soften it ? The image of herself as his 
 comforter caused her heart to swell with joy, 
 
.TOWARDS THE GULF. 259 
 
 and thrill with delicious emotion. " The first 
 opportunity, yes," she whispered to herself 
 " the first opportunity that comes to me, I will 
 know." 
 
 She was somewhat startled when she ar 
 rived at the house to hear Celine assert that 
 her master and mistress were absent. Had 
 such an extraordinary thing ever happened 
 before, and when ? Even old Celine s face 
 showed traces of astonishment and perplexity. 
 
 " I do not understand it," said Bamma. 
 " Are they visiting some one ?" 
 
 " No, madam," was Celine s brief response. 
 
 " Then where can they have gone ?" 
 
 " To the lake, madam." 
 
 What other assertion could have been more 
 preposterous ? None but the answer which 
 Celine gave to the next question. 
 
 " With whom have they gone ?" 
 
 " Mr. Byrne." 
 
 Bamma could not restrain a merry laugh, 
 which woke the echoes of the old hall, though 
 it did not bring a change of muscle in old Ce 
 line s face. Certainly affairs were becoming 
 significant. The dawning sentiments of Mr. 
 Byrne had not been unobserved, but this re- 
 
260 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 markable evidence of progress was an amus 
 ing surprise. 
 
 If she could only have seen the strangely 
 associated party on its way to the old-time 
 pleasure resort, the unaffected good-humor of 
 the major, whose eyes were still closed to any 
 motives upon the part of his old friend but 
 those of pure benevolence, the prim demure- 
 ness of Miss Isabel and the half concealed 
 agitation of Mr. Byrne ! Would Miss Isabel 
 ever tell of that dashing drive down to the 
 Lake Pontchartrain, over the broad, level, 
 white shell road, incomparable but for the un- 
 picturesque and odorate dairy farms upon the 
 one hand, and the sluggish canal on the other 
 a drive which brought new life to the old 
 major, and a wealth of ancient memories, of 
 which for once Mr. Byrne was intolerant. 
 Then the dinner. The open dining-room 
 fronting the water, over which came the fresh 
 est, balmiest breath of air that ever comforted 
 tired lungs, the neat little table for three, the 
 menu, which Mr. Byrne s long bachelorhood 
 and experience had insured should be perfect 
 all were luxuries too infrequent for Miss Isa 
 bel to fail to appreciate them, and regard with 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 261 
 
 increasing favor the dispenser of them. And 
 was it very wonderful, after all, that in her poor, 
 half-starved life, with its hereditary fitness for 
 the enjoyment of all the good things of the 
 world, she should long for a continuance of 
 them and see the possibility of it in the posi 
 tion she was sure was about to be offered 
 her? 
 
 It is impossible to say how much Bamma 
 enjoyed the mental picture she made of the 
 aged wooer and the probable result of his 
 wooing, and how light-hearted she suddenly 
 became. Could it be possible that this im 
 pending change in family relations was a mat 
 ter of grief to her husband? Was this the 
 trouble which had clouded his brow ? Did he 
 feel so seriously the slight ridicule which 
 might be attached to the step which his sister 
 would probably take ? For a moment the sug 
 gestion seemed conclusive, but then it did 
 seem insufficient it did not satisfy her. 
 
 Perhaps it was because the opportunity of 
 talking with old Celine might never again so 
 favorably present itself that the desire to do 
 so grew and grew until she felt that it had 
 become the one thing which could rid her of 
 
262 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 that haunting conviction which had seized 
 upon her so suddenly, which had surely been 
 based upon nothing, and might as quickly be 
 driven from her mind. 
 
 She would not speak hastily. Her words 
 must be chosen fitly, not to compromise her 
 dignity. Celine had remained standing beside 
 her, silently and respectfully awaiting any com 
 mands or instructions to be left for the absent 
 ones. Bamma now dismissed her for a while. 
 
 " I am going in for a few moments to rest," 
 she said, entering the parlors. " You may 
 come again when I am ready to leave." 
 
 She could not understand, when she had 
 chosen to seat herself in the old major s chair, 
 why she suddenly began to tremble so violent 
 ly. Was it wrong, after all, to seek to know 
 what her husband had desired to conceal? and 
 was she taking an unfair advantage in her 
 method of discovering it? The doubt held 
 her long in suspense ; but argument and re 
 flection were powerless against the combina 
 tion of circumstances so inviting to her first 
 impulse as this now presenting itself. 
 
 She could hear Celine moving to and fro at 
 her work in the adjoining room. She had but 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 263 
 
 to call softly and the old negress would be be* 
 side her. 
 
 " Celine !" 
 
 " Madam ?" 
 
 Could it be true that she had not called at 
 all, nor had Celine responded ? Her courage 
 rose as she laughed at the trick her imagina 
 tion had played her; such things were frequent 
 with her, and she was becoming used to them. 
 The situation now seemed less difficult. An 
 advance had been made in framing that men 
 tal summons, and the wheels of action slightly 
 started gained momentum until the impulse 
 was so far strengthened that she really uttered 
 the call. 
 
 " Celine !" 
 
 " Madam ?" answered the negress, softly en 
 tering the room. 
 
 " Did your mistress tell you at what time 
 she would return ?" 
 
 " No, madam." 
 
 " It has been many years since she has gone 
 out much." 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 "And you have been with the family all 
 your life, have you not ?" 
 
264 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " You were my husband s nurse, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 How respectfully laconic the old creature 
 was ! How different from garrulous Aunt 
 Priscilla, with whom one suggestion would 
 have opened a store of family knowledge! 
 Starting so far away from the point she de 
 sired to reach, Bamma felt the difficulty of 
 dealing with so unpromising a subject. But 
 even Celine grew more communicative under 
 well-directed questions of the childhood and 
 youth of him whom the old negro " mammy " 
 had never ceased to think of as " my baby," 
 and she related at last, more effectively than 
 her rigid, unsmiling face would have promised, 
 a laughable but innocent escapade in which 
 he had been engaged. 
 
 " He was always very gay, was he not ?" said 
 Bamma. 
 
 " Yes, madam, but" 
 
 A strange expression came upon the wom 
 an s face. 
 
 " But what ?" inquired Bamma, feeling that 
 her look meant a great deal. 
 
 " Mars John is change ." 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 265 
 
 Then she, too, recognized the fact ; but did 
 she know why ? Something in the black eyes 
 warned Bamma of a knowledge of evil which 
 might touch her sorely. But what prevision 
 of fate ever checked the advance of it ? 
 
 " Yes, I know it," she answered, growing a 
 little pale, and shrinking slightly from the ac 
 knowledgment. The black eyes were still 
 fixedly regarding her, and Bamma fancied she 
 detected an expression of dislike towards her 
 self in their glassy stare. 
 
 " And because you have nursed him and 
 known him all his life, I would like to ask you 
 something. Do you know of anything that 
 could make him unhappy ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 Bamma was sure now that it was hatred 
 that gleamed in Celine s eyes, and she com 
 prehended that something sinister menaced 
 her peace ; but it only increased her desire to 
 know. 
 
 "Will you tell me what it is?" she asked, 
 very gently. 
 
 What could have possessed Celine that she 
 lost all fear of John Morant s anger, and was 
 ready to betray the trust which he had thought 
 
266 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 safe with her ? Could it be true that among 
 the finer classes of her race might be found 
 a prejudice as deep and strong and intolerant 
 of any commingling of blood as ever existed 
 in the heart of Celt or Saxon ? Did it tempt 
 her to strike down and pursue the innocent 
 victim of it, gloating upon the anguish of the 
 sore oppressed. Nothing less than this could 
 account for the disclosures she made. 
 
 She did not tell it all at once. Little by 
 little, pressed by questions upon points very 
 obscure to the foreign education of her listen 
 er, upon whom the whole horror of the wretch 
 ed story dawned slowly, monotonously and 
 briefly she responded with words which stim 
 ulated inquiry. And this was the substance 
 of it all. 
 
 There was a likeness which she had recog 
 nized that first day when Mars John had 
 brought the madam there a likeness to a 
 family she would not say what they were, 
 but they had lived many years ago in that lit 
 tle house she could show it to her. No? 
 well, the madam could see it as she went 
 out. There was no mistaking the likeness- 
 there was just the same face, the same eyes, 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 267 
 
 and even the three little black moles under 
 the lashes. The madam must know for her 
 self they were very curious, and they were 
 just like those of the young girl who had been 
 sold to the plantations when she (Celine) was 
 very young. And there were other things 
 which anybody could see. She had warned 
 Mars John. Why had she done that? Be 
 cause she had her suspicions. She could not 
 let Mars John suffer through those people. 
 And he had found out what she thought was 
 true. How, she could not tell, but it was 
 very soon after he married ; she had no need 
 to ask him, she could see it. And he was not 
 satisfied, she was sure. He had asked her 
 many strange questions, and she was sure he 
 was trying to find out. There was one man 
 who knew a great deal about everything and 
 everybody. Mars John sometimes went to 
 see him. He was a funny little man, always 
 prowling around old places and hunting up 
 strange things. She had seen him a great 
 deal in the neighborhood lately, and he had 
 asked many questions. He could find out, if 
 anybody could, that madam was in some way 
 kin to those people and they were negroes. 
 
268 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 There were no more questionings. Against 
 the chair the little white face with its closed 
 eyes was very like death. Celine was startled. 
 She advanced a step, but the eyes opened, the 
 small hands waved her away. Not near her 
 not a step must she approach. 
 
 Was this the result of her desire to know ? 
 She suddenly felt herself covered all over with 
 infamy, though not a word of that story could 
 be true. She had followed it wonderingly at 
 first, for it seemed very far away from her, 
 very absurd. That easy solution of the old 
 negress s manner, a doubt of her sanity, was 
 instinctive with her ; it had been so with her 
 husband when he had first listened. What 
 folly, that she an English girl could be so 
 strangely like one dead long enough ago to 
 have faded out of the memory of the aged 
 creature before her. And even so, what con 
 nection could there be in that with her life or 
 her husband s happiness. Never had there 
 been a relative of hers in this country except 
 the mother now lying in the quietest, prettiest 
 graveyard in England, and she had been far 
 removed from this horrible place. Yes, she 
 was beginning to think it was a horrible place. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 269 
 
 The portraits of the Morants upon the 
 walls, stiff as wooden soldiers and sawdust 
 dolls, had an air of understanding it all, and 
 seemed to look down upon her oh! so con 
 temptuously, that she should be listening and 
 shrinking from the utterances of their negro 
 slave. She would have hushed her then with 
 that fine air of authority learned in her own 
 land, where authority was something to be re 
 spected, but she had just reached a hideous 
 fact, that John believed it ! This accounted 
 for his sadness and all his curious studies. 
 And this creature knew it! Oh, that she 
 could escape the insult ! could hide herself 
 from the shame of it ! She closed her eyes 
 that she might forever shut it out. That icy 
 feeling so like death was at her heart, and a 
 great pulsating wave swept towards her brain. 
 One thought sustained her. It was that of 
 escape from the place where she had been 
 thus cruelly wounded. 
 
 Without a look, without a word, she rose 
 and passed through that door never before 
 inhospitable to one who reached its thresh 
 old. 
 
 " For the last time," she whispered, too low 
 
2/O TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 for anything to hear but the light breeze 
 which touched her cheek softly and tenderly 
 as if it knew. 
 
 And then Bamma saw the last vision that 
 the old French district would ever conjure up 
 to distract and bewilder her senses, a clairvoy 
 ance never more to be granted her. As she 
 raised her eyes full of the tears which had 
 come to relieve the great burden of her heart, 
 she saw the little house, that one silent and 
 deserted of life, closed to the world, and wait 
 ing the completion of decay. Beyond the 
 bolts and bars and fast closed shutters she 
 saw a spectral home, the confrontation of that 
 remote past. A sudden relaxation of the body, 
 a droop of the pretty head, and Celine, who 
 had silently followed her, held Bamma in her 
 arms. She was not unconscious, but white 
 and still, just as she had rested in the major s 
 chair, she leaned against Celine s breast, only 
 in the wide open eyes one saw no trace of the 
 horror, the indignation which had then pos 
 sessed her. A senseless terror dilated them, 
 a terror of that which had confronted her, and 
 the meaning of which was at once clear to 
 her sympathetic faculties. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2/1 
 
 " Take me home," she said, as calmly and 
 authoritatively as her shattered strength would 
 permit. " I must go quickly." 
 
 And without a protest she allowed the old 
 negress to lift her, and to hold her tenderly 
 while her instructions were obeyed. When 
 she reached home she had still to be lifted 
 from the carnage, and she seemed to cling 
 closely to Celine, whose once strong arms 
 were yet able to bear the light burden. 
 
 They placed her to rest a moment on a 
 lounge in the room where the large, square 
 window let in the sunshine, and the boughs 
 of the live-oak swayed across it. She smiled 
 faintly as she recognized the familiar shadows, 
 and she watched with interest a great golden 
 butterfly which had settled on the upper win 
 dow-panes within, and calmly waved back and 
 forth a pair of showily striped wings, while a 
 green chameleon outside struck at it with its 
 snake-like head, once and again with no suc 
 cess beyond the dull rap which told its discom 
 fiture. When they had taken her to her own 
 room she called Celine to her bedside and said, 
 
 " You are a good nurse ; you must stay 
 with me. I shall need you." 
 
2/2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Afterwards she asked to have brought to 
 her a small box, which she slowly opened; 
 then took from it the well-remembered and 
 well-cherished bracelet which she had shown 
 to her husband as possessing power against 
 all evil, and clasping it around her small wrist, 
 seemed more content. 
 
 As if that mere holding of the fainting 
 woman in her arms had been the spark to 
 kindle a sentiment akin to one* which seems 
 always to linger in the soul of a negro nurse, 
 the love of the little ones whom she has once 
 held to her bosom, Celine watched beside 
 Bamma faithfully through the agony which 
 the night brought. For the great pangs of 
 premature motherhood came upon her, and 
 the doctor, hastily summoned, sat by her bed 
 side for hours. 
 
 Towards the morning, when relief from 
 pain had come, the doctor having retired, the 
 old negress believed that her patient was 
 sinking into a pleasant slumber, and she, 
 too, sitting at the foot of the bed, nodded 
 and slept. 
 
 The morning was not yet come when Bam 
 ma opened her eyes. Something had awak- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 273 
 
 ened her which sent a thrill of pain along her 
 sensitive nerves. It was a mocking-bird in 
 the live-oak, singing with all the vigor and 
 variety of tone which makes him sometimes 
 sweet, sometimes satanic. 
 
 How oppressive were all his notes ! The 
 pathetic warble, and the rise through every 
 gradation of melody to the shrill whistle and 
 derisive call so startlingly distinct in the still 
 night air. There seemed a cruel fun in every 
 trick of the voice which tortured her. Under 
 it the despair which had been a dull leaden 
 force became active. Her defence was so 
 feeble. 
 
 It was only the reiteration of denial. That 
 suspicion was not true, but John believed it, 
 and was wretched on account of it. With that 
 little taxidermist upon the track, what might 
 he not discover? Was there to be no escape 
 from it? Could she not save them both from 
 the infamous facts which might be revealed ? 
 If only she were out of the way, it would all 
 be well with John. 
 
 And then from some secret store of con 
 sciousness was telegraphed the way. 
 18 
 
274 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 Did that sudden death that suicide that 
 eternal sleep entered upon years ago by the 
 old man, whose deeds still carried their terri 
 ble consequences did that shape her resolu 
 tion ? 
 
 What a mixed nature was hers ! Simple, 
 light-hearted as an innocent child, and as tim 
 idly trembling at the least sound or shadow 
 which her inexperience determined as inimi 
 cal to her, and yet serene and resolute at the 
 thought of death. It is easy for the grand 
 child of a suicide to commit self-murder. In 
 the dim light of the room she could see Ce 
 line s turbaned head and dark face, with a 
 gleam of the golden ear-rings swinging to and 
 fro with every deep respiration. Yes, she 
 was asleep ; those black eyes were closed and 
 would never more disturb her. It was not pos 
 sible for her to see what was going to happen, 
 only, she would know first of all, and would 
 she keep the secret of it ? What would they 
 think then? That she had sunk exhausted 
 under that agony through which she had 
 passed ? Sudden deaths under such circum 
 stances have often occurred. She raised her 
 hand, and the green bracelet slipped back 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 275 
 
 from the wrist and tightened itself about the 
 well-rounded arm. 
 
 It had not been an amulet, after all. A con 
 temptuous anger possessed her against the 
 senseless stones. She would have thrown 
 them far from her, but a thought restrained 
 the impulse. " She must not wake Celine." 
 So with set face like a passionate child she 
 tore them apart, bead by bead, crushed them 
 in her restless, weary hands, and dropped them 
 one by one beside her. 
 
 A great loneliness fell upon her, and a quick 
 compassion for her own fate. The tears forced 
 themselves through the fallen lashes and rest 
 ed upon her cheek. But they were the last 
 which she was to shed. That thought she 
 received with a triumphant rush of blood 
 through her veins. She would escape her own 
 social desolation and restore her husband s 
 peace of mind by the same stroke. It seemed 
 to her that there was no alternative. 
 
 Close by the bed was the table which held 
 all the articles suggestive of the watch beside 
 the sick: the goblet, the spoon, the little 
 square box, half opened, displaying the neat 
 white packages within, the small bottle of 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 ruby- colored liquid, and one other, clear as 
 crystal, with a conically folded napkin be 
 side it. 
 
 There was still in the room a faint ethereal 
 odor which betrayed the contents of the clear 
 white bottle, and that it had already been free 
 ly used. It was this chloroform which fixed 
 Bamma s attention. 
 
 " Oh, John !" she exclaimed, " this will lift 
 the heavy burden from your life. Take care 
 of our child." 
 
 An instant later the ethereal odor had grown 
 heavier in the room. It oppressed Celine, for 
 she stirred with a slight cough, then rested 
 her chin upon her breast, and nodded once 
 more. 
 
 # * # * # * # 
 
 Hours after, when John drew near his home, 
 there returned upon him a great dread. The 
 hope that had sprung up in his heart died out. 
 So much of happiness had escaped him that 
 he accepted the fate before him in the full as 
 surance that its darkest shadows were to close 
 around him. As he approached the house 
 the sinister look of its surroundings were in 
 keeping with his mood. The breath of a hot 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 277 
 
 day had passed over the pretty garden, and 
 left plants and greensward dry and withered. 
 The branches of the live-oak hung lifeless in 
 the general stillness. The door swung open 
 in a hopeless manner, suggesting sorrow rath 
 er than welcome for the one that would pass 
 that way. 
 
 He went in. 
 
 It was not necessary to tell him what had 
 happened. There, in the room where he had 
 wooed and won her, where life had seemed to 
 sparkle and glow with the entrancing fresh 
 ness of youthful passion, where it had held 
 for him the tenderest, purest hopes that had 
 ever garnered despair there in the solemn 
 stillness which touches the soul with keener 
 agony than audible sorrow, there in calm 
 rigidity was the face he loved so well, smiling 
 in its dreamless slumber almost as it had done 
 when in that last pressure of his arms he had 
 promised no long absence. 
 
 Through the broad, open window the sun 
 shine streamed and quivered as it sought and 
 touched the hands that would never more lift 
 themselves to catch its warmth, and following 
 its beams one might see them playing lightly 
 
2/8 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 upon the little white bird which some one had 
 placed in the midst of the flowers with which 
 they had surrounded her. It was the little 
 white blackbird of the taxidermist s shop. No 
 one at the funeral, except John or Celine, 
 would suspect its dreadful symbolism. 
 
 For once Death had been kind. In that 
 eternal sleep was blotted out every record but 
 love. She was gone while yet John s heart 
 was kindled with the fire of his chivalric pas 
 sion gone before the slowly accumulating 
 forces grounded in his being might rally to 
 quench its light. The union founded against 
 a prejudice so strong that no hypothesis can 
 be constructed deep and wide enough to in 
 clude the problem of its existence, had been 
 dissolved, and for once, one might repeat it, 
 Death had been kind. 
 
 When John Morant had passed out of sight 
 of the face which would forever abide in his 
 memory, some one came to him and, softly 
 touching him on the arm, spoke a few words 
 which scarcely conveyed any meaning to his 
 bewildered senses. He looked into his sister s 
 face, while her words, slowly repeated with lov 
 ing tenderness, became distinct. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 279 
 
 " It is a boy, John. Your own son, prema 
 turely born, but still living, and we hope for 
 the best. Do take him to your heart !" 
 
 She pointed to a helpless bit of humanity 
 nestling in her arms. 
 
 His son ! Had he a son ? He looked at 
 the small frail creature, whose pitiful life had 
 outweighed that dearer one. All the bitter 
 ness of months gone by again flooded his 
 soul. He felt that he had been singled out 
 alone of all men for the irony of fate. His 
 son ! No fatherly love, no parental solicitude 
 welled up in his heart for the child. Instead, 
 a violent repulsion overcame him. His son ! 
 Was this to be the representative of his race ? 
 He gazed hopelessly at the new type, the new 
 heir to the old name, while his hard, cruel 
 thoughts took form. 
 
 " Will you always carry in your veins, min 
 gled with the blood of the Morants, a degen 
 erate stain ? Can no measure of infinite love 
 and compassion blot it out ? Must I always 
 be pitiless to you? Is Nature inexorable? 
 What transgression of her laws makes me her 
 victim?" 
 
 He turned away in despair. The burden 
 
28O TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 had been lifted in one shape only to be im 
 posed upon him in another. The little one, 
 as if in pathetic appeal, cried out, and Miss 
 Isabel, with that fine motherly instinct given 
 to every good woman, drew him close to her 
 heart and hushed his wail. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 28 1 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Miss ISABEL made no mistake when she 
 decided to marry Mr. Byrne. Despite its lack 
 of romantic and its fulness of ridiculous ele 
 ments, the union was a happy one. A won 
 derful adaptability constituted her great point, 
 and Mr. Byrne was not hard to manage. He 
 apparently gained a new lease of life through 
 his late marriage, and was less vehement in 
 voicing his hobbies, though he indulged in 
 profound ruminations upon them, if one might 
 judge from the habit he had of looking long 
 and solemnly into vacancy, protruding all the 
 while his tightly-closed lips, and then sudden 
 ly contracting them as if his wise conclusions 
 should never escape him. 
 
 His wife hovered around him with tender- 
 est care, and if he looked pale or feeble she 
 was full of solicitude and suggestions of rem 
 edies, including a wide range of temperance 
 tonics, at which Mr. Byrne would grow some 
 times facetious, sometimes sarcastic. 
 
282 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " Never mind me, my dear; you shall be a 
 fine little widow soon enough." 
 
 And she, exclaiming with horror, " Oh, I do 
 believe you have wicked thoughts," would go 
 off by herself to indulge in a delicious cry, 
 while Mr. Byrne, laughing softly, would pro 
 trude and contract his lips more vigorously 
 than ever. 
 
 Mrs. Byrne s thoughts and tears were now 
 never bitter nor despairing ones, as in the days 
 when her bit of tatting furnished her only 
 resource against melancholy. She became 
 an authority in all social and charitable en 
 terprises. The necessity of maintaining the 
 supremacy in such matters which the large 
 fortune of Mr. Byrne had enabled her to as 
 sume, and the effort to make herself heard in 
 the chattering councils of pushing aspirants 
 for the place of distinction that she enjoyed, 
 told upon the gentle demeanor which she had 
 heretofore cultivated, believing it to be the 
 test of fine manners and good breeding. 
 
 Her voice might sometimes be heard with 
 a note of aggressiveness in it which approach 
 ed so nearly to rudeness that the line of de 
 marcation was indistinct, and once she did a 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 283 
 
 thing which might have been called unkind. 
 On seeing at one of her grand entertainments 
 a little old maid, gentle, sweet-faced, and mod 
 est as a violet, but presented to view as the 
 most persistent of wallflowers on seeing this 
 creature, the very type of her former self, she 
 failed in observing the code of her ancestors, 
 and passed her by and laughed ! 
 
 Mr. Byrne placed no restrictions on his 
 wife s championship of new ideas, except those 
 looking to the enlargement of woman s sphere, 
 and even then his opposition was kind. 
 
 " A woman has enough already to weigh 
 her down. Don t hunt up more burdens for 
 her." So Mrs. Byrne confined herself to high 
 art, and headed a select circle of enthusiastic 
 friends who made chair-backs and mantle- 
 scarfs and an infinite number of impossibly 
 useful and ornamental articles. Her house, 
 for she clung to the old Morant mansion, be 
 came very grand and elegant in its interior 
 decorations. 
 
 But not more wonderful were the changes 
 in the old house than those which ten years 
 of time brought to many portions of the old 
 French district. The carpenter, the painter, 
 
284 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 the kalsominer invaded and transformed it. 
 From very dilapidated foundations rose houses 
 clean, fresh, and uncompromisingly white, ex 
 cept where an occasional interloping disciple 
 of the early English put on some aesthetic 
 color. The shrewd Jew and pushing Gentile 
 waked the rabais merchants from somnolency 
 and taught them to display goods in every 
 available window, ticketed, all regardless of 
 cost. Even the little taxidermist freshened 
 up his shop with new specimens, birds of all 
 kinds resting on impossible green branches, 
 brightened by still more impossible paper 
 roses. 
 
 And these were the things which most fre 
 quently met the eyes of eager tourists who, 
 beguiled by the wonderful descriptive powers 
 of a certain brilliant writer of Creole days, 
 prowled around the old district, searching in 
 vain for the peculiar features which lent a 
 witching interest to his pen. 
 
 Change had come upon the household and 
 every inmate of it but Celine. That turbaned 
 head and dark face with its golden earrings 
 would always be the same until some day 
 when they would disappear forever. Upon 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 285 
 
 good old Major Morant had come the might 
 iest change of all. The wonder of his daugh 
 ter s marriage constantly increased. The 
 gentle current of his life was visibly disturbed 
 by it, and one day he quietly and peacefully 
 set sail for a more restful shore, leaving old 
 Mr. Burton adrift. 
 
 From the hour that she hushed his sobs 
 against her tender heart, John s son became 
 Mrs. Byrne s tender charge, and Celine was 
 promoted once again to the position of nurse. 
 That position she still retained, for it is hard 
 to depose a negro mammy, and she glided 
 about the house with an inscrutable look that 
 seemed to hold all mysteries in its depths. 
 
 Over the way the green and white cottage 
 had grown a mansard roof and a bow-window, 
 and the little woman who had flattened her 
 nose against the less aristocratic window- 
 panes tried faithfully to live up tcTthe new 
 dignities ; but she could not forego the pleas 
 ure of watching her neighbors come out for 
 a ride. A thrill of excitement would shoot 
 through her as she saw the fine carnage dash 
 up to the door to receive its occupants, and 
 she could have told her far-away Northern 
 
286 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 friends the invariable order in which they 
 came. First always Mrs. Byrne, with an ex 
 traordinary number of wraps, then a feeble 
 old man, and last but one a small restless 
 boy, who bounced up and down on the cush 
 ions in a way to excite the ire of the looker- 
 on. 
 
 " She hasn t no function for managing chil 
 dren. I d stop that if twas me. Law, how 
 queer-looking he is, anyway ! He don t look 
 a mite like any of them." 
 
 And then the colored person, old Celine, 
 whose presence was important to the small 
 boy, and of sarcastic interest to the neighbor : 
 
 " Mis Byrne might do better than to ride 
 her out." 
 
 But Mrs. Byrne was no longer moved by 
 observation that would have been painful to 
 Miss Isabel. Gone with poverty and obscuri 
 ty was all her sensitiveness. Her doors were 
 wide open to the world. 
 
 She was very fond and very proud of the 
 little boy committed to her care, though she, 
 as well as the little woman over the way, rec 
 ognized the fact that he was like none of the 
 Morants. Physical beauty was not wanting. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 287 
 
 The slender face was of the true Hellenic 
 type, but the black, close curling hair, the 
 large, bold black eyes, and the dusky yellow 
 skin were matters of comment. 
 
 " Will you have the goodness to tell me, 
 my dear," said Mr. Byrne, one day, watching 
 him closely at his play, " who that child is 
 like ?" 
 
 " Certainly," responded his wife, with a tri 
 umphant smile. " He is like our French an 
 cestors. It is the Huguenot blood which 
 shows itself again in our family." 
 
 "Ah!" said he, seemingly quite satisfied. 
 And then, as if the thought had again pre 
 sented itself, he added, like one quoting au 
 thority, " Individuals having a specific ten 
 dency towards different races are constantly 
 being born in every family. Now I would 
 say" 
 
 " I know what you would say," interrupted 
 his wife, vehemently. " You would say what 
 would irritate me beyond measure." 
 
 " Well, well, my dear," returned Mr. Byrne, 
 " there is no harm done. You have prevent 
 ed it." And he began that movement of his 
 mouth which intimated that the subject was 
 
288 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 closed so far as he was concerned. But his 
 wife was much astonished and gratified when 
 a few moments later he rose from his chair, 
 came near her, and watching her outline with 
 bright threads the great M that she was em 
 broidering upon the child s clothing, said, feel 
 ingly, 
 
 " It is a fine thing, my dear, to come of no 
 common strain, and to be as sure of that fact 
 as you are. Family pride is a good thing, 
 and I honor you for every sensitive defence 
 of it." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Byrne s eyes were moist. 
 Mr. Byrne was not much to look at ; he was 
 old, he was wrinkled, and uglier than he it 
 was almost impossible to be ; but he was very 
 good, and he appreciated her. 
 
 The child, too, had something to suffer, 
 well guarded as he seemed to be from every 
 thing unpleasant in life. He could not es 
 cape malicious remark. Once when his fa 
 ther was sitting with Mrs. Isabel, just as they 
 used to do in days gone by, out on the pleas 
 ant gallery, talking sadly touching that mys 
 terious ordering of events which had so 
 changed the current of their lives, the little 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 289 
 
 boy rushed in quivering with excitement, and 
 with his tear-stained face glowing with indig 
 nation. 
 
 " Papa, papa !" exclaimed he ; but meeting 
 with no answering sympathy in his father s 
 eyes, he threw himself into his aunt s arms in 
 the utter abandonment of grief. 
 
 " What is it, my child ? Do tell me, my dar 
 ling, what grieves you ?" she asked, in caress 
 ing tones ; then turning to Celine, who had 
 followed the child, she asked again, " What is 
 the matter?" 
 
 The old woman could not, or would not, 
 explain. 
 
 " Ask him," she said, impassively. 
 
 "S peak, my dear," once more urged his 
 aunt. " Tell me what has happened ?" 
 
 And in a voice broken by sobs he told how 
 he and Celine had gone out walking, and two 
 boys how he hated them ! had followed him 
 and laughed at him, and Celine had tried to 
 hush them, but they said here his little body 
 trembled, and putting his mouth close to her 
 ear, he whispered the words he could not utter 
 aloud 
 
 " To bien habi , mais to un neg quand 
 19 
 
290 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 meme." (" You are well dressed, but you 
 a negro for all that.") 
 
 For a moment his aunt shared his indigi 
 tion, and then, laughing lightly, she kissed 
 him, and wiping the tears from his eyes, said, 
 " Why should you care for such nonsense ? 
 There," kissing him again, " run away to your 
 play, my darling, and pay no attention to any 
 silly words of naughty boys." 
 
 Turning towards John, she added, 
 
 "Isn t it provoking? If I were not proud 
 of the likeness to the old Morants, I would re 
 gret his brunette beauty ; but as it is, I can 
 laugh at what would make others angry." 
 
 A gleam shot from old Celine s eyes as she 
 led the boy away, and John uttered no word 
 as his sister, unwilling that the child should 
 go without another caress, rose and followed 
 them. 
 
 What other reversion of type did he see in 
 that small, dark face ? 
 
 It was that which scorched his brain as with 
 fire, that secret which consumed him with its 
 never ending doubt, that other likeness. 
 
 What if no one but himself should ever see 
 beyond the pleasant fiction which deluded his 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 2QI 
 
 sister? Could that help him to bear the ter 
 ror of the truth which forever faced him like 
 a mocking spectre ? 
 
 The sudden death of his wife had made old 
 associations painful to him. He had found 
 relief only in isolating himself from those who 
 had looked upon the bright side of his life, 
 and in the early days of his sorrow he rarely 
 visited the city. 
 
 Bending all his energies towards recovering 
 the old plantation from the disastrous effects 
 of the great overflow, it became for the greater 
 part of the year his home. 
 
 The constant fluctuations of hope and de 
 spair in the heart of one who sees his fortune 
 menaced by so many dangers that it seems 
 the very foot-ball of fate, brings an excitement 
 equalled only by the gambler s hazard ; and 
 the cotton-planter, staking his all upon the 
 chances of Nature, must have a brave heart to 
 face the many against him. 
 
 John Morant s luck became proverbial 
 Hopeful of nothing, he came to feel the influ 
 ence of Nature s most smiling moods, and re 
 ceived such gifts at her hands as repaired all 
 the ravages of her previous unfriendliness. 
 
2Q2 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 If Nature could only have repaired that oth 
 er desolation with the love of his child ! But 
 it was not to be. He could not bear the pres 
 ence of his son. If his repulsion had been 
 strong when the boy was an infant, with no 
 distinguishing characteristics to excite emo 
 tion, it was infinitely greater with his growth. 
 He saw the gradual unfolding of peculiarities 
 which could only be translated into the lan 
 guage of his fears. The child s joyousness, 
 his frank, unrestrained gayety were not to 
 him phases of all child life, but were manifest 
 as the key-note of an irresponsible nature. 
 The brunette beauty which was his sister s 
 pride tortured him. Behind the great black 
 eyes he fancied he saw a soul weighted by 
 centuries of degradation, a development be 
 low the standard of his own proud race. Of 
 ten as he looked upon the boy he wondered 
 what instinct raised the impassable barrier 
 between them. A great wall divided them ; 
 break it down he could not. All gracious, 
 tender, and holy sentiments were powerless 
 before it. 
 
 The child was conscious of this hostile scru 
 tiny, and, like all children to whom love and 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 293 
 
 confidence are the heavenly manna which sus 
 tains their moral nature, he appeared to dis 
 advantage under his father s eyes. Their un 
 friendly light fructified seeds of cunning and 
 deceit, the rank growth of which were but 
 deeper evidences to his unhappy father of a 
 lower nature. 
 
 John Morant admitted that the only strong 
 sentiment he could ever rouse in his son was 
 fear. 
 
 What could the future hold in store for 
 him but distressful probabilities ? There were 
 hours when conscience urged him to draw 
 near the child and shelter him with the only 
 parental love he could ever know ; but antipa 
 thy ruled stronger than conscience. 
 
 Sometimes there came to his memory that 
 story of Royston, the story told by Dr. Dick- 
 son in the familiarity of those other days. 
 What a story that was of self-abnegation or 
 self-degradation ! Which was it ? What was 
 the quality which carried that man through 
 the ordeal he elected to undergo ? Was it a 
 certain moral originality, a faithful effort tow 
 ards a higher form of virtue than the conven 
 tional standard? or had his sense of honor, 
 
2Q4 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 coarsened by deteriorating influences, reached 
 that dulness when he could no longer feel a 
 stain like a wound? 
 
 Dickson had certainly taken the higher 
 view of the case. He had seen in that surren 
 der of all for another s good something divine ; 
 but Dickson was quixotic in his sympathies. 
 
 Thus waxing and waning convictions found 
 ed themselves upon every variety of argument, 
 but through them all there was never a mo 
 ment when he could have acted other than as 
 his loyal instincts dictated, as the mighty re 
 straining traditions of his time demanded. 
 
 It was in one of these tense and brooding 
 moods that a circumstance occurred which 
 tended to increase his melancholy. 
 
 The day had been close and warm, and re 
 turning early to the old house, he had been 
 lured by the cool dimness of the parlor to rest 
 there a moment, without making his presence 
 known. His father s old chair was in the most 
 secluded corner, and dropping into it, he gave 
 himself up to the thoughts which most des 
 perately pursued him when he was alone. 
 
 He heard his sister s voice in the hall speak 
 ing to Celine. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 295 
 
 " I am very tired and need rest, and am not 
 at home to anybody." 
 
 She came into the room where he sat with 
 out observing him. In her hand she held a 
 package of bonbons, and going towards a small 
 desk, near a front window, she opened it, and 
 placed the package inside. Turning the key 
 in the lock without removing it, she said, 
 aloud, 
 
 " There, he will not find them there, and he 
 must eat no more to-day ;" and she went away 
 still without seeing her brother. 
 
 Some time afterwards, John s reverie was 
 disturbed by a slight grating noise, and a 
 sound like nothing so much as a little mouse 
 whisking itself among carefully stored papers. 
 Accustomed as he had become to the dimness 
 of the room, it was still difficult for him to dis 
 cover the small, dark object which caused it ; 
 but contracting his brows, even shading his 
 eyes with his hand to gain directness of vision, 
 he saw it. The desk was open, the package 
 of bonbons was open, and there, stealthily con 
 veying the sweets to mouth and pocket, was 
 the child. 
 
 One would have said it was a small thing, 
 
296 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 suggestive of nothing, an act to be reproved 
 and forgotten ; but the effect it produced upon 
 John was beyond the measure of the misde 
 meanor. He was seized with an intolerable 
 sense of shame. The hand which he had 
 raised above his eyes closed over them. He 
 could not bring himself to confront the child 
 with his knowledge of its fault, and he re 
 mained silent. 
 
 It might have passed away from his mind, 
 but the following morning he was near by 
 when his sister reproved the child for the fact 
 which she had discovered, and he heard him 
 deny it. Rage seized upon him then as thor 
 oughly as shame had done. 
 
 To lie and steal ! Was that what was in 
 him ? He would teach him as others had been 
 taught. He advanced and struck him. 
 
 It was the first and only punishment he 
 ever gave the boy; for that evening Celine 
 told him a secret which she had kept since 
 that morning when she had wakened and seen 
 the white daylight coming through the half- 
 drawn curtain, to show her what the night had 
 brought. 
 
 That which would have criminated herself 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 297 
 
 she left untold ; but that Bamma had in some 
 way discovered his fatal suspicion she made 
 clear to him, and that she had had the cour 
 age to go far away from it. What others 
 had thought, what the physician had thought, 
 might never transpire ; but Celine had lifted 
 the fatal cloth from her face, and she knew. 
 Not one of the details was spared him, for she 
 had learned to love the little boy, and as he 
 had struck so did she strike. 
 
 He received the blow with no outward dem 
 onstration of the shock. He had learned to 
 bear much ; but in the long night-time which 
 followed, the new sorrow brought with it a 
 new suggestion. For him alone, he believed, 
 his wife had sacrificed herself, for his sake, 
 and he had been cruel to her child ! 
 
298 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE chimes of the old cathedral had not 
 yet sounded the Angelus. The air had all the 
 chill dampness of an hour remote from yester 
 day s last sunbeam, that which had gilded the 
 statue in Jackson Square, withdrawn itself, 
 and died upon the surface of the river. A 
 cough as if the dampness was trying to hu 
 man comfort, the ring of a heel upon the ban 
 quette, a figure here and there moving rapid 
 ly, and John Morant felt that he was not 
 alone upon the street. 
 
 Restless and sleepless, he had passed a 
 weary night, and when he could make a pre 
 tence of sleep no longer he had risen and 
 dressed himself, waiting for the day. A curi 
 ous interest suddenly stirred him, a desire to 
 observe the peculiar population which goes 
 forth in the dark, misty, morning hours, and 
 surges through the French market. 
 
 A place of many traditions, it is also a place 
 of many disappointments ; but to a keen ob- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 299 
 
 server the great market-place below Canal 
 Street affords an excellent opportunity of see 
 ing certain conditions of life rarely met with 
 elsewhere. For this reason it attracted John 
 Morant. 
 
 Going early, and following the indications 
 of those who went onward towards that cen 
 tral point of distribution of everything to meet 
 the wants of a mass of humanity, he felt the 
 stillness of the streets less oppressive than the 
 din and uproar which gradually opened upon 
 him as he advanced, and became a veritable 
 pandemonium as he entered the place. Calls 
 of birds and fowls, merry laughter, fierce de 
 nunciations, and cries in every known lan 
 guage greeted him. Wandering for a while 
 up and down, distracted by the confusion of 
 tongues and the discordant sounds, he at last 
 took position near a stand where the artistic 
 arrangement of green and golden fruit was as 
 pleasing to his eye as to many others who 
 passed that way. 
 
 It was a fit time and place to study the faces 
 of those filing in endless procession before 
 him. Smiling, frowning, pushing, elbowing 
 their way, coarse, brutal men, delicate women, 
 
300 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 young children, of every hue and every shade 
 under the sun, they went by. Certain types 
 presented themselves more frequently than 
 others. The burly African, with flat nose, pro 
 truding, sensual mouth, and shining ebony 
 skin, the smirking mulatto, aggressive in the 
 first step towards the higher plane, the pa 
 thetic, dark-eyed quadroon, who sees the shad 
 ow not yet lifted, the pale, consumptive octo 
 roon struggling with the burden of physical 
 weakness these seemed almost sinister in 
 their constant reappearance. They represent 
 ed to his morbid vision the foundations of a 
 social structure which philanthropy and the 
 coming years were to erect. 
 
 The sentimental side of his nature could 
 comprehend the force of the abstract as well 
 as actual presentation of the claims of the sad- 
 eyed women to be raised from the lowliness of 
 their estate. Since the world began, men s 
 hearts have responded to the pitiableness of 
 woman s condition, the slavery of it appealing 
 to them as all bondage appeals. 
 
 He could well understand the potency of 
 sex as a factor in the case. If his own child s 
 eyes had looked up to him from a sweet girl- 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 30 1 
 
 face, challenging the height and depth of hu 
 man love, they would have been invested with 
 a pathos touching the measure of human sym 
 pathies ; but all the intellectual pride and 
 strength of his nature protested against the 
 degradation of a mongrel race. 
 
 Was it imminent ? Were the years bring 
 ing it ? Would others suffer the fantastic fate 
 that had come to him? He watched the ka 
 leidoscopic stream pouring through the heavy 
 archways, going out and coming in, always 
 grinding the same grist, light and dark, dark 
 and light, white and yellow, yellow and white, 
 until his heart sank within him, his brain grew 
 dull. And it was time to go. The sun was 
 high over the old cathedral, the prayers of the 
 latest devotee were said, and the city had taken 
 on the look of the long, weary day. 
 
 Through some impulse strangely at vari 
 ance with his usual indifference to his son, 
 that morning he resolved to return at once to 
 the old plantation, and to take the child with 
 him. Since that blow a remorseful pity had 
 entered his heart, very, very faint, but growing 
 slowly. He could not give him love, but he 
 might grant him indulgence, so the boy went. 
 
302 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 The plantation was in all the glory of a 
 great crop. The picking season had begun. 
 The parallel green lines were all obliterated ; 
 far across the intervening spaces the branches 
 twined and laced in one solid mass of foliage, 
 blossom and boll, and the busy pickers were 
 all there, those whom the major would have 
 rejoiced to see bending to the task of recon 
 structing the fortunes of the Morants. 
 
 To the restless boy, unrestrained by any 
 forced companionship with his father, there 
 seemed nothing comparable to the beauty of 
 the place and the wild freedom he there en 
 joyed. He was here, there, and everywhere 
 over it. When the tired mules detached from 
 the wagons shook themselves, with one rest 
 less quiver of the flesh, free of the burden 
 some harness, he was ready to mount the gen 
 tlest and trot away to the bayou where, under 
 the shadow of the willows, they cooled their 
 heated flanks. And after sunset, even after 
 the twilight had faded, when the negroes 
 grouped themselves around the scales, those 
 important witnesses of their idleness or indus 
 try, he was there shouting, laughing, or lifting 
 the glowing lantern to the registering numbers. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 303 
 
 But the spot which most fascinated him 
 was the gin-house. 
 
 The whir of machinery stirred some wild, 
 uncanny spirit within him. His black eyes 
 would roll, his white teeth gleam, and his 
 small body sway to and fro as if in response 
 to some melody it sounded, which he alone 
 could hear. 
 
 At the gin-house, too, there were huge plat 
 forms where the snow-white staple lay drying 
 in the sun. He enjoyed rolling over and over 
 on it like some little animal in kittenish play. 
 Then when he was tired he would scamper 
 away, into the building, up the stair-ways to 
 the topmost story, where piles of the same 
 snowy stuff lay stored ready to be raked into 
 the great hoppers from which it fell down 
 upon the rolling saws of the gin beneath. 
 
 There were peeps into the lint-room where 
 Uncle Dan l presided, the beau ideal St. Nick, 
 if ever the old saint wore an ebony mask. 
 
 How cool the draught of the flues as they 
 poured the light snowy flakes out in steady 
 streams, piling great drifts in the corners, and 
 hanging such draperies upon the rafters as 
 would have delighted the eye of an artist. 
 
304 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 And the talks with Uncle Dan l. Was 
 ever any one as willing to talk and to listen 
 as he ? 
 
 " You never get tired working in here, do 
 you, Uncle Dan l?" 
 
 " I nebber gits tired wo king nowhar, chile. 
 Dar s two things Ise allus willin an glad ter 
 do to wo k an pray." 
 
 " Are they both very tiresome things, Uncle 
 Dan l?" 
 
 " Wo k an pra rs is bof alike, chile. Dey 
 pen s on de sperrit. Yes, dey pen s on de 
 sperrit, dat s de truf. Now, I done seen some 
 folks dotit de sperrit so owdashus lazy dat it 
 peared like dey didn t hav no clinashun to 
 draw der breaf, but dem folks is allus jest as 
 cunnin as de coon. Dey know how to fotch 
 up at sum un else s corn patch. En as toe de 
 sperrit fo pra rs, dar s some folks allus axin fo 
 de merrit uv grate tribbleashuns, so as ter git 
 to hebben mi ty quick ; an when de trubble do 
 come, dey lites out an leaves sum un else toe 
 clar away de things." 
 
 " Did you ever have any of your prayers 
 answered, Uncle Dan l?" 
 
 " Toe be sho , chile, toe be, sho I has. My 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 305 
 
 pra rs is allus answered. What makes yo ax 
 a question like dat ?" 
 
 Uncle Dan l stopped a moment for the 
 child s reply, and then added, warningly, as he 
 came too far in the current of the snowy 
 stream, 
 
 " Yo jest better git way from dar a little 
 bit, honey. Yo pappy ain t gwine toe like fo 
 yo toe git dat cotton in yo t roat. He ll be a 
 blamin me." 
 
 " You needn t be afraid, Uncle Dan l. He 
 won t care. I was just going to ask you if you 
 prayed for him to love me, would it do any 
 good ?" 
 
 " Well, yo is a cur us chile, sho . What 
 makes yo t ink yo pappy don luv yo ?" 
 
 " Oh, well, I don t know ; but I am always 
 so scared when he calls me. Were you ever 
 scared of anybody ?" 
 
 " Skeered, chile ? Why toe be sho Ise been 
 skeered. My ole master wuz a pow ful hand 
 toe skeer folks. Dar warn t his ekal in de 
 parish." 
 
 "And what did you do when you were 
 scared ?" 
 
 " He ! he ! he ! Chile, yo axes too many 
 20 
 
306 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 queschums," said the old man, as he passed 
 out of the lint- room closely followed by the 
 boy. " Ef yo keep on axin queschums I lay 
 I ll tell yo sumpin what ain t true. Nobody 
 can t answer too many queschums thout git- 
 tin up inter the magernashums." 
 
 " What sort of place is that ?" 
 
 The old negro paused a moment, chuckled 
 softly to himself at the boy s open-eyed won 
 der, and said, 
 
 " I ain t gwine toe tell yo , fo I mout git 
 dar." 
 
 The boy looked at Uncle Dan l a moment, 
 and then recognizing the fact that the old ne 
 gro had gone beyond the bounds of the prob 
 able, he bounded away with a gay laugh. 
 
 " My Lord !" said Uncle Dan l, with a sud 
 den sound of anxiety in his voice, " whar s dat 
 boy gwine now ?" 
 
 The child, with his usual inability to think 
 long or seriously of any one thing, went dan 
 cing and singing and whistling about the dan 
 gerous places, until it made the old man s 
 head dizzy to look at him. 
 
 " Yo gwine toe git hurt sho ," he called to 
 him. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 " Oh no, I will not, Uncle Dan l," he an- 
 swered, confidently ; " I can take care of my 
 self. See me." 
 
 The great wheel was turning and turning 
 in never-ending revolutions when the child 
 stopped to look at it, and he was seized with 
 a desire to imitate its motion. Extending his 
 arms, he whirled them round and round like 
 circling wings, and with the motions of some 
 fascinated bird he approached nearer and 
 nearer. 
 
 " See, Uncle Dan l," he called, gleefully, " I 
 am going to that place ; you know where." 
 
 His out-stretched hands touched the wheel 
 Some portion of his clothing must have 
 caught in the band which suddenly held him 
 in its cruel grasp. 
 
 Over and over went the wheel, bearing with 
 it a burden weightier than all the snowy treas 
 ures ever garnered to test its powers. 
 
 With the first note of warning the wheel 
 ceased to turn, but among all the probabilities 
 Life was the farthest removed from the child. 
 
 When the father came the little shattered 
 body was lying upon the downy, snow-white 
 couch to which Uncle Dan l had brought it. 
 
308 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 The end was not far off, that much John Mo- 
 rant could see. His breath went, as it were, 
 out of his own body. Then Nature triumphed, 
 the father s heart asserted itself, and that same 
 cry which generations ago went up to heaven, 
 again ascended : " My son, would God I had 
 died for thee !" In that supreme moment all 
 barriers were broken down. 
 
 Bending low over the little form, he found 
 that the child still breathed. He clasped his 
 arms around him and lifted him a little, so 
 that the head lay where it never before had 
 rested, in the hollow of the father s strong and 
 loving arm. 
 
 The child s breath came hard and fast, and 
 he opened his black eyes to meet the look of 
 sympathy strange to him. A splendid light 
 as of some new intelligence born of the death- 
 struggle illumined them and made them beau 
 tiful to John Morant, even to that last mo 
 ment when light and life were gone. 
 
 Through the gathering moisture which 
 veiled his vision, the light shone down deep 
 into the father s heart. It glorified the great 
 humanity quickening there. Alas ! its fading 
 radiance also touched one unchangeable truth. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 309 
 
 It was better so. In life there could have 
 been no happy meeting face to face. Death 
 only had made them equals unless after 
 death, also, the distinctions of race are pre 
 served forever. 
 
 But somewhere there must be light. Would 
 he ever see it ? And would he some day meet 
 them both again, his wife and child, with the 
 pressure of this " unintelligible world " lifted 
 from his soul ? 
 
 At least, for this life, he had escaped the 
 gulf towards which he had been drifting. 
 
3IO TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ONE person still mourns the death of John 
 Morant s little son. The dark skin and wilful 
 ways which brought grief to the father s heart 
 are always the occasion of fond comment for 
 Mrs. Byrne. She persistently and with great 
 pride maintains that " He was like the old 
 Morants." 
 
 When she greets her brother the tears 
 spring to her eyes more readily even than in 
 the olden time, since each meeting with him 
 recalls most vividly the child she loved as her 
 own. She is very happy, however, in her mar 
 riage. Late wedded is sometimes well wed 
 ded, and she and Mr. Byrne live lovingly to 
 gether. If he ever thinks his large fortune is 
 being lavishly expended, he makes no sign. 
 One curious idea possesses Mrs. Byrne. So 
 certain is she that Clemence the coiffeuse was 
 the architect of her new fortunes, that she has 
 secured by her grateful exertions an immense 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 3! I 
 
 patronage and popularity for that very gen 
 teel colored artiste. 
 
 It was only a short while ago that John Mo- 
 rant was tempted to stroll through the old 
 French quarter, without avoiding, as he usual 
 ly did, the direction of the little taxidermist s 
 shop. He came upon it unexpectedly. It was 
 closed. Faded green shutters barred the win 
 dow and door-way, while over the latter a 
 busy spider was beginning to weave a web 
 from frame to shutter. As he stood wonder 
 ing at the change, an old woman crossed the 
 street to say to him, 
 
 " Dose people gon to France." 
 
 " To live ?" inquired John, with eager inter 
 est in his voice. 
 
 " Me, I don say fo true," responded the 
 woman, " but som bodie say, Marie haf one 
 redlashon in France, an she leef her som nize 
 properties, an dey all e time goin t lif dere." 
 
 John received this announcement with no 
 small degree of satisfaction. He felt sure that 
 the taxidermist as well as his wife had sus 
 pected some far-off taint in Bamma s blood, 
 and he feared that their volubility increasing 
 with years might transfer their impressions to 
 
312 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 other and less friendly minds. To feel that 
 possibility no longer confronting him is a re 
 lief. He has, however, a constant memento 
 of Emile and Marie in the white blackbird, 
 that freak of nature which occupies a place 
 upon his library mantle-piece instead of the 
 contemplated raven above the chamber door, 
 as it serves much the same purpose of arous 
 ing similar but more subdued elements of sor 
 row and despair. 
 
 Retaining the house in the city which he 
 once called home, John Morant rarely enters 
 it. For the greater part of the year it is closed, 
 and passers-by comment discontentedly on 
 the unequal distribution of wealth which per 
 mits waste for some and want for others. 
 When he does occupy it Dr. Dickson and Rev. 
 Mr. Shriver renew their visits to his library, 
 and indulge freely in their literary and philo 
 sophical discussions. John always takes a 
 quiet and interested part in them, except 
 when they broach the old questions of races 
 and the possibilities of negro culture. Then 
 he becomes a silent and even involuntary list 
 ener, in strange contrast with his former ap 
 parently profound absorption in these studies. 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 313 
 
 It is observed, however, that John Morant is 
 an unostentatious but energetic friend of the 
 negro race. He assists them personally on 
 every proper occasion, and advocates their 
 systematic education and their rights to un 
 trammelled citizenship. 
 
 One may visit the old Morant plantation 
 any day and be convinced that the less suc 
 cessful neighbors are wrong in attributing 
 John Morant s success to "his good-luck in 
 securing the best hands in the country." 
 Quick observers note the just dealings with 
 those employed by him. The zeal for the 
 master s interest springs from a knowledge of 
 its sure return in kind. 
 
 One old " hand " is now missed from the 
 place. Uncle Dan l has been gathered to his 
 sable fathers. He died like a good planter and 
 true Methodist, alternately in his delirium as 
 signing their work to the field- hands and 
 shouting glory to God. He was buried at 
 his own request under a great, solitary oak 
 in the cotton-field, amid the singing, praying, 
 weeping, and shouting of the whole colored 
 congregation, while white neighbors paying a 
 tribute of respect to genuine worth, gave grace 
 
314 TOWARDS THE GULF. 
 
 and dignity to the occasion. He may not have 
 reached the golden -streeted Jerusalem of his 
 childish imagination, but all who knew him 
 concur in the belief that he has " gone where 
 the good niggers go." 
 
 Old Celine has so recently passed away that 
 the servants and neighbors are still talking of 
 the rosewood coffin, the magnificent flowers, 
 the train of carnages, and the " beautiful fu 
 neral," which the old Southern family gave to 
 its freed -woman so long their slave. The 
 white-souled negress was stately and reticent 
 to the last, concealing in the dark shadows of 
 her own bosom the terrible secret of Bamma 
 Morant. The family surrounded her death 
 bed. Dr. Dickson and Mr. Shriver having ex 
 hausted their special duties, stood by with 
 folded arms. Mr. and Mrs. Byrne sat at the 
 foot of the bed with grave countenances. 
 John s chair was close to the bedside, and he 
 was holding with a gentle pressure her with 
 ered, bronzed hand in his own. The servants 
 occupied the windows and the door -way. 
 There was perfect silence in the room save 
 the ticking of the clock on the mantel. 
 
 Suddenly the expiring woman opened her 
 
TOWARDS THE GULF. 315 
 
 eyes and fixed them tenderly on the sympa 
 thetic face of the man whom she had nursed 
 as babe and child. The spirit escaping out 
 of space seemed to have lost the true concep 
 tion of time. Slowly and anxiously she mut 
 tered her last words : 
 
 " Don go dat way, honey ! not dat way, it s 
 mizry." 
 
 Words of profound significance to John 
 Morant, but unintelligible to all the rest. 
 
 THE END. 
 
BEN-HUE: A TALE OF THE CHRIST. 
 
 By LEW, WALLACE, New Edition, pp. 552. 16mo, 
 * Cloth, $1 50. 
 
 Anything so startling, new, and distinctive as the leading feature of this 
 romance does not often appear in works of fiction. . . . Some of Mr. Wal 
 lace s writing is remarkable for its pathetic eloquence. The scenes de 
 scribed in the New Testament are rewritten with the power and skill of 
 an accomplished master of style. N. Y. Times. 
 
 Its real basis is a description of the life of the Jews and Romans at the 
 beginning of the Christian era, and this is both forcible and brilliant. . . . 
 We are carried through a surprising variety of scenes ; we witness a sea- 
 fight, a chariot-race, the internal economy of a Roman galley, domestic in 
 teriors at Antioch, at Jerusalem, and among the tribes of the desert; pal 
 aces, prisons, the haunts of dissipated Roman youth, the houses of pious 
 families of Israel. There is plenty of exciting incident; everything is 
 animated, vivid, and glowing. N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 From the opening of the volume to the very close the reader s interest 
 will be kept at the highest pitch, and the novel will be pronounced by all 
 one of the greatest novels of the day. Boston Post, 
 
 It is full of poetic beauty, as though born of an Eastern sage, and there 
 is sufficient of Oriental customs, geography, nomenclature, etc., to greatly 
 strengthen the semblance. Boston Commonwealth. 
 
 "Ben-Hur" is interesting, and its characterization is fine and strong. 
 Meanwhile it evinces careful study of the period in which the scene is laid, 
 and will help those who read it with reasonable attention to realize the 
 nature and conditions of Hebrew life in Jerusalem and Roman life at 
 Antioch at the time of our Saviour s advent. Examiner, N. Y. 
 
 It is really Scripture history of Christ s time clothed gracefully and 
 delicately in the flowing and loose drapery of modern fiction. . . . Few late 
 works of fiction excel it in genuine ability and interest. N. Y. Graphic. 
 
 One of the most remarkable and delightful books. It is as real and 
 warm as life itself, and as attractive as the grandest and most heroic 
 chapters of history. Indianapolis Journal. 
 
 The book is one of unquestionable power, and will be read with un 
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 and romance. Boston Journal. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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 or Canada, on receipt <\f the price. 
 
CONSTANCE F. WOOLSON S NOVELS. 
 
 EAST ANGELS. 16mo, Cloth, $1 25. 
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 FOR THE MAJOR. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. 
 
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 RODMAN THE KEEPER. Southern Sketches. 16rao, 
 Cloth, $1 00. (A New Edition) 
 
 There is a certain bright cheerfulness in Miss Woolson s writing which 
 invests all her characters with lovable qualities. Jewish Advocate, N. Y. 
 
 Miss Woolson is among our few successful writers of interesting mag 
 azine stories, and her skill and power are perceptible in the delineation of 
 her heroines no less than in the suggestive pictures of local life. Jewish, 
 Ifesscnyer, N. Y. 
 
 Constance Fenimore Woolson may easily become the novelist laureate, 
 Boston Globe. 
 
 Miss Woolson has a graceful fancy, a ready wit, a polished style, and 
 conspicuous dramatic power; while her skill in the development of a 
 story is very remarkable. London Life. 
 
 Miss Woolson never once follows the beaten track of the orthodox nov 
 elist, but strikes a new and richly loaded vein which, so far, is all her 
 own ; and thus we feel, on reading one of her works, a fresh sensation, 
 and we put down the book with a sigh to think our pleasant task of read 
 ing it is finished. The author s lines must have fallen to her in very 
 pleasant places ; or she has, perhaps, within herself the wealth of woman 
 ly love and tenderness she pours so freely into all she writes. Such books 
 as hers do much to elevate the moral tone of the day a quality sadly 
 wanting in novels of the time. Whitehall Review, London. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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THE BREAD-WINNERS. 
 
 A Social Study. 16mo, Cloth, $1 00. 
 
 One of the strongest and most striking stories of the last ten years. . . . 
 The work of a very clever man ; it is told with many lively strokes of hu 
 mor ; it sparkles with epigram ; it is brilliant with wit. . . . The chief 
 characters in it are actually alive ; they are really flesh and blood ; they 
 are at once true and new ; and they are emphatically and aggressively 
 American. The anonymous author has a firm grip on American character. 
 He has seen, and he has succeeded in making us sec, facts and phases of 
 American life which no one has put into a book before. . . . Interesting, 
 earnest, sincere ; fine in its performance, and finer still in its promise. 
 Saturday Review, London. 
 
 A worthy contribution to that American novel-literature which is at the 
 present day, on the whole, ahead of our own. Pall Mall Gazette, London. 
 
 Praise, and unstinted praise, should be given to " The Bread-Winners." 
 N. Y. Times. 
 
 It is a novel with a plot, rounded and distinct, upon which every episode 
 has a direct bearing. . . . The book is one to stand nobly the test of im 
 mediate re-reading. Critic, N. Y. 
 
 It is a truly remarkable book. N. Y. Journal of Commerce. 
 
 As a vigorous, virile, well-told American story, it is long since we have 
 had anything as good as " The Bread-Winners." Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 Every page of the book shows the practised hand of a writer to whom 
 long use has made exact literary expression as easy and spontaneous as 
 the conversation of some of those gifted talkers who are at once the 
 delight and the envy of their associates. . . . We might mention many 
 scenes which seem to us particularly strong, but if we began such a 
 catalogue we should not know where to stop. N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 Within comparatively few pages a story which, as a whole, deserves to 
 be called vigorous, is tersely told. . . . The author s ability to depict the 
 mental and moral struggles of those who are poor, and who believe them 
 selves oppressed, is also evident in his management of the strike and in 
 his delineation of the characters of Sam Sleeny, a carpenter s journeyman, 
 and Ananias Offit, the villain of the story. . . . The characters who bring 
 into play and work out the author s ideas are all well drawn, and their in 
 dividuality maintained and developed with a distinctness that shows inti 
 mate familiarity with the subject, as well as unquestionable ability in deal 
 ing with it. N. Y. Evening Telegram. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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AT THE RED GLOVE. 
 
 A Novel. Illustrated by C. S. REINIIART. pp. 240. 
 12mo, Extra Cloth, $1 50. 
 
 We have tried to express our admiration of the brilliant talents which 
 the "Red Glove" displays the accurate knowledge shown of localities; 
 the characteristics of the surrounding population, and the instinctive read 
 ing of the inner selves of the various personages who figure in the story. . . . 
 A charming idyl. N. Y. Mail and Express. 
 
 The execution is admirable. . . . The characters are the clearest studies, 
 and are typical of a certain phase of French life. . . . The story is fanciful, 
 graceful, and piquant, and Reinhart s illustrations add to its flavor. Bos 
 ton Journal. 
 
 The peculiar vivacity of the French style is blended with a subtle char- 
 ncter-analysis that is one of the best things in that line that has been pro- 
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 breathlessly. Boston Evening Traveller. 
 
 The authoress of "At the Red Glove" knows how to paint a flesh-and- 
 blood woman, grateful to all the- senses, and respectable for the qualities 
 of her mind and heart. . . . All in all, "At the Red Glove" is one of the 
 most delightful of novels since Miss Woolson wrote "For the Major." 
 N. Y. Times. 
 
 The novel is one of the best things of the summer as a delicious bit of 
 entertainment, prepared with perfect art and presented without a sign of 
 effort. N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 It is an artistic and agreeable reproduction, in bright colors, of French 
 sentiment and feeling. ... It is an abiding relief to read it, after such 
 studies as novels in this country fashionably impose. Boston Globe. 
 
 A charming little story. . . . The characters are well drawn, with fresh 
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 A very pretty story, simply and exquisitely told. . . . The ups and downs 
 of the courtship are drawn with a master s hand. Cincinnati Inquirer. 
 
 There has been no such pleasant novel of Swiss social life as this. . . . 
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 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
 
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