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Wh-n ordering Baking Powder insist on having BOR WICK'S! Fourteenth] Routledge's Railway Library Advertiser. [Issue. THE HONEY OF WISDOM! WE GATHER THE HONEY OF WISDOM FROM THORNS, NOT FROM FLOWERS. NOBILITY OF LIFE. " Who best can suffer, best can do." Mil/row. What alone enables us to draw a just moral from the tale of life ? " Were I asked what best dignifies the present and consecrates the past ; what alone enables us to draw a just moral from the Tale of Life ; what sheds t\* purest light upon our reason ; what gives the firmest strength to our religion ; what is best fitted to soften the heart of man and elevate his soul I would answer with Lassucs, it is 'EXPERIENCE.' " LORD LTTTOK. "QUEEN'S HEAD HOTEL, NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE. "SIR, Will you to-day allow me to present you wkh this Testimonial and Poem on ENO'S justly celebrated FRUIT SALT?' My occupation being a very sedentary one. I came here to see what change of air would do for me, and, at the wish of some personal friends, I have taken your 'FRUIT SALT,' and the good result therefrom is my reason for addressing you. " I am, Sir, yours truly f " A LADZ." " The appetite it will enforce, And help the system in its course ; Perhaps you've ate or drank too much, It will restore like magic touch. Depression, with its fearful sway, It drives eleotric-like away; And if the Blood is found impure, It will effect a perfect cure. " Free from danger, free from harm, It acts like some magician's charm At any time a dainty draught, Which will dispel disease's shaft; More priceless than the richest gold, That ever did its wealth unfold ; And all throughout our native land Should always have it at command." prom the late Rev. J. W. NEIL, Holy * Trinity Church, North Shields : "DEAR SIR, As an illustration of the beneficial effects of ENO'S 'FRUIT SALT,' I give you particulars of the case of one of my friends. 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CAUTION. famine each Pottle, and see the Capsule is marked ENO'S 'FRUIT SALT.' Without it, you have been imposed on by a WORTHT/ESS imitation. Prepared only at ENO'S 'FRUIT SALT' WORKS, LONDON, S.E. [By J. C. Eno 3 Patent] 100.000. 13.8.96. S. & B. Routledge s Railway Library Advertiser. [Issue. FOR ALL Bilious & Nervous Disorders *rcn AS SICK HEADACHE, CONSTIPATION, WEAK STOMACH, IMPAIRED DIGESTION. DISORDERED LIVER ft FEMALE AILMENTS. Annual Sale, Six Million Boxes. In Boxes, 91d., Is lid., and 2s 9d. each, with full directions. BEECHAM'S TOOTH PASTE RECOMMENDS ITSELF. It is Efficacious, Economical, Cleanses the Teeth, Perfumes the Breach, and is a Reliable and Pleasant Dentifrice. In Collapsible Tubes, of all Druggists, or from the Proprietor, for ONE SHILLING, postage paid. I', t turret! << 7 // In //'/ Proprietor THOMAS BEECHAM, ST. HELENS, LANCASHIRE. SolJ by all Druggists and Patent Medicine Dealers everywhere BOB COVINGTON Mr. Archibald Clavering Gunter's NOVELS. MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK. MR. POTTER OF TEXAS. THAT FRENCHMAN ! MISS NOBODY OF NOWHERE. MISS DIVIDENDS. BARON MONTEZ OF PANAMA AND PARIS. A PRINCESS OF PARIS. THE KING'S STOCKBROKER. THE FIRST OF THE ENGLISH. THE LADIES' JUGGERNAUT. THE LOVE ADVENTURES OF AL MANSUR. EDITED BY A. C. GUNTER. HER SENATOR. DON BALASCO OF KEY WEST. BOB COVINGTON A NOVEL BY ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER AUTHOR OF "MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK" ETC., ETC. COPYRIGHT LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL 1897 (All Rights R CONTENTS. PAGE 5 19 42 BOOK I. A LUCKY YOUNG MAN. CHAPTER I. The Race Between States, II. The Second Heat, III. Blue Grass Girls, - IV. Sunday Morning at the French Market, V. The Spectre of the Pelican Ball 51 VI. " I Do the Romeo Act! " - 63 BOOK II. A VERY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG LADY. CHAPTER VII. Kitson Jarvis Shakes Hands With Himself, - 74 VIII. The Letter from California, - 86 IX. Jules Delaborde, the Fire- eater, - 96 X. Paradise and the Peri, - - 104 XI. The Duel Behind the Ceme tery, - - 113 " XII. Poussin, the Notary, - 127 XIII. " This Man Must Be Mad!" - I3 6 XIV." For My Sister's Sake ! " - 144 *' XV. In Extremis, - - - - 156 CHAPTER BOOK III. HOW HE LOVED HER. XVI. "Here's Another of the Happy Family," - 167 4 CONTENTS. PACK CHAPTER XVII. "The Rashest Promise Man Ever Made!" - 179 " XVIII. Kitson Jarvis Takes Another Fee, - 187 " XIX. Two Peculiar Advertisements, 201 BOOK IV. HOW HE RULED HER. CHAPTER XX. " Isn't It Wonderful ?" - - 214 XXI. "From Him All Things Must Come," - 223 XXII. What Shall He Do ? - 236 " XXIII. "A Little Joke on Monsieur Hector! " - - 247 " XXIV. "The Wrong End of the Cigar/ 1 255 BOOK V. HOW HE SAVED HER. CHAPTER XXV. "That Old Man Laughed at Me," - 268 " XXVI. Game-cocks as Watchdogs, - 274 " XXVIL "Silence, Louise! " -281 " XXVIIL "Bob Covington Isn't Built That Way," - 290 " XXIX. "Keep Your Promise!" - - 300 APPENDIX ... 312 BOB COVINGTON. BOOK I. A LUCKY YOUNG MAN. CHAPTER I. THE RACE BETWEEN STATES. IT is a day of battle in New Orleans not the battle of men, but the battle of horses this Saturday, this first day of April in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-four, upon which the Great Inter state Post Stake is to be fought out upon the Metai- rie Course, each commonwealth backing its own horse with State pride and local prejudice, and, above all, the good round dollars of Uncle Sam, twenty thousand o which make the purse, and several millions more, not only in coin, but in corn, cotton, and sugar crops, pres ent and to come, have been wagered on the result. Kentucky is playing its bay colt Lexington with every dollar it can raise on corn, corn-juice, and fast horses; Alabama is piling its bales of cotton on its flyer, Highlander ; Mississippi is going cotton and sugar as well on Lecomte, and Louisiana betting on its pet and pride, the chestnut Arrow, corn, cotton, sugar, rice, and tobacco ; every one of the States throwing in lots of " niggers " besides. And all this in a country where a man's horse was his friend, companion, and sometimes, on his long journeys over the lone prairies and through the pathless wilder ness, his safety and salvation a country in which the greatest criminal was the horse-thief aye, over road agents, bandits, or even assassins. 6 BOIi COVINGTON So, under the soft sun of a perfect Louisiana spring day, the breeze from the lake being just enough to temper the heat, have gathered together the beauty, fashion, wealth, and sporting blood of all the Gulf States, even to far-away Texas, and the whole valley of the Mississippi, with New Orleans thrown in New Orleans in its hey-day New Orleans in its before- the-war splendor when it was the center of all who lived in the land cf the cotton and the cane ; when the Crescent City was supposed to beat the world in everything ; when the salons of the St. Charles and St. Louis showed more feminine beauty and more Parisian furbelows and Brazilian diamonds to the square inch than any other hotels in America; when New Orleans boats were supposed to run faster and blow up slicker than any others on the Mississippi River; when the planter-aristocracy of that region, piling up their bales of cotton and rolling up their hogsheads of sugar, lived like patriarchal princes, sur rounded by hundreds of slaves and dependents; when money flowed like water in the gambling saloons of Canal street and the Rue Royal; when, as Colonel Pike, of Arkansas, remarked, "This is a town that makes you think of hell, but you cotton to it as if it were heaven. " In short, the New Orleans of the great slave States, before their power was broken and their chiv alry went down under the onset of overwhelming odds and the impact of greater resources. In the judges' stand are some of the most dis tinguished men in the South. Ex-President Fillmore, Wade Hampton, Col. Hughes, Bob Evans, and Judge Smith, chosen to represent their several States, enter ing horses in the contest. On the quarter-stretch and in the betting-ring under the grand stand, are seen all the well-known turfmen of America, wagering their money with the careless ease of ideal sportsmen. But others are betting also. Jammed into a seething mass along the stretch, oystermen from Barataria Lagoons, Italian fruit dealers, Irish butchers, even darky roust abouts from the levee and cotton press, are backing their horses. On the grand stand, which now looks like a bou- BOB COVINGTON 7 quet of beauty gloves, gowns and other feminine nick-nacks are being risked by lovely and excited girls. The belles of Lexington and Louisville, who have come to bet for Kentucky's glory; the beauties of St. Louis and Memphis, each one of whom has picked out a winner; aristocratic loveliness from South Caro lina and the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, which never sent a finer gathering of beauty than the fair Mobil- ians who are here this day to do honor to Highlander, Alabama's horse, by clapping of dainty hands and wagering, with feminine prodigality, gloves in dozens, hats, bonnets, and robes from Madame Olympe on the pride of their State. But, of course, in greater quantity, and therefore more dominant, is that peculiar, soft, tropical loveli ness, that wondrous Creole beauty pertaining to Lou isiana, in whose race have been blended the blood of the Castilian and the blood of the Gaul, productive in its women of a delicate, sensitive, though sometimes sensuous beauty, giving to them the eyes of Castile, the ankles of Seville and the graceful vivacity of Paris, all moulded together and made softer by blossoming under the sun of the tropics. The horses are coming upon the track. Lexington, ridden by that slight, pale, consumptive white boy, Henry Meichon, Mississippi's Lecomte, bestridden by Black John, Highlander, by Gilpatrick, and Arrow, upon whose saddle sits Mr. Kenner's boy, familiarly known as *' Old Abe," a soubriquet he has borne from pickaninnyhood. All these as they leave the paddock are eyed very critically by the crowd of gentlemen who love sport for sport's sake and know a horse; among them, Bob Covington, a young Kentuckian of bright, fresh, keen face, honest eyes, hearty manner, and off hand, devil-may-care bonhommie. " Bet on any other than Lexington ? Not by Daniel Boone ! " he says, " Gentlemen, I will take Lexington at one to two against the field. Three horses against one poor little Blue Grass colt; but I couldn't go back on corn-fed horses and corn-fed girls." " Done with you for five hundred ! " remarks Henri La Farge, a young Louisianian, who is considered by Creole ladies the very best/rtr// in New Orleans. 8 BOB COVINGTON ' * Do it over again ! " says the Kentuckian. ' * I have got a stock farm I'll put against your cotton crop." . " Supposing we do it twice over, in thousands?" suggests young La Farge, who raises lots of cotton and any quantity of sugar, and can afford the luxury. " That makes twenty-five hundred," replies Coving- ton, " that I wager against your five thousand dollars." "Certainly. I'll do it over again ! " But a detaining hand is laid upon the Kentuckian's shoulder, and old Colonel Dick Talliaferro, of Louis ville, says: "Look here, Bob; don't you think you've done it enough ? " "Can't have enough of a good thing! Don't you see, the track is heavy with mud from yesterday's rain ? Was there ever a horse trained in Kentucky that was not a mud-horse ? " whispers the young man to the older one. Then he cries to La Farge: " Do it again! Only the winner is to give a champagne supper. " "With pleasure; at the Orleans Club." "Very well. That is five thousand dollars to your ten thousand dollars." About this time, probably thinking that he has put up enough of his goods and chattels even for the honor of his State, the young Blue Grass sportsman permits himself to be led away and introduced to Major Mc- Burney, who hac just been remarking to Talliaferro : "By Davy Crockett! That's a fine specimen of a man you've brought down with you, as well as a fine speci men of a horse." "Yes," whispers the veteran Kentuckian. "His grandfather was an Indian fighter along with Daniel Boone, and the race don't deteriorate." Looking at him, McBurney thinks it does not. For Bob Covington, as he is familiarly called by his friends, is a great big strapping fellow, just over six feet high, and though not carrying much flesh, has enough of solid muscular tissue about him to give him not only strength but a wiry activity peculiar to so many of the natives of that region traits that have probably come down from those who had to cultivate them to save their scalps from marauding savages but two gen erations before. As it is, Bob has keen, bluish-gray BOB COVINGTON 9 eyes, a complexion as fresh as that of a girl, a light, hearty, whole-souled laugh, and a soft voice that goes straight to the heart of man, and also of woman. " Major McBurney, this is my young friend, Robert Boone Covington. I call him 'Bob,' having dandled him on my knee!" remarks Talliaferro. "Ah ! Come down to see Kentucky horseflesh beaten by Louisiana horseflesh, I hope," laughs McBurney, extending a cordial hand. "I am not sure that I ought to be so enthusiastic," returns Covington, " about beating Louisiana. You know I have some Creole blood in me ; my mother came from Assumption Parish in this State. She was Miss Isabelle Tournay." "Ah! Mademoiselle Isabelle, sister of Prosper Tournay! I knew the savant poet well," replies the Louisianian. ' * I have played poker with your romantic uncle at Duval's, and danced with your mother, young gentleman, in the old Orleans ball-room." "Yes but please don't talk of my my mother!" mutters the Kentuckian, and the young man turns away, his eyes growing very sad. Looking at him Talliaferro remarks to the Louisian ian: "Bob's father and mother were carried off by that rush of cholera in 1850. He hasn't forgotten it yet." But the Metairie race-course this day is not a place for memories of any kind the present is too dominant. Sauntering across the stretch, Covington suddenly grows a little less interested in the horses than in something else much more .beautiful. A moment after, he steps up to Henri La Farge and says: " Do you see that lady? " "What is the matter ?" remarks his friend. " Le- comte just came past in his preliminary canter, and you didn't notice him ! " "No I Do you know who that lady is ? the young one. The one in the barouche there, sitting beside a lady of more certain years." "Oh, the one apparently just out of mourning ? " "Well, I don't know what you call her dress, but it's thundering becoming. The one with the white- 10 BOB COVINGTON headed coachman. No, not the four-in-hand the pair I'm speaking about. Do you know who she is ? " " Ah ! The one who has just thrown back her veil to get a better view of the course. Parblt-u^ she is beautiful ! " "Beautiful! I should think so! Do you know who she is? You're acquainted with everybody in New Orleans by sight any way. Why don't you speak ? " " I'm looking! " "And so am I. Isn't she a leetle the purtiest thing you ever put your eyes on ? That face is as clean cut as a cameo but what a soul is in it! And you don't know who she is? You New Orleans gentlemen are not very active and ambitious. If this were an old Ken tucky race-course there'd be more boys playing about that barouche than flies in summer time. Our Blue Grass girls are a sight to make a man open his eyes ; but this one is a a little different." u I don't know who the young lady is, but I can find out for you, I think, if she lives in Louisiana. 1 thought I saw Martineau near her carriage. I will in quire." His friend leaves Bob looking at the young lady in the carriage. And well may he look, for he is gaz ing upon an almost perfect specimen of Creole beauty. Though not a brunette, the girl's eyes are a blue that will shine with excitement, but will grow dark if touched by passion. Her lips, exquisitely cut, are red as blushing poppies, yet tender and full of sentiment, suggesting that a very warm heart is beating in the fair body beneath them. Her hair is wavy and brown, growing very much darker in the shadows, but when tinted by the sun brown. Her nose, clean cut as a cameo, with a trace of retrousse in it, just enough to make it piquant or haughty, as its owner wishes. The forehead not too high, but broad. The brows cleanly penciled, just strong enough to indicate force, but not severe enough to lessen by an iota the feminine grace that adorns and beautifies every expression of the face and every pose or movement of the rounded contours of the figure. As Covington looks at her the young lady is in repose, talking carelessly to her companion or BOB COV1NGTON II chaperone, and the Kentuckian thinks her slightly haughty. A moment after, she smiles, and it is as the sun breaking forth to give joy unto the earth. Just at this moment La Farge stands beside him and says: "I have discovered her name. Though they have a house in New Orleans she does not live here. The young lady has come up to the races, I presume. Her plantation is down on the Atchafalaya. She is Miss Louise Tournay, the daughter of old Prosper Tournay, the savant, who was suddenly killed by the accidental explosion of his shot gun ibis hunting a year or so back But where are you going ? " "I'm going over to see my cousin," says the Ken tuckian suddenly and proudly, "I'm much obliged to you. I will introduce you afterward." Then he vaults over the palings into the stretch, runs across, despite a shriek of warning from a track-keeper, swings himself over the other fence, pushes his way through the crowd, and a moment after, to the aston ishment of a very beautiful young lady, who is gowned very fashionably and exquisitely in white trimmed with lavender, takes off his hat, makes an old-time bow, and says : " Permit a relative to introduce himself, and ask a thousand pardons for doing so. I am Bob Covington, of Lexington, Kentucky, and you are my first cousin, I believe, Miss Tournay; my mother was your father's sister, Isabelle." After a second's surprise, the young lady replies, looking earnestly at him: "I am delighted to meet you, for you are the only relative I have in the world, as far as I know, except my sister. I have heard my father speak of my aunt. She is dead now. I have often wished to see her, but Louisiana is a long way from Kentucky, and " here the young lady bites her lip. "And," remarks Bob, U I believe there was some estrangement. But neither you nor I, Miss Tournay, know anything about it, and as I. have not another fir&t cousin :n the wor!d > I think we had better shake ka:.ds over the old disagreement. It never grew to a family feud, I believe, it is a thing of which we know nothing and this generation should become better 12 ::or. CPVINGTON friends than the last. " His hand is half held out. There is something in the frank, open-hearted, care less, and impulsive, but thoroughly honest method of this young man's speech, address and bearing that Miss Louise, murmuring: "Your face reminds me of my father," extends a daintily gloved, exquisitely small patrician hand. This is literally smothered in the big digits of the Kentuckian, who has great difficulty in constraining himself from giving it a grip that would have caused its beautiful owner a pang or two. "You will excuse me, I hope, Mrs. Joyce, but this advent of a relative came suddenly. Let me present my cousin, Mr. Robert Covington. You see your name is familiar to me," she adds graciously, while Bob is bowing to a lady of rather prim appearance who is sitting in the barouche beside tyliss Tournay. " I am most happy to meet you," says the chaperone, for that is evidently her office. "Since we came down to the Beau Rivage plantation we have led rather a lonely life." "Of course I understand," murmurs the Kentuck ian, gazing at the girl's half-mourning. "But now I reckon you've just run up from Assumption to bet gloves, bonbons, furbelows, gimcracks, and perhaps a robe or two from Mme. Olympe, on Arrow, your State's horse, and have the beginning of a thundering good time," adds the young gentleman, suggestively. "No; I believe I have only one little wager a half dozen pairs of gloves with my family lawyer. I know very few people here. You see, I was educated in the North and have only lately come to Louisiana. Be sides we live about seventy-five miles from New Or leans," answers Miss Louise. "But here comes the gentleman of whom 1 spoke." A moment after, Arvid Martineau, a typical Creole .of French descent, of about sixty years of age, with slightly grizzled moustache, slightly silvered hair, the manners of a Parisian, and the dignity of a man practicing at the New Orleans bar, ons of the most dis tinguished of the day, strolls up. "Monsieur Martin eau," remarks Miss Louise, "permit me to present my cousin, Mr. Robert Boons CovingtQn, of Lexington, who has come down to see his horse beaten. " BOB COVINGTON 13 "I am very glad that I have come down, whether my horse is beaten or not," returns the Kentuckian, and his voice says he means it. " I am very much pleased to meet you, Monsieur Martineau " but here a peculiar expression in the face of the lawyer makes this volatile young gentleman pause. The look is not of dislike, but certainly not of cordiality, and perchance almost of consternation. "You you are not well ?" suddenly asks Miss Tournay, for Martineau's face is deathly pale. " No ! I was perfectly well, but the sun I believe is a little too warm perhaps the excitement. You know I have backed Arrow rather heavily for a man of professional income," murmurs the attorney. " I'm afraid you've lost your money," remarks Bob, who can't help thinking: "What the deuce in my appearance had such an effect upon this man ? By Daniel Boone ! That Creole looked at me very much as if I were an Indian with a scalping knife in my hand." Then he suddenly cogitates: "I've hit it! He doubts the genuineness of my relationship. Thinks I'm flying false colors to get acquainted with this pink of perfection who is under his charge." Acting on this idea, Bob suggests: " Miss Tournay, permit me to put your carriage in a little better place, near the judges' stand. I know a good deal about horse-racing, and I can locate you so you will get a good view of the final struggle." " I am very much obliged to you," replies the young lady, and a moment after she finds her barouche, under the experienced guidance of her new-found cousin, placed in the best position to give its fair occupant a first-rate view of the finish of the great four-mile race. Then, with a sudden thought, "I'll show him I am genuine," Bob says to the French lawyer :" Stroll over with me ; I want to introduce you to my Kentucky friends. Be back in a few moments. " Raising his hat the two stride off together. For, curiously enough, Arvid Martineau is anxious to know if this gentleman's na^rae is genuine ; if so, he is very well aware that the relationship is genuine also. Of this h& gets ample proof in the next two minutes, 14 BOB COVINGTOX being introduced by this rapid young gentleman as "the family lawyer of my cousin, the belle of Louisi ana/' to Ten Broeck and Kenyonand Huddleston, and half a dozen more prominent Kentucky turfmen, and they all go under the grand stand to the clubroom of the Metairie Jockey Club and take a drink. "You know there's a change in the betting," re marks Talliaferro, chancing along. " Lexington is coming up in the odds." "Well, I've put all the money I want on our horse, and now I've something pleasanter to look after. I think I'll walk over and see the race from my cousin's carnage," says Covington. "Won't you come with me, Monsieur Martineau? " "Yes," replies the family lawyer suddenly, and they are just in time to cross the track before it is cleared for the first heat. While they are walking the lawyer is speaking. " I am very glad," he remarks, looking the young Ken- tuckian over, "that you take such an interest in your cousin." "Who would not? " says Covington enthusiastically. "There's no first cousin in the world, in my opinion, up to her in good looks. Gaze over on the grand stand. There sit the prettiest women in America, every girl of them in her best bib and tucker, but hang me if I think there's one of them that quite comes up to my cousin Louise." " Yes; she is very beautiful." "All I wonder, " says the young man, ' ' is that there is not a crowd of bucks and bloods round that car riage. There would be in Lexington. The boys here seem to me rather slow on the trail. " " There would be here; but your cousin knows no body, or very few. Miss Tournay has lived on the plantation ever since her return from school. She has only been in New Orleans two days. This is the first time she has been seen at any public festivity." l: I'm rather delighted to hear that," remarks Mr. Covington. * ' It saves me trouble. ' ' "How?" " well, I've got a clear cours* for this afternoon. BOB COVINGTON 15 After that I expect to have to run heats with every dandy in Louisiana. Ah! She sees us! See, my cousin Louise waves her parasol! Look at me! Observe Bob Covington making hay while the sun shines." A few seconds after they stand beside Miss Tournay's carnage, and the lawyer, gazing on, chews his grizzled moustache grimly, but smiles as he notes that the lady and gentleman seem to become, almost on the instant, very well acquainted. Miss Tournay is chatting pleasantly and with less constraint than is usual to New Orleans young ladies, especially those of the Creole population, who are brought up very much after the manner of the French. But Louise has been educated at a New York board ing school and has absorbed some of the manners of the Northern metropolis. A moment after Mr. Covington strolls away, to bring the last news from the horses, which are now getting ready for the start. Taking advantage of the young Kentuckian's absence, Monsieur Martineau, getting close to the young lady's pretty ear, remarks: " I have just been over with your cousin, Miss Louise, talking to the magnates of his State* Mr. Bob Covington seems to be about as much the pride of Kentucky as that beau tiful horse Lexington who is cantering up the track. Your cousin is a very gallant representative of the Blue Grass region." "I am delighted to hear that; but who would not have known it by his face," returns tke young lady. A moment later she makes Mr. Covington very happy, for as he steps up to the barouche again, she addresses him as "Cousin Bob." " By Heaven! Cousin Louise," exclaims the gallant, taking off his hat, "you've made me happier than if Lexington won the race; and that means the happiest man upon this earth." "Well, you know ' blood is thicker than water," 1 returns the young lady. "Since my father's death I have had no relatives except my little sister, who is away from me in a NeNvYork boarding schbdl. There fore y'ou co'me in very opportunely; ddn't you, Cousin Bob? " lt> 5OB COVIXGTOX She. emphasizes the name by a slightly heightened color in her soft cheeks and a look in her eyes that makes the Kentuckian know Louise Tournay means what she says. 44 Let's have a cousinly wager to celebrate the event," laughs Covington, very proud of his new found relative. The young lady, gazing at him, hesitates. The color on her exquisite face, already heightened, is no\v a burning red. Into her mind has flown, " A cousinly wager may mean, perchance, a cousinly kiss from this young man of rapid action, impulsive bearing, and warm heart." But Bob, catching the big blush, and Miss Louise's embarrassed manner, begins to grow red himself, and blurts out, "I I didn't mean that !" Then recover ing himself, goes on, with a gallant mien and very earnest eyes: " Though I shall feel the most honored man on earth, when Cousin Lou considers Cousin Bob worthy of such a mark of kinship." To this he adds quite pathetically: " You know, I have never kissed a cousin in my whole life." 4 'No?" murmurs Miss Louise, caressing the tip of a very dainty petite bottine with the end of her white parasol. Then she cries suddenly: " Of course not ! I am the only cousin you've ever had," blushes once more and bursts out laughing; and this incident seems to do a great deal toward sweeping away any extreme punctilio between Cousin Lou and her just-discovered Cousin Bob. 44 What I meant was, Miss Louise, to give you a cousin's privilege of naming your own horse or horses and your own odds in gloves, nicknacks or feminine furbelows," remarks Mr. Covington, gazing with ad miring eyes on the pretty picture made by the young lady, who is now a charming melange of blushes, laugh ter, and sparkling eyes. 44 That means," murmurs Louise, "you want to make a a cousinly present. " 44 Not exactly. But 1 can tell .'you I'll lose to you with better grace than I would to any other human being. Let's make it gloves," continues the young BOB COVINGTON 17 man eagerly. "You name your two horses and num ber of dozens. I will take the nags you reject." " Very well. I select Arrow, our Louisiana horse, and, in compliment to my Kentucky relative, Lexing ton." Then she laughs. " I think I will only rob you of a dozen pairs of gloves, Cousin Bob." "How I shall enjoy paying this wager! That's kind of you, that's heartfelt, that's cousinly, betting on our horse, Cousin Lou, " cries Covington, elated. * ' Be sides, I can tell you, with this muddy track," he whis pers this, " Lexington is sure. You might as well tell me the number of your gloves even now." "Five and three-quarters. But be sure and get Jouvin's, with long fingers," remarks his cousin. Looking at her delicately gloved patrician hands, one of which is lying in easy grace over the edge of the carriage and the other dallying with her parasol, Mr. Covington thinks that if anything, five and three-quar ters will be too large for her pretty digits. While this conversation has been going on Mon sieur Martineau has been chatting with Mrs. Joyce, casting now and then a glance at the beautiful young lady and her cousinly cavalier. The more cordial the young man gets in his manner to the young lady, the happier the family lawyer's face. "Don't you think it a rather quick assumption of relationship on the part of Mr. Covington," whispers the chaperonc nervously. "No; there's no doubt of Cousin Bob's standing in his State and with the Kentucky gentlemen who know him. I believe they think of running him for Congress up in the Blue Grass District. There's no doubt of his relationship to Miss Louise. He is a noble, whole-souled fellow and and I'm very glad of it." This last is said with a curious twitching of the Cre ole's grizzled moustache. But now there is a wild buzz of excitement from the crowd that lines the MetairieTace-course,and through its grand stand next breathless 'silence. The -horses are at the- post ! Then in all this multitude, who have forgotten even 10 BOD COVINGTOX numan life itself in their thoughts of horseflesh, one man, Arvid Martineau, utters a profound sigh. " Sighing, my dear fellow?" remarks Henri La Farge, who has strolled up to him. " Do you think you've backed the wrong horse ? " But Bedlam now breaks loose! The drum has tapped, the horses are away, all in a bunch together. At the turn Lexington leads, Arrow second, Lecomte third, and Highlander well up. " My two horses first! Lexington and Arrow!" cries Miss Louise excitedly, clapping her hands. "The gloves are mine!" "Yes; I think they are. But four miles isn't won in the first quarter," laughs the Kentuckian. "You've not been accustomed to horse-races, Cousin Louise. We'll have to educate you in the Blue Grass region.'' A moment after, the young lady gives a gasp of dis may and mutters : "Lecomte! Those are his colors, aren't they ? Lecomte is ahead. Oh, goodness gracious! He has passed Lexington." But a moment after the chestnut falls back behind the bay. This is the second mile, and they hold this position for the third time round the course. But the mud is beginning to tell upon the lighter-limbed Arrow ; his speed has slackened, and Highlander is now in third place, Lexington first, Lecomte second. "I tell you, it will be a contest between Blue Grass blood," remarks Covington, eagerly. " Lecomte, who was foaled in my own region but trained down here, and Lexington, who has been fed on blue grass all his life. And true Blue Grass wins! Old Kentucky forever! Old Kcntuck wins .' Lexington ! LEXINGTON !" This cry is taken up all along the home-stretch! The Louisville girls on the grand stand arc waving scarfs and handkerchiefs and clapping their hands, and from up the course there comes the Kentucky yell, for Lexington has won the first heat. "I have half gained my gloves already," remarks the young lady, " would you like to compromise on half ? Say, Cousin Bob, would you like to compromise ? " "You Ye a thrifty sbul/' laughs the proud and happy Co'vingf'dn, ''with one of your horses, Arrow, distanced, BOB COVINGTOK 19 and out of the race." "But I would not compro mise any of my bets. I shall have as much pleasure in giving you the gloves as I will have in taking twenty thousand dollars from the gentlemen about here, who don't seem to appreciate that Kentucky produces the best horseflesh and the prettiest girls in the world." Then looking at the fair face that is gazing rather quizzically into his, he murmurs gallantly, his eyes growing bright with admiration. " All except one, my Cousin Lou, the Rosebud of Louisiana ! " CHAPTER II. THE SECOND HEAT. THEN comes the excitement between heats, the mak ing of new wagers, and arranging of different odds. " I think I'll step over and hear about the betting, just for a minute, Cousin Louise," remarks the Ken- tuckian. "Besides, I would like to see how our nag works out after this heat." In pursuance of this idea, Mr. Covington, elbowing his way across the track and passing the grand stand, very shortly finds himself at the saddling paddock, which is a little to the rear and somewhat to the right of the grand stand. Clustered about the entrance to this Walhalla of horseflesh, to which admission can only be obtained by permission of the Jockey Club, is a crowd of frantic bettors, stablemen, touts and the riff-raff of the race-course, who are very anxious to know what chances the other horses have in the second heat, for which the odds have already changed, Lex ington being now a favorite over the field. As Coving- ton pushes his way through this throng and obtains entrance to the wished-for land, he is gazed after with hatred by some and envy by all. " By the Lord Harry !" mutters a broken-down sport ing man. "These bloods always get the inside infor mation ! These chaps that put up the many dollars have a pull over us that put up the few dollars." 20 BOB COVIXGTON " Sacre Dien >, ! That's what has ruined me, Mon sieur!" mutters an old weazened-looking man of Creole accent, parchment face, and piercing black eyes. "I have lost on every race this Spring meeting. Now I can only play my little game which is a fair one, gen tlemen will you not bet upon it : The selecting of the jack when I shuffle them so " and he begins a game of three-card monte into which he would lure the lookers-on. "Will you not bet? See, it really is simple. I throw them about so! You have the ad vantage. Your eyes watch my hands ; your glance is quicker than my movements, for I am growing old. I will give you the odds, two to one. You name the jack as I shuffle them." But the other mutters: "I'll be cursed if I'll be skinned on cards as well as on horses! And with niggers round me, too!" Then he cries, "Get out. ye coons! Get out o' here!" For a number of darkey stable-boys and grooms have gathered about, and the irate gamester moves away, driving these sons of Ham from his path and cursing: "By all the Philistines, every nigger in town is out here ! There won't be a woolly-head in our hotel to wait on the table this even ing!" In the paddock, Covington finds the elite of the sportsmen of that day, in all the varied joys, hopes, and fears of a great race which is as yet undecided. They are gathered about the horses, discussing the heat and watching their nags sweat out. The Ken tucky party, among whom are Talliaferro, Ten Broeck, and Colonel Bruce, are inspecting Lexington, as the bay colt is being walked up and down under blankets by a negro groom. The Mississippi party, who have not yet lost hope, Lecomte having made a very fair showing, are gathered about Colonel Wells and his gallant chestnut. Alabamians are trying to keep up their courage, talking about the "bottom" of High lander, for he has still another chance. It is the Louisiana party, among them young La Farge, for whom there is no balm in Gilead. Their horse, the distanced Arrow, is being sent to his stables, followed by old Abe, his jockey, who is sobbing bitterly and BOB COVINGTON 21 cursing the mud that has told so heavily against the light-limbed gelding that has carried the bulk of sugar money. The Kentucky party Bob joins, and they go to dis cussing their nag with all the enthusiasm of happy boys, Talliaferro crying that their colt is sweating cut beautifully and will be as lively for his second heat as a mosquito in spring, and Ten Broeck adding: "]"m glad to hear that, for I've bought him all of him ! This pride of my State is now mine all mine ! " the joy of the owner of great race-horses coming into the sportsman's eyes. Then one of them suddenly says: " Great Taylor! Look at Col. Wells! He's taking that negro jockey, John, off by himself. They're holding a consultation. Look at that darky's face as his owner speaks to him ! The next will be a desperate heat! " "Well, all the talk in the world won't make that track light," replies Covington. " This india-rubber, gutta-percha mud, twenty pounds of it sticking to every horse's hoofs is what makes it dead sure for us." After a little he turns to go back to the fair young lady, the glory of whose eyes still lingers in his mind, and tell her he thinks her gloves are very safe. As he comes out of the paddock, however, he is de tained by the old French three-card monte man, who, stepping in front of him bows and says: "Monsieur, you are a member of the Kentucky party? " "Yes; don't I look like it? Who've the happy faces on the track to-day? Blue Grass boys!" "Then, Monsieur, can you give an unfortunate a little information? " "Yes, if it won't take fifteen seconds to do it." "Please step aside with me, Monsieur. I am in despair. I have lost more than I can afford upon the horse that is going to the stable." And there art* tears in the old man's eyes that make the Kentuckian pity him though the picture before him is not a pleas ant one. Old age, decrepit, broken down, though the soft manners of the Creole suggest the man is more educated and refined than his present appearance indi cates. His dress of black broadcloth has once been 22 BOB COVINGTON fashionable. It is very neat and clean now, but the elbows of the coat and the knees of the trousers are shabby-genteel to shinincss. "I have but one pleasure in life, monsieur betting. The only one left me." "Yes, so I presume. What can I do for you ? " re marks Covington, anxious to get through with the interview. " You can tell me how to place my money." 11 Well, I never saw a horse-race that was dead sure, but with that mud on the track go and inspect it, and if it's as heavy as it seems to me, you can back the horse with the big fore-shoulders. You know what nag I mean the one that won the last heat. By mathematics Lexington has now two chances to one against any other horse; by horseflesh sense, ten to one on this muddy track." "Thank you, Monsieur; I shall never forget the tip," murmurs the Creole montc man. "I never give tips," replies the Kentuckian. "I simply give advice founded on common sense and horse knowledge. Only don't curse me if Lexington gets knocked down that's about the only thing that'll beat him." With this, he elbows his way through the crowd, on his way to the side of Miss Louise Tournay. But as he passes the grand stand he is detained again ; this time in a much more pleasant manner. A very beau tiful young lady, magnificently arrayed, with the soft hazel eyes and sunny brown hair so peculiar to Ken tucky's daughters, and a rounded form which unites the beauties of Venus and the graces of Hebe, bars his way with detaining parasol, and murmurs plaintively, *'Mr. Covington, are you not going to stay and re joice with us ? over our great horse ! " " I could rejoice," replies the gentleman, gallantly, "with Miss Sally Johnson, without anything else to make me happy." But Miss Johnson does not get the benefit of tete-a- tt'te, though perchance she would like it; for Bob seems to be as popular with the ladies of his region as with the gentlemen. In a jiffy he is surrounded by BOB COVINGTON 23 Blue Grass girls, all of them wearing Lexington's col ors, and all of them happier than any one should be this side of heaven. To them he must give the latest news from the pad dock ; to them he is compelled to make engagements for the grand ball this night at the St. Charles Hotel. But though bright eyes gaze into his and pretty lips whisper to him and he has enough beauty around him to drive average manhood to distraction. Bob does not forget the charming young lady who sits in the barouche upon the opposite side of the track. Very shortly he is standing beside Cousin Louise and taking off his hat to Mrs. Joyce, to whom he says: " Wouldn't you like me to put a little wager for you on the race ? You should have a bet ! No lady should be without one to-day ! I can win a year's glove-money for you, as easy as jumping off a log ! Say the word and let me put a little bet for you, Madame." "Bet for me?" gasps the astonished chaperone. "My dear sir, I never bet in my life !" Then she adds, in prim severity: "I have not been brought up to gambled" " No," remarks Miss Louise, playfully, " Mrs. Joyce has conscientious scruples about betting and also in regard to another peculiar institution of our Southern life. She comes from Vermont." " Oh ! Ah ! I understand. She doesn't know that the only happy people down South are those who have got no care and are taken care of," laughs the Ken- tuckian. "Why Mrs. Joyce, I envy Mr. Caesar, my body-servant. He hasn't half my work to do ; he gets his board and clothes as well as I do, and never won ders where the money'll come from; and that's all any of us get in this world. But the horses are coming up, and judging by the look on darky John's face, he is determined to win, if Lecomte can do it ! " A moment later Covington, who must be talking or doing something, remarks: "I'll tell you a curious story about that negro jockey. It is rumored round the stables that his owner, Col. Jeff. Wells, went down to see John and tell him he'd got to win the race, and asked him what kind of wager he'd like, to make him 24 DOD COV1XGTON (lead sure to try his very level best. Darn me if the boy he's a foolish fellow, half-witted, I think, except as regards horses didn't ask him if he couldn't bet himself agin' the victory." "Bet himself r' shrieks Mrs. Joyce. "What do you mean by that ? " 44 Well, darky John meant if he won he was to have his free-papers. And I tell you, he made Colonel \Vells cry. Wells broke out and said : * Haven't I been the best master on earth to you, John ? Did you ever want anything in the universe ? Darn me, haven't I always given you all the money you wanted to spree and get drunk on out of the racing season ? Hasn't your mammy got the best cabin on the plantation ? Don't you do as you darn please ? Don't you boss met Don't you know I'll take care of you as long as you live, and bury you when you're dead ? ' ' " ' That's all right, sir,' replied the boy. 'I'll not leave you for anything, as long as you live. But I was just thinking if you died fust, I'd like to pick out the next stable I ride for; though you've got me as long as you want me, living or dead. I'd be your jockey and you'd be my master if I had a hundred thousand dollars and free-papers. ' " 'And by Jove!' remarked Wells, who is as noble a fellow as there is anywhere, 'Boy, you can have it!' So that darky is riding to win himself. But he's got to lose! The mud is too heavy on that track for John to get a chance to make a darned fool of himself to-day." This oration is cut short by the excited Louise, who cries, clapping her hands: "Oh, the drum has tapped! They're off the second time! Highlander is ahead your horse, Cousin Bob!" 4 * No ; Lecomte ! Lecomte is first ! By the Goddess of Liberty and Uncle Sam !" ejaculates the Kentuckian, 44 How that darky jockey is riding!" " Yes! Riding for freedom ! " snaps out Mrs. Joyce at him. So they go on, all lapped together, for two miles. People gasping with excitement, boys cheering, girls screaming, as one or the other of the horses takes the lead ; men growing pale, and one or two darky stable BOB COVINGTON 25 lads butting their woolly heads together from very nervous excitement. Now the horses are in the third mile, Lecomte still leading. Highlander is making his rush to pass Lex ington, but he can't get there, for the bay now makes his brush also, and the mud soon flies from the Kentucky colt's hoofs in the faces of both the Alabama and Mis sissippi horses. " It's Kentuck once more!" cries Covington. "Both Blue Grass bred, but only one Blue Grass trained and Blue Grass all over! Oh, what a State we have! Cousin Lou, come up and see our State!" But Cousin Lou has a dozen pairs of gloves on the race, and that is what her vivacious, sprightly, feminine spirit is devoted to at this moment. She is crying: "Oh, they're at the third quarter; it's the last mile! Gracious, they're locked together! Which is going to win ? Oh, merciful goodness ! My horse is being beaten!" and her lovely cheeks grow pale. The pale, consumptive boy on Lexington is now calling on his horse. The mud is telling against the Southern nag. Those great foreshoulders of the son of Alice Carneal are pulling him through the india- rubber track of the Metairie Jockey Course fatally well ! But darky John is riding to win himself! He 'won't give up, and plies his game mount with whip and spur! So the two come tearing on, Lecomte and Lexington, side by side like quarter-horses. Again the cries of " Mississippi! " and " Kentucky! " fill the air. A moment after, the cries are all "Kentucky!" and there is a gray-faced darky jockey on a beaten horse four lengths behind Lexington, as he wins the final heat of that great race, which has been turf talk for many a day before and will be so for many a day thereafter. But Mississippi men won't accept the test. " It was the heavy track ! Lecomte was not trained for mud ! We live in a decent climate down here ! " exclaim some of his backers. "We'll do it over again!" remarks Lexington's owner blandly. 26 BOB COVINGTON " Done! " cries Colonel Wells, as genuine a turfman as ever owned a horse. And he backs his nag Lecomte against the Kentucky champion for another race, to be run upon the coming Saturday. With this he steps over to the paddock, where Black John is standing rather ruefully as the chestnut Lecomte is being led away to the stable. 44 Please don't think it my fault, Colonel Wells, for I rode for my my life," says the boy eagerly; then adds: " It war the mud. Yo' know de colt hasn't had a heavy track for his training." "I imagine you're right, John," says his owner, "though the horse that beat him is a good one, too. But I'm going to give you another chance next Satur day. The track will probably be light and dusty by that time, and perhaps these Kentucky cockadoodles won't have so much to crow over then." " Bet de same bet, Massa Jeff ? " asks Black John breathlessly. "Certain ! You shall have another chance to win yourself, just the same as that colt shall have another to be considered the best horse in America. No, don't thank me " For the boy, forgetful of the difference in race and station, is clasping his owner's hand and muttering: "God bless you, Colonel ! I'll train my- sel' as well as de horse fo' dat race. You can bet yo' money ! I'm a-ridin* for my freedom ! " "Why one would think I had been a bad master to you," says the Colonel grimly, " when you know " "Yo' have been de best on earth, sir, and I'll ride fo' you till you die. But I've set my heart on owning myself, dat's all dat's all." The veteran turfman brushes his hand over his eyes as he turns away. Then he sees something in the face of his jockey that makes him return to the betting ring, though he has lost very heavily on to-day's trans actions, and begin to make his book on the coming race, backing his own colt very freely and very heavily at the odds that are offered him; for Lexington is, of course, a favorite for the new event. A few minutes after, it is buzzed about that the Jockey Club has offered a two-thousand-dollar purse, BOB COVINGTON 27 in addition to the side bets, and the two sons of Boston will fight it out over again one week from this day. This is delightful news for all the storekeepers on Canal street, the proprietors of all the magazines of the French quarter. The boss of every gambling house rejoices and every Boniface is happy, because this means that most of this large concourse that have been drawn to the city by this great race will remain to see another great race and make this first week in April as brilliant as Carnival and Mardi Gras, scatter ing their money among the New Orleans tradesmen and greasing with American dollars the wheels of local business. " La semaine prochaine will be grand. The hotels will be full. The young ladies who have graced the grand stand to-day will probably favor my bazaar of Parisian novelties," remarks Pierre Larost, of the Magasin- de Sua\ to Kitson Jarvis, his social confrere at billiards and dominoes. It is a curious intimacy; for Monsieur Larost is of Creole blood, small of stature, and has a French face, while Mr. Jarvis is a great, big-limbed, uncouth crea ture, comes from Cincinnati, and has a peculiarly shrewd Yankee physiognomy. But both these gentle men are useful to each other, not only socially, but in the way of trade ; Mr. Jarvis doing a small, but rather smart, attorney's business, chiefly among sea-captains and shipmen, his office being near the levee, and Mon sieur Larost keeping shop upon the Rue Royal. Con sequently Kitson has been able, from his acquaintance with sea-captains, to secure a good many customers for the Frenchman's wares. Larost, in return, has frequently, through his knowledge of the Creole popu lation of the city, been of service to Mr. Jarvis in some of the petty lawsuits that have come into his hands. The two together, like everybody else in New Orleans to whom it has been possible, have made a holiday of this day and are now strolling across the race-track preparatory to their return to the city. This evening they will have a game o'f billiards, after a dinner at Mme. Duparc's cafe on Bourbon street, 28 BOB COVINGTON and perhaps wind up at Mr. Tom Placide's Variety Theatre, or possibly at one of the French playhouses, as Mr. Jarvis has succeeded in acquiring the dominant language of the Creole, finding it very useful to him in his various business affairs. Forced by the crowd, they are now pretty close to Bob Covington and one or two of his friends, to whom the young man, excited by the enthusiasm of victory, is remarking: " This has been a great day for old Kentuck! And I'm the luckiest man on the track," ' f Well, come and get into our cabriolet with us," re turns Talliaferro. You can expand, enthuse, and blo\v your trumpet, my boy, as we drive into town." " You'll excuse me, Colonel; that's what I came to see you about," remarks Bob. " I have accepted the offer of my cousin, Miss Louise Tournay, and her chaperone, Mrs. Joyce, to drive into town with them." *' You're going to stay over for next Saturday's event ?" asks one of the young men. "Stay over? I could live and die in Louisiana; only give me such racing and such girls! Of course I stay over! By the by, La Farge, I owe a supper at the Orleans to you and friends. I hope all you gentle men will consider yourselves invited ; supposing we call it next Wednesday. And now good-bye, for the present. No; not even a julep! My cousin must not be kept waiting even for a parched throat." With this the Kcntuckian moves off. Though he does not know it, he has a follower. The minute he has announced himself as the cousin of Miss Louise Tournay, Mr. Kitson Jarvis, after one start of astonish ment, has drunk in every word Cousin Bob has uttered. With a muttered " Excuse me, Larost; I'll meet you at the cars in a few shakes of a lamb's tail," the at torney makes his way as best he can through the surg ing crowd and succeeds in keeping in sight the tall form of the Kentuckian, though he does not get very near him. However, he can see Mr. Covington distinctly as he steps up to the .barooiche in which Mrs. Joyce is seated by the side of her charming charge. BOB COVINGTON 29 Putting his eyes on the group and finally getting nearer to them just as their carriage drives off, this gentleman of the law notes the ardent admiration in the Kentuckian's face as he gazes at the beautiful young lady sitting as his vis-a-vis. Then he catches the enthusiastic Bob's words as he says: " Of course we race next Saturday, Cousin Louise; we must ail drive out together and back Lexington again!" Then, gazing at the supreme loveliness of the lady, so daintily arrayed and talking so vivaciously to the gentleman, Mr. Kitson Jarvis mutters to him self these astounding words: "By heaven, he's a lucky man ! " Next laughs to himself sneeringly : "Won't that chap jump out of his boots when I tell him my little tale ? " Apparently the lawyer has his "little tale " still .on- his mind when he joins his friend Larost at the cars, for his words are few, and he goes into a brown study, to his companion's astonishment. For Mr. Kitson Jarvis is generally a man of a good deal of small talk, and has a habit of telling facetious stories, perchance not over delicate, but usually having a good deal of brutal point to them. Entirely unaware of the attorney's interest in him, Mr. Bob Covington contrives to make a very pleasant journey of it, chatting breezily to the ladies as they drive slowly into town, the concourse of carriages upon the shell-road preventing any attempt at speed. "We'll have a great week of it ! " he remarks, airily. "The week between the races. Neither you nor I, Cousin Lou, know New Orleans very well; we'll do the town ! " unheeding the suggestion of Mrs. Joyce, who remarks that young men and young ladies, espe cially among the Creole population, are not supposed to go wandering about together. *' That may be all very well ! " replies Bob, promptly, when they are not relatives! But, you *see, Miss Tournay and I are first cousins, Mrs. Joyce. Besides, has not Cousin Louise a chaperone in you ? " "I think that you, -Pamela, will cover all the groim'd-," remarks the young lady. "First cousins, only relatives in the world, and your watchful eyes!" 30 BOB COVIXGTON She says this archly, patting her companion's hand. " Besides," she continues vivaciously, noting that her conversation makes the young Kentuckian's face happy, and perhaps being willing to please him by this time, "I have not been brought up exactly in the Creole manner. My experience at Miss Martin's boarding school in New York, where you looked rather strictly after me, Pamela, has given me some different views; and, above all, the ties of blood " "Yes; but not very close ones," suggests Mrs. Joyce. "Not close enough to " The rather prim lady bites her lips at this point, for Cousin Bob's face has grown a little red and Miss Louise has put on a very pretty blush. " That's true!" cries the Kentuckian. "We're just near enough together to be right ! " Then he goes on in his fly-away manner: t; I wouldn't be your brother, Cousin Louise, to be Samson and Goliah of Gath com bined. " By this time, the carriage having driven up to the family house of the Tournays on Dauphine Street, Mr. Robert Covington assists the ladies out, perchance holding his cousin's hand a little longer than her chap- erone's as he bids them adieu at their door. Even as he turns away he is made very happy. Miss Louise, taking a step toward him, says: " You have no engagement this evening, I hope, Cousin Bob ? " Then Cousin Bob lies he knows he has half a dozen ; but he answers: " Not a one! " " Very well ; suppose you come and see us en famille. Perhaps we may become a little better acquainted." " That's the talk! " replies the gentleman heartily; "though I feel very cousinly now." And he does, as he takes the dainty hand that is extended toward him again in his and gives it a little family squeeze, and strides off to St. Charles Hotel where he has rooms the happiest, dashiest and most run-away Kentuckian in all that town, and New Orleans has many of them this day in which the pride of their State has beaten the next best nag in the world. As he Strides down Dauphine Street the sharp eyes of Mr. Kitsbn are still upon the young man. Having BOB COVINGTON 31 arrived in town a little ahead of him, and knowing the locale of the Tournay town house, the attorney has watched Mr. Covington assisting the ladies from the carriage; he has noticed the Kentuckian's eyes as he has bid the girl farewell; he has observed her won drous beauty, and he thinks: "Byjehosh! If she isn't a sky-rocket!" then cogitates: "That letter from California is already overdue; it must be here soon! If it doesn't come, I'll speak to him anyway before this fortunate young buck gets out of New Orleans. By Joseph and his brethren! this may be the most tarna tion lucky stroke of legal business, Kit, you've struck in the Crescent City," CHAPTER III. BLUE GRASS GIRLS. PROMPT to his appointment this evening, Mr. Robert Covington handles the knocker at the spacious portals of the Tournay residence. He is apparently expected. The door is opened almost immediately by a bright- eyed, bright-skinned mulatto girl, who courtesies to him saying: " Glad to see yo', Mistah Bob ! Does us all good to have a gent'man of the Tournay blood roun' dis house once more. I'se Lorena, Miss Louise's maid." 44 Well, Lorena, I'll tell my man, Mr. Caesar, what a pretty girl there is about here. Shouldn't wonder if Mr. Caesar turns up pretty often with messages from me, after he has seen you," laughs the Kentuckian in the easy way common to Southerners of that period, when family servants were almost as much a part of the family as the family itself, and the tremendous social gulf of blood and class, permitted a careless familiarity between master and slave, who by no accident could ever change their stations. "Why, Mr. Caesar has seen me already, sir. He brought a bouquet from yo' about half an hour ago, 32 BOB COVINGTON with a note for Miss Louise," giggles the girl. " Mr. Caesar's now in the kitchen, sir. We're treating him right smart. It's a great thing for the Tournay family servants to all get together once more, sir. Mr. Caesar says he feels just as much to home as if he'd been born here, sir! " "Yes; I have no doubt Mr. Caesar is making him self at home. He has a habit of doing it with me! " laughs Covington, as he is ushered into the court yard of the house, which is made pretty by growing bananas and tropical shrubs and has a little fountain in its centre. On each side of the front entrance, which is arched and runs through to the patio, two flights of stairs in old-fashioned style in the courtyard lead to the second floor, upon which the reception rooms are located. Ascending one of these the young man is ushered into a pretty parlor full of old-fashioned bric- a-brac, furniture and pictures, some of its adornments dating from the time of Louis Quinze. Here a few minutes after he is welcomed by his cousin and her chaperone, Miss Louise extending her hand very cordially and Mrs. Joyce bowing in prim gracious- ness. After a few minutes' general conversation Pamela, remarking: "I have a little embroidery to do this evening," steps into another salon only separated from this one by portieres, to devote herself to her worsted frame upon which she is embroidering in colored wools a flower-piece which, though admired at that day, is now one of the admitted monstrosities of art. Seated in this room, Mrs. Joyce is with, and yet apart from her charge. The chaperone is following the con venances of Louisiana life in their form but not in their spirit, as she is giving Mr. Robert Covington oppor tunities of tete-a-tete with a young lady that are alto gether beyond the precepts of Creole etiquette. But Pamela Joyce has a Yankee way of looking at the affair. She reasons: "They arc first cousins; he is the only gentleman relative Louise has in the world. Probably they have family matters to talk over, in which my immediate presence would be a restraint. Any way what docs it matter? These BOB COVINGTON 33 Creoles treat a girl as if she were not to be trusted, and I know Louise. She never flirted at Miss Martin's boarding school, though half the others did. Her eyes were always straight ahead of her, whenever we marched them down Lafayette Place for our morning walk." Noting this fact, Mr. Covington for a moment wonders if some hint from his pretty cousin has produced this delicious opportunity of private con verse, and is very happy over the idea. But a moment after he forgets everything in the extreme beauty of the young lady who sits before him and fascinates his very soul. The evening dress Miss Louise wears, after the man ner of the period, has added the charms of ivory shoulders and snowy arms to the graces the young lady had displayed on the race-track. It is a pretty gown of white. Made almost after the manner of the First Empire in its simplicity of detail, it clings about her and displays the rounded curves of beauty in every movement, in every pose. Bob also notes Miss Louise's tresses are banded round her graceful head and tied in a knot a la Grccque. Two little Ionian curls float down on one side of her white brow. A single white camellia, set in her soft, dark-brown hair, is the only ornament she wears. So Miss Tournay sits before her new-found cousin, all in pure white, even to petite slippers and weblike hosiery, of which the short gowr of that period gives Mr. Covington one or two rap' jrous glimpses. But it is not the yom,g lady's beauty that is pro ductive of all this effect upon the young gentleman. She has a very gracious manner, and her eyes are light ing with varying emotions as these ripple one after the other over her vivacious features. Her smile is merry, her laugh is hearty, and her gestures naively piquant; though as he looks at her Mr. Covington cannot help imagining that at times the young lady may be distant and even haughty peculiarities of her disposition of which some day he may have further proof. At pres ent, however, Louise is amiability personified, and seems very happy in entertaining her new-found 34 SOB COVIXGTOX cousin. She sings for him one or two little French chansons, accompanying herself very prettily, and asks him if he has heard Jenny Lind, remarking: "I did once. Miss Martin took her whole boarding school to one of Mr. Barnum's concerts at Castle Garden/' Then, for variety, she warbles a soft negro plantation ^nelody, imitating the banjo upon the piano, after the manner of Monsieur Gottschalk, who is at this time the rage, remarking about this celebrated exponent of sensuous melody: " You know he is a Creole himself, born here in New Orleans." A moment after, perhaps to give the young gentle man a chance to talk, Louise asks, suddenly: " Do you dance ? " "Do I dance ?" cries Bob, anxious to make a show ing for himself. " Do I dance, Cousin Lou? Ask the Louisville girls. " "The Louisville girls?" remarks the young lady contemplatively ; but adds airily : "lam not acquainted with them." There is a trace of pique in her voice, her delicate lips tremble. Then she says, slowly : "Suppose you tell me a little about yourself and the Louisville girls. Eh, Cousin Bob ? " Louise has swung around upon the piano stool. Her piquant nose is gradually going into the air; her eyes have almost a reproach in them. "Oh, blow the Louisville girls!" cries Covington, uneasily, "Let us talk about ourselves, you and I, Cousin Lou." And, this seeming to set him right with the young lady, they wander into a very genial and somewhat confidential conversation, each telling the other a good deal about their past experiences and a little about their future hopes; Mr. Covington informing his cousin that he has been educated at Princeton, but had left a post-graduate course at that college, recalled to his Kentucky homestead by the sudden death of his father and mother in the cholera epidemic of 1850. "For the last year or two," he says, "having got my farm into the best of order, I have been ranging about and seeing a little of the world. I've done Charleston, Washington, New York, and Philadelphia, BOB COVINGTON 35' and bave even seen the top of Bunker Hill Monument ; but, supposing you say something. How did you like your New York school ? Tell me all about yourself since you were knee high, Cousin Louise." " Oh, that won't take long," answers Miss Tournay. "My mother died just after Nita's birth, when I was seven years old. After that I ran wild on the planta tion, the pet of all the darkies, negro mammies and all that. Papa was too engrossed in his science, his books, and his poetry to give such a little girl very much attention. You know, down in Assump tion and La Fourche, Papa was called ' Savant Tour- nay ' by the country people." ;< Yes, but afterward ? " asks the gentleman. " Afterward ?" murmurs the girl. "Afterward, I went away to school." Then the young lady goes on to tell her listener that for six of seven years before her father's death she and her younger sister Nita were placed at Miss Mar tin's academy in New York. While in that institution, to them had come the news of their father's sudden death by accident, about a year and a half ago. That when she had returned to Louisiana she had left her sister Nita still at school, but had induced Mrs. Joyce, one of the assistant teachers at Miss Martin's, to take the trip with her, not caring to make the long journe} alone; remarking: " Since then, Pamela, that is, Mrs. Joyce, has been kind enough to live with me at beau tiful Beau Rivage." Then she makes her hearer very happy by adding: "You brag of your Blue Grass region; you should see our beautiful Atchafalaya and see it you shall and must, some day, Cousin Bob!" Looking at the young gentleman as he sits before her in the elaborate evening dress of a beau of the period, his trousers very tight, though very much spread out over his patent-leather boots, his waistcoat white as snow, his immaculate ruffled shirt and his swallow-tail coat with high-rolled velvet collar, Miss Louise thinks Mr. Covington, with his broad shoulders, frank manner, and honest, laughing blue eyes, a very gallant and handsome relative. 36 BOB COVINGTON A moment after, perchance from some feminine coquetry perhaps just to see how he'll take it she strikes the Kentuckian a deft little blow below the belt as she murmurs: "But we now think of going to Paris, where my sister Nita can complete her edu cation." " Going to Paris? " ejaculates Covington, aghast. "Yes; very soon. Monsieur Martineau has advised it." Then she affrights her hearer by remarking de murely: " Do you know I rather imagine he would pre fer that I married in Europe? Un beau parti eh, Cousin Bob?" And she smiles archly at the gentle man. But Cousin Bob bursts out: " What! A French jack- a-dandy of a husband for you? Mr. Martineau's French blood makes him too kind to Parisians! The Blue Grass bucks are the dandies for an American girl like you ! When you have once seen Kentucky in its glory, at a State fair or race meeting, you will never think of Paris or Parisians or French horses again!" But though Mr. Covington may decry Paris and the Parisians, his trachea seems to have a lump in it for a day or two afterward, whenever he thinks of " un beau parti '." Perchance he would even go away dejected, did not the young lady, gazing on his rather woe-begone countenance, now raise him to the seventh heaven of delight, as she says very cordially: "You suggested, Cousin Bob, that we do the town together. What do you say to a visit to the market to-morrow morning, Sunday? About nine o'clock, I believe is the fashion able hour, if Mrs. Joyce will kindly assist us to Creole propriety." " Done! " cries the Kentuckian. " Here's my hand on it," and Miss Louise's pretty digits get a grateful squeeze, as the two walk in and ask Pamela if she will play chaperone at a jaunt to the market. To this request the lady gasps: "Sunday!" What are you thinking of, Louise? " and would doubtless make refusal did not at this moment Lorena, with a courtesy, announce Monsieur Arvid Martineau. " I had called to see you at your hotel, to welcome you to our city, Mr. Covington," remarks the French BOB COVINGTON 37 gentleman, after he has greeted the party, "but learn ing from your friend, Colonel Talliaferro, that you had come to visit your cousin, I gave myself the same pleas ure and followed you here. " "And just in time! " cries Louise. "Justin time to explain to Mrs. Joyce that it is quite the proper thing to visit the market on Sunday morning." Then she adds, with feminine subtlety, "You know, Mon sieur Arvid, that Cousin Bob has asked me to go with him, but without Pamela it is a social impossibil ity." This she embellishes with a very pretty little moue that apparently wins the French gentleman. The trustee of the Tournay estate immediately says : "My dear Mrs. Joyce, you need have no hesitation in playing chaperone. A visit to the old French market is nearly as much de rtgueur here on Sunday mornings as going to mass." -" That's the kind of talk I like! Martineau, I am forever obliged to you," cries the young Kentuck- ian, "and will be more obliged to you if you will join the party. Now I think of it, we'll do the market, take breakfast at Victor's Cafe, Creole fashion. After that we'll run down and view the New Orleans battle field. My grandfather fought there under Jackson, but he didn't fall there, thank God! Then we'll drive out to the Spanish fort, there we will dine and look at the lake, and in the early evening come home along the shell-road. What do you think of that for a day ? It is my party, you are my guests, and I'll take refusal from no one of you." " I accept with all my heart," says the French gen tleman. " I have several important papers to look at to-morrow, but I throw them aside at your invitation." Though Pamela would raise her voice deprecating Sunday outings, that worthy lady finds herself over whelmed, especially by the French avocat, who practi cally says she must go. He seems very anxious to put the two young people together as much as possible. In fact, after Mr. Covington and Miss Louise have strolled off into the other parlor and got to their t$te- a-tete business once more, Martineau very frankly states this to the chaperone. 33 BOB COVINGTOX "You and I," he says, "my dear Mrs. Joyce, \vill make a quiet day of it together. But we will let these young cousins enjoy each other's society." " Don't you think it is putting them very much to gether? " whispers Pamela, pursing her lips. ' I wish them together. It is for Louise's interest that she should be on very good terms with her cousin. He is a fine young man, thank God!" This last is said with much more earnestness than the case apparently warrants, and makes Pamela gaze at him surprised as he goes on in explanation : "He is Louise's only male relative. To his protection she must turn some day, perchance, both on her own account and ;hat of her little sister." " Pooh ! " says the schoolmistress grimly. " By that time Louise is sure to be married." "Sure to be married! What makes you say that?" "Well, I have been a schoolmistress a good many years, and I know the kind of girls who get married soon. Louise is one of them." "Nevertheless," answers Martineau, "I think it very important that you, Madame, do everything in your power to bring about all possible good will between a young lady, whose interest I have as much at heart as you, and the young gentleman who is at present feasting his eyes upon her beauty, and giving her hand a cousinly ana tender squeeze. " He shrugs his shoulders in his Gallic way and utters a slight chuckle, as he turns his eyes into the other room, for this is exactly what Mr. Robert Covington is doing to Miss Louise Camours Tournay. A few minutes afterward the lawyer rises and says : "Will you not walk along with me towards my resi dence and my office, where I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you very shortly, Monsieur Covington ? " Then looking at the elaborate array of the young man, he adds: "I suppose you will favor the ball at the St. Charles with your presence. Miss Johnson of Louis ville, the great belle of your part of the country, with whom I was conversing not over an hour ago, stated that she had promised you the honor of a dance the first waltz, I believe." BOB COVIXGTON 39 "Oh, of course, Sally Johnson; yes! By Jove, I had forgotten all about her ! I must be going! "cries Bob, suddenly. At this they all burst out into a little laugh, and Martineau says: "Man Dieu ! Miss Johnson, the very richest and most beautiful girl in all Kentucky, and he treats her so?" A remark that brings a very happy look into Louise's pretty eyes. And she is very happy; for a few minutes after the gentlemen have taken their leave she runs up to her chamber and cries to her maid: "Oh, mercy, Lorena! What am I to wear to-morrow ? He is coming at nine o'clock ! What am I to wear ? Make me as bright, dainty, cheerful, and alluring as you can. My Cousin Bob is coming to-morrow morning." "'Deed I will, Miss! Yo' will beat a bird of para dise! There ain't no young lady in the French quarter that can hold up her nose with yo' if yo' will let me have my will on you. Laws ! If Cousin Bob was proud of yo' to-day he'll be prouder than a thousand-bale planter to-morrow morning." And, this kind of talk seeming to please the young lady, Miss Louise, very shortly after this, placing her fair head upon the snowy pillows of her dainty couch, closing her eyes in drowsy contentment, murmurs softly through her coral lips: "Cousin Bob," and goes into happy dreamland. As for the gentleman whose name she has mentioned, he walks along, chatting pleasantly with the French attorney, for they have both got on a subject they wish to talk about: i. e., the beautiful girl who has just said good-night to them. ' ' Isn't my cousin Louise a wonder ! " remarks Coving- ton to the attorney. "Did you ever see such luck ? Saw the most beautiful woman on the race-course, asked her name, and by George found she was my cousin. " "Yes; Mademoiselle Louise is very beautiful and her little sister Nita is also a very pretty child ; she is thirteen now. Both are so very attractive, I I some times fear for their future," murmurs Martineau with a slight sigh. 40 BOB COVINGTON "Fear for their future? Why so? The prettier a girl is our way, the better chance she has of picking up a fine young fellow." "Well, you see," answers the avocat, "their father's death left the young ladies in a very unfortunate position. They are almost without friends, and have no near relatives except you." " Tournays, and without friends in Louisiana! I can hardly understand that." " Yes; almost without friends, because they are un known. Their father, Mr. Covington, was a very pe culiar man. Prosper Delaunay Tournay, even in his younger days, though a harum-scarum dandy about town was a poet and a dreamer, but after his sister's your mother's marriage and departure for Kentucky, these eccentricities if I may call them that were accentuated and became more pronounced as he grew older. He buried himself on his plantation, Beau Ri- vage, except when he was on a smaller place of his, near Guidrys in La Fourche Parish, which was convenient to him, being close to the bayous, marshes and swamps about Barataria Lagoon, where he was engaged in collecting specimens of the birds, reptiles, and animals of Louisiana. For, among other pursuits of Tournay was that of natural history, which brought him his sudden death ! " * How so? " "He wanted a red ibis, and, too lazy to load his gun, ordered a darky to load it for him. Cuffy put two charges in one barrel, and Prosper Tournay never knew what hurt him. The consequences of his eccen tricities were that his children were brought up wild on the plantation, until they were removed to Miss Martin's school in New York, eight years ago. As a result, Tour- nay's early friends in New Orleans forgot him ; therefore the young ladies are practically known to no one here but myself, who have charge of the affairs of the estate, and to you, their new-found relative, whom I am de lighted to meet, and, thank God! find so respected and honored by both the gentlemen and ladies of your native State. Miss Johnson spoke of you in the kind est manner but we are at Custom House Street. I must say an rcvoir." BOB COVINGTON 41 "By Jove, I must also bid you good-bye; otherwise Miss Sally Johnson may not speak so kindly of me the next time you see her/' laughs Bob. '-' I expect I'm about due at the hop at the St. Charles." Shaking the old gentleman cordially by the hand, Mr. Covington steps out rapidly for the great hotel, cogitating: " Martineau must have been making inquiries about me, not only from the gentlemen but from the ladies of my native State. Well, I'm not afraid of investigation. What Bob Covington does is above board. He makes his mistakes openly and does his little wickednesses with frankness and dispatch." A few minutes after he enters the melange of belles and beaux that are thronging the parlors of the superb hotel, making the scene one of great magnificence and splendor, for the elite of most of the States south of Mason and Dixon's line are there in all their " before- the-war" glory. Fortunately he is in time to do his dance with Miss Johnson. But, though Miss Sally's hazel eyes are very beautiful, and her charming figure rounded most gracefully, her shoulders and arms white as driven snow, and her costume imported for the occasion exquisite in detail and gorgeous in ensemble, the Louis ville beauty does not seem to have any great effect upon her partner as he trips his measure with her. And for that matter, neither do the conversation nor the charms of the many delightful young ladies he meets that evening affect the dashing Bob very greatly, though he seems in the best of spirits. "They are all very well," he thinks, after stepping a polka with Miss Amy Peyton of Virginia, ad takin ' Miss Laura Singleton, of South Carolina, into supper "but I know one who suits Bob Covington a leett, better!" After an hour or two of this he strolls away with his friend La Farge to St. Cyr's where he and some 1 other young bucks have made up a game of poker ; but Mr. Covington, though generally great at this sport, plays very badly this evening, and loses a little of his turf winnings. Even this does not destroy the buoyancy of his 42 BOB COV1NGTOX spirits, for at the hotel at two o'clock in the morning, just before he turns in, this gallant young sprig says, looking in his mirror: "Oh, you lucky dog! The prettiest, sweetest cousin on earth! The little dar ling! And the hand of her! dainty enough to juggle sunbeams! And the foot of her! small enough and light enough to jump on rosebuds and not smash their dewdrops! And to-morrow a whole day with her! Maybe Bob Covington isn't shouting, but he IS! loud enough to beat the calliope of a Mississippi steam boat!" Then he looks at himself astonished, and mut ters: "Great Taylor! You villain, you've gone back on Blue Grass girls!" CHAPTER IV. SUNDAY MORNING AT THE FRENCH MARKET. BUT this reflection on the charms of the Blue Grass girls does not seem to weigh heavily on this gentle man's conscience. He gets up very brisk, enthusiastic, and "chipper," as his body-servant, Mr. Caesar, re marks when he calls him at half-past seven in the morning. "Move along, Caesar," cries his master briskly, as he sips his coffee. " Jhe sun is out, the breeze is right, and we'll make a great day of it! " This gives a financial opening of which the darky valet promptly takes advantage. "Yes, sah, yo' may make a great day of it, but I'se kind o' low down in the pocket to make a great day of it," ruefully suggests Mr. Caesar, who is a mulatto gen tleman of very crisp hair, dark eyes, white teeth, and dapper figure, with a melancholy grin. "Low down in the pocket! Great crocodiles! Didn't I give you money to bet on the horse-race ? You ought to be in funds for months!" Then Mr. Covington adds, turning severe eyes on his factotum : "By Daniel Boone! You don't mean to say you bet against Lexington, you infernal idiot ? " BOB COVINGTON 43 " No, sah ! I ob course backed the Blue Grass colt, and won considerable, sah. But last evening, after returning from Miss Tournay's residence, I was in veigled into a little game of poker, sah, with some of the Louisiana gent'men, sah Mistah Rufus, Gen'ral Hampton's man ; Mistah Washington, Major Bee's factoter, and Mistah Caucus, Colonel Jones's body- servant, sah. And they cleaned me out, sah." "So that accounts for your not being here when I turned up last night, " laughs his master, ' * You played as bad a game as I did, eh ? Well, here's a V for you. Trot off and give Lorena a jaunt about town. Do the thing up handsomely for the honor of old Kentucky. You're sparking that bright-eyed wench of Miss Tour- nay's, I imagine. Oh, don't attempt to deny it ! I know what your grin means. And, furthermore, don't in dulge in any more poker. By the immortal Simon Suggs, do you want to ruin me, you grinning imp of Eblis?" For Mr. Caesar has received the five-dollar bill with an unctuous guffaw and a tremendous show of the ivories. "Yes; give me that slouched hat not that high tile," cries his master. "This is not Broadway or Bleecker Street I'm going to do to-day! " Then a handsome barouche, with a pair of fine trot ters and stylish coachman being ready for him, Mr. Bob Covington drives over to the Tournay residence, pick ing up on his way Arvid Martineau. "I am delighted to see you so well, Monsieur," remarks the French attorney, looking at the handsome young fellow, noting his frank face and countenance slightly flushed by apparent eagerness and expectation. Covington, however, as he returns the other's gaze, can not help thinking that the lawyer's eyes are, as he ex presses it, wistful. In fact, all this day Arvid Marti neau whenever he glances at the young man, though it is often with pleasure at his honest utterances and very frequently with admiration at his dashing manner, and sometimes with veritable joy as he sees him do some act of gentlemanly courtesy to his pretty cousin and Bob Covington does a good many of them between sunrise and sunset always dors it with a latent 44 BOB COVIXGTOX anxiety in his look, and once or twice almost a tear in his sharp, though kindly eyes. A few minutes after, the carriage rolls into the courtyard of the Tournay residence, the massive gates being already thrown open for it. Apparently the ladies are expecting them, for Mrs. Joyce immediately trips down the stairway from the second story and re marks as she greets the gentlemen: "Louise will be here in a moment. I believe it's her bonnet strings. I think she wishes to make a very perfect toilet." * * Please don't tell tales about me, Pamela, " cries Miss Tournay, making her appearance and tripping hurried ly down, a flush of excitement upon her fair face, for in truth the girl has been driving her maid Lorena to despair this morning, nothing beingyw^/ right. Though it surely is just right at present, for no prettier picture ever greeted Mr. Covington's ardent eyes than Miss Louise as she extends her daintily gloved hand to him and murmurs: "I hope I did not keep you. I am as anxious for le March? Franfaise and breakfast as you are." "Not at all!" answers the Kentuckian; then adds, gallantly: " Though even a moment of your society is important to me! "his earnest glance emphasizing his remark. "Then," says the young lady, archly, "I must always be very punctual with Cousin Bob." And ac cepting his hand, he places her in the carriage beside Mrs. Joyce, while Martineau and he take seats vis d vis to them. Then the equipage drives off, and pass ing along Dauphine Street, turns down Dumainc Street straight for what is now commonly known as "the French market." As they approach, Miss Louise suddenly exclaims: "How bright! How fascinating ! How vivacious! " " By Martin Scott's coon, what a crowd!" ejaculates the Kentuckian. "Yes; the crowd of a Sunday morning in New Or leans," answers the French Avocat, as the carriage draws up and Covington springs out, anxious for a touch of Miss Louise's light hand as he assists her from the BOB COVINGTON 45 And he is right, for clustering all about them, com ing up St. Philippe Street, moving along Decatur Street thronging from St. Anne Street and also from the early mass of the nearby cathedral, in one heterogeneous con course, are all the types, classes, and nationalities pe culiar to the New Orleans of before-the-war. Old negresses are carrying on their heads baskets of fruits, dulces, and candies. Dissipated looking, foreign catch-penny fellows are tricking boys out of their picayunes at card games. Slaves are bartering poul try and country produce from their own plantation plots. Fishmongers from Cook's Bayou are calling : " Oysters, fresh and salt!" Girls of all sizes and colors, white, black, and chocolate are selling bouquets of flowers. Planters, in the light suits of the tropics ; mountain men, in buckskin suits and coonskin caps, who have come down to see the great race from the far off prairies ; Texans with their inevitable slouched hats and Cubans from Havana are mixed in with business men from New York, Philadelphia, and even Chicago, which is just now beginning to make itself felt in the Western world. This concourse is beautified by pretty girls from the Gulf towns, Kentucky, and St, Louis, who have all come to see the great race and remaining for the other great race, are now enjoying the sights of the metropolis of the Southwest. But, if the costumes are diversified, the voices, patois, and languages are even more so, varying from the sharp, shrill twang of the Green Mountain boy who has Drought some fast trotters to sell to New Orleans sportsmen, to the soft rhythm of the Creole, the bab bling patois of French and Spanish negroes, the peculiar lingo of the Acadians, who are peddling Perique tobacco, together with some excited semi-Indian jabber from a few remnants of the Choctaws and Chickasaws that have not entirely been effaced from the soil of Louisiana, and who drive a thriving business in beaded work and Indian knick-nacks. These, mixed with the sweet voices of pretty girls from everywhere, make, as Mr. Bob Covington expresses it, "a roar of sound that beats the Italian opera and the Tower of Babel banged together I" 46 BOB COVIXGTON Edging their way carefully and followed by Mrs. Joyce and Monsieur Martineau, the two cousins soon find themselves passing under strings of pineapples and bunches of bananas which perfume the air. But the odors of the fruits are as nothing to the fragrance of the flowers. Cape jasmines, early magnolias, sprigs of orange trees laden with both blossoms and fruit, and limes from Mexico scent the air from neighboring flower booths adorned by potted plants, palms, and flowering shrubs. "How beautiful! How delightful! I think I'll come here shopping every morning. Can't I do the housekeeping, Mrs. Joyce ? " laughs the young lady, turning her head toward the ex-schoolmistress, who is immediately behind her. "Yes; I rather like it myself. Let us comedown every morning, Louise;" returns the chaperone who has a Yankee love for bargains " Coffee at three cents a cup" having just struck her eye. * ' Gracious ! You can buy everything here, " exclaims Miss Louise, who is now astonished at the sight of a bazaar of fancy goods, clothing, and underwear. So they pass on in the Halle des Boucheres, looking at tempting steaks off Texas cattle that are already becom ing celebrated ; past fishmongers' stalls with red-snap per, sea trout, barracouta, and pompano, diversified by shrimps, rosy from the boiling pot, oysters of enormous size, snails ready for cooking, frogs' legs, and crabs of wondrous smallness. So many eatables produce an effect. The Kentuckian says: " I believe I suggested that we breakfast Cre ole fashion. Suppose we go to Victor's." "Anywhere for a starving girl," exclaim* Miss Louise. Therefore they stroll out of the market; the babel of many patois, many languages, and many tones seems more pronounced. Above them stridently comes from negresses with little cakes fried in grease : * * Bels calas ! Tout ch auds ! " Others are screaming: " Belle from- age & la crbne ! " while boys are yelling " Cinq a deux sous ! " " Mercy! I'm nearly deaf !'' murmurs Miss Tournay COB COVINGTON 47 as the Kentuckian puts the ladies into the carriage. He is about to order the driver to go to Monsieur Victor's restaurant on Bourbon Street, when Martineau remarks: " I know New Orleans better than you. If you will permit me to advise, a little quiet breakfast at Madame Labat's. " This will probably afford him a better opportunity of tete-fr-tete with the beautiful young lady who is looking into his face, and the Kentuckian jumps at the sugges tion. Then the coachman makes one or two sharp turns, and draws up in front of an old-fashioned Creole house, and very shortly afterward the party find them selves on the second floor of the establishment, in a room with sanded floor, plain wooden furniture, nap kins and lingerie white as snow, and a fat Creole woman effusively and gesticularly suggesting to them a little breakfast of the dainties of New Orleans cuisine. She is jabbering French to Martineau, who acts as interpreter to the Kentuckian, who finally says: "Tell her to have her way; though I believe she in tends to provision us for a campaign." Madame Labat having left them, there comes to their ears an excited jabbering with the French cook in the next room, as the party sit and look out on the veranda, which is filled with potted plants and flovver- ering shrubs. "If she would only begin at something! " murmurs Miss Louise, plaintively ; and a moment after, their hostess does. Their palates are enlivened with red shrimps as appetizers. Then come oysters, fat and luscious, followed by crabs a la Creole, gumbo soup, pompano, a fillet an Chatcaiibrien, an omelet aux fines herbes all these being "lubricated" as Bob remarks with the celebrated C. C. Claret. This meal is finished by the freshest of strawberries in their leaves and on their stems after the French fashion, and coffee the coffee of New Orleans the coffee of the Creoles. This pleasant affair takes an hour or two. The con versation has been as bright and pleasant as the meal itself all seem in exuberant spirits except Mar tineau. A little episode now comes to place the girl ^S BOB COVINGTON and her cavalier rather closer together, though it hardly appears to please the avocat. It happens, almost as they finish their breakfast, Monsieur Martineau has murmured contemplatively: "I hope you enjoyed yourself at the ball last evening, Mr. Covington. Were you in time for your dance with Miss Johnson?" "Yes, fortunately," replies the young man, then laughs with Western modesty, "We Kentuckians generally are, when young ladies are in the case." "I suppose the ball was a very gorgeous affair," re marks Miss Louise suddenly, then adds: " Suppose you give me a little description of the fete? " This Bob does, winding up with: " It was the big gest show of diamonds, feminine dresses, kickashaws and highfalutins I ever looked on. All the pretty girls of the town were there except one. " His eyes suggest to whom he refers. For a moment Mademoiselle Louise bites her pretty lip; then, suddenly, what is in her mind trembles on her tongue and comes forth. "Don't you think, Monsieur Martineau," asks the prl, eagerly, " that it's about time for me to go to balls ? 1 have been out of school for over a year." "Ah, yes; but in in half mourning," murmurs the French lawyer, apparently in uncalled for consterna tion. "Half mourning? Is this half mourning?" says Miss Tournay, archly, looking at the exquisite toilet in which she is arrayed. Though not of brilliant color, it is light, pretty, and gay, being a simple white mus lin, trimmed with very pale pink ribbons, and dotted here and there with sprigs of little rosebuds. Beauti fully made, fitting her graceful figure au marvel, from beneath it peep two little French bottines. Above it, on her fair head, is a piquant Paris bonnet of light straw, adorned with a few of the same flowers that spray her dress. Altogether, it is a simple yet very charming costume for youth and beauty, and certainly not suggestive of grief. Then she adds: "Papa has been dead eighteen months. Of course I v:ich to do all that if, ri^ht in BOB COVINGTON 49 respect to his memory. But everything seems so joy ous now, why should I not go to balls, as other girls ? " She looks at Martineau with an alluring but pleading moue. " And you shall ! " interjects Bob, suddenly. " There's a ball to be given on Thursday evening by the Pelican Club, the swellest affair in New Orleans. I know most of the members. I'll get you an invi tation!" " Thursday night! Oh, heavens, what shall I wear? " This is a cry of almost consternation from Mademoi selle Louise. Then she rattles on, joyously: "But I know both Mesdames Olympe and Sophie have received new stocks of robes from Paris on account of these races. Oh, they can't have sold them all 7 Monsieur Martineau, to-morrow morning I shall buy the finest ball dress Madame Olympe has! " Then, looking at the attorney's face, which has grown very gloomy, as he is whispering: "Not yet! Not yet!" she falters: "Oh, don't say no! You can't say no! It will be my first ball! And I dance very well. Mrs. Joyce will tell you at Miss Martin's the professor of dancing said I could polka and waltz as well as any young lady in the establishment, and I'd I'd like to have a chance to show my Cousin Bob how well I do dance ! " "By the Lord Harry, you shall! You shall dance with Cousin Bob until you're black in the face ! " cries the Kentuckian ; and, looking at the lawyer savagely, who is apparently about to dissent again, he mutters : "Why the deuce shouldn't she go? It's the most exclusive ball in New Orleans society." To this the old lawyer does not reply, but murmurs: "We will see. We will see," in a dazed and curiously abstracted manner. "Yes, we will see!" cries Louise, clapping her hands. "We will see what fine dresses we can get to morrow. We'll see what a hole we will make in the Tournay bank account! We'll see, we'll see! Cousin Bob, my first ball!" And she goes into such an ecstasy of expectant delight that a tear comes into the eye of the French attorney, though his face has 50 BOB COVINGTON grown very white. Then she laughs: " You look hor rified, Monsieur Martineau horrified at the size of the bills I am going to send in to you ! And you're you're in a brown study a brown study at the frightfully expensive young lady I shall be when 1 am in society! The Tournay diamonds shall be there! I know there are a few locked up in the strong box. Pamela, you'll be my chaperone, won't you ? Oh, a polka, a waltz ! " And the girl, rising from her seat, in the excitement of the moment, trips a few measures with exquisite grace and poetic abandon, until Mrs. Joyce shrieks: k< Louise, have you forgotten it is Sunday?" *'Yes; but I must rejoice! I have entered on my life! When are you going to take us out, Cousin Bob? You said you would drive down to the battlefield, then to the lake I'm told Monsieur Miguel's cuisine is excel lent. Dinner! Next a drive along the shell road! Oh, Cousin Bob Cousin Bob! All the way I shall be thinking about that ball at the Pelican Club! You'll you'll get me lots of nice partners, won't you? and you'll introduce to me that handsome French gentle man, Monsieur La Farge, and that great turfman, Colonel Talliaferro of your State, and all the young beaux? Young Soule and Auguste Maurey Monsieur Martineau pointed out some of them at the race-course. And oh, Cousin Bob, I'm going to the ball! " This mention of partners in all the young bloods of New Orleans makes Cousin Bob scowl once or twice, but he says: ** Yes; I'll introduce every one of them. They'll be round you thick as bees round flowers. " Then breaks out: '* Great Heavens! don't you suppose I'm proud of my new cousin? There won't be a girl in the ball-room can hold a candle to you ! You'll be as great a belle as that little French girl was at the French Hol low shake-down when Tom Burt told her daddy his daughter was a screamer, and nearly got killed for the insult." He would go on effusively in this strain, did not Mrs. Joyce say: "Good gracious! Stop talking that way. You will make her too vain." " He can't do that," says Louise, airily. *Tm as vain as a peacock already. I admit it I admit it. BOB COVINGTON 51 When such a cousin is doing so much for me, who would not be vain? " A few minutes after, they pass out to the carnage again, to drive to Jackson's battle-ground, Miss Louise all this day harping upon the ball and growing happier and happier about it. And Cousin Bob looking at her grows happier also. CHAPTER V. . THE SPECTER OF THE PELICAN BALL. "I SUPPOSE I ought to be able to tell all about the battle of New Orleans," remarks Mr. Covington as they drive away. " My grandfather fought in the third company of the First Regiment of Kentucky rifle men, but that's all I know of the affair." "Then permit me to assist you. I shall enact the role of oldest inhabitant and play cicerone," suggests Martineau, attempting a playfulness he does not feel. "Very well; we will appeal to you as a Creole guide-book," laughs Mrs. Joyce, whom the breakfast has placed in the best of humor. " Then, first and foremost, there are two heroes of this battle of New Orleans, on the American side: General Jackson and Jean Lafitte, the pirate." "Oh, yes, I have heard of him," remarks Louise. "He had a rendezvous on Barataria Bay, not so very far from Guidrys, near our little plantation on Bayou La Fourche. He was a pirate, burned and scuttled ships, made men walk the plank, and buried treasure for darkies to dig for and never find. Every negro on our plantation, I imagine, has had a hunt for it some time or other when he was not too busy looking for 'possums and 'coons." "That is the popular idea of Jean Lafitte," re joins Monsieur Martineau. "But some Louisianians think a little differently about him. At all events, he had as much to do in saving this State to the American flag as any one who lived in Louisiana, and possibly as much as General Jackson. 52 BOB COVINGTON * * Originally he was a blacksmith ; his forge was once at that corner ; " and the lawyer points up towards Bourbon Street as they are crossing St. Philippe. " Afterward Jean Lafitte threw down the sledge-hammer, sailed the seas, and wielded the sword, very successfully for him self. He was the head of all the smugglers of this region. Their headquarters were at Barataria Bay, as you say, Miss Louise. He was also aprivateersman, first with a letter of marque from the French crown against the Spanish nation, afterward from the Republic of Colum bia or Carthagena, which had just taken up arms for lib erty against the parent State. The captured Spanish merchantmen brought into Barataria Bay were numer ous. Their cargoes, immensely rich, were doubled in value by being smuggled free of United States duties, into New Orleans, to be sold on Levee Street, to the despair of the shopkeepers of his day, who could not compete with goods that originally cost nothing, and in addition paid no duty. These tradesmen naturally made out Monsieur Lafitte and his brethren as no better than they should be, branding them as pirates, cutthroats, black guards and buccaneers. And perhaps they did do a little of that, for privateering in those times was nearly the same as piracy, legalized. At all events the United States government thought so though whether it was to protect their revenue or Jack Tar I cannot say. They sent an expedition against him under Commo dore Patterson, with orders to burn, shoot, and destroy on sight. Monsieur Lafitte wisely fled from the ter rors of Uncle Sam's navy. ' 'About this time, naturally supposing he was filled with rage against all Americans, Pakenham, in com mand of the English expedition against the United States, communicated with Lafitte as to the prospects of an attack upon New Orleans. Being a Frenchman, Jean naturally hated the English even more than he did the Americans who were making war upon him. By his skillful negotiations and intrigue the British advance on New Orleans was delayed until General Jackson arrived with four thousand Tennessee and Kentucky militia." BOB COVINGTON 53 " Here my grandfather enters the combat," inter jects Covington, laughingly. "First Sergeant, Third Company, First Regiment, Kentucky Militia." "Well, Jackson's four thousand Kentucky militia, your grandfather included, I presume," continues Martineau, "were in a very bad way. They did not have flints for their muskets or rifles; there was no fit powder and ball for their cannon. These were all furnished by Lafitte from his private plunder. Then, after the British landed, no one could keep a better watch on their movements, because no one was so well acquainted with the shoals, creeks, and bayous extending from Rigolets and Lake Borgne to the Bara- taria Lagoons. The consequence was that the British advance was delayed until Jackson got his breastworks erected, his cotton bales up, and his guns in position down at Chalmette, where, having done their scouting work, Lafitte and his band joined him to the number of five hundred, manned his battery of heavy guns, with the use of which the Kentucky and Tennessee riflemen were unacquainted, and fought in a way that was most disastrous to British arms. The flower of England's warriors dashed themselves against rifle balls fired by marksmen who could hit squirrels in the eye and cut off the heads of partridges and turkeys. "Valor is naught against cold lead, and twenty-five hundred of the veterans of the Peninsula War under Wellington went down before backwoods bullets. Pakenham paid for his rashness with his life, and the* New Orleans question was settled." " My grandfather always said it was a slaughter, not a battle," remarks Covington. "He said he hated to kill brave fellows whose foolhardy general never gave 'em a chance." " But curiously enough, Lafitte's assistance to the American cause came very near being entirely neutral ized by the double-dealing of one of his agents," adds Martineau. "This far-seeing scoundrel, putting his eye on the future, saw that in all probability if the great pirate assisted the American arms, he and his followers would be pardoned by the government of the United States; that being permitted to settle down un- 54 BOB COV1NGTO> molested with their accumulated gains would certainly disintegrate the band from which he was making a good deal of money by acting as their agent. Accordingly the despatches of General Jackson to Jean Lafitte came very near not being delivered. This was never dis covered until a year afterward ; if it had been found out at the time, Jackson would have hung the agent of Monsieur Jean, if Lafitte had not slaughtered the traitor himself. It would have probably furnished a new yarn for the novelists: * Lafitte's last butchery! ' 4 The execution of Faval Bigore Poussin,' ' The Notary that walked the plank! ' ' " Oh, I knew him! " cries Louise, opening her eyes. " When I was a little girl Monsieur Poussin patted me on the head. He had small dark eyes, and was dried up and yellow and looked a hundred years old But is not that the United States barracks? " and she points to some low brick buildings. A few minutes after the carriage drives onto the plain of Chalmette, to which spot a good many tourists are coming this day, the city being full of sight-seers. " Goodness! We're already on the battlefield! " re marks Miss Louise, as if she had suddenly awakened from a day-dream. Then she says, pointing to a structure of white marble: " I wonder what Jackson used that for ? Did he have guns up there ? " "Gracious, Louise! That's the monument being erected to commemorate the battle," ejaculates Mrs. Joyce in school-mistress horror. " Don't you remem ber your United States history ? " " No, I don't! " says the young lady; then murmurs archly: "You know I was always at the foot of the class in history. I could pot remember it then; do you think I can remember it now, when I've so many more pleasant things on my mind ? " "Well, that ball is running in my mind also," says Covington, as the party alight; for this young gentle man has already seen himself in imagination floating about to the music of Monsieur Julian, with the pretty young lady who is walking beside him, and thinks of the admiration and envy on the faces of La Farge, Soule*, and the other bucks of the Pelican Club. BOB COVINGTON 55 Just here both of them are recalled to the field of carnage by Mrs. Joyce suddenly coming to them and saying: "I have engaged a guide who declares he fought in the battle, to give us the various points of interest for one dollar." Gazing at Pamela's discovery, the Kentuckian sees the three-card-monte man who had got a tip from him at the race on Saturday. This old shriveled-up individual is bowing politely and saying: " Yes, Mon sieur; I had the honor of fighting under General Jack son." "Well, you look old enough to have fought under General Washington," returns the young blood, easily, then queries: "How did you come out on the horse race ? " "Ah, Monsieur, I am forever obliged. The race-week, which would have been a despair to me under your ad vice became a delight. " "Always back old Kentuck ! " cries Bob heart ily; then adds: "Perhaps you can tell me where my grandfather fought. First Sergeant, Third Company, First Regiment, Kentucky Militia." ' ' Certainement ! " replies the guide. ' ' We fought next to him. Here is the cotton battery, with the heavy guns, where I stood, together with Dominique You and the sea-dog Bluche. There are the three trees down the river, half a mile, where Pakenham's headquarters were. Here General Jackson stood ," and he goes into an elaborate description of the battle. To this Covington listens unheedingly. He is looking at the beautiful young lady by his side. Prob ably Miss Louise pays little attention also, as she sud denly says: " I wonder whether blue gauze or white tulle and pink flowers will become me most. What are your favorite colors, Cousin Bob?" "Wood-violet eyes and dark brown hair," murmurs the gentleman, abstractedly. At which a sudden blush flies over the young lady's face. She cries: "Don't be foolish! " then laughs a little embarrassed laugh and wanders away, but does not get very far, as somehow Mr. Bob Covington is never very far behind Miss Louise Tournay during this day. 56 BOB COVINGTON Mrs. Joyce does not pay very much attention to this. She is determined to get her dollar's worth of information from her salaried guide, and is now asking more questions than he seems to care to answer. Finally she says: "You say you fought with the big guns on this battery? " 4 ' Oui, Madame. ''Was not this Lafitte's battery?" Some called it so," answers the man, politely, though he now edges away from Pamela and breaks in upon the happy tete-a-tete of the Kentuckian and Miss Louise. " If Monsieur would tell me a little about the chances of Lexington for the next race," murmurs the guide, bowing. "The track will probably be dusty." " It will be dusty for both nags! " returns Coving- ton, savagely. "Ah, yes! But in the absence of mud ? If Mon sieur should hear of anything, would he kindly give me the benefit of his advice ? Here is my address." And the Creole produces from a greasy, worn, and dilapi dated pocketbook a more greasy, worn, and dilapidated card. This he hands to the Kentuckian, who shoves it into his pocket, saying: "All right! If I get any thing- definite I'll let you know," then turns away, anxious to resume his tete-a-tete. A moment after, the party go to their equipage, tor they have now to drive to Spanish Fort in time for dinner. So, calling to Martineau, who has wandered off by himself, apparently in a brown study, Coving- ton puts the ladies into the carriage again and they get under way once more. Two hours later they are on the borders of Lake Pontchartrain, upon whose banks in the distance the green of the cypress and the oak can be seen, meeting the soft waters. In one or two places there are traces of beach, in another a white light-house, and in the distance a long pier. They drive beside its limpid waters, and very shortly find themselves at those old moss-grown fortifications called Spanish Fort, whose guns even now are rusty and dismounted, and beside whose crumbling earthworks, grown up with flowering BOB COVINGTON 57 thickets of peach, flows the Bayou St. John, upon whose sluggish waters float a few schooners and sail ing boats. Here, in addition to a long wharf, are some rose gardens, a shooting alley or two, and various other places of entertainment, among them the celebrated restaurant at which they are going to eat one of its famous fish dinners. The place is crowded by a merry throng of ladies and gentlemen, it being quite the thing to dine by the lake side. The breeze from the water has given the party an appetite, and they seat themselves at one of the tables in a hungry expectation that is not disap pointed. They all would enjoy the meal very greatly, did not with their coffee come to them an episode that puts Miss Louise in the seventh heaven of delight, but seems in some way to bring consternation to the French avocat. Among the gay crowd at the restaurant for the buzz is kept up very merrily, the laughter of fair women and gallant gentlemen is in the air, and the popping of champagne corks punctuates the buzz Louise's bright eyes catch the graceful form of Miss Sally Johnson. This young lady, with some Western gentlemen, two or three St. Louis girls, and a dashing widow for chaper- one, is at one of the neighboring tables, the ladies of the party making a great show of beauty. This Louisville belle has been pointed out to her on the drive by Monsieur Martineau, and remembering Mr. Covington's engagement with this young lady the evening before, Miss Louise looks at Miss Sally with an interest that at the moment she does not under stand, but which produces some later effects. Conspicuous also is Henri La Farge, the aristo cratic Creole and probably the greatest beau in New Orleans. This gentleman and Covington are quite well known to each other, having met the year before in New York, and at Saratoga, where they drank the Congress-waters and ran through the usual round of watering-place gayety. Though they have never been intimates, they have always been very good friends. 58 BOB COV1NGTUX The Creole is now seated at a near-by table. Catch ing view of him, Bob hastily whispers: "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll speak to La Farge." On his journey, chancing to pass quite near Miss Sally Johnson, Miss Louise thinks for her bright eyes are on him he whispers into the pretty ear of the Louisville beauty. Then some new passion the girl has never felt before, comes into her to make her eyes sparkle and her delicate foot tap the sanded floor petu lantly, angrily. She dislikes Miss Sally, though she has no reason to, for the pretty Kentuckian is simply saying : 44 Mr. Covington, who is that beautiful creature? A cousin? Ah! you were always lucky! But I see you're anxious to speak to your friend, Monsieur La Farge." A moment later he is very kindly greeted by the young Creole exquisite; then after a few minutes' con versation, both gentlemen stroll over to Covington's table. " Permit me to introduce Monsieur Henri La Farge," remarks Bob, presenting his friend to the two ladies. 4 'Monsieur Martineau and you are acquaintances, I believe." "Old ones! " returns the Creole, greeting the avocat very cordially, but keeping his eyes upon Miss Louise. To her he says: " I am delighted to welcome Made moiselle Tournay to New Orleans. Your family have been away from the city too long. The Crescent City without a Tournay, twenty years ago, would have been considered not quite New Orleans. But I am happy to learn that you have concluded to put aside mourning and enter society," and manifests a desire to sit by the side of the young lady, whose beautiful eyes and piquant expression seem very attractive 'to him; but Martineau uneasily rises from his chair. 44 I see your party are preparing for the drive back," continues the Creole exquisite. " Mademoiselle, may I hope for the pleasure of a dance next Thursday even ing?" 44 Certainly," answers 'Miss Louise, with more than debutante's iiaivetf. 44 I only know two young gentle men in the town, you and Cousin Bob." BOB COVINGTON 59 u Then Mr. Covington and I are both very fortun ate," murmurs the gallant. And he moves away, to be almost immediately petitioned with much anxiety and eagerness by Miss Johnson and her party for just another invitation for the approaching ball for Miss Carondelet of St. Louis; these Pelican fetes being the most gorgeous and select in all the West, and entree to their portals being as difficult to obtain, and as much longed for by the fair sex as the opening of the gates of Paradise to outside Peris. A moment after, Louise, whose eyes have become very bright at the thought of social success and social gayety, passes out of the restaurant, leaning upon Covington's arm and murmuring: ** Am I not a for tunate girl ? Monsieur La Farge is one of the Pelican Invitation Committee, is he not ? You are making this a new world for me, Cousin Bob." Among the crowd lounging outside and looking at the equipages driving up and the ladies and gentlemen taking departure is Mr. Kitson Jarvis. This worthy's face brightens and his eyes become very keen as they catch sight of the beautiful girl the Kentuckian is placing in his carriage. His ferret glance rests on the graceful outlines of Miss Louise, from dainty head to exquisite foot and ankle, and, noting the gallant bear ing and ardent eyes of her escort, Kit rubs his hands together and mutters: " Gee-whiz! Perhaps next week I'll have something to tell you, my gorgeous buck, that'll make you look two ways for Sunday, you lucky dog! " But Miss Tournay and Mr. Covington are becoming so engrossed with one another that they are oblivious of outside comment or remark. So the 'party drive in, as the evening is descending, along the shell-road that borders the banks of the canal, which lies on one side of them and is made bright by pleasure boats, a few schooners that are making their way to the city in spite of Sunday, and some little steamboats that ply up and down its waters. On their other hand is a sea of green, live oaks, swamp-cypress, and palmettos mixed. The road is full of laughing parties in dashing equipages, mingled 60 BOB COVINGTON with vehicles of all kinds, from the hired cabriolet to the fast American trotting buggy. As they near town, pickaninny boys and pickaninny girls offer them bou quets from the roadside, and the guffaws of many darkies come from little cabins, some of them bowered in shrubs and palms. Every one, black and white, is enjoying himself this soft, spring night. So, coming into the city, they leave the more modern houses and passing Canal Street, the great thorough fare, which, with its banquettes even now crowded with gayly dressed ladies, is the dividing line between the American and Creole quarters, drive up Dauphine Street. At the Tournay residence, the gentlemen would take their leave, did not Miss Louise remark : "It is very early. Send your carriage away! Come in I want to talk to you." "About what?" asks Covington, eagerly accepting the invitation, and followed, almost perforce, by Martineau. "About my dresses for the ball, of course!" And the girl goes into an excited dissertation upon the various styles, modes, and fashions of that epoch, winding up her remarks by crying: "Monsieur Martineau, you must open your strong box and let me have the Tournay diamonds! " To this her trustee makes no immediate reply; but, apparently wishing to throw the subject off his mind, enters into conversation with Mrs. Joyce, leaving the young lady and gentleman to their discussion of the frivolities of this world, and PO brings upon himself another spasm of dismay. Mrs. Joyce, in that pursuit of information peculiar to schoolmistresses, must now know everything about the battle of New Orleans, dates, figures, and the losses of both sides, and goes to questioning the aiwcat eagerly. Finally, Pamela asks one or two questions about Lafitte and his men, and what position that buccaneer took in the battle, and who fought under him, and getting answer to them, she electrifies the party by a series of faint screams, and, faltering, gasps: "My! That wretch is a pirate! Oh, mercy! Oh, my!" BOB COVINGTON 6 1 4 'What wretch ?" cries Covington, disturbed in con versation with Mademoiselle Louise. " Oh, that creature who guided us over the battle field! Oh, heavens! that I should have spoken to a real pirate ! " " What makes you think that ? " queries Martineau, struggling with a laugh. " Why, you just said all who fought in that battery of heavy artillery were Lafitte's men, and that awful old man told me, though with reluctance, that he com manded one of the guns." " Well," laughs the Kentuckian, "he didn't make you walk the plank, anyway;" then adds jocularly: "Would you like the address of your buccaneer ?" Fishing in his pocket, he produces the card given him by the Creole guide, and gazing at it bursts into a guffaw; for this is what he beholds: M. FAVAL BIGORE POUSSIN, NOTAIRE FRANCAIS 17 Fulton Street. N. B. Reliable information and valuable tips given on horse-races,and tickets supplied for Vasquez' cock-fights, Monday and Thurs day evenings. Then he passes this to Miss Louise, who laughs till the tears are in her eyes. Finally it is given to Mrs. Joyce, who cannot help smiling, and by her it is handed to Arvid Martineau, who gazes at it through his eye glasses with quivering lips and paling face. But the rest of the party do not notice this, for Miss Louise is crying: "It's the notary the old notary at Guidrys! I thought I had seen those cat-eyes before! Monsieur Martineau , it's the man who was a traitor to General Jackson ! You remember? " 62 UOB COVINGTON "Ah, yes, yes! The infernal scoundrel!" mutters the Creole attorney, trying to hide concern by simu lating contempt. " The miserable tout wants my information to sell tips on. But Monsieur Poussin won't speculate on my knowledge," exclaims the Kentuckian, and jeeringly tosses the card out of one of the open windows, where it floats into the darkness of the courtyard. A moment after, the avocat, rising, remarks brokenly: 44 1 I must take my leave. I must bid you good evening." " Going so soon ? " murmurs the young lady; then suddenly ejaculates: "You are not well!" for the attorney's face is drawn, his eyes contracted, his lips pale. "Yes; I I am not accustomed to such prolonged exertions in the heat of the day our long drive. The fresh air outside will do me good," falters the old gentleman, and takes his leave, declining assistance, though Covington offers to walk home with him. But, getting down the stairs into the courtyard, the old avocat suddenly goes to searching vigorously but quietly in the darkness among the flower-beds just out side the open window of the parlor, and finally dis covers the dirty card Bob had carelessly thrown away. This he carefully puts in his pocketbook, and sud denly shudders ; for through the open window comes the hum of happy voices, and Covington is saying: "I arranged that Pelican affair with La Farge; your invitation will be sent to-morrow." Then he hears Louise's voice, in innocent joy, ex claim: " Thank you, dear Cousin Bob! You are making my life very happy! " From this scene the old French avocat flies. But, getting to his own horse, Arvid Martineau strides about, wringing his hands and sighing these astounding words: "She is bringing it on herself bringing it on herself! Oh, why did I not get her away in time in time in TIME? But the ball ! that must be stopped! Nom de Dieu, what shall I do? what shall I do ?" and tears trickle down his kindly face. BOB COVINGTON 63 But, forcing himself to deliberation, the attorney goes to thinking calmly, and finally makes up his mind upon a course of procedure which brings about some curious occurrences during the following week. CHAPTER VI. c ' I DO THE ROMEO ACT ! " THE party at the Tournay house apparently have no fears of the future. The young lady and gentleman are seated in the little salon. Pamela, still playing Creole propriety, is Beading her Bible in the adjoining parlor, hoping to make up for the various sins of omission and commission of which she has been guilty this Sabbath day. Miss Louise, however, upon whose conscience the Sunday's jaunt does not seem to rest very heavily, sits in an easy chair, her white hand playing with one or the tassels that hang down from its upholstery, and her blue eyes, which have grown dark with some latent emotion, gazing dreamily at the handsome cavalier, who is now laying out a programme of gayety for the coming week. " To-morrow evening," suggests Covington, <{ sup posing you and Mrs. Joyce go with me to Monsieur Placide's Varieties. We will see him in his great role of ' Corporal Cartouche. ' What do you say to that. Cousin Lou ? " 44 Delightful! " assents the girl, to whom everything this gentleman now proposes seems agreeable. "Then on Tuesday evening the French theatre. How does that strike you ? " "I'm afraid you and Pamela won't enjoy that very much," laughs Louise. " Neither of you speaks French." " I shall ! I shall obtain the emotions of the play from your vivacious face," remarks the gentleman con fidently. look at me all the time to do it ? " cries the young lady, playfully. "Act first, scene first: blue eyes, brown hair! Act first, scene second: brown hair, blue eyes! Comedy scene: blue eyes, brown hair, white teeth and snickers! Tragedy climax : blue eyes, brow:; hair, nervous twitching of the eyelids, lips tightly com pressed, and rivers of tears. Ciel! My countenance would be very fatiguing before the curtain fell." " Not to me ! " whispers the Kentuckian, something coming into his face to make the young lady who has been gazing vivaciously at him, suddenly droop her eyes. 1 'The tragedy climax would indeed be a novelty to me, "adds Bob, then murmurs sympathetically, even romantically: "You know I have never seen you cry." "And you never will!" says the girl, impulsively. "Treat me as you have done to-day and you never will!" But she checks herself and suggests: "If you can come to-morrow about two, possibly I may give you a cup of tea." " My week is entirely at your disposal," remarks the young man. "Only this week?" murmurs the girl, a latent coquetry in her manner. " Only the rest of my ! " whispers Mr. Ardent, but pauses here, his Cousin Louise having run away from him. "Aii revoir," airily remarks the young lady who has found a chaperone convenient, and is standing by the side of Mrs. Joyce. "Till to-morrow," returns the gallant, and takes his leave, but as he strides away communes with him self: "Of course, naturally I scared her. Hold your horses, Bob; don't make your running until you're in the homestretch ;" then laughs: "We Ken- tuckians are impulsive fellows ; we pay on sight, fight on sfg/it and love ON SIGHT." "What was Mr. Covington saying to you?" asks Mrs. Joyce, who has not forgotten her schoolmistress method of observing young ladies' faces. " You seem agitated." "Agitated! Of course, I am! Who wouldn't be, at BOB COVINGTON 65 the thought of a first ball and a first ball-dress? We'll see Monsieur Martineau to-morrow," cries Miss Louise, to whom finances have never been much trouble, perhaps because she has never spent a great deal. Her father's allowance to her had been liberal for a school-girl, and at the plantation there had been no way of dissipating capital. But in the morning, financial trouble comes upon this young lady for the first time. Indications of this are easily apparent to" 5 Bob when he makes his afternoon visit, at two o'clock the next day. He saunters in from lunch at the Orleans Club, and finds himself received by Mrs. Joyce and her pretty charge, both the ladies being seated in the courtyard, which as the sun shines on it, seems like a nook in the tropics. The old-fashioned house runs entirely around it, sweet-smelling flowers are on the verandas above, some plantains, bana nas, and palms give shade; blossoming plants and trailing vines destroy the formality of its stucco walls ; while the whole place is made picturesque by a little bubbling fountain, which does not throw its water very high, and an old-fashioned but romantic- looking awaing of bright-colored stripes. This is slung from the rear wall and gives a very pretty effect, espe cially as Miss Louise, looking fresh and cool in a white muslin which is very sheer and permits glimpses of white shoulders and white arms, is sitting beneath it; a Louise Qu : nze table bearing some light refreshments and a smoking teapot and tea things in front of her. "You see I'm ready for you," she remarks, as the gentleman is shown in by her maid; then cries :! "Lorena! some more hot water quick! Mr. Coving- ton I see by his promptness is anxious for his tea." "Yes," suggests Mrs. Joyce. "Mr. Covington is always at your behest;" then adds, grimly: "I wish all other gentlemen were." "Well, all who know you are yours to command now," replies the Kentuckian, "and you'll know a good many more bucks and blades, Miss Louise, on Thursday evening. Here is your invitation for the 66 BOB COVINGTON Pelican and yours, Mrs. Joyce " then pauses, astonished. For there are tears in the bright eyes of his cous in, as she falters: "I I am forever obliged to you. You have been very good to me, but but I cannot go." "Not GO!" cries Bob, aghast. " Great Goliah ! What will become of me and the rest of the boys ? " then says, anxiously: "What is the reason? You're not ill ? You haven't heard bad news ? " "Yes; but I have very!" answers Louise, whose lips are trembling. To this Mrs. Joyce adds, savagely: "That skinflint Martineau! " and goes away, as if she couldn't bear to discuss him. But the young lady says: " I don't know that I can blame him. He has always looked out for my inter ests. He says, I I can't afford it." At this, even in her misery the Kentuckian makes the girl happy. "Always defending everybody, ain't you?" he cries then says, rather commandingly : "Now tell me all about it." "Well," replies the young lady, "this morning I went down to Madame Olympe and I picked out a Oh I can't describe the dress! the whole affair is too dreadful I I had it sent home to me. Afterwards we selected one for Mrs. Joyce a robe of black velvet with lace, something that would suit her. Then we went to Monsieur Martineau's office and he he told me it would be impossible for him to pay for the dresses, and and I'm going to send them back ! Oh the humilia tion! I'm I'm very unhappy! " " Well, you shan't be, long!"replies her cousin, "I'll step down and see Martineau. Don't send the dresses back ! This affair is in my hands now ! " " Is it ? " cries the girl, eagerly. 4 * Is it, Cousin Bob ? Then, if it is, I'm sure it'll be all right." And she gives him a glance of trust and admiration that makes him very happy and his heart beat very fast. So he strides away, leaving his cup of tea untasted, in the excitement of his cousin's wrongs, for he is mut tering as he walks along; " I wonder if her trustee, BOD COVINGTOX 67 or guardian, or whatever he is, is a damned old scoun drel. I must take a look into Cousin Louise's affairs! " and makes his way to the office of the avocat which is on Custom House Street. On announcing his name, he is very shortly shown in to the Creole attorney's private office, to have every suspicion of Arvid Martineau swept away as he gazes into that gentleman's precise yet noble face. Though the lawyer has a certain nervous anxiety in his manner, Covington is very affably received. The attor ney even looks pleased when the young man says: " I have called to see you about some business for my Cousin Louise. Please don't think that I wish to in trude either my advice or direction, but what seems to us men of the world a trifle, is a very great affair to a girl who is going to her first ball." "Going to her first ball?" echoes Martineau. " She said that would be impossible without a new dress." ''Yes; but we must furnish it for her. You say, I understand, that the Tournay estate cannot afford it?" " Not exactly that, " remarks the avocat" but " He hesitates a little here, then goes on rapidly and ear nestly, though Covington can see he weighs every word he utters: " I will take you into my confidence. There is a chance of a certain claim being made against the Tournay estate. In case it is made, I shall have to meet it, and Mademoiselle Louise's income and her sister's will " The attorney hesitates here. "Will be diminished? " suggests Covington. "frill be nothing r "Great powers! You astound me!" Bob's face is very serious. "But of course you will oppose any such claim." "Between ourselves," remarks the legal gentleman, " I do not think any defense can be made, if the claim is properly set forth." "Heavens and earth ! Then of course the claim will be presented! " "That I do not know." "Why not?" "Because I do not think that the party having the legal right in the matter is aware of his position. That 60 BOB c is one reason perhaps my best one though I hope not," mutters the lawyer, a peculiar questioning ex pression running over his features as he gazes at the young Kentuckian. " Miss Louise knows nothing about it ? " "No; I have not been able to bring myself to tell her. In case the claim is not made, / shall never tell her ! That is the reason I have wished her to take her sister and go to Paris. In case the claim is made, the young ladies being here, would only bring trouble upon them, without doing them any good on earth. In fact, their presence would only add to my embarrass ment in arranging the affair." " And the party having this infernal hold upon the Tournay estate doesn't know it ? " " No! and from my lips, he never shall! " says the Creole lawyer, determinedly. "It is not my duty, as executor of this estate, or trustee for it, to go about finding claims against it or claimants for it. Do you think so, Mr. Covington?" "No, I'll be hanged if I do!" says Bob, though his face is very solemn. A moment after, he brightens up a little, and adds: "But, for that reason, we must not prevent the girl's having a good time eh, Monsieur Martineau ? " " You mean with regard to ball dresses ? " "Certainly!" "Under the circumstances," remarks the Creole lawyer, " I do not feel authorized in providing any more money than will permit Miss Louise a comfort able living. The estate must be kept up, and I this is from a strict business standpoint must be in posi tion to make the proper accounting if the claim is made." "This is a very ex extraordinary situation," falters Covington. Then he suddenly says: "As Louise's nearest relative, make me your confidant in the matter tell me all about it. Let us try to euchre any scoundrel who would rob a girl who can't be beat this side of Jordan." This suggestion seems to have a curious effect upon Martineau. His face changes color; he looks at Bob BOB COVINGTON 69 for one moment, as if almost about to speak, but finally mutters: "No! Mon Dieu ! I cannot! "then adds, apparently, as if wishing to close the discussion-. "The more who know this secret, the greater danger of its coming to the person who might use it. I have the greatest respect for you the greatest admiration for you Monsieur Covington ; but you are young, you have the quick impulse the hasty frankness of youth I have the discretion of age. The secret remains mine at all events for the present." "Perhaps you are right," returns Covington, who has been thinking the matter over; then he suddenly says: "But Louise must have her ball dress. No cloud from this iniquitous claim must come upon her life, if I can roll it away. As her nearest relative, it is my duty by Heaven, sir! to stand up for her rights and her happiness, which have become I am more con fiding than you very dear to me. I have been for tunate " He sits down and, despite the protests of the Creole attorney, draws out a pocket check-book and writes hurriedly. " Here is my check on the Bank of Louisiana for five thousand dollars. Now don't go to preaching, my dear Martineau! I'm flush now; La Farge paid his bets to-day. This I authorize you to expend for the personal expenses of my cousin, sir, and hang it under the circumstances you can't refuse. Though, not one word to Miss Louise about it ! You come to the Pelican ball and you'll see what a high old time we'll have, despite incipient claims and un known dangers. Pay Madame Olympe's bill when it arrives, and, by Heaven! if you want more, call upon Bob Covington, of Lexington, who knows what it is to have the prettiest girl in Louisiana for a cousin! " So the young buck goes away, leaving Martineau looking at him, admiration mingled with astonishment in his eyes. But a moment after, the attorney almost wails: " My Heaven! His generosity will compel me to tell. They they must not go to the ball ! After the questions that sneaking police lawyer asked me to-day that must be prevented ! At the last I must speak! " next mutters, as if frightened: "No no not yet! 70 BOD COVJNGTON there must be some way to arrange this! Think, Martineau, THINK!" then jeers himself: "Is your brain paralyzed over the invitation of a young lady to a ball ? Old man, you are becoming a dotard! be cause this matter is is breaking your heart!" And he sinks down and drops his head upon his desk, this man who is considered as hardheaded and sub tle-minded a legal formalist as any of the Louisiana bar. A few minutes of intense emotion, and the lawyer is a man of action once more. He rings his bell; one of his clerks comes in and gives him a report. Looking this over, after his assistant has departed, Martineau's eyes beam. He cries: " That was a very pretty ruse! That heads off for the present Mr. Kitson Jarvis. Now, while I have time, in a few days I must get those girls to Europe! " then thinks the matter over deeply, and gives vent to this extraordinary sentiment: "As GOD IS MY JUDGE, I DO NOT THINK HE WILL DEEM IT A ROBBERY! " But this interview brings with it a curious decision to Mr. Covington. This young man's steps are by no means as rapid as those that led him to the attor ney's office. He had come to discuss a bill for ball dresses; he has discovered beneath the small annoy ance a very great calamity. "Threatened with the loss of her fortune?" he thinks. " That makes no difference! Thank Heaven, that makes no difference! I've enough! God has been good to me. We'll have a high old time, any way, and if she " His heart beats, so he does not finish the sentence, but murmurs: "I'll speak before she knows! Louise shall not think that pity has given her a lover! not by the soul of Daniel Boone! " A resolution that brings about in the course of the next two or three days another and more fearful embarrassment to the Creole attorney. Mr. Covington, in the course of a quarter of an hour, is back at the Tournay home on Dauphine Street. Louise rises eagerly as he enters the courtyard, for the sun is still warm and she is still making a pretty pic ture under the old awning. Looking into his face, she falters: "I can see! Monsieur Martineau re- BOB COVINGTON 71 fused! " for, despite his resolve of a " high old time," Mr. Bob has a very moody manner. "No! Those ball-dresses are all right! Martineau is no longer a skinflint; he'll pay your bills. Only re member, you can't buy all of Olympe and Sophie's goods at once, my little lady," answers the gentleman, affecting a lightness he scarcely feels. If Bob has ever had a regret for his five-thousand- dollar check, he thinks the money well lost as he gazes at the delight in the girl's face. She cries: "Of course ! How foolish I was ! I knew you could do anything! " then goes on in almost ecstatic happiness: "Cousin Bob, you must see it! Come up in the par lor and look at it my first dress, for my first ball!" There is a flutter of light skirts and flitting of pretty feet as she runs ahead of him up the stairs, clapping her hands, the joy of youth in her eyes that joy which makes the little things of this world into mighty pleasures that joy which comes to us but once, and ifor a brief season, in a lifetime. But, arrived in the salon, this young lady, with feminine fickleness of purpose, changes her mind, and suddenly says: "No. On second thoughts, you shan't see Olympe's creation just yet! Wednesday is my evening for entertaining you a little surprise for my Cousin Bob," a new and, she thinks, enchanting idea having flown into her vivacious brain. So, he going away, Louise tells the good news to Mrs. Joyce, remarking: "Haven't I a wonder for a cousin ? He twists the stern Martineau about his fingers as if he were a ribbon ! We must look out for ourselves, Pamela! This mighty man will soon be dictator of our household! a merciful tyrant, I hope," and a little embarrassed blush flies over her charming counte nance, though she doesn't know what a curious prophecy she is making. And Mrs. Joyce, hearing the good tidings, rejoices also, for the loss of the black velvet and point lace robe had been a cruel disappointment, even to her; ex-schoolmistresses rejoicing in toilettes as well as those of less drastic mold. In the evening, however, after an elaborate make- 72 l;or. COVING up under the hands of Mr. Caesar, our young gen tleman escorts Mrs. Joyce and Miss Tournay to the theatre, where they all enjoy Placide's performance very much, the Kentuckian being astonished at the intense amount of enthusiasm the young lady displays. From this they walk home, the night being very pleas ant, and the distance not very great, and Miss Louise tells him that it is the fourth time in all her life she has been in a playhouse: three times from Miss Mar tin's establishment in New York, on certain gala occa sions, and this evening; which has been much the most pleasant of them all. "Yes; there were no young gentlemen on Miss Martin's occasions," remarks Pamela, with a grim laugh. Though Mrs. Joyce is by their side, the two contrive to enjoy themselves very well, but after arrival at the Tournay mansion, Mr. Covington makes what, as he expresses it to himself afterward is ."a very bad break." The chaperone is standing at the head of the stairs in the little courtyard, waiting for Louise. That yoiyig lady at the bottom, is murmuring: "Good night, Cousin Bob," and extending patrician fingers. As he takes the delicate hand in his, something flies into the Kentuckian's eyes. He mutters: " Why do you always call me cousin ? " * * Because you are one \ " replies the young lady sud denly ; then continues, a wounded tone in her voice: " Do you suppose I would permit so many privileges of tctc-a-tcte to a gentleman who was not /" next says, haughtily: "What do you mean, any way?*' "I mean," replies Mr. Rapid, who now loses his head, "just forget I am your cousin. Think of me as Bob Covington, just like any other young fellow." " You were very anxious to assume the relationship, not much over two days ago," answers the girl, blush ing hotly, then continues: " Your request is granted, Monsieur Covington," dropping a demure courtesy. To this she adds: "You are talking to me alone my chaperone not in ear-shot. Permit me to suggest that Creole etiquette decrees this is not proper between gentlemen and young ladies who are not relatives ." BOB COVINGTON 73 "Well, under those circumstances," answers Bob, biting his lips, " supposing we become cousins again." " No! " cries the young lady, suddenly. Then she turns her blazing eyes on his and mutters: " We can never be cousins again ! Good evening. Take your hand from my wrist! You know you have no right to such a familiarity to one who is not your relative, Cousin Bob. No, I don't mean that. Good night good-bye. Forgive me. Don't be angry with me Au rcvoir /" And so she runs away, a mixture of blushes, embar rassment and charming graces, to the protection of her chaperone, who is grimly awaiting her at the head of the stairs. But Miss Louise has not yet escaped the embar rassments of the evening. Mrs. Joyce turns inquir ing eyes upon her, after they are in the parlor, and remarks : ' ' Why did you linger at the foot of the stairs, Louise? It is hardly the proper thing to do." "What! With my cousin?" says the girl, airily. "Pooh! A fig for such cousinship! " cries Pamela. Then she utters these awful words: "Can't you see that young fellow is treating you like a girl he wants to marry?" "Marry?" gasps Louise, her face growing very red and her eyes very bright; then she falters out this in genuous idea: "How should I know? I I have never been courted before," but flies from Pamela's comments to the solitude of her chamber, where she says: "The bold fellow! The idea! and only two days!" next contradicts herself with: " I love a brave man! " As for the "brave man," after another hard night at poker with La Farge and confreres, he remarks to himself: "By Jove! I play a bad game now! I've lost my nerve ! Laid down three queens before a bob tail flush;" then says, reflectively, yet determinedly: "No, I have not lost my nerve! I've got the grit of wildcats! By the battle of Tippecanoe, within two days I do the darned fool Romeo act! " BOOK II. A VERY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG LADY. CHAPTER VII. KITSON JARVIS SHAKES HANDS WITH HIMSELF. ON that same Monday, filled with hopes, joys, and fears, for there are one or two of the latter connected with his "best stroke of business in the Crescent City," Mr. Kitson Jarvis, full of the remembrance of the pretty picture Miss Tournay and Mr. Covington had made the afternoon before, goes down to his offices on Lafayette Street, just off Peters, and therefore quite convenient, not only to the courts, but to seafaring and steamboat men, who are his principal clients. These consist of two rooms, over the doors of which the sign is conspicuously displayed: KITSON JARVIS, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR-AT-LAW, Proctor in Admiralty and Avocat Francois. The larger of these apartments is devoted to the routine business of the office, and is adorned by vol umes of "Blackstone," "Kent's Commentaries," "Chitty on Pleadings," the "Civil Code of Louis iana of 1853," "Code Napoleon," and various other works on French and American law, all tending to dis play the legal acumen of the gentleman whose sign is over the door. This connects with a smaller and inner chamber which Mr. Jarvis uses as a private office; his particular desk and safe containing his more important and con- BOB COVINGTON 75 fidential papers being prominent in the furniture of the room. The appearance of the place is brisk and businesslike in both the main and the private office, the usual legal documents and papers bearing general evi dence of a bustling business. For Mr. Jarvis has quite a little practice up and down the river with smaller planters, and is considered extremely effective in hand ling seamen's cases, legally bulldozing Jack Tars who refuse to leave New Orleans in unseaworthy vessels, and doing the general business of an all-round, rough-and- tumble sea-captain's lawyer. On his entrance he is greeted by a bow from a bright- looking young Frenchrtian of about twenty years of age, who is his only clerk, Monsieur Alfred Cotain. This young gentleman, who has been industriously plying a quill pen, sticks it behind his ear and answers his employer's question, "Any new business this morn ing? " with a good deal of Gallic snap and vivacity, apparently being about as brisk as his chief. "Yes," says the young man, "Captain Jenkins of the bark Bonny Bell wants you to take proceedings against two seamen, Robert Bonehill and Jack Mur phy, who, he says, have accepted his advance money, and now refuse to sail, on the ground that the Bonny Bell is bound for the Gold Coast, and they are afraid she intends to go into running slaves to Cuba a voy age they didn't sign for. Coffee & Judkins, shipping agents, want them prosecuted also." "All right! Draw up a summons and get out an application for an order of arrest," replies the attor ney; then asks, sharply : " Anything else? " "Yes, sir. The first mate of the General Pike No. 4 is up for thumping a deck-hand until he jumped over board." " Is the deck-hand drowned? " "No." "Then that won't amount to much. Deck-hands don't count." "But the deck-hand has retained us." " Ah ! Yes ! Tell the deck-hand I'll get him heavy damages for the infernal outrage. Draw up a sum mons and complaint. Get hold of that mate and see '/6 BOB CX>Y1NGT<>X how much he'll compromise for, down ! What next?" " Well Captain Coulson " The clerk hesitates. 4 ' Cuss it ! speak quick ! " "Well, sir, Captain Coulson has come in once more to see about that property on Esplanade Street. He says you must either pass or throw out that title in twenty-four hours. His boat, the General Jones, leaves for the Red River to-morrow afternoon, and he will have the matter settled. Besides, Coulson says the Societe Mutuel are pressing him ; they only allowed him four weeks for the passage of title, and you have already taken six. He says he wants an answer, * Yes ' or * No,' whether the title is good." "Next time Coulson comes in show him in to me right off, Alfred," remarks his employer, and goes into his private office, shutting the door with a bang, and his clerk thinks he hears some low and deep curses, and wonders what the devil is the matter about Coulson and his property. And there are some exceedingly deep curses, though very low ones, coming from the lips of Mr. Kitson Jarvis, who is muttering to himself: " By the Eternal! will that letter from California never come? I wrote im mediately I had grasped what that abstract might mean. It should be here even now, if it comes by the Nicaragua line. I'll take a look at the darned thing again." Then opening his safe he produces an abstract of title of property on Esplanade Street, near Calvez. Running over the original grants of same, which had been in block from the French crown to the Jesuits and from the Jesuits to various settlers in the early days of Louisiana, Mr. Jarvis comes down to a transfer made. June 23, 1833, by one Francois Contino and wife to Prosper Delaunay Tournay, of Assumption Parish, of a large frontage on this street, for the sum of $1,500. Next a deed, from said Prosper D. Tournay to vSimon S. Jennings for one-third of same property, noted on the abstract as being passed as good, valid, unencumbered and complete, and carrying fee simple title, by Dubois & Merrill, Avocatsj consideration, $700. The date of this is also the year 1^33, August 2oth, just two months BOB COVINGTON 77 afterward. There is only one more transfer of the prop erty on record, that of August 19, 1835, when said property had been deeded by Simon S. Jennings to the Societe Mutuel of New Orleans, a small investment company of that date, and passed also by the same at torneys, Dubois & Merrill ; consideration, $800. The property has apparently remained in the posses sion of the Societe Mutuel, who are now about to sell the same to Jackson R. Coulson, captain of the Mis sissippi E.iver steamboat General Jones, for $2,500; Jarvis being Coulson's attorney, the abstract has been placed in his hands to pass upon the validity of the title. Looking at this record, Mr. Jarvis remarks : "It's all-fired curious how Dubois & Merrill, who were con sidered about the best real estate lawyers of their day in New Orleans, passed this title without the signature of the wife of Prosper Delaunay Tournay ! "The deed was made in 1833, and Tournay was married in 1832 to Eulalie Camila Poussin, so far as I can discover. There is certainly no record of renun ciation of community of gains by Eulalie Camila in New Orleans, and no renunciation of common property rights by said Eulalie Camila in Assumption Parish, where the marriage was reported to have taken place." Here a hideous [kind of grin comes over Jarvis's face. "As far as I can find out," cogitates the attorney, "this Eulalie Camila brought no dot to her husband, but as he married her in 1832, one year before he purchased this Esplanade property, it became common property. And yet, with no renunciation of partnership and community of gains by this wife of Prosper Tournay, Dubois & Merrill twice reported Tournay's deed as complete and unencumbered. " I have ferreted out," he thinks, "as much as I dared without giving any one a hint of what I'm driving after, and the thing would be pretty simple if either Dubois or Merrill were get-at-able. But Dubois is dead, and Merrill went to California, full of the gold fever of 1849. He is now an attorney in San Fran cisco, and hang it ! for his own professional reputa tion he must answer my letter! " 7o T3OD COVINGTON Then he goes poring over the records of the Tournay family, obtained from Assumption Parish, beginning at Prosper Delaunay Tournay, born 1804 "That's the father!" mutters the lawyer and his sister Isabel Laurey, born 1806. Prosper was married 1832 to Eulalie Camila Poussin and had issue by her, Louise Camours, born 1834 ''That's the beauty of the race course," Horace Jackson, born 1835, died 1836 ''He's out of the way!" and Nita Hortense, born June 4, 1841. Eulalie Camila Poussin Tournay died Junes, 1841. " Apparently the mother died at the birth of the last child Nita, who is now at Miss Martin's boarding-school, No. 209 Lafayette Place, New York City." Then he goes on : " Isabel Laurey Tournay was mar ried, 1826, to Harrod Boone Covington, of Kentucky, and had issue Robert Boone Covington, 1827. That's our young buck of the race-course, the one who is go ing to be so darned lucky, perhaps ! Oh, I've got the Tournay and the Covington families down pretty fine," chuckles the attorney. This reverie is broken by his clerk, Alfred, com ing in and saying : ' ' Captain Coulson has called again. " But the river man has already announced himself. From the outer office comes a stern, terror-of-deckhands voice, crying savagely: "You tell your boss, youngster, that, darn his blind-fog optics, he can't snag me in that real estate deal, another day! If Jarvis doesn't open his jaws and give me some opinion about that title, I'll chuck him overboard and scoot the abstract to Sampson Ketchum in two minutes! " "Very well, Cotain. Show the gentleman in," re turns Mr. Jarvis, setting his jaws for a diplomatic combat; for Coulson is a man who does not take his hat off, even to pilots, and is considered more able at bully-ragging mates than any other freight boat captain on the river; which is saying all that can be said for any man. He is a short, stocky individual, very broad of shoulder, with long arms of apparently enormous strength. He has red face, red hair, red eyes, black teeth and bull-dog jaw, which he is wagging, grinding his teeth together, even as he enters. BOB COVINGTON 79 " What the devil's the matter? " he shouts, trying to force himself to amiability. "Darn me, Jarvis, you're the slowest craft on the river! You must have run up a blind chute and got caught by falling water on this real estate deal. Are you left high and dry till next spring? Don't you know those Society Mutual chaps declare you could give a ' say so ' on that title in two days, if you put a nigger's brains onto it? Bust my boilers, one would think you'd been blown up and be come a hulk! The society agreed to give four weeks for you to look into the matter, and here it's nearly seven, and they'll be getting another customer. By the Eternal! If you don't put on steam I'll bust you up in business! " The lawyer deems it unwise to interrupt this effu sion, judging it best to let the riverman blow off super fluous steam. Then he raises his hand, deprecatingly, and says: " Captain Coulson, will you have a cigar ? " "Darn it! I didn't come for a smoke! I came for your gab on that title! " "Yes, but have a cigar while I show you the leetle difficulty I am in. It is not a question of title exactly, it is a question of whether the deed carries all the property. You have heard, I presume, of community of gains ? " " Damn community of gains! " "But community of gains may damn you. Well, perhaps you don't understand about transfers inter vivos and "H m! " "And you are not entirely up in transfers by mortis causa ? " "By gad, sir!- " "Listen to me. Are you aware of the difference between a residuary legacy and a contingent remainder ? Can you define the variance between fee simple and a life estate ? " "By Jumping Jonah! I'm not up for examination for the bar!" "Certainly not! But I am compelled to give you your title to the property, free and clear of everything, without any debts, rebates, contingencies, side-issues, 6 8o BOB COVIXGTOX sub-claims, liens, feoffs, emoluments, or peradventures. Remember that! " " You don't say! " mutters the sea-dog. "And furthermore, in addendum ; ab hoc ct ab luce, yet ad arbitrium, and ad hue sub judiccs Us est, Fcstina lente; Fides et justitia /" "Quit that! Quit that jabbering! " "Jabbering, my dear sir? I'm simply putting some of the problems of your case before you. Do you ex pect an answer on such questions in a moment? Experentia docet stultus. Vexata quastio ! vinculum matrimonii and status quo ! Remember that ! Qui facet consentit ! " During this compendium of legal aphorisms Mr. Jarvis has become very excited and vehement, and rattles off his last sally in apparently savage fury. "If you love your life, quit cussing me in Latin ! " "I am not cursing you in Latin, sir. I am simply giving you a few of the difficulties of your case. Sup pose I passed this title, and there came over to you, by referee duly appointed, a commission to deter mine how much of this land you hold, and they brought you in for heavy damages, sir heavy damages ! after I had told you the title was good. What would you do in such a case?" "ZW cries the Captain, "DO! Why, darn my eyes, I'd lick the life out of you for having passed it!" "Very well, sir. Under the circumstance?, I request a few days more. When I tell you the title is right, it will be, and you can hold it to the day of judgment." " By the Texas eagle, I will hold it to the day of judgment if I ever get onto that land ! " "Very well, sir. Do you expect me to risk my per sonal safety as well as my professional reputation on the drop of a hat? Remember, sir, I am working for a sum mum bonum^ mulium in parvo, and a fee simple//^ ban o publico that will permit you and your descendants, male and female, to hold this property per se in per petuity by the lex loci, by the lex non scripta, by the lex scripta, by the lex terra, UNTO THE END OF MAN ! Re member that! '' "Well, that being the state of the case," says the BOB COVINGTON 81 captain, humbly, "I s'pose I'll have to give you a leetle more time." " Yes, sir. Always act slowly in real estate matters. Come in and see me about Friday." " Friday? How the devil can I see you then? I'll be tied agin' the bank, up the Red River, Friday! " " Quite right ! Come to me when you get back. Your money is in the Bank of Louisiana, isn't it? That's not going to burst; now you know you've got something! If you went away and I passed this title hurriedly, you might wake up and find you hadn't anything. And permit me to tell you that a personal assault upon me for a bad passage of title would bring upon you an avalanche of civil and criminal litigation that would make you blow up your boat in despair. Remember, sir, the office of a member of the Louisiana bar is not the hurricane deck of one of your cursed river freight boats ! Now let us have a cigar and take a snifter. " "Well, since you put it that way," remarks the can- tain, accepting the olive branch, "and your cigars be ing very good Have you got any corn-juice in yer private demijohn? " This being produced, Captain Jackson Coulson, of the steamer General Jones, walks away, remarking to himself: "Hang me! I wonder if it was a game of bluff. Any way, I'll raise Cain with the deckhands this trip!" " I think that'll keep hihi quiet for a day or two, curse him! " says the lawyer. Then he suddenly cries: " Alfred, run down to the postoffice! See if they can tell you exactly when the next California mail will come in." Word being very shortly brought him by his clerk that it may not get in until Wednesday, Mr. Kitson Jarvis glumly thinks "I can't hang this thing up for ever! " then suddenly mutters: "By Jupiter! I'll go over and see Martineau! He was Tournay's lawyer! Perhaps I can pump him a little about the matter." This he does, producing somewhat remarkable re sults. The office of Monsieur Martineau, is upon Custom House Street, near Chartres, and bears the sign 82 JJOU CUV1NUTOX et Martineau, Avocats. " Detaille has been dead a num ber of years, but the sign still remains, though Arvid Martineau follows his profession entirely upon his own account. As Kitson approaches the entrance, he sees standing in Custom House Street, in front of the door, the same family carriage that had borne Miss Tournay out to the race-course upon the preceding Saturday. "Ah! consulting with family lawyer! " thinks Mr. Jarvis. "There's no doubt Martineau still manages the Tournay estate." With this he enters the office, which consists of three rooms. A large public one in which several clerks are engaged in a quiet, conservative, old style method of doing business. Another, opening both from the hall way and general office, is used by Martineau as his consulting room. : In it he arranges the affairs of a number of the most prominent Creole families: families with great estates; families with hundreds of slaves ; families who raise thousands of bales of cotton ; families whose names were prominent in the colony, when it was French, when it was Spanish, and afterward when it was French again. The office immediately behind this, originally had be longed to his former partner. Now it is scarcely used, except when some one of Arvid's lady clients wishes to see the gentleman who manages her estates. Above this, after the French custom, Martineau has his own private apartments, and lives in bachelor content ment, looked after by his aunt, a maiden lady of about sixty, and two or three devoted servants. The whole place appears to Kitson Jarvis, as he expresses it, " infernally slow. " " I'd rouse those lazy clerks up," he thinks, as he enters the outer room. c * My boy Alfred could do the business of the kit of them." But looking upon the names on the various boxes of papers of the Martignys, Soules, Carrolls, Polks and Maries, even Mr. Jarvis feels himself im pressed, and mutters : " A conservative, but respectable, and hang me! an infernally rich practice." The next instant he is asking the head-clerk, Auguste Pichoir, if his principal can be seen. *' In a BOB COVINGTON 83 few minutes, Monsieur," answers the young man, "I will take your name in. At present Monsieur Martineau is engaged with another client. Will you not be seated?" "Of course," replies Mr. Jarvis, and, knowing very well who is in consultation with the lawyer, he goes to cogitating over the matter that is now upon his mind, to be roused from it by the brush of feminine draperies and the sunshine of beauty, as Miss Louise sweeps past him from the inner office, accompanied by Mrs. Joyce. The interview has been upon a no more weighty subject than the young lady's millinery bills, but as the attorney glances with admiring eyes over the radiant loveliness of the girl's face and figure, he gives a horrified start and gasps "By the Eternal, she knows, /"for the appearance of the girl denotes dis appointment, almost to despair. Then Kitson is relieved. Miss Louise suddenly whispers to Mrs. Joyce : " He's simply awful! He he you do not understand, Pamela he absolutely re fused to pay for my dress for Thursday, and Madame Olympe has sent it home. Oh ! what shall I do? What shall I do? He " she gives a savage yet pitiful glance at the inner office "he even commanded me not to buy any more costumes! I used to get a great deal more money before papa died ; now, I have my own income and he won't let me spend it! I I can't take his an swer! I'll go in and see him again! " adds the young lady, stamping her little foot petulantly. She leaves Mrs. Joyce standing outside, makes a tremulous dive into the private office of Monsieur Martineau, to emerge therefrom half a minute after, apparently defeated. For tears now veil Mademoi selle Louise's exquisite eyes, and she mutters to Mrs. Joyce: "He he told me he had other people's in terests to look after as well as mine! He absolutely re fused! I I shan't be able to go to the ball! You you don't seem to understand ! I / can't go to the ball!* And scarely heeding some half-hearted attempts at condolence from her companion, the young lady goes out, the tears of bitter disappointment in her 84 BOB COVINGTON eyes, followed by her chaperone, leaving Mr. Jar- vis gazing after and chuckling: "Great Taylor!" What a fright she gave me! I was afraid the fat was in the fire and she knew when it was only old Martineau shutting down on the funds." Here a very cunning gleam comes into his eyes, for into the attorney's mind has suddenly flown this proposition: "The Tournay estates produce a very good income. Why the dickens should Martineau object to the young lady's spending her portion of it? Be gosh ! of course not a dollar of it is hers not by a kibosh!" This idea makes him a little more confident that he is on, as he expresses it, "the right trail." As Kitson is ushered into the private office, his ferret eyes take cognizance of a small safe upon which he sees the name "Prosper D. Tournay.'' "Good morning, Monsieur Jarvis, " remarks the Creole advocate, with punctilious politeness. ' ' Though I know you by sight, I have never had the pleasure of doing any business with you." " Ditto, ditto ! "responds the Yankee attorney. " It's only a very little matter that I'm going to trouble you about!" Then he goes on rapidly, for Kitson has thought out his questions as he has walked over, and rather hopes to take the more conservative legal gentleman by surprise. "It's that property on Es planade Street that Tournay made a deed of in 1833 to Simon S. Jennings and Jennings deeded in '35 to the Societe Mutuel. I am passing on the title of same, and though Tournay was married in 1832, and pur chased said real estate in 1833, his wife's signature is not on the deed, and I find no relinquishment of com munity of gains by Madame Tournay in the New Or leans records." Even as he says this, Kitson Jarvis guesses that he has hit the man looking him so blandly in the face very hard. Though Martineau's eyes have never lefthis, though his form still stands erect, there is a gradual paleness creeping into his face, and his moustache trembles very, very slightly, as he answers: " I was not Prosper Tour- BOB COVINGTON 85 nay's attorney at that time. His business did not come to our firm till 1840. Probably the renunciation of community rights is upon the parish record where Monsieur Tournay lived." "Assumption? " answers Jarvis. " I have had those records searched. There is no renunciation there." " Ah, but you forget there is La Fourche. Prosper Tournay had a small plantation there, near Guidrys. Probably, if you will search you will find it there." This is a terrible and unexpected blow to Jarvis. He mutters: " Parish La Fourche? I never knew of that;" and for a moment seems disconcerted. 1 1 Anyway, the title has been passed upon," con tinues Martineau, his voice growing firmer, "as you know, by a very excellent firm of older days, Dubois & Merrill. There can be no doubt about that title." " No; I don't believe there is any doubt about that title. I'm sure there's no doubt about that title," answers Kitson, his tone becoming more confident, his manner less dejected. Then he goes on: "Don't you think in looking over the old papers of the Tournay estate you handle it now, I believe you could find something that would elucidate why Madame Tour- nay's signature was not necessary to that deed? Could you not overhaul the contents of that safe, as I want to pass upon that title at once?" " That safe? " falters the French gentleman. "'Yes, that safe!" Here Jarvis's smile becomes full of latent insinuation. "The one towards which you are glancing, the one marked * Prosper D. Tournay.' If you can find time in the next few hours, just see if you can discover among the papers in that little iron box, some reason why that title was passed as good and unencumbered by Dubois & Merrill, and yet does not bear the signature of Madame Tournay." " I I will try and accommodate you," remarks the Creole lawyer, holding himself very erect as if he hardly dare unbend, for fear he might falter. "Thank you. Good day." And Mr. Jarvis walks out, muttering to himself: "By Jove, Kitson', shake hands! I believe I've guessed right, even though there may be a renunciation on the records of Parish 86 BOB COVINGTON La Fourche. I'll send down a search; it won't take more than a day or two. But, whether I find it or not, there's some Tournay skeleton locked up in that safe, or I'll forfeit my certificate to practice law." Left by himself, Arvid Martineau, after a mo ment's agitated thought, mutters these curious words: 44 Thank God! He is a noble young man! But, Mon Z>ieu ! What will it be for them at best ? Oh, but it must not be! It must not be! I have feared that Esplanade property I should have bought it long ago. It is the only title that Tournay transferred! " Then suddenly he rings his bell. His clerk comes in, and he says: "Pichoir, go to the Societe Mutuel at once," and whispers a few brief sentences. And the young man going out, the old French law yer closes the door of his outer office, locks himself in, and murmurs: 4< Should I not warn her ? There's one who is not here dear little Nita. I have dandled her on my knee." Then he breaks out: " Oh, may God forgive you, Prosper Tournay! God forgive you; I cannot! Procrastinator! Dreamer! Poet! Sensualist! Man of too refined sensibilities to face thy own mis erable mistake, thou hast left thy crime to crush two poor innocents! Grand Dieu ! Aie pitie