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 m 
 
zoE's 'brand; 
 
ZOE'S 'BRAND.' 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "EECOMMENDED TO MEECY.' 
 
 IN THEEE YOLUMES. 
 YOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. 
 
 1864. 
 
 \_The right of translation is reserved.] 
 
rXJKDON: PRINTED 3 Y W. CLOWKS AND SONS, .STAMFORD STREET, 
 ND OlIABrXQ CROSS. 
 

 PREFACE 
 
 The tale now published under the title of 
 " Zoe's * Brand,' " was commenced some years 
 ago, during the author's temporary residence 
 in the Valley of the Mississippi. The prin- 
 cipal characters in the story, including, first 
 and foremost, the heroine thereof, are drawn 
 from the life, whilst the anti-slavery remarks 
 put into the mouths of Southern planters are 
 very far from owing their origin to the 
 writer's imagination. 
 
 The fact that the possession of shves is 
 regarded by many earnest and intelligent 
 planters in the light of an evil greatly to be 
 deplored, was constantly brought home to 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 the author's mind during a considerable 
 period passed both in New Orleans and on 
 the Louisianian plantations; and it is the 
 writer's belief that the majority of the slave- 
 owners, but for a dread of the consequences 
 of Northern interference, would gladly advo- 
 cate the enactment of laws tending to reform 
 effectually most of the abuses which are at 
 present urged against ' the institution.' 
 
 The sufferings and privations of i\ie freed 
 negroes in the South, under the rule of their 
 Liberators (?), and the many incontrovertible 
 proofs manifested by the coloured race of a 
 preference for their former servitude, have 
 now become matter of history; and thus 
 another blot has (owing to the treatment by 
 the Federals of those whom they have so long 
 professed to commiserate) been added to the 
 dark page in which posterity will read the 
 annals of this unnatural war. 
 
Preface. 
 
 vu 
 
 The author feels that some apology may 
 be necessary for offering to the novel-reading 
 world a story of transatlantic life. It is 
 possible that the trials of an Octaroon may 
 contain little to interest the readers of works 
 of fiction. Party spirit, too, runs high re- 
 garding the motives of this desolating con- 
 flict : and under these disadvantageous cir- 
 cumstances, it is pleasant for one about to 
 brave the tender mercies of the critics to 
 remember that the mightiest of England's 
 satirists gave utterance to the consolatory 
 dictum — 
 
 ' Ten censure wrong, for one who writes amiss.' 
 London, l^th April, 1864. 
 
zoE's 'brand; 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 * II ne faut pas eveiller le chat qui dort.* 
 
 French Proverb. 
 
 In one of the many dull streets that are to 
 be found in brilliant Paris — a street which we 
 may designate as the Rue La Grange — there 
 existed but a short while ago a seminary for 
 young ladies of distinction. It was called a 
 pensionnat, but in outward appearance it more 
 nearly resembled a prison-house; for every 
 window was protected externally by bars of 
 iron, those belonging to the lower floor being 
 especially strong, new, and freshly painted, 
 bearing in their solid thickness ample testi- 
 mony to the fact that within those carefuUy- 
 YOL, L , B 
 
2 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 defended walls youth and innocence reposed, 
 and would, as the most sacred of deposits, be 
 protected against all aggressors. 
 
 The building itself was large and commo- 
 dious ; a corner house, with a garden extend- 
 ing behind it, and running parallel with an- 
 other street, which for gloom and silence 
 might fairly be matched against its neigh- 
 bour, the lugubrious-looking cul-de-sac where- 
 in stood Madame Duchatel's time-honoured 
 establishment. 
 
 It was summer time — hot, bright, glaring 
 summer time, and by far the greater propor- 
 tion of Madame Duchatel's young ladies were 
 already en vacances, enjoying, in the pleasant 
 chateaux where their fathers dwelt, the belle 
 saison of the year ; wandering, light of heart 
 and foot, on the sands of the sea-shore, or 
 taking at les eaux their first lessons in the 
 pretty arts of coquetry. 
 
 I'liere remainod, at the latter end of July, 
 but three h\r pe7ision72aires to mourn over their 
 incarceration ; and, as may easily be supposed, 
 
Zoe^s ^ Brand! 3 
 
 their complaints and lamentations were nei- 
 ther mild nor few. 
 
 *It was such a shame — such a cruel shame 
 to be pent up in those hot, stifling rooms, 
 when all the " world " besides was out in the 
 fresh open air — out in the pleasant, happy 
 country, where the trees were green, and the 
 birds — the bright, free, joyous creatures — 
 were singing blithely their heart-strains in the 
 sky.' 
 
 The garden, with its straight, well-gravelled 
 walks — its narrow slip of close-shorn turf, on 
 which the pupils were (with a love of petty 
 rule almost worthy of the ordinances of an 
 English university) forbidden to set their 
 dainty feet, was but a poor substitute for the 
 country joys for which their young hearts 
 panted. They had no knowledge, those rigidly- 
 kept recluses, of the brilliant scenes of gay 
 excitement, passing both by night and day be- 
 fore the eyes of the upper and middle tens of 
 thousands sojourning in that wicked city,where, 
 though the summer, with its flowers and fruits, 
 
 B 2 
 
4 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 was at its prime, the true children of Paris 
 still clung to their city of delights — that gor- 
 geous 'capital of the civilized world/ into the 
 joys of which, as a great transatlantic writer 
 has quaintly said, 'good Americans when they 
 die may hope to enter.' 
 
 But it was not on such unknown, perhaps 
 such profitless pleasures, that the maidens' 
 young desires were fixed — not in the warm, 
 cloudless July nights for drives along the 
 crowded ' Bois,' nor for saunters in the Pre 
 Catallan, with its myriad-coloured lamps, its 
 music and its dances, its boisterous merriment 
 and its poisonous atmosphere of vice. For 
 Madame Duchatel had done her duty well by 
 those fair children, and in their day and nightly 
 dreams, the pure, fresh country rose before 
 them as a paradise of earthly bliss. 
 
 The number of those whom the worthy lady 
 admitted into her pensionnat was limited to 
 twelve, and not after the age of nine would 
 she receive any new-comer into her establish- 
 ment. Earnestly and unremittingly had she 
 
Zoe's 'Brand.' 5 
 
 endeavoured to guard against contamination 
 from the ' one ill sheep that can infest a flock, 
 and hitherto her efforts had been crowned 
 with the success which the excellent lady so 
 well deserved. 
 
 The young pensionnaires, then, were con- 
 signed, in all their childish ignorance, to 
 Madame Duchatel's motherly care ; but not a 
 few of them remained even beyond the period 
 when the bud begins to expand into the 
 flower, and the heart to pine for other plea- 
 sures than were to be found within the play- 
 ground's walls. 
 
 Amongst the pupils who could count the 
 greatest number of years spent in that mono- 
 tonous seclusion, were the three, far from 
 contented ones, pacing sadly to and fro beneath 
 the ancient lime-trees by which a portion of 
 the garden walk was shaded. 
 
 The appearance of the fair trio, although 
 two of them bore English names, was unmis- 
 takably French — French in the well-trained 
 walk, French in the quiet costume and well 
 
6 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 selected colours, and French, above all, in the 
 irreproachably-dressed hair, so smooth and 
 shining in its unadorned simplicity. 
 
 The one who was known at the school as 
 Zoe Gordon was by far the handsomest of the 
 three girls, w^hose claims to beauty were in 
 each individual case of no mean order. They 
 were dressed nearly alike, for they were 
 friends, and a pretty maiden sentimentalism 
 led them to affect a similarity of costume. 
 Zoe was, however, considerably the tallest, 
 and herlove of brighter colours had induced her 
 to enliven the grey silk dress, so subdued and 
 Quaker-like, with a bow of gay cerise-tmted 
 ribbon; while an enamelled w^atch-chain of 
 rare workmanship and of considerable intrinsic 
 value was hanging round her graceful throat. 
 
 For she was wonderfully graceful — so grace- 
 ful that even her exquisite beauty seemed a 
 secondary charm ; and those who looked upon 
 her, almost invariably paid the first tribute to 
 the air distingue, and the soft indolent elegance 
 which characterized every movement of one 
 
Zoe's 'Brand! 7 
 
 whom I will announce, without further mys- 
 tery, to be the grand-daughter of a Louisianian 
 Quadroon. 
 
 Nature had been only too bountiful to the 
 fair daughter of the South, to whom, as we 
 have said, had been so lavishly bestowed the 
 gift of beauty ; for only to see the soft, caress- 
 ing creature was almost to love her, while so 
 gentle and unassuming was her nature, that 
 every advantage of which she might have 
 boasted w^as forgotten and forgiven by the 
 less nature-favoured of her companions, each 
 one of whom appeared to vie w ith the other 
 in her efforts to obtain a first place in the 
 young foreigner's affections. 
 
 This fair creature, whose origin was a secret 
 at the school, had thrown herself listlessly 
 on a garden bench, and with an abstracted air 
 was using as a fan the large straw hat she had 
 removed from her heated brow. It was hair, 
 the colour and texture of which are rarely seen 
 in Europe — burnished like the wing of a hum- 
 ming bird, with golden tints glistening through 
 
8 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 the sombre brown, and waving in its heavy 
 masses, which, when unfastened from their 
 restraining band, fell far below her waist. 
 Her eyes were of the darkest blue, with eye- 
 lashes, even those upon the lower lids, so long 
 and dark and curling, that many called sweet 
 Zoe's eyes coal-black, and wondered that such 
 orbs should be the accompaniments of that 
 burnished golden hair. 
 
 Her complexion was usually colourless, of 
 a rich creamy white, stainless and pure, al- 
 though, as I need not add, far less coldly 
 white than Parian marble — each feature 
 faultless ; while her womanly figure, too fully 
 formed, perhaps, for the few summers she had 
 known, was perfect in its exquisite propor- 
 tions as the wondrous Venus, whose chiselled 
 loveliness has been for centuries gazed upon 
 and worshipped by Italy's beauty-loving 
 children. 
 
CHAPTER 11. 
 
 * So long YOU did not sing or touch your lute, 
 We knew 'twas flesh and blood that there sat mute ; 
 But when you're playing, and your voice came in, 
 'Twas no more you then, but a cherubim.' 
 
 Standing on the walk in front of the fair 
 creature I have been describing, and with 
 their arms encircling each other's waists, in 
 the affectionate familiarity of school-girl friend- 
 ship, were Zoe's two companions ; pretty girls 
 both of them as you might see on a summer's 
 day, but of a prettiness so entirely different 
 that the fact of their being denizens of dif- 
 ferent hemispheres needed not the proclama- 
 tion of words. 
 
 Pauline de Rouvray was a blonde of the 
 fairest — and as those might affirm whose 
 tastes lead them to admire a different colour- 
 ing — of the most insipid description. Her 
 
10 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 hair, silky and not over-abundant, was of the 
 peculiar hue usually described as cendree ; her 
 eyes of a pale liquid blue, and her regular 
 features unrelieved by any rosy hues in the 
 well-formed rounded cheek. It was only 
 when that cheek was flushed by excitement 
 that Pauline's claims to beauty were allowed 
 to be incontestable ; for then the pale-blue 
 eyes grew lustrous, and the admission was 
 universal that, were Mademoiselle de Rouvray 
 ever to become well and strong (she had from 
 her childhood been delicate), she might bear 
 away the palm from all her schoolfellows, 
 save and excepting always that peerless one, 
 the lovely and ' queenlike ' Zoe. 
 
 Amenaide, or as she was always called, 
 Naide Vincent, the last of the friends whom 
 I have undertaken to describe, was a West 
 Indian Creole of Spanish ancestry, and of 
 essentially tropical appearance ; small, lithe, 
 and sallow, with hair and eyes black as the 
 raven's wing. She seemed like some exotic 
 bird of glossy plumage, with restless, curious 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 11 
 
 eyes, transplanted into a land which was not 
 hers, and confined in a cage, the bars of which 
 galled and fretted her. 
 
 ' So,' she was saying in her quick, impetu- 
 ous way, and gazing with her searching eyes, 
 which never seemed to blink, on Zoe's repose- 
 ful face, 'So, here we are again ! Another 
 day within the prison walls, Cherie ! ' (the 
 young American was usually called Cherie; 
 it had been her name at home, and had fol- 
 lowed her to that far Parisian school). 
 ' Cherie, it drives me mad to see you resting 
 there, so cold, and — ' 
 
 ' Cold,' repeated Zoe, with a smile, as she 
 passed a perfect web of a cambric handkerchief 
 over her moistened brow. 
 
 ^ Well, not cold, hot ; broiling — anything 
 you like ! only quiet, resigned, and patient, 
 which I never am, and never will be.' 
 
 ' I think,' said Cherie, after a pause, during 
 which her impetuous friend stamped her little 
 foot impatiently upon the gravel, * I think it 
 is dear old Desiree, who teaches me to be 
 
12 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 what you call patient ; she tells us of suffer- 
 ings and privations which make our little 
 misfortunes seem like nothing ; and if you 
 were to listen to her, Naide — ' 
 
 * I cannot ; she is so ennuyeuse with her 
 tiresome voice.' 
 
 'And herne^ qui nefinit pasj broke in the 
 laughter-loving Pauline, who had all her 
 countrywomen's i^cWity pour saisir le ridicule, 
 
 * I don't mind her nose ; it is only long, 
 not snuffy, like Monsieur Dufour's,' remarked 
 Naide. 
 
 They were amusing themselves at the 
 expense of two of the teachers, male and 
 female, whose peculiarities laid them in some 
 sort open to remark. 
 
 ' I don't dislike old Desiree's thin proboscis; 
 it reminds me of an ant-eater, and I detest 
 ants. Had you ants at New Orleans, 
 Cherie? White ants, I mean, that eat up 
 everything?' 
 
 ' I don't remember,' Cherie said ; * it is so 
 long ago. I suppose the black servants — 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 13 
 
 slaves, you know — took care they did no 
 harm.' 
 
 ' You were hicky to have slaves,' said the 
 Creole; 'our black servants, mamma used to 
 say, never did a thing they could help — so 
 independent and insolent, and lazy — just 
 living like animals, without wanting to learn 
 or to rise to anything, but cultivating their 
 yams just enough to live upon, and lying 
 about all the day idle/ 
 
 *They don't do that in Louisiana,' said 
 Cherie ; ' they work hard enough sometimes. 
 I recollect, especially in the harvest time — 
 la recolte du sucre — but that does not last 
 long, and then, — oh, it was the greatest fun ! 
 Such dancing and merry-making! I wish 
 you could hear the negroes sing ; they have 
 such exquisite voices ! So rich, and full, and 
 soft/ 
 
 ' Like yours, darling,' broke in Pauline, 
 who was as ignorant as her friend — ay, and 
 for that matter, as was Zoe herself, that the 
 latter could claim in right of parentage the 
 
14 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 melodious tones which nature has bestowed 
 upon the captive race. 
 
 Instead of replying to the French girl's 
 pretty compliment, Cherie began in a low 
 voice to sing a fragment of a negro melody. 
 In her childhood she had heard it in her 
 father's Louisianian plantation ; and singing it, 
 as she was wont to do, in the strange negro 
 patois, her schoolfellows had often before 
 listened with delight to the sweet though 
 mournful strains : — 
 
 ' Venez k la petite case au milieu des bles . 
 Et h la belle plantation ouelle et moi etre nes, 
 Ma Dinah etre pres de moi, les enfants sur mes genonx, 
 Raster la toiijours quand elle et moi etre vieux.' 
 
 She sang the simple words to a still simpler 
 air, but with a voice of the rarest quality — 
 one of those voices whose ' mellow touch of 
 music,* as old Herri ck says, ' most doth 
 wound the soul, when it doth rather sigh 
 than sound.' 
 
 The two young girls listened to the well- 
 know^n strains with the admiration for Cherie's 
 
Zoes 'Brand' 16 
 
 marvellous gift, which neither custom nor 
 repetition had even lessened ; but when the 
 sweet voice ceased, Pauline said abruptly/ Yes, 
 it is all very well, and I dare say very pretty; 
 but I must say I should not like to be a slave.' 
 *Nor I,' echoed the Creole. 'I could not 
 endure it. I abhor coercion ; I detest im- 
 prisonment ; I loath those walls and grilles ; ' 
 and she shook her little tawny fist at them 
 menacingly. ' Un avant, marchonsl' she 
 shrieked ; for in truth Naide's voice was not 
 musical, and more nearly resembling a shriek 
 than a song, was her sudden outbreak into 
 the French hymn of liberty, 
 
 * Peuple fraii9ais, peuple des braves, 
 La liberie rouvre ses bras.' 
 
 ' Naide, are you going mad ? ' laughed 
 Pauline, while Zoe, rising from the wooden 
 bench, said languidly, ' I believe everyone 
 is a slave to something or to somebody. 
 At least Desiree says so ; and when I say 
 how hot and dull and gloomy is this place, she 
 describes to me miserable attics, au cinquieme, 
 
16 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 with the sun blazing down upon the roof, and 
 where wretched families are born to live a life 
 of woe and privation, and die there on their 
 fetid, dreadful mattresses, without ever having 
 known throughout their days one moment of 
 life's sunshine.' 
 
 * Poor people, we could spare them some 
 of this,' said giddy Naide, as the three girls 
 slowly mounted the few steps which led from 
 the garden to the back entrance of the house. 
 
 They entered the parlour darkened by the 
 gveeiipersiennes, vjhich were carefully closed to 
 save from fading the Utrecht velvet curtains, 
 and Naide, gliding along the weW-frotted floor, 
 seized upon a letter which her quick eyes had 
 been the first to detect upon the table. 
 
 ' For Pauline ! ' she exclaimed, disconsolately. 
 * I knew it would be, for no one ever writes 
 to me ; poor friendless, forgotten little me,' 
 she murmured, in such a touching tone of 
 self-commiseration, that Cherie, who seemed 
 to have a mission upon earth to comfort the 
 afflicted, drew the little creature to her heart. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 17 
 
 and placed her arm round her while Pauline 
 read the letter, the sight of which had called 
 forth that unwonted burst of feeling. 
 
 They watched her while she read it, won- 
 dering the while — for the lines it contained 
 were evidently few — why Pauline lingered so 
 long over that scantily-filled page. 
 
 At last she spoke in a low, pained voice, 
 and hesitatingly, 
 
 * I have a letter from home, dear.' She 
 addressed herself to Zoe, which made the 
 Creole marvel slightly, for of the two she was 
 perhaps the most liee with Pauline deRouvray. 
 
 * A letter from home which would give me so 
 much — oh, so much pleasure, only — ' 
 
 * Only what ? ' cried Naide, impetuously. 
 
 * Pauline, I know, but how I cannot guess, 
 that I have something to do with that letter. 
 Tell me what it is ; only tell me ; I can bear 
 anything. I am as hard as iron ; I was born 
 to be battered ; I like to be battered. Tell 
 me what it is all about.' 
 
 * Dear Naide,' said Pauline, while her eyes 
 
 YOL. I. c 
 
18 Zoes 'Brand* 
 
 filled with tears ; ' you poor darling little 
 thing ! It only has to do with you because — ' 
 
 ' Because ? — Oh, I shall call Desiree, with 
 her " Allons done, mademoiselle," and then 
 you must speak.' 
 
 * Well, then,' continued Pauline, between 
 smiles and tears, for, setting aside her sorrow 
 for Naide, she was very happy ; ' Well, then, 
 pauvre chere, this is a letter from papa, and — 
 and — all their plans are changed. They are 
 not going to Switzerland after all, and — and 
 I am to go home with Cherie — if Cherie will 
 come? 'she added, glancing, nothing doubting, 
 at her friend, who still stood near her, holding 
 that poor brown trembling hand in hers, and 
 wondering — it was her first thought — how 
 she could comfort Naide. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 * Amidst his harmless, easy joys, 
 
 No anxious care invades his health ; 
 Nor love his peace of mind destroys, 
 
 Nor wicked avarice of wealth.' — Dryden. 
 
 The receipt of that welcome invitation, 
 though a surprise to Zoe, was scarcely one 
 to the noble Bretonne demoiselle, whose 
 efforts to excite in the hearts of her family 
 an interest in the beautiful Louisianian had 
 been as unremitting as they were secret. 
 
 For years — the long half-dozen years which 
 both had passed within those cloister-like 
 walls, Pauline had dwelt with sorrowing com- 
 passion on the ever-recurring fact that Cherie, 
 her own dearly-loved and country-loving 
 friend, had spent every vacance — their bright 
 summer holidays, as well as the joyous season 
 of etrennes, bonbons, and Christmas-trees in that 
 dreary pensionnat, companionless and forlorn. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 During the period when she was last at 
 home — her home in the distant landes of 
 Lower Brittany, she had talked much and 
 frequently about her friend. She had dilated 
 on Cherie's grace and matchless beauty, her 
 genius, her accomplishments, and, above all, 
 on the winning tenderness of her nature. Of 
 course Pauline's father, the Comte de Rou- 
 vray, and her only brother Alfred, who, like a 
 true-born Breton gentleman as he was, rarely 
 left the paternal estates to enter into the 
 gaieties and dissipations of the world — con- 
 sidered the little school-girl's enthusiastic 
 eulogiums in the light of juvenile exaggera- 
 tions born of a loving heart, and an excitable 
 imagination. But though incredulous as re- 
 garded the amount of faith to be placed in 
 Pauline's descriptions, both father and brother 
 were moved by their great love for her (who 
 was in truth the idol of the old chateau 
 where they dwelt), to discuss the advisability 
 of inviting Miss Zoe Gordon to share the 
 summer amusements of their darling Pauline. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 21 
 
 An excursion to Switzerland and the Ger- 
 man baths had been planned early in the 
 summer by the selfish invalid wife of the 
 Comte de Rouvray ; but fortunately, as re- 
 garded the enjoyment of her little daughter, 
 her projects were as changeable as they were 
 egotistical, and hence the announcement in 
 Alfred's letter to his sister that his parents 
 had finally resolved to spend la belle saison at 
 the chateau. 
 
 * And Alfred is in Paris ! He has come 
 to escort us back. Ah, if Na'ide could but 
 come, how happy we should be 1 ' 
 
 * Never mind, dear,' said the unselfish girl, 
 trying to hide the tears which would force 
 themselves to her eyelids ; * only you must 
 write and tell me all your pleasures, and 
 whether everyone thinks our Cherie belle 
 comme un ange, and if — ' 
 
 But who does not know — and if such 
 knowledge has been denied to them, who 
 cannot imagine the description of badinage 
 and chatter which filled up the pauses during 
 
22 Zoe\s 'Brand: 
 
 the busy preparations for departure. But 
 little more than four-and-twenty hours were 
 to elapse before Pauline and her friend's de- 
 parture, and already had the latter begun to 
 speculate on what manner of man was the 
 Vicomte Alfred, under whose protection she 
 was about to journey into what was to her 
 an entirely unknown land. Of course he 
 would not be like Pauline — that is to say, 
 small, fair, and delicate. He would be tall, 
 doubtless, and handsome — for was not 
 Pauline beautiful sometimes, when the rare 
 roses of health were on her cheek, and when 
 anything occurred to stir her into enthusiasm, 
 and give brightness to her large grey eyes ? 
 
 Very little had ever been said by Pauline 
 about her brother, and for this reason, namely, 
 that for the last three years — ever since, 
 in short, she had been of an age to judge 
 accurately of personal merits, Alfred de 
 Rouvray had been absent from Europe on 
 a mission connected with certain estates, 
 owned by his father, in the Isle of France. 
 
Zoes 'Brand! 23 
 
 That business arranged, he had returned to 
 his native country, never, as he devoutly 
 hoped, to leave its shores again : for a very- 
 quiet home-loving young man was Pauline's 
 only brother, domestic in all his tastes and 
 habits, and — a misfortune probably to be in 
 part accounted for by his indulgence in these 
 propensities — afflicted with an amount of 
 shyness rarely to be met with in those of his 
 age, sex, and country. 
 
 The important hour of his introduction 
 arrived at last. The great clanging bell 
 sounded through the spacious porte eochere, 
 and a few moments later the card of * Le 
 Yicomte de Rouvray' was, with all due cere- 
 mony, presented to the kind, though stately 
 ' Madame,' as the mistress of that well-ordered 
 establishment was invariably denominated. 
 She entered, accompanied by her young 
 charges, one of whom presented her forehead 
 for the reception of a brotherly salute, while 
 the other, the tall graceful Zoe curtsied as only 
 Parisians can perform that often awkward 
 
24 Zoes 'Brand! 
 
 ceremony, and then, under the manifold dis- 
 advantages attendant on the presence of the 
 Institutrice, the young people commenced 
 the preliminaries of what is called 'making 
 acquaintance.' 
 
 Alfred de Rouvray, who, bashful though 
 he was, had not at the age of twenty-six to 
 learn what was demanded of him by les 
 bienseances, endeavoured with more zeal than 
 discretion to present chairs to all the ladies 
 at once. 
 
 ' Merci, milk fois — ne vous deranges pas, 
 monsieur — je vous en pine. Donnez-vous la 
 peine de vous asseoir I ' exclaimed the polite 
 and voluble Frenchwoman, as she endea- 
 voured to disentangle her ample flowing 
 robe from amongst the feet of Monsieur le 
 Vicomte, the which feet, as she afterwards 
 averred, appeared to her at the moment to 
 be partout. 
 
 From the moment that the partie carree 
 were safely deposited in their chairs, the 
 mistress of the establishment — as was mani- 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: -25 
 
 festly her right — held the reins of conversa- 
 tion in her own hands, and Zoe, as she 
 watched the meek submission visible in the 
 face of Pauline's brother, felt, we are sorry 
 to say it, some of her enthusiastic anticipa- 
 tions fade away into nothingness. Certainly, 
 the young vicomte had not been without a 
 place, and that a foremost one, on the fanci- 
 ful stage on which she was to play a part; 
 and as he sat there mute and^ unsmiling, 
 holding his hat awkwardly, and his tongue 
 perseveringly, his merits as a hero in her 
 little drama were mentally pronounced by the 
 beautiful American to be of small account. 
 
 And yet the young Breton noble was far 
 from destitute of all claims to personal good 
 gifts. He was rather above the average 
 height, had a muscular and manly figure, 
 and a face which, while it could boast of 
 lio beauty of feature, made amends for the 
 deficiency by a countenance remarkable both 
 for honesty and intelligence. Dissipation 
 had not traced a single defacing line upon 
 
26 Zoe's ^ Brand' 
 
 his broad open brow, nor had even exposure 
 to a tropical sun, together with the long sea 
 voyage from which, not many months before, 
 he had returned, succeeded in bronzing the 
 still almost beardless face of Alfred de 
 Rouvray. 
 
 He was like Pauline, and, therefore, Zoe's 
 feelings softened towards him ; but she had 
 yet to learn how many more reasons for 
 liking and admiring Alfred de Rouvray were 
 hidden by that reserved and cold exterior. 
 
 The visit was not a long one, although 
 the vicomte, like every painfully shy person, 
 was terribly at a loss how and when to take 
 his departure. His proceedings were, how- 
 ever, hastened by a remark from Madame 
 to the effect that the young ladies' arrange- 
 ments would be barely completed by seven 
 o'clock that evening (the hour appointed for 
 Monsieur le Vicomte to conduct them to the 
 debar cadere), unless the said monsieur would 
 permit them to retire. She was desolee to 
 cut short the visit of monsieur, but he must 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 27 
 
 be aware C€s demoiselles etaient si pressees, 
 and Monsieur le Vicomte's letter had taken 
 cette petite etourdie de Pauline so completely 
 by surprise, that — 
 
 But any further explanations and apologies 
 were cut short by the greatly-relieved visitor, 
 who, after performing a series of unexcep- 
 tionable bows, and only knocking down one 
 chair in his exit, made his retreat from the 
 room. 
 
 It was two o'clock p.m. Five hours only 
 remaining to be spent in sentiment, packing, 
 talking, and castle-building. When the hour 
 for departure came, ces demoiselles were, rather 
 wonderful to say, already equipped in the 
 simplest and most becoming of travelling 
 dresses — becomingly put on, and with their 
 pretty faces half-tearful and half-smiling, 
 giving and receiving kiss after kiss, especially 
 to and from the disconsolate Creole, who, 
 having found all attempts at composure un- 
 availing, gave free course to the desespoir 
 which oppressed her. 
 
28 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 ' Poor abandoned little thing,' said Zoe to 
 the kind-hearted English governess. ' Dear 
 Miss Johnson, you must ask Madame for a 
 holiday, and take her out.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I will,' replied the Englishwoman, 
 whose eyes were filled with tears, and who 
 did not think the present a fitting occasion 
 for a lecture on her country's idioms. 
 
 'Indeed, I will — we will go to Pere la 
 Chaise. Madame seldom objects to that, 
 and we can combine instruction with amuse- 
 ment.' 
 
 * Poor Na'ide,' thought Zoe, * and this is 
 Miss Johnson's idea of recreation ! ' And 
 with a sigh of pity as she reflected ori her 
 friend's prospects, Cherie went on with her 
 preparations. 
 
 Seven o'clock came, and with it an open 
 caleche, containing, according to his promise, 
 Monsieur Alfred de Rouvray. Then the last 
 adieux had been spoken, the really last kisses 
 given and bestowed, and after seeing the 
 unhappy Na'ide rush frantically to her bed- 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 29 
 
 room (whence she emerged two hours after- 
 wards with swollen cheeks, and eyes but 
 dimly visible), the two envied and enviable 
 ones took their places in the caleche. 
 
 The tears of those who go are soon dried, 
 and hardly had two streets been travelled over 
 when the smiles beamed out from the clouded 
 countenances of the emancipated pension- 
 naires, and all traces of tears were wiped away. 
 
 'I fancied,' said Alfred, who, as it soon 
 began to appear, was thoughtful in his way 
 of the comfort and pleasure of other people, 
 ' that as you, my dear Pauline, as well as 
 mademoiselle had seen so little of Paris, 
 a drive along the Boulevards, and a turn in 
 the Bois, would not be disagreeable to you. 
 We have more than an hour to spare before 
 the train leaves, and — by-the-by,' he added, 
 turning to Zoe, and his complexion visibly 
 heightening as he spoke, *I hope I have done 
 right in arranging to travel at night. In this 
 hot weather the convois are perfectly unen- 
 durable by day, and — ' 
 
30 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 The young ladies both interrupted him by 
 an assurance of their entire approval of his 
 plan, and then — the Boulevards, with their 
 brilliant shops, their swiftly-passing equipages, 
 and their crowds of busy pedestrians, having 
 been reached, the two girls were far too busily 
 engaged in wondering scrutiny to pay much 
 attention to their silently-amused companion. 
 
 On they sped, past the thronged and showy 
 cafes, at the windows of which, and around 
 the wide-opened doors, w^ere congregated 
 lounging, smoking men, and gaily dressed, 
 laughing women. On past the tempting 
 magasins, displaying to the dazzled eyes of 
 the uninitiated their treasures of cashmeres, 
 silks, and bijouterie. To Pauline only, of 
 those two admiring girls, the sight was not 
 an entirely novel one, for she on her journey 
 to and from the Rue La Grange, had caught 
 some glimpses of the outer world, and oft- 
 times striven to make her two dear friends 
 au fait of Paris wonders, and the riches at 
 which she had so greatly marvelled. But 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 31 
 
 although in this respect Pauline's worldly 
 knowledge was superior to her friend's, they 
 were on a par as regarded the hitherto un- 
 known dehghts of the delicious Bois, where 
 carriages and equestrians followed each other 
 in such bewildering rapidity, that after awhile 
 the two escaped recluses ceased to call each 
 other's attention (which they had done at 
 first) to every fresh object of wonder and 
 admiration, and remaining silent in their 
 respective corners, gazed uninterruptedly on 
 the scene before them. 
 
 Many were the admiring eyes fixed during 
 that summer's evening drive upon the two 
 unknown faces — one of them belle a ravir, 
 which were seen for one short hour in the 
 brilliantly-thronged drive. But Zoe heeded 
 not those bold yet flattering glances — her 
 thoughts were all pure joy at her unhoped- 
 for emancipation, and the bright light which 
 shone from her dark eyes was lighted from 
 a purer source than woman's gratification at 
 the homage paid to her beauty or her grace. 
 
CHAPTER TV. 
 
 ' De hoc multi multa, omnes aliquid non satis.' 
 
 A CURIOUS and a quaint old place was 
 Pauline de Rouvray's home : and situated in 
 the very heart of apparently thinly-populated 
 Lower Brittany, it formed a striking contrast 
 to the noisy and animated scene presented 
 to the admiring school-girls during their drive 
 through Paris. 
 
 The Chateau de Pennevic w^as an erection 
 of very ancient date — spacious and mas- 
 sive, with a pointed, slated roof, rising high 
 above the walls on which mossy patches — the 
 rust of masonry — liberally adorned the dark 
 grey stone. Windows there were almost 
 innumerable — windows with small panes of 
 unmodernized-looking glass, encased in such 
 thick and ponderous wooden framework, that 
 
Zoes 'Brand! 33 
 
 they might be truly said to exclude rather 
 than admit the light of heaven. And thus 
 for centuries had the time-defying chateau 
 stood amongst its ancestral pine woods — for 
 centuries had the wild winds rocked the 
 heavy branches through the dreary months of 
 winter : and now, even as in the olden times, 
 the gaunt trees waved their arms above the 
 pointed roof ; and in the winter season hun- 
 gry wolves roamed through the desolate 
 forests, and when the snow lay thick upon 
 the ground, howled their dismal hunger cry 
 at the old castle gates. 
 
 Of course the place was haunted — haunted ! 
 ay, doubly and trebly haunted. First, in 
 due order of precedence, by the most respecta- 
 ble and properly accredited of family ghosts, 
 who, if report could be believed, was as 
 wicked and murderous-looking an old Celtic 
 apparition as ever heralded the approach of 
 domestic calamity. 
 
 Of the ghost-like train of memories con- 
 nected with the very early days of the ch4- 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
34 Zoe's 'Brand! 
 
 teau's history, and which to an imaginative 
 individual could not have been without their 
 charm, I shall say nothing : but there were, 
 particularly for the romantic and ideal-loving 
 Zoe, other and more modern spirits — spirits 
 of heroes, whose deeds of valour dated no 
 earlier than our own century ; spirits which 
 had once been embodied in the devoted Bre- 
 ton peasantry, who, led on by the noble- 
 hearted George Cadoudal, fell in deadly hand- 
 to-hand combat with the hlcus, and were 
 buried — the poor ignorant worshippers of a 
 degraded dynasty — beneath the cabbage- 
 plants and haricots of the old-fashioned 
 potagers. 
 
 The Comte de Rouvray was Carlist and Le- 
 gitimist to the backbone, and as devoted an 
 adherent to the Bourbon family as ever united 
 Armorican obstinacy with the fervour and en- 
 thusiasm of the Gallic character. But whilst 
 thus portraying the distinguishing feature of 
 Monsieur de Rouvray 's character, we must do 
 him the justice to add that it was only on 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 35 
 
 the broad principle of the divine right of 
 kings that the count based his adherence to 
 the worn-out, guilty race of those 
 
 ' Whom time has swept 
 In fragments towards oblivion ; ' 
 
 for in his inmost heart he was a Liberal ; his 
 naturally acute perceptions having been 
 quickened by foreign travel, and by compar- 
 isons which could not fail being disadvan- 
 tageous to the banished idol of his neighbours, 
 and his friends. For everyone around the 
 chateau was Carlist enrage. Gentle and 
 simple, landlord and tenant, count and coun- 
 tryman, all were alike imbued with the un- 
 fortunate prejudice that the King, id est, 
 Henri Cinq, bloated, priest-ridden, and brain- 
 less though he was, could do no wrong ; and 
 that Monsieur Buonaparte — Emperor as he 
 had the audacity to call himself — was a man- 
 nequin, and a mistake. Madame la Com- 
 tesse uas an imaginary invalid, and a real 
 ' fine lady ; ' exclusive and aristocratic, ex- 
 
 D 2 
 
36 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 pensive, fantastical, and capricious, she was 
 the very last woman in the world to content 
 herself with the almost rustic society of the 
 Breton nobles and their families. The 
 greater portion, therefore, of her life had been 
 spent in her adored Paris, where she had 
 conducted herself pretty much as others of 
 her degree and temperament : that is to say, 
 she had dressed and danced, and coquetted, 
 as long as a remnant of youth and beauty 
 clung to her — and now ! Ah, well ! the con- 
 dition of a superannuated coquette is one to 
 moralize on, and the poor countess, as line 
 after line of silver traced themselves on her 
 dark hair, and the feet of time, taking the 
 semblance of a black bird of evil omen, left 
 indelible marks around her once eloquent 
 eyes, was indeed a woman to be pitied. It 
 was dreadful to see her * velvet friends ' — the 
 soft-spoken lovers of her elegant matronhood 
 — pass by the stricken deer unheedingly ; 
 dreadful to see that fairer, younger faces 
 were set up as idols in the niches which had 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 37 
 
 once been hers. So the ' stricken deer ' re- 
 tired to weep among the flowering genets of 
 her native Brittany, and, sending for the 
 family cure, took counsel with him, and with 
 what, in her self-satisfied delusion, she dared 
 to call her ' conscience ! ' for her future gui- 
 dance in a world which no longer admitted 
 her as a sharer in its tumultuous pleasures. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 * I will Eot speak — I will not speak to thee, 
 My star ! and soon to be my lost, lost star ; 
 The sweetest, first that ever shone on me.' 
 
 Madame de Rouvray was a lady entre les 
 deux ages, a beauty long past her prime — a 
 coquette whose powers of tantalizing were 
 rapidly passing away. She saw and she ad- 
 mired the beautiful * Southerner,' for her taste 
 had — as she repeatedly assured — always led 
 her to the appreciation of such sunny charms 
 as those possessed in their perfection by her 
 daughter's friend. She was herself a bru- 
 nette ; in the days of her youth her com- 
 |)lexion had been one of her chief attractions, 
 but dissipation and cosmetics, poudre de riz, 
 and couleur de rose vegetal had changed it 
 now, for not even the exceeding pains taken 
 by a ci-devant French beauty can make the 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 39 
 
 poor fading flower ' beautiful for ever.' She 
 had never thought much of Pauline's looks, 
 but Cherie — so she was pleased to say — 
 reminded her of her own ' style,' and became 
 at once her ' chere belle,' her plaything, and 
 her heroine. For she built up a little castle 
 immediately^ though with very slender ma- 
 terials it must be admitted, and in that castle 
 the lovely Zoe was to live in the delight of 
 being her friend and protegee till such time 
 as she should become the gay Parisian wife 
 of a very young marquis in whose welfare 
 the countess took a decided and tender 
 interest. 
 
 But in all these plans and projects Zoe 
 herself took little or no share. She was de- 
 lighted with her new life — delighted as a 
 child might be with the beautiful country, 
 the exquisite gardens, the profusion of roses 
 in the parterres, and of orange flowers in the 
 lofty conservatories, for the count was a man 
 of wealth, — of wealth which would have been 
 accounted such even in our own land of 
 
40 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 moneyed princes ; and here, why he was a 
 millionnaire, and of course in that capacity 
 received and gladly accepted his proper meed 
 of respectful adulation. So pleasant was that 
 chateau life, and so unwilling was Madame 
 de Rouvray to part from the young guest, for 
 whom she had taken one of those engouements 
 so habitual to her sex on the retour, that 
 Zoe's visit was protracted far beyond its 
 original limits, and the month of October had 
 arrived before there seemed any real proba- 
 bility of the departure of the welcome visitor. 
 The amusements provided for her, though 
 not varied in their character, were infinitely 
 to her taste, and pre-eminent above them all 
 was the almost daily ride over the broom- 
 covered lands and through the wooded lanes 
 of that picturesque and beautiful locality. 
 As a cicerone and intelligent companion 
 Alfred was invaluable, having always ready 
 from amon^jst his varied stores of knowledire 
 some tale or legend illustrative of the ancient 
 days when the Druids worshipped amongst 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 41 
 
 their far-spread Dolmens, those strangely 
 heaped-up giant stones — rude altars where 
 the Celtic priests performed the sacred rites 
 of their mysterious faith. Zoe was never tired 
 of what in vulgar parlance is called ' looking 
 about her.' She was the most satisfactory of 
 sight-seers. Her questions were always well 
 considered and to the purpose, while as a 
 listener she fully justified the opinion which 
 those questions led the inquirer to form of 
 her intelligence. Then, too, the infinite va- 
 riety which is found in actual life, and which 
 to fresh and 'unhlases' spirits 'custom can 
 never stale,' was enhanced and multiplied a 
 hundred-fold by an imagination teeming with 
 love for the beautiful and the refined. 
 
 * Pleasanter than the Rue La Grange, is it 
 not, my Cherie ? ' Pauline said one sunny 
 morning when the friends were lingering in 
 the basse cour, watching old Barbette, the hen- 
 wife, as she sprinkled corn in liberal handfuls 
 before the eager feathered claimants on her 
 bounty — * Pleasanter to see that splendid 
 
42 Zoe's 'Brand: \ 
 
 fellow of a peacock strutting about in his gay 
 plumage, than to watch the old, old, dusty 1 
 
 trees trying to push out their unwilling leaves, ; 
 
 and then — ah, Cherie, what a disappointment \ 
 
 are summers and autumns within those four ; 
 
 high walls — ' 
 
 * And with a dozen governesses impressing 
 on one the rules of grammar and deportment 
 throughout the gayest, brightest season of the \ 
 year,' laughed Zoe. 
 
 * Ilein, hein, mes demoiselles,' broke in at ; 
 this juncture the jovial voice of the Comte de i 
 Rouvray. ' Com?nent you find to amuse your- \ 
 selves with w^atching the table d'hote of all the j 
 poultry ? Ce que c'est to be young — un gre-^ 
 nier — what is it the old poet says? — is as good J 
 as a loge an premier when one is under twenty.' 1 
 
 Pauline, who was the most affectionate j 
 
 of daughters, and by w^hom a filial veil was 
 gently drawn over the comte's frequent lite- 
 rary blunders, drew her arm tenderly through \ 
 his, saying coaxingly, 
 
 * Is it true, cher papa, that we are to have a j 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 43 
 
 cliasse, a grande cbasse, a chasse au saiiglier ? 
 Jean -Marie says so, but I never half believe 
 him ; and we all kno\y that the season for 
 the chasse is not yet open. 
 
 * Not too fast, my child, this time, for, in 
 order to initiate Mademoiselle Gordon into 
 the mysteries of our forest sports, there has 
 been a deputation to the Mairie stating that 
 the wild boars are devastating the crops, and 
 therefore Jean-Marie has received his orders, 
 which will be followed by a chasse on a grand 
 scale to-morrow.' 
 
 Pauline's ecstasy on receiving this con- 
 firmation of her hopes was unbounded. 
 Dancing round her father and her friends in 
 the fulness of her glee, she endeavoured 
 incoherently enough to obtain fuller particu- 
 lars regarding the programme of the mor- 
 row's sports. 
 
 * We are to ride, of course, papa. Che'rie, 
 Zoe, won't it be too heavenly? Such hosts 
 of chasseurs! Such a fanfare of horns, and 
 such delightful gallops on the turf! Oh, liow 
 
44 Zoes 'Brand/ 
 
 I wish that to-morrow would only come, and 
 that we were already in our saddles ! ' 
 
 The morrow came at length, and truth to 
 say, quite soon enough for Zoe, whose antici- 
 pations of pleasure were not quite so exalted 
 as her friend's. The sports were to begin 
 betimes, so that the dew was scarcely off the 
 grass when beneath their open chamber 
 windows the cheering sounds of the reveille 
 ringing out from many a cor de chasse 
 burst on the ears of the still slumbering 
 maidens. 
 
 Yery bright they looked as they gazed out 
 upon the assembled horsemen, and every hat 
 and hunting-cap was raised when the two 
 graceful figures, equipped en Amazone, made 
 their appearance amongst the assembled 
 sportsmen. It is not my purpose to relate in 
 detail the events of that memorable day. 
 Suffice it to say, as regarded the general 
 arrangements of the chasse, that there was not 
 more than the usual amount of vociferation, 
 horn-blowing, '5acr^'-ing, and blundering. Of 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 45 
 
 the latter, I ought, perhaps, to make an ex- 
 ception, since, ov/ing to an unpardonable 
 mistake on the part of a stout elderly gen- 
 tleman, who filled the important post of 
 master of the hounds, an event occurred 
 which went near to plunge into the deepest 
 distress the universally respected family of 
 the De Rouvray. 
 
 It chanced that in one of the broad glades 
 from which diverged many of the narrower 
 forest sides, Alfred de Rouvray, with the two 
 young ladies under his charge, halted for a 
 moment under a spreading oak, and listened 
 in the pleasant shade to the distant baying of 
 the hounds, as their mellow tones died away 
 among the thickets. Alfred had dismounted 
 to tighten his saddle girths, and was for the 
 moment entirely absorbed in the occupation, 
 when a loud scream from Pauline arrested 
 her friend's attention, and, looking round, the 
 latter perceived a gigantic wild boar with 
 bristles erect and long tusks gleaming in the 
 sunshine, making straight across the glade in 
 
46 Zoes ^ Brand.' 
 
 which they were standing, and apparently 
 charging directly at Alfred de Rouvray, who, 
 at the moment, had his back turned to the 
 spot from whence the infuriated beast had 
 issued. Zoe had heard wonderful stories of 
 the brute's ferocity ; the approach of the 
 animal implied imminent danger to Alfred, 
 and therefore, following the impulse of the 
 moment, she, infinitely to Pauline's horror, 
 endeavoured by whip and rein to urge the 
 spirited little animal she rode, to place her- 
 self between Monsieur de Rouvray and his 
 foe. In this she was signally unsuccessful, 
 for the horse, naturally averse to face the 
 ugly animal before him, reared violently, and 
 his hind feet coming in contact with the long 
 half-exposed roots of an adjacent oak tree, he 
 fell with great violence to the ground. A 
 moment before — for the whole scene passed 
 almost in the twinkling of an eye — De 
 Rouvray had become aware of the young 
 girl's object, and had hurried to her assist- 
 ance, with an attempt to seize the bridle of 
 
Zoes 'Brand: Al 
 
 her horse. He was, as we have seen, too 
 late, for she lay there stretched upon the 
 green sward, the long skirt of her habit en- 
 tangling her limbs, and with the wild boar's 
 glaring eyes and formidable tusks within an 
 arm's length of the terror-stricken girl. Only 
 for a moment, only for one single second, did 
 the horrid sight appal her, and the hot fetid 
 breath penetrate her nostrils ; for ere the 
 prayer for mercy to her God could pass her 
 lips, Alfred de Rouvray's hunting knife had 
 struck the coup de grace, and the unwieldy 
 beast, which, as they afterwards discovered, 
 had been maddened by a severe wound from 
 the gun of old Jean-Marie, rolled over on 
 the soft-yielding turf, struggling in his death- 
 agony, and deluging with his blood the torn 
 dress of the rescued girl. 
 
 ' A life for a life ! ' cried Alfred, as he raised 
 her faint and giddy but uninjured from the 
 ground — ' Zoe ' — it was the first time that he 
 had called by her name — ' Zoe, but for you 
 that goaded animal might have attacked me 
 
48 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 unawares, and with one of those formidable 
 tusks of his have left me bleeding out my 
 life upon the ground even as he is now.' 
 
 Cherie was supporting herself upon his 
 arm, whilst Pauline alternately laughing and 
 sobbing out her congratulations, was en- 
 deavouring (for she too had dismounted) to 
 arrange her friend's disordered dress, and pour 
 out eager thanks, which Zoe, as soon as she 
 found words to reply, utterly disclaimed. 
 
 ' I don't know why I urged poor Correntin 
 into the affray,' she said, with a little nervous 
 laugh, ' and after all, I dare say the ugly 
 creature would have done no harm, but 
 afterwards, when he was furious and excited — 
 Ah 1 Monsieur de Rouvray ! ' and she closed 
 her eyes at the terrible recollection, ' Ah ! 
 Monsieur de Kouvray! I owe my life per- 
 haps to you, and never, never, while I live 
 will I forget your kindness.' 
 
 They were simple words, coming from a 
 simple childlike nature, and addressed to 
 one almost as guileless and frank-hearted as 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 49 
 
 herself. Alfred de Rouvray, moreover, was 
 one amongst the many of his sex to whom 
 anything approaching to the nature of a scene 
 was, especially in the presence of a spectator, 
 an annoyance unspeakable ; so it followed, 
 that with a kind of British phlegm he 
 smothered his own emotion, and having 
 assisted the ladies to remount, they — stimu- 
 lated by his wise example — soon recovered 
 their composure. On their way home, and 
 after the accident (as it was tacitly agreed to 
 call it) had been fully commented on, the 
 conversation grew into a discussion on Armo- 
 rican bravery, and on the stolidity of charac- 
 ter evinced in many of the habits and 
 customs of the Breton peasantry. 
 
 Zoe was strenuous in her admiration of 
 these quahties in Alfred's countrymen, dwell- 
 ing especially on their coolness in danger, 
 and their composure at the hour of death. 
 
 'So courageous and unselfish,' she re- 
 marked, ' it is of the aged people when their 
 end approaches to bid the young and strong 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 go out to labour, whilst the great-grand si re 
 remains upon his bed of death to face the 
 King of Terrors alone/ 
 
 * I am afraid/ said De Rouvray, looking 
 admiringly at her sweet expressive face, ' 1 
 am afraid that sentiment is not amongst the 
 striking characteristics of my countrymen. 
 Our physical fibres are tough, and I am in- 
 clined to believe that both the courage you 
 admire, and the feeling of which you regret 
 the absence, are the consequence of a dull 
 thickness of nerves, which renders us in a 
 great measure independent of outward influ- 
 ences.' 
 
 ' Cest ceh: put in Pauline, ' for, do you re- 
 member, Alfred, the wife of old Pierre, who, 
 when he was so ill last year, would not ex- 
 pend a centime for his recovery ? * 
 
 * Exactly ; she was recommended by Mon- 
 sieur Morville, the Cure, to strengthen up 
 her aged helpmate with chicken broth — ** Not 
 she, indeed! she was not going to lose her 
 husband and her hen too ! " ' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand; 51 
 
 Zoe laughed, and called her an odious, hor- 
 rid woman. She could not bear, she said, to 
 live amongst such heartless creatures. In 
 her own country, on her father's plantation, 
 there was no heartlessness. If one of the 
 old grey-headed negroes was sick, there was 
 such a fuss made about him. The * massa,' 
 her good, kind father, was sent for, and then 
 the doctor, and the minister — their own 
 negro clergyman who sang such wonderful 
 hymns ! 
 
 * I can remember so well,' she went on to 
 say, *a certain very old man called Caesar: 
 he had long been past work, but he had been 
 all his life on the plantation, and so, I be- 
 lieve, had his father before him ; so my 
 father was more kind to him even than to 
 the others, and Caesar, dear, good old fellow, 
 was indulged in every whim and fancy. ' 
 
 ' Eh Men ?' said Pauline, interrogatively. 
 
 * Well, one day he was very sick, and a 
 message came post haste from the negio 
 quarters to say so ; I recollect we were all 
 
 E 2 
 
52 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 at breakfast— it was in the summer time — 
 and the doors and windows were wide open, 
 with such a perfume of orange blossoms 
 floating through the room — I really think, 
 Pauline, that one reason why I love this 
 place so much is, because of the delicious 
 scent, which reminds me of my beloved home 
 in dear Louisiana.' 
 
 * But, did the old man die ? ' asked 
 Pauline, whose curiosity w^as not quelled by 
 her friend's enthusiastic parenthesis. 
 
 ' Yes, he died, and with my father's hand 
 in his. 1 went with him to the hut; my 
 mother did not wish it ; she said I was not 
 old enough to see such sights ; but I would 
 go. I am afraid that I did everything I 
 liked, and the scene made the most vivid im- 
 pression on me. Old Cscsar, with his black 
 face, and head as white as snow, lying in his 
 bed and putting out a great bony hand to 
 "massa," which he took, and as I told you 
 held, till his old servant had gone to what 
 Junius (the negro minister) called the land of 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 53 
 
 Canaan. I remember that he tried hard 
 to speak, but only said, " good massa ; " and 
 his " old woman " guided his other hand 
 to my head, and he murmured, " Good Jesus, 
 bless little missy," and then it was all 
 over/ 
 
 The tears rose to the girl's eyes at the 
 recollection she had invoked, but she 
 choked them back, as out of place and 
 foolish ; besides, a bolder, higher resolution 
 was at work within her, whilst she added 
 in a voice rendered somewhat husky by 
 emotion, 
 
 * If it ever please God that I return to 
 my native land — and if — if the possession of 
 what people here call slaves should pass into 
 my hands, my life shall be spent in making 
 theirs happy, and in proving to others my 
 sense of the fearful responsibilities laid upon 
 the rich and powerful.' 
 
 Alfred sighed — a quiet unheard sigh — 
 when Zoe spoke so unconcernedly of a life so 
 far away from him and Europe ; and then, 
 
54 Zoes 'Brand.' 
 
 silence falling on the little party, no other 
 word was said till a joyous welcome from a 
 throng of animated sportsmen greeted them 
 at the chateau gates. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ' Fie ! the old story ! 
 Tell me a better for my money, 
 Not this old woman's tale.' 
 
 During the three months of delicious holi- 
 day spent by Zoe at the old chateau in the 
 Landes, Alfred de Rouvray, as is only reason- 
 able to suppose, fell hopelessly and irretriev- 
 ably in love with his mother's young guest and 
 favourite. Nor was love with the usually 
 somewhat unimpressionable Breton gentle- 
 man, an affair to be lightly spoken of — for 
 it "took strong and entire possession of his 
 heart, grappling closely into those tough 
 fibres of his sturdy Armorican nature, some of 
 which Alfred had once spoken of to Zoe as 
 his countrymen's best safeguard against the 
 dangers of sentimentalism. The more in- 
 tensely did he feel the encroachments of this 
 
56 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 new enemy to his peace, the less inclination 
 did the Yicomte feel to betray the pleasing 
 torments he was enduring. It formed part 
 of his habits and character to be reserved 
 and silent, and thus it was that as the time 
 wore on, and one day of bliss succeeded to 
 another, his heart beat faster beneath the 
 sunshine of Zoe's radiant beauty, the armour 
 of his stolid (apparent) indifference grew 
 more impervious, till the girl who really liked 
 and valued Pauline's brother, began to fear 
 that he saw something in her character or 
 conduct to disapprove or condemn. 
 
 On this point — when she made known her 
 apprehensions to her friend — the latter re- 
 assured her at once. 
 
 ' Alfred was always odd,' she said. Cetait 
 un coeur d'or — but it lay deep, deep in its own 
 mine; and she doubted whether the woman 
 lived who could dig out the hidden treasure.' 
 
 *And then he is so fond of reading,' Zoe 
 would add ; * I wish I was clever as he is, 
 and could talk to him about all those books. 
 
Zoes ^ Brand.' 57 
 
 But I think he likes my singing — at least 
 he is always silent, and seems to listen.' 
 
 Like her singing! Ah ! could that im- 
 pulsive heart have only guessed the almost 
 painful thrill which every note of her exquisite 
 voice sent through the frame that looked so 
 entirely untouched by love, she would have 
 marvelled at her power, and perhaps — but 
 no, women are ' kittle cattle' — as I once 
 heard them described by a man of low degree, 
 and Zoe was probably nearer to appreciating 
 the taciturn Alfred when she deemed him im- 
 pervious to her attractions than she would 
 have been, could she have known how poor a 
 slave her beauty made him. 
 
 Jt wanted but three days to the one 
 appointed for the return of Zoe to her con- 
 vent-like school, and the girl's heart was very 
 heavy at the thoughts of the coming separa- 
 tion; for, alas! there would be no Pauline 
 to make the heavy hours fly more blithely ; 
 since it had been decided that the days of 
 Mademoiselle de Rouvray's education were 
 
58 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 over, and that it was time for her to make 
 her appearance in society. 
 
 * But my darling Cherie,' Pauline promised 
 through her tears, * we shall meet again in 
 the winter, when we come to Paris. You 
 know how fond mamma is of vou, and as for 
 papa, why, you perform miracles ! He makes 
 a toilette in the evening for you, and has 
 given up many a rough Breton habit for " cette 
 charmante Mademoiselle de Gordon: " 
 
 *Dear Monsieur,' exclaimed Cherie, with 
 the peculiarly lovely smile which utterly un- 
 known to herself turned the head of everyone 
 of the male sex who came within its influence ; 
 * dear Monsieur de Rouvray ! Je Vaime tant. 
 11 est si hon — si — / ' 
 
 Pauline laughed, while her brother's brow 
 grew dark — for in truth the comte being a 
 very young-looking and handsome man of 
 forty-five, had — as Pauline had just observed, 
 become much more civilized in his manners 
 and habits during the visit of his beautiful 
 guest. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 59 
 
 * Don't say that to papa, Cherie,' said Pau- 
 line. *I have heard that he was till very 
 lately extremely proud of his many successes, 
 and — ' 
 
 But what more she might have added was 
 cut short by her brother, who (for they were 
 taking their daily ride) stopped his small 
 Breton steed before the doors of a cottage 
 they were passing, and in a loud voice inquired 
 for * Jeromic' 
 
 * O ia,' cried a voice from the interior of 
 the cottage, while from the door there issued 
 a fine specimen of a Celt, in the shape of a 
 stalwart young farmer, clad in the national 
 costume, namely, a violet-coloured jacket, 
 plentifully adorned with plated buttons, 
 enormously full knickerbocker-like nether 
 garments made of drab-coloured serge, wooden 
 sabots^ and brown worsted stockings ; his long 
 hair fell down far below his shoulders, and a 
 felt hat, low-crowned, and with an enormously 
 broad brim, covered his thick Breton skull. 
 
 To the least experienced observers among 
 
60 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 whom might certainly be reckoned the two 
 young ladies ^vho were stationed on either 
 side of Monsieur le Yicomte, Jeromic's 
 state of demi-inebriation must have been fully 
 apparent. The fact was that he had with his 
 commeres and comperes been drinking to the 
 health of his first nouveau ne — whose appear- 
 ance in this world of care had just been 
 hailed inside the cottage with uproarious 
 rejoicings. The young ladies could, without 
 manifesting any undue curiosity, obtain a view 
 of the interior of the domicile, and great was 
 Zoe's astonishment thereat. Sitting up in 
 the narrow box-like bed, situated half-way 
 between the floor and ceiling, was the newly- 
 made mother, her face flushed, and eager, as 
 she extended a hand embrowned and hardened 
 by field work for the brimming goblet of hot 
 wine presented to her by the all-omnipotent 
 sage-femme. 
 
 That autocrat, whose countenance bore 
 evident tokens of a tendency to inebriating 
 drinks, was standing on the long wooden 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 61 
 
 bench which forms a very necessary step by 
 means of which the nightly resting-places of 
 the Armorican peasants are safely arrived at. 
 The room — the only one the cottage contained 
 — was tolerably spacious, but rendered close 
 and unwholesome by reason of the influx of 
 sympathizing friends, and the volumes of wood 
 smoke pouring from the great open fire-place. 
 
 Alfred de Rouvray, with whom the Breton 
 language was familiar as the French which 
 he habitually spoke — inquired kindly of Jero- 
 mic regarding his wife's health, and congra- 
 tulated him on the birth of his son and heir. 
 
 Monsieur Jeromic scratched his head, with 
 a look upon his half-tipsy face compounded 
 of sleepishness, and gratified paternal pride. 
 A vague idea of his duties as a host had also 
 occurred to him, which — considering the 
 exalted worldly position of his visitors, added 
 to his embarrassment. He remembered — in 
 the midst of his bewilderment — that it was an 
 Armorican custom to present, on such an 
 occasion as the present, the ' Welcome cup 
 
62 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 to all comers' — nor did it altogether escape 
 his memory that a draught taken from the 
 same cup (when a health was drunk to the 
 young mother) by unmarried young persons 
 of opposite sexes was almost certain — accord- 
 ing to popular belief — to entail, in due course 
 of time, a blissful union between the parties. 
 
 Something to this effect was suggested with 
 a clownish look of * knowingness' by the 
 young farmer as he offered a horn goblet 
 brimming with cider to his landlord's son. 
 The words were said in French, and Alfred, 
 fearing that Zoe might overhear and catch 
 their import (which indeed she had done, for 
 the maiden's ears, like her every other faculty, 
 were sharp enough), promptly, but kindly, 
 refused the offered civility, preparing, as he 
 did to take his leave. 
 
 * Kenavo ' * he said, preferring at that 
 moment the use of a language that the young 
 ladies did not comprehend — and holding out 
 his hand to the rather discomfited Jeromic. 
 
 • Adieu. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 63 
 
 * Kenavo,' responded the latter. " Mes 
 deut c'hoaz, Monsieur, deuet ! " * 
 
 Alfred nodded his head as he rode from 
 the door ; a kind, frank smile lighting up his 
 face till it was turned away from the hospi- 
 table young farmer ; but then Zoe noticed 
 that an expression of sorrow stole over his 
 features. 
 
 ' What was the meaning of his last words ? ' 
 she asked. * What a strangely sounding lan- 
 guage it is.' 
 
 * Not more strange I suspect than any other 
 language to which our ears are unaccustomed. 
 Jeromic pressed me, according to the custom 
 of the country, to enter, or at least to return 
 and make one of the festive scene. Poor 
 people ! They are all more than half-drunk 
 as it is, and before night closes in there will 
 not be a man or woman, the interesting 
 accouchee probably included, capable of under- 
 standing a word that is spoken. So certain 
 
 ♦ But come again, sir — come again. 
 
64 Zoe's- 'Brand: 
 
 is it that extremes, both of joy and sorrow, 
 lead the poor and the uneducated to vice/ 
 
 The conversation after this opening turned 
 upon the habits, temptations, and yieldings 
 thereto of the ' milHon' in the various por- 
 tions of the world known to, or read of, by 
 Alfred de Rouvray. As may be supposed the 
 limited experience of the Paris pensionnaires 
 doomed them to be listeners — willinof ones, 
 however, to the remarks of one whom in 
 wisdom they looked up to as an oracle. Per- 
 haps to Pauline, whom nature had certainly 
 never intended to be either a deep thinker, or 
 a clear-sighted reasoner, the gravity of the 
 subject had begun to be wearisome, when — 
 how it occurred matters little — De Rouvray 
 began to touch upon the condition of the 
 negro slave. Then Pauline brightened up, 
 for anything appertaining to her friend's 
 country had interest for her ; and even Zoe 
 felt justified on such a question in hinting at 
 an opinion of her own. 
 
 ' I do not see,' she said, ' how they can 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 65 
 
 commit crimes ; they do not appear to me to 
 have the power or the opportunity.' 
 
 * I am afraid/ rejoined Alfred, ' that weak 
 and wicked human nature will find and make 
 opportunities for transgression, however slight 
 and few may appear the temptations to err.' 
 
 * But I never saw or heard of one of the 
 Plantation negroes ever being intoxicated,' 
 said Zoe eagerly. ' They would have been too 
 ashamed of it, I am sure, and Uncle Junius, 
 that was their preacher, never had to speak to 
 them about drunkenness. I was very young 
 when I left America, but I well remember a 
 conversation between my father and a gentle- 
 man whom he called after his departure a 
 cold-blooded Yankee ; and my father said 
 that it was such a great thing to keep so 
 many naturally weak-minded, helpless human 
 beings safe from temptation and the pollution 
 of a wicked world.' 
 
 * And,' rejoined Alfred, * those who would 
 by emancipating those millions, throw them 
 on their own feeble resources, and send them 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 forth, unguarded and uncared for, upon the 
 world of which they know so little, incur a 
 terrible responsibility, and one which they 
 certainly do not appear in the slightest degree 
 to feel. I am very badly up,' he added, ' on 
 this most important subject, but when I see 
 the frightful state of demoralization which in 
 other countries disgraces those who call them- 
 selves free ; when I see our own peasantry 
 of both sexes indulging habitually in the dis- 
 ofustinof vice of drunkenness; when I see ' — but 
 here, recollecting probably the nature of his 
 audience, he stopped short, adding, after a few 
 moments' pause, ' Oh, well, it is easy enough 
 to be wise for others, and legislation for our 
 neighbours appears often to be a facile task 
 enough. It has always been an object of my 
 ambition to visit those far-famed Slave States,' 
 — his colour rose a little as he spoke — * and — 
 and Miss Gordon — perhaps.' 
 
 He could not go on. The wild blood 
 rushed tumultuously to his heart, and his 
 utterance was choked. Zoe and his sister 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 67 
 
 fancied it was by that prosaic thing, a cough 
 (for with a womanlike instinct the shy Breton 
 gentleman concealed his emotion), and so 
 they kindly allowed their companion time to 
 recover himself, the little party, meanwhile, 
 pursuing their way in silence. 
 
 f2 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 * For love, and beauty, and delight 
 There is no death, nor change : their might 
 Exceeds our organs, which endui'e 
 No light, being themselves obscure.' 
 
 The eve of Zoe's departure from Peunevic 
 was marked by one of those delicious autumn 
 days which tell of the summer's lingering 
 Sflorv. A mellow richness fell over each 
 decaying leaf — the latest roses of the year 
 sent up a faint dying fragrance ; and Zoe, 
 her heart full of the bitterness of coming part- 
 ing, strolled (for the last time) with Alfred by 
 her side, along the trim garden walks. She 
 had grown to be very frank with Pauline's 
 brother, and in the fulness of her heart she 
 told him of her grief. 
 
 * What shall I do without dear Pauline in 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 69 
 
 that horrid Rue La Grange,' she cried. ' Mon- 
 sieur de Rouvray, you have seen the place — 
 say, is it not like a prison ? or, plutot, ]\ke a 
 maison de sante? One cannot get out — one 
 cannot breathe the air of freedom ! Ah, how 
 I long to be free. Freedom is my best idea 
 of Heaven! Freedom in the sky like the 
 birds in their winged quest, or the butterflies 
 that settle on their own dear flowers. I would 
 have no will but mine to guide me — no voice 
 to tell me that I must go hither and thither 
 at its will ! ' 
 
 Alfred de Rouvray looked at the dark 
 flashing eyes, and marked the heaving breast, 
 panting at the very idea of possible coercion. 
 Verily, it was an untamed spirit that beat 
 within that matchless form, and yet all seemed 
 to breathe of a nature so purely and so softly 
 feminine, that the thoughts of silken fetters 
 woven by love's skilful hand presented them- 
 selves to her companion's fancy ; and Alfred 
 de Rouvray longed to ask her whether there 
 might not be some spell of power strong 
 
70 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 enough to bind her, and some chains that 
 woukl enslave yet gall her not. 
 
 They wandered on amidst the flower-beds, 
 talking of the future — to Zoe in her eager 
 youth it seemed an age till they would all 
 meet again in the great city — and when she 
 would be initiated, as the timorous lover 
 feared, into some of fashion's secrets. 
 
 The anticipation of their reunion was the 
 only consolation which presented itself to the 
 sorrowing girl, and as she dwelt upon the 
 delight with which she would hail Pauline's 
 return to Paris, Alfred could not but hope 
 that his presence was included amongst the 
 longed-for pleasures of companionship. 
 
 And yet he could not summon courage to 
 say one word in furtherance of his cause ! 
 His dread of summary rejection w^as so in- 
 tense and overpowering, that the darkness of 
 an imaginary eclipse shut out the faint glim- 
 mering of hope that sometimes flickered up 
 within him. * What,' he asked himself, ' would 
 be his fate if Zoe, disgusted with his boldness, 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 71 
 
 and utterly disdaining one so little worthy of 
 her peerless beauty should turn that sweetest 
 of sweet faces from him for ever ? ' No — he 
 could not risk it — at least not now\ But he 
 would wait, Miss Gordon was so very young, 
 and — Dieu merci, as he reminded himself in 
 a fervent mental whisper, * she leads in Paris 
 an almost conventual life, so that I need fear 
 no rivals in her affections.' 
 
 Rivals ! Affections ! Ah, was he insane 
 enough to fancy that he had made so much 
 impression on her pure maiden heart that he 
 had a right to deem the approaches of another 
 an encroachment on his rights ? Was he fool 
 enough to imagine that his image filled her 
 memory for an instant, or that his presence 
 gladdened with one gleam of sunlight the 
 moments as they passed ? 
 
 Alfred de Rouvray, lover though he was, 
 had 'about him' all the senses with which 
 Providence had enlightened his easily self- 
 deluded sex, and gladly as he would have 
 persuaded himself that his sister's friend was 
 
72 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 not entirely heart-whole, conscience, which 
 in such cases is wide awake when self-love 
 does not lull it to slumber, spoke out boldly 
 to the fact that Zoe's heart was as yet * white 
 and unwritten ' as a 'virgin page.' * Pure, calm 
 and sweet, as flowers sleeping upon snow.' 
 
 But grave and quiet although he seemed, 
 Alfred was not without some experience of 
 woman's inner nature, and he saw that in 
 the fair girl beside him, which convinced him 
 that peacefully as the pure heart slumbered 
 now, the awakening at the first touch of 
 passion w^ould be as the burst of smouldering 
 fire from the mine — or as the forked flash 
 lighting the sombre sky. She was so danger- 
 ously impulsive — at least she seemed so to 
 the prudent Breton gentleman. Her thoughts, 
 her ideas, ay, even her opinions, young al- 
 though she was, were poured forth, too, with 
 such a perilous spontaneousness, that as the 
 man who had begun to worship the very 
 ground on which she trod, listened to her 
 unreflectino^ confidences, he felt that for one 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 73 
 
 so unrestrained, and free of thought and word, 
 there did indeed require a guiding hand to 
 lead her with those chains of * silken fetters ' 
 on her way. 
 
 Meanwhile, and despite the burning words 
 of passion which one encouraging look from 
 those deep, fathomless eyes would have called 
 forth in a quenchless stream, Monsieur de 
 Rouvray continued to converse in tones which 
 betrayed no symptom of emotion to the young 
 guest whose companionship he v^as so soon 
 to lose. 
 
 'I am glad/ lie said, ' that you have made 
 acquaintance with our old haraque in the 
 summer time. You will retain, I hope, some 
 not altogether unpleasant recollections of it 
 now, whereas — ' 
 
 *0h, Monsieur de Rouvray! how can you 
 talk so coldly about dear beautiful Penne- 
 vic ? If you did but know how happy I have 
 been ! As long as I live I shall remember 
 our walks and rides. Our gallops on the 
 common, and over the purple heather : and 
 
74 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 then our ponies creeping along the lanes so 
 bright with flowers ! No — I shall never 
 forget it all — Never forget the kindness you 
 have all shown to me — a poor exile, a poor 
 neglected unhappy prisoner ! It is hard,' she 
 went on eagerly to say, * It is hard, is it not, 
 to be away so many years from those we 
 love? From those who love us too — and 
 when I have seen other girls go home, and 
 only poor little Naide and I left to sorrow in 
 that dreadful school, I have felt very lonely 
 and deserted.' 
 
 *That must never happen again,' said the 
 Vicomte, drawing a long breath, * and Made- 
 moiselle — ' 
 
 'Ah, please to call me Zoe — or Cherie 
 even, if you do not mind, and then I shall 
 almost feel as if I had a brother ; I shall feel 
 you love me as you do Pauline.' 
 
 If the sweet languid eyes had been veiled 
 for a passing moment by their jetty fringes, 
 or if one faintest tinge of colour had glowed 
 upon her clear, pale cheek, Alfred would have 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 75 
 
 fallen at her feet, and poured forth such 
 declarations of love, that she must perforce 
 have pitied, even though she did not respond 
 — and — (for who can judge in present time of 
 what the past might have brought forth ?) — 
 those offered treasures silently accepted, might 
 have been the secret spells to work an answer- 
 ing guerdon from a grateful heart. But Cherie 
 did not blush, neither did her low voice falter, 
 so Monsieur de Rouvray contented himself, 
 after rather a lengthened pause, with making 
 some irrelevant remarks about the scenery, 
 the climate, the severity of the winters, and 
 finally about the wolves who, in the winter 
 nights, howled their dismal requiems around 
 the chateau's walls. 
 
 ' How I should hke to hear them ! ' the 
 girl exclaimed. ' I don't know why it is, but 
 I seem to feel a kind of interest in, and 
 sympathy with, all wild animals. I suppose 
 it is because they are free — free to roam 
 where and when they will. Do you under- 
 stand me ? ' she continued, stopping suddenly 
 
76 Zoph 'Brand: 
 
 and lookiiify into her companion's eyes. ' I 
 think you do. I felt you did that day when 
 we went down the river to the sea, and the 
 wind blew, and the boat rushed on so fast, 
 half under water, rising and falling on the 
 waves. I was not the least frightened — I 
 felt it was glorious to be free — ' 
 
 * " No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, 
 All earth forgot, and all Heaven around us," ' 
 
 quoted Alfred, who was an admirable linguist, 
 and with whom English poetry of the lighter 
 kind was very favourite reading. 
 
 * Ah ! do you know that melody ? Is it 
 not exquisite ? I will sing it to you to-night, 
 and she warbled as if half unconsciously but 
 with a heart-stirring pathos which deepened 
 the spell of the sweet tones she breathed — 
 
 ' " Come wherever the wild wind blows ; 
 Seasons may roU 
 But the true soul 
 Burns the same where'er it goes." ' 
 
 They were beyond the garden now — be- 
 yond the pine trees waving their tall branches 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 77 
 
 to the autumn breeze — beyond the farthest 
 iron gates through which you entered the 
 home domain of the De Rouvrays — and with 
 feet pressing down the thyme leaves, they 
 sauntered slowly on, inhaling the fresh air of 
 Heaven as it was wafted over the open landes, 
 
 * Pauline says that the lande flower is al- 
 most always in blossom,' remarked Zoe, as 
 her companion gathered a golden cluster, 
 and placed it in her hand. 
 
 ^ Blennkaret gand ar iaouanUzu,' he replied, 
 with a smile, while Zoe replied to the un^ 
 known tongue quotation with a demand to 
 be told its meaning. 
 
 ^ It is called the flower loved by the young 
 and happy/ he replied. 
 
 *And why, I wonder — there are thousands 
 prettier — thousands sweeter far.' 
 
 ' But not thousands that blossom alike in 
 clouds and sunshine — storm and calm — in 
 the summer and the winter time. 
 
 ' " Setu perak mignonez ker : 
 
 Lann en deuz blenn e peb amser.' " 
 
78 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 He did not translate the words quite lite- 
 rally for the edification of his fair companion ; 
 he could not call her in his tongue or hers, 
 his dearly-loved one — his ' bien cMrie ' — his 
 precious only love — but it was joy enough to 
 see her place the fleur d'amour upon her 
 breast, and wear it there throughout that 
 long, and, by De Rouvray, never-to-be-for- 
 gotten day. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 * And the weak soul, itself unblest, 
 Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.' 
 
 ZoE Gordon bade a very tearful adieu to the 
 old chateau, and to the aifectionate friends 
 in whose society she had spent (what her 
 countrywomen would have called) so good a 
 time. 
 
 Gladly would Alfred de Rouvray have 
 superseded in her office the severely respect- 
 able female servant whose duty it was to take 
 charge of the young lady on her journey, and 
 deposit her in safety at the Fortress in the 
 Rue La Grange. Joyfully indeed would he 
 have arrogated to himself this delightful 
 privilege, but since this proceeding was for- 
 bidden by the strict laws of etiquette, he was 
 obhged to console himself with the memory 
 
80 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 of her manifold perfections, together with 
 that of the tears which coursed each other, 
 at the moment of departure, down the girl's 
 lovely face. 
 
 For awhile, and especially when the sound 
 of the departing carriage wheels had died 
 aw^ay in the distance, he felt like a traveller 
 setting forth on a dark and dreary night. At 
 first dazzled by the lately left light of home, 
 the obscurity seems hopeless and impervious; 
 but after a time the countless stars seen one 
 by one shine out, and the opening Heaven of 
 Hope lends light to what was black and dull 
 before. So Alfred thought of that lovely 
 lady in her convent home — following her foot- 
 steps in imagination from hour to hour, and 
 from day to day, till the blissful moment 
 when, under his parents' roof, she w^ould again 
 gladden the home which her absence had — to 
 him at least — made desolate. 
 
 Zoe arrived safely at the Pensionnat, and 
 was greeted with rapturous demonstrations 
 by her school-fellows, and especially by the 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 81 
 
 impulsive Creole by whom she had been 
 sorely mourned and missed. 
 
 Weeks passed away slowly and sadly for 
 Cherie. All the more slowly and sadly for 
 the glimpse which she had caught of the 
 bright outer wbrld beyond her prison walls. 
 Previous to that happy visit her dreams of 
 home had been ever of a sunnier land than 
 that which lay beneath the rainy skies of 
 Brittany. She had never forgotten the 
 scenes of all her childish pleasures, and to 
 return to them once more when her proba- 
 tion should be over, and her education should 
 be completed, was the dearest hope of a heart 
 which had known as yet so few enjoyments. 
 But since her introduction to that cheerful 
 chateau-life the memory of the Louisianian 
 plantation seemed suddenly to have grown 
 dim. No longer as before did she look 
 anxiously for the arrival of the American mail, 
 in the hopes that a letter might at last reach 
 her, and after years of waiting bid her make 
 ready for the voyage which was to reunite 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 Zoe's 'Brafid: 
 
 the mother and her child — the father and the 
 girl now almost grown up to womanhood, 
 whom, seven long years before, he had left 
 a sobbing, half-rebellious little pensionnaire 
 in the hands of solemn, worthy Madame 
 Duchatel. 
 
 The end of November was close at hand, 
 and Zoe, while from her chamber window 
 she watched the fluttering leaves, as brown 
 and withered they were driven by the wind 
 against the glass near which she sat — began 
 for the thousandth time to count the days, 
 and almost the hours, which must yet elapse 
 before the arrival of her Breton friends at 
 their town-house in the Champs Elysees. 
 
 Naide was her companion. They were the 
 eldest of Madame Duchatel's demoiselles, and 
 were indulged by a sleeping chamber apart 
 from the rest. A spacious sleeping chamber 
 with a shining carpetless floor, and twin beds 
 side by side — narrow and curtainless. 
 
 ' Ah, quHl fait froid 1 Mon Dieul quit fait 
 froid' exclaimed Naide, with a shiver, as she 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 83 
 
 threw a shawl over her friend's shoulder, prior 
 to performing that office for herself. 
 
 ' Dreadful ! ' rejoined Cherie. ' It makes 
 me long to be again in that dear old house ; 
 for summer though it was, w^ien the wind 
 blew cold in the evenings the wood fire blazed 
 up in the old library, and the thick, warm wolf- 
 skins were on the hearth. Naide, dear, if 
 you could but feel the wolf-skins — they were 
 spread by the sides of the beds — two such 
 delicious descentes de lits ! One's feet buried 
 in the thick, warm fur! it was such luxury!' 
 and the girl shivered again, half from cold and 
 half from saddened recollection. 
 
 On that dismal day — very dismal, for the 
 rain came down in torrents, plastering the 
 blackened leaves against the windows, and 
 rendering still more dark the gloom of coming 
 twilight. It was a half-holiday (such a 
 mocking word) and the girls had not even 
 the resource of enforced occupation, for they 
 were both by nature inclined to indolence, 
 and education had not as yet succeeded in 
 
 g2 
 
84 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 bending the supple * twigs ' to habits uncon- 
 genial to their race and mental constitutions. 
 
 The long, wintry-like day had seemed 
 eternal, and the last hope of * clearing up' 
 had long since died away, when a rap at the 
 door aroused Zoe from the half-lethargic state 
 into which the wind and pattering rain had 
 lulled her. 
 
 ' Entrez,^ she said, drowsily, and thereupon 
 a smart little soubrette in the jauntiest of 
 caps and most coquettish of aprons, obeyed 
 the order, and tripping in, presented two 
 letters to Mademoiselle Gordon. 
 
 The latter read them in silence. Whence 
 they came had been evident to her at a glance, 
 for the one bore on its envelope the post- 
 mark of Auray, and the other, a large and 
 rather weather-stained looking missive, had 
 unmistakably come from far beyond the sea. 
 
 Zoe opened the Breton letter first. The 
 friend's before the relation's — the near one's 
 before the bulkier epistle indited by a parent 
 far away. In both she read great news — in 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 85 
 
 one case causing only pleasure, while in the 
 other — Ah ! was she very heartless, very 
 guilty ? For too true it was that no wild 
 throb of rapture responded to the long-looked- 
 for come-at-last intelligence that her stay in 
 Europe was drawing to a close, and that 
 another week would see her on her way 
 across the stormy ocean to her Southern home. 
 
 She threw down the letters with a strange 
 conflict of contrasting feelings. 
 
 ' Naide,' she said — for in truth she must 
 have spoken out of her heart's deep feelings. 
 ' Naide, I am going away, dear — going away 
 for ever — they want me at-^at home. My 
 father is in Liverpool, and I suppose to- 
 morrow he may be here — here in Paris — and 
 in two days' time I shall be gone.' 
 
 The news was so sudden and startling that 
 for a moment Naide stood aghast, and as if 
 bewildered — then the truth — grievous indeed 
 to her — became but too apparent, and with a 
 cry of despair, she threw herself upon Zoe's 
 breast, and wept aloud. 
 
CHAPTER TX 
 
 ' Did man compute 
 Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er 
 Such hours 'gainst years of life — say would he name 
 threescore ? ' 
 
 * My Pauline,' Zoe wrote, * I am leaving 
 France, and I shall never, never, see you 
 and the dear old chateau ao^ain ! I ou(^ht to 
 be glad, and I suppose I am a little — a little ! 
 Oh, how wicked I must be ! But then you 
 know I have not seen dear mamma for nearly 
 eight years, almost half my life, and my 
 father only once through all that time. And 
 now he is coming for me — coming to- 
 morrow — Concevez — only two days to think 
 of this cruel parting' — (the adjective had 
 been erased, but not so carefully but that 
 Alfred traced the letters, and took comfort 
 therefrom) — ' and I shall not see you again. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 87 
 
 my Pauline, Men aimee, or your kind parents. 
 Will you thank them from me for their many 
 bontes, and present them with my adieus; 
 and please to say to Monsieur, voire frere, 
 that I shall never forget our happy rides, and 
 that I have got the lande flowers still. They 
 will go with me to my own distant country, 
 and be cherished long after you will all have 
 forgotten your poor Zoe in her far-off 
 home.' 
 
 Pauline shed floods of tears over this 
 simple letter, bemoaning her friend's fate, 
 and still more her own in being thus con- 
 demned to part in the spring-time of their 
 ardent friendship.' 
 
 ' Mais c'est afreux, mon frere^ she cried ; 
 ' and to think that we shall not meet again 
 even to say a last farewell — Ce que cest que 
 d'etre une jeune demoiselle I Poor darling 
 Zoe, she had reason to talk of the blessings 
 of liberty — if I were a man now — if I were 
 you, Alfred, I should set off for Paris at 
 once, for there may be yet time ; and — ' 
 
88 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 'There is time,' interrupted her brother; 
 * at least I hope so ; and now, dear, write 
 your letter quick to this poor child, for in 
 half-an-hour I shall be on my road to the 
 Rue La Grange — and — qui salt ? ' he muttered 
 to himself, ' perhaps after all, this dreadful 
 exile may be prevented.' 
 
 Meanwhile all was bustle at the School, 
 and general was the consternation when the 
 news was spread abroad that Zoe's place 
 therein would soon be empty. As for the 
 girl herself she moved about like one in a 
 dream. Hours had succeeded each other since 
 she read the letter which seemed to decide 
 her lot in life, and as yet she had not been 
 able to make up her mind as to w^hether that 
 decision afforded her most joy or grief. The 
 truth now seemed for the first time to be 
 revealed to her that Alfred de Rouvray was 
 not indifferent to her. In the bright joyous- 
 ness of her youthful spirits, she had scarcely 
 noticed his timid admiration, but now every- 
 thing connected with those past happy weeks 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 89 
 
 at Pennevic assumed an importance in her 
 eyes ; and when the thought occurred to her 
 that she would never more see the face or 
 hear the low-toned kindly voice of Alfred de 
 Rouvray, another drop of bitterness seemed 
 added to her cup; for was it not, perhaps, 
 owing to her folly, or her coldness, maybe, 
 that he had not spoken of his love? She 
 could remember now a hundred instances of 
 his unspoken passion, and though for him she 
 told herself that no sensation stronger than 
 that of friendship burned within her breast, 
 yet to have remained in Europe for awhile, 
 near her dear Pauline, near to Naide— and — 
 Well, probably, although she knew it not, 
 love had begun to light the train, and soon 
 the spark might have been struck, had Fate 
 been more propitious to the love of that 
 young Breton gentleman. 
 
 Mr. Gordon made his appearance in the 
 Rue La Grange, punctual to the moment 
 when he had announced his advent to 
 Madame Duchatel. He was a tall, thin, 
 
90 Zoe's 'Brand! 
 
 man, of striking appearance, and of singu- 
 larly courteous and prepossessing address. 
 He was supposed to be possessed of consider- 
 able wealth, and the general impression 
 regarding him was justified, at least to a cer- 
 tain extent, by his lavish expenditure, by 
 his spacious ' mansion ' in the * Crescent City,' 
 and by the extensive plantations which he 
 owned in the Yalley of the Mississippi. 
 
 Twice had Mr. Gordon visited the Rue La 
 Grange, and each time he had left on the 
 mind of Madame Duchatel an impression 
 as regarded his manners and morals of a 
 most favourable character. 
 
 * Monsieur etait parfaitement Men sieve! 
 Madame had remarked to her prime Minis- 
 ter, the head teacher who had been as her 
 right hand for more years than any French- 
 woman would care to count. 
 
 * Madame a raison — et il parte si Men 
 notre langue — mais cette pauwe Zoe. To 
 think of her living in a plantation among 
 sugar-canes, and barrels of molasses. Mais 
 
Zoe\s 'Brand: 91 
 
 enjin ! Que voulez-vouz 1 II faut vivre, 
 oprh touV And Mademoiselle, who had 
 arrived at the sober age of fifty, without 
 having as yet attained that desire of her 
 soul — an independence — heaved a heavy sigh 
 over her own unprosperous future. 
 
 Mr. Gordon, who had not seen his daugh- 
 ter since her days of childhood were at an 
 end, was greatly struck by her appearance, 
 and his compliments both to her and her 
 instructress, were quite enthusiastic in their 
 character. ' Mais elle est charmante, ma- 
 dame: he said to the grateful lady — * Oest 
 vrairaent dommage'' — but then, as if recol- 
 lecting himself, he stopped short. 
 
 Zoe was delighted with her father. He 
 was so kind, so gracieux, so well bred. If 
 only she could present him to her friends — 
 if only he had arrived a few weeks later! 
 But she was wrong to lament, and wicked to 
 be discontented. She should be as happy as 
 the day was long in dear New Orleans, and 
 then it would be such joy to see again her 
 
92 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 mother! No; she would not complain, nor 
 should the voyage affright her, nor the 
 thought of all the strangers she would meet 
 upon her way. 
 
 To the last moment Zoe indulged the hope 
 that she would receive a parting word from 
 Pauline — one line to say she was regretted 
 — one sweet farewell to bid God speed her 
 on her way. But the time grew shorter, and 
 more short, and as it dwindled to its shortest 
 span, poor Zoe's hopes grew less, till at 
 length — and very heavy was the girl's young 
 heart — the carriage which was to bear her 
 from the place of her often-loathed captivity 
 stood at the gate of the Pensionnat. 
 
 Then the last adieus were spoken 
 hurriedly, and warm kisses from sweet 
 maiden lips were pressed on pallid cheeks 
 down which hot tears were falling. Mr. 
 Gordon hastened from the scene which to him 
 was merely irksome, for, courteous though he 
 was, he saw no reason for a lengthened in- 
 dulgence in useless regrets. So the weeping 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 93 
 
 Cherie was borne from the embraces of her 
 friends, and the last lingering counsels of her 
 preceptress — while — but she was happily 
 spared the knowledge of that exceeding 
 aggravation of her many sorrows — a carriage 
 splashed with mud, and drawn by two jaded 
 horses, drove into the Rue La Grange almost 
 before the vehicle which contained the de- 
 parting travellers could have reached the 
 ' Debarcadere du Nord.' 
 
 That carriage belonged to Alfred de Rou- 
 vray, w^ho, when he heard that Mademoiselle 
 Gordon had already taken her departure, and 
 was probably by that time well on her way 
 to England, leant back upon the cushion with 
 despair at his heart, and an order to ' follow ' 
 on his lips. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ' A great stream 
 Of people there was hurrying to and fro, 
 Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam.' 
 
 It formed no part of Mr. Gordon's purpose 
 to linger on the way. Europe was, in truth, 
 no fatherland of his ; while, as for Paris, he 
 had already, all unknown to Zoe, spent three 
 ruinous weeks in that terrestrial paradise ; 
 and, to state the actual fact, the Southern 
 gentleman's long purse was just beginning to 
 show signs and symptoms of depletion. 
 
 A dismal moment was it when that melan- 
 choly fact forced itself upon his notice; for 
 the Louisianian planter had a fine national 
 taste for luxury and expense, and gladly 
 drained to its very dregs each cup of pleasure 
 presented to his transatlantic lips in the gay, 
 brilliant * capital of the civilized world.' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 95 
 
 But alas ! all joys must have an end at last, 
 and foggy England must be reached — England 
 and the great metropolis of the cotton king- 
 dom, beyond which lay the great Atlantic, 
 the mighty barrier separating sellers from 
 consumers, and the hete noire (she had called 
 it so in her silly girlish talk), which would all 
 too soon roll between poor Zoe and her Gallic 
 friends. 
 
 We will pass over unnoticed the uneventful 
 journey of the travellers till such tiuie as they 
 arrived at Liverpool, and took up their quar- 
 ters at the Adelphi Hotel. 
 
 * Make yourself at home, my dear,' Mr. 
 Gordon had said to his young daughter, as, 
 immediately after their arrival, he prepared 
 to sally forth, in order (ostensibly) to look for 
 berths in the huge ocean steamer. ' Make 
 yourself quite at home, but keep away from 
 the passages. The house is full of people, 
 rowdy fellows some of them ; and you'd best 
 keep in your own room.' 
 
 ' Oh, papa ! could not I go with you ? It 
 
96 Zoe's 'Brand! 
 
 seems so lonely/ cried poor Zoe, looking round 
 at the large comfortless room in despair. 
 
 'Impossible, my child! You'd only be in 
 the way. Take a book — there's one on the 
 table ; ' and he pointed to a yellow-covered 
 condensation of pollution which lay near her. 
 ' Take a book — you'll get along famously 
 then.' And before the girl could venture on 
 another syllable of remonstrance or entreaty, 
 the door had closed upon his retreating figure, 
 and Cherie was left to the solitude which 
 looked to her so terribly unhumanlike. 
 
 Alone for the first time in her life ! — alone 
 in that great smoky, dirty room, so far above 
 the outer world (for their apartments were on 
 the second floor), their hotel being, as Mr. 
 Gordon had remarked, crowded with occu- 
 pants, many of whom were bound, like them- 
 selves, to the Western Hemisphere. 
 
 To Zoe, as she looked down from the smoke- 
 stained window into the thronged street be- 
 low, the scene seemed like unto one by which 
 she might have been haunted in a dreary 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 97 
 
 dream. Her recollections of her former voy- 
 age were very vivid, bright, and sunny for the 
 most part ; for tears soon dry on childhood s 
 cheeks, and it was summer time when little 
 Zoe was taken from her home to sojourn in a 
 land of strangers. 
 
 Slie had no dread of the long voyage which 
 was to be commenced upon the morrow ; it 
 being a blissful fact, and one that deserves 
 our deepest gratitude, that the calamities of 
 our youthful days, howsoever heavy they 
 may have been, leave but a very transient 
 impression. How much the more easily then 
 do we banish from our memory the passing- 
 inconveniences, or the momentary fears, from 
 which in childhood we have suffered ! 
 
 After the first burst of sorrow at parting 
 from her mother, and — deeper affliction still 
 — from her negro nurse, had subsided, Zoe 
 could remember nothing but the delight of 
 sailing on the summer sea, with kindly ma- 
 riners around her, ever, as it seemed, upon 
 the watch to care for and amuse her. And 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 Zoe\s 'Brrnd: 
 
 then the passing ships, homeward bound to 
 the land which she was leaving — the sea at 
 night brilliant with phosphoric light, and the 
 magic fish with their clear, wondrous wings ! 
 All this was remembered by the Louisianian 
 maiden with a freshness which ill prepared 
 her for the reality of the morrow. 
 
 Her life had hitherto been one in which, 
 take it, as the saying is, altogether, sunshine 
 had certainly predominated over darkness, and 
 the day-time had been far longer than the 
 night. But as the lovely daughter of a de- 
 spised and persecuted race looked from the 
 window of her lonely chamber into the mists 
 and gloom beyond, a feeling, gathering strength 
 with every passing moment, whispered that 
 she had fallen upon evil days. 
 
 I have said that she had never been alone 
 before ; nor had she, if to be alone signifies 
 that deep solitude of the heart when no kind 
 friend is near to soothe or hold close converse 
 with ; and when the long dull hours stole on, 
 and the shadows of coming darkness began to 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 99 
 
 close around her, the lonely watcher in that 
 busy foreign city felt a nameless dread creep 
 over her that she was forgotten and forsaken. 
 
 At last six o'clock had struck, and, but for 
 the gas which shone up from the street below, 
 the darkness within the room would have been 
 complete. Zoe heard outside the door a voice 
 which slie recognized as her father's. He was 
 speaking in loud and rather excited tones^ to 
 which one, more gentle and agreeable — at 
 least so the listener deemed it — responded. 
 
 * We shall meet on board to-morrow,' were 
 Mr. Gordon's concluding words. ' Good- 
 night. Very sorry I can't join your party, 
 but it really is impossible.' The door had been 
 half-opened by her father, and in the bright 
 light of the gas-illumined corridor, Zoe could 
 see the speakers plainly. 
 
 The gentleman who stood with his face 
 towards her was a man apparently about thirty 
 years of age, tall, dark, and of a form remark- 
 able — an unusual conjunction — both for 
 strength and grace. His voice had struck 
 
 H 2 
 
100 Zoes' 'Brand: 
 
 Cherie from the first moment when she heard 
 it, as singularly agreeable ; and the favourable 
 impression was increased by the attitude of 
 gentlemanlike indolence which she did not 
 fail to remark as he leant against the door- 
 way of her apartment. 
 
 ' That was young Seymour,' her father said, 
 when he had at last got rid of his companion ; 
 * one of our fast fellows about town. Won't 
 do, my girl, to let him make too free ; and 
 now I'm thinking of it — but,' he said, sud- 
 denly interrupting himself, ' what, the d — 1 
 are you sitting here for without a light? 
 Dark as h — 1 ; can't see one's hand before 
 one ; ' and he rang the bell with what his 
 daughter thought very unnecessary violence. 
 
 She w^as almost frightened by his manner — 
 he was so changed since he had left her in 
 the morning ; and then his face appeared so 
 flushed, and his voice so raised ! What should 
 she do if he were to grow cross to her ? He 
 had been only somewhat reserved and cold 
 before ; he had never taken her to his heart, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 101 
 
 and called her 'child ;' and Zoe had mourned 
 over her disappointment, for it was a great 
 one, seeing how deeply she had coveted a 
 parent's love. But now — now that she anti- 
 cipated the far greater evil of his displeasure, 
 she would gladly have compounded for his 
 former ungenial manner; and as that night 
 she laid her weary head upon her pillow, she 
 did so with the hope that the morrow's sun, 
 if, indeed, it rose at all in that dark place, 
 would see her father once more courteous in 
 behaviour ; albeit as a loving parent, demon- 
 strative and thoughtful of his daughter's com- 
 fort, she might expect in vain to find him. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 * The chain is loosed, the sails are spread, 
 The living breath is fresh behind. 
 
 Swift as fire, impetuously. 
 
 It sweeps into the affrighted sea.' 
 
 The sunless morning broke. It might have 
 been still a kind of dusky twilight for any 
 * appearance ' which the ' god of day ' had at 
 length condescended to ' put in ; ' and Zoe, 
 accustomed, as she had long been, to the clear, 
 light Parisian atmosphere, could scarcely be- 
 lieve, when the noisy chambermaid proclaimed 
 at her door the hour of eight, that another 
 day had arisen on the earth. 
 
 ' Fine climate this, ain't it ? ' said the South- 
 ern gentleman, rising on his daughter's en- 
 trance, and presenting two fingers of a thin 
 white hand. ' Thank God, we shall soon be 
 out of it ! How people can breathe in such 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 103 
 
 a mass of smoke and filth, is a riddle to 
 me.' 
 
 * I suppose they are used to it,' Zoe ven- 
 tured to say. 
 
 * Well, I suppose they are — and capital, 
 first-rate fellows you may find amongst them. 
 There isn't such a place, I do believe, in all 
 the world for hospitality as this city. Why, 
 I could have dined fifty times yesterday for 
 nothing, if I'd had a mind to.' 
 
 * It was very good of you,' Zoe murmured, 
 ' to come home to me.' 
 
 * Well, it w^as, and it wasn't. You see 
 those great spreads are the deuce and all be- 
 fore a sea voyage. Besides, I wanted to say 
 something to you — forgot it though, I did at 
 last — sleepy, I suppose, after the journey. 
 Wellj better late than never, and now listen, 
 please, to what I am going to say.' 
 
 They were at breakfast, and Zoe was seated 
 opposite her father. He did not seem to care 
 to meet her eyes while he was talking ; and 
 it was perhaps as well for him that a great 
 
104 Zoes 'Brand\ 
 
 brown tea urn, of antique fashion and dimen- 
 sions, reared its head between him and the 
 listening girl. 
 
 ' You see,' he said, ' that handsome girls 
 are not over common, and you are very hand- 
 some, my dear ; and it's just as well that I 
 should be the first to tell you so.' 
 
 Cherie blushed, but laughed too — a pretty 
 subdued laugh, which hardly reached her 
 father's ears. 
 
 ' I like to hear it best from you,' she said ; 
 and verily in perfect guilelessness the words 
 were spoken. 
 
 He did not notice the affectionate assertion, 
 but continued his remarks while butterinof 
 thickly the ill-made, flabby toast which he had 
 drawn from the rack before him. 
 
 ' You see the ship will be choke-full of fel- 
 lows — rowdy ones too, beastly Yankees, black- 
 guard Abolitionists — sort of customers that 
 would insult a girl as soon as look at her ; so, 
 my dear, it would be the best way for you to 
 keep yourself as much as you can to yourself. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: ]05 
 
 and make no acquaintances with any- 
 one.' 
 
 This was a piece of advice which Zoe saw 
 no difficulty in following-. She had no wish, 
 she declared, for society. All her thoughts 
 were fixed on home and on her mother — the 
 mother from whom she had so lonof been 
 parted, and who had written to her so seldom, 
 so very seldom, that sometimes Cherie had 
 almost feared she was forgotten. 
 
 ' No fear of that,' her father said. ' And 
 now, my dear,' he added impressively, * take 
 care and mind what I've been saying to you. 
 Wear a thick veil over your face. It's good 
 for the complexion, and you've got one that's 
 worth looking after, I reckon. And stay a 
 spell in your berth after we get aboard. 
 There'll be no end of row going on, and girls 
 are better out of it.' 
 
 Zoe promised obedience to these directions. 
 She saw in them nothing to excite her sur- 
 prise, but only an amount of paternal consi- 
 deration from which she drew pleasant augu- 
 
lOG Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 ries for the future. She was quite ready when 
 the moment for departure arrived ; and al- 
 though the chilling November rain came 
 splashing down, and the wind whistled drearily 
 through the ill-fitting windows of the hired 
 vehicle which bore them to the water-side, 
 Zoe's heart felt lighter as slie left the over- 
 grown hotel behind her, and remembered that 
 every yard she traversed, brought her nearer 
 to her home. 
 
 A small river steamer was in readiness to 
 convey the passengers to the monster vessel 
 which lay with hissing funnels, in readiness to 
 leave her moorings when the mail-bags should 
 have been put on board, and the last telegrams 
 received upon her decks. 
 
 All was confusion in the little steamboat 
 when Zoe found herself, she hardly knew by 
 what means, in the thick of the busy crowd of 
 self-seeking men and women. In numbers 
 the former, of course, greatly preponderated ; 
 and as the delicately-nurtured girl felt the 
 pushing and the struggling of her fellow 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 107 
 
 passengers, she found no difficulty in ac- 
 counting for her father's evident anxiety that 
 she should expose herself as little as possible 
 to the contamination of such contact. 
 
 But once on board the floating palace, which 
 was to be their home for many days, the pas- 
 sengers were soon shaken into their respective 
 berths, and comparative order took the place 
 of the noisy bustle which had reigned before. 
 
 ' Guess we're gwine to have a rough time 
 of it,' said a tall New Englander in a bear- 
 skin coat. 
 
 He looked sick and shrunk already, as if 
 forestalling the not-to-be-avoided sufferings 
 which awaited him. 
 
 ' Well, I reckon that's likely enough,' re- 
 joined the individual addressed. 'Anyways 
 one oughtn'ter expect no other at fall time ; ' 
 and the speaker, who had probably crossed 
 the Atlantic a hundred times at least, 
 proceeded to the agreeable ceremony of a 
 last ' liquoring ' with the friends he'd leave 
 behind him. 
 
108 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 Mr. Gordon's first care had been to conduct 
 his daughter to her cabin — her state-room, as 
 he liad called it ; and Zoe was agreebly sur- 
 prised to find that she was to have the little 
 apartment entirely to herself. Tt contained 
 two sleeping berths, and Mr. Gordon must 
 have been extremely solicitous for his daugh- 
 ter's privacy when he indulged in an expendi- 
 ture so apparently uncalled for. 
 
 * Make yourself at home,' he said ; 'you've 
 plenty of space. I paid sixty pounds for this 
 state-room on purpose that you mightn't have 
 any call to be wandering about the decks. I 
 don't know that you couldn't have your meals 
 here altogether,' he muttered to himself, as 
 he closed the door; and Zoe, as she looked 
 round the narrow cell-like place, almost felt 
 that she was a prisoner. 
 
 The sounds of heavy footsteps echoed over- 
 head, and unaccustomed noises, sailors' calls 
 and orders loudly given, were interspersed 
 with what seemed to Zoe like the rattling of 
 a hundred chains. Gladlv would she have 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 109 
 
 gone on deck, and amused herself with watch- 
 ing the preparations for departure. This, 
 however, she knew to be impossible ; so she 
 remained quietly in her darkened cabin — and 
 very dark, in truth, it was, for men's feet were 
 for ever walking overhead, and shutting out 
 the Hght afforded by the one bull's-eye in 
 what poor Cherie called the * ceiling.' The 
 dungeon-like resemblance was thus rendered 
 the more complete ; and as the girl drew her 
 cloak more closely round her, she shuddered 
 at the reflection that in darkness and solitude 
 the days and nights must be passed away. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 * Colder and louder blew the wind, 
 
 A gale from the north-east ; 
 The snow fell hissing in the brine, 
 And the billows froth'd like yeast.' 
 
 The day closed in — the gallant ship was on 
 her way, moving uneasily now, for the wind 
 was dead ahead, and they were well out upon 
 the open sea. Twice had the good-natured 
 looking and apparently ubiquitous stewardess 
 made her appearance at Zoe's cabin door to 
 ask if the young lady would not take some- 
 thing, and twice had the poor girl feebly 
 answered in the negative ; for the anticipa- 
 tions of ]\Ir. Gordon were being (to him) 
 satisfactorily fulfilled, and his daughter was 
 prostrated by the malady which makes privacy 
 a matter of choice, as well as of necessity. 
 Scarcely had the last faint line of English 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 111 
 
 coast faded away in the dim horizon, when 
 the winds, which had during the past hours 
 been only playing round the good ship sent 
 out to dare their fury, began to do their ac- 
 customed work in earnest. 
 
 It was a fair wind at first, blowing from 
 the east, with a point north, which the stew- 
 ardess, who was, of course, a great authority 
 in the ladies' cabins, declared kept the vessel 
 steady. The weather meanwhile was pierc- 
 ingly cold, so cold that even hardy passengers, 
 who had spent many a day and night in the 
 confronting of such buffetings, gathered round 
 the cabin stoves; while some, less easily beaten 
 by the elements, continued to pace the slip- 
 pery deck in rough pea-jackets flecked with 
 snow, and with faces blue from exposure to 
 the nipping air. 
 
 Three days and nights sped wearily on be- 
 fore the wind decided on an alteration ; but 
 when it did, even poor sea-sick Zoe in her 
 lonely berth knew that some alteration for the 
 worse had taken place; for the good ship, 
 
112 Zoe\^ 'Braiyi: 
 
 which hitherto had ridden steadily enough 
 over the monstrous waves, now tossed and 
 rolled like some chained animal fighting 
 against a stronger power, urging it to go the 
 way it would not. And in this manner day 
 succeeded day, while still the ship ploughed 
 on, regardless alike of human sufferings and 
 of women's screams of terror ; for many were 
 the cries and prayers which, when one heavy 
 gale was at the worst, mingled with the howl- 
 ings of the winds and the heavy thuds of the 
 lashed ocean against the strong vessel's sides. 
 Once, and once only, did Zoe venture to 
 disobey her father's injunctions to remain in 
 strict seclusion in her own state-room. It 
 was on one stormy night, when the terrific 
 gale had reached its climax, and when trem- 
 bling women, whose wont it was not to go 
 down to the sea in ships, and whose business 
 did not occupy them in deep waters, listened 
 in trembling awe to the mighty tumult of the 
 elements, and called on powerless man and on 
 their neglected God for succour. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 113 
 
 Above the wailings of the wind, as it 
 whistled through the cordage, Zoe's strained 
 attention was caught by a sound of childish 
 weeping heard outside her cabin door. Very 
 sad and plaintive w^ere the sobs, and to the 
 solitary girl it seemed as though some poor 
 deserted little one was, like herself, enduring 
 alone the hours of suspense and dread. 
 
 In a moment, as this sudden thought oc- 
 curred to her, she sprang up from her bed, 
 and, slightly attired though she was, staggered 
 to the cabin door. The steamer was rolling 
 fearfully, and it was with difficulty that, hold- 
 ing on to the support within her reach, she 
 could keep upon her feet. The passage that 
 led to the ladies' saloon was dimly lighted, but 
 by the candle which in its brazen sconce was 
 swayed by the uneasy motion violently to and 
 fro, Zoe could distinguish a httle shrinking 
 figure, clad in a white night-dress, and resting 
 in a crouching posture against the wooden 
 partition. 
 
 ' What is the matter, dear ? ' said Zoe, 
 
 YOL. I. I • 
 
114 Zoes 'Brand. 
 
 speaking very softly, and taking the little 
 girl's cold hand between her own. 
 
 The child's sobs redoubled in their strength 
 and frequency, but she contrived to murmur 
 out that she was frightened — oh ! so terribly 
 frightened ; that her mother was ill, and could 
 not speak to her ; and finally — ah ! that was 
 evidently the sorest grief of all — that Charley, 
 her own brother — she was afraid — she had not 
 seen him for so many hours, and perhaps — 
 
 But the little sufferer, whose nerves were 
 evidently wrought up to a pitch of painful 
 tension, could not bring herself to embody in 
 words the terror which possessed her. Zoe, 
 however, understood her meaning, and calling 
 to the stewardess, who was enjoying a mo- 
 ment's respite from her onerous and multifa- 
 rious duties, inquired of her concerning the 
 missing gentleman. 
 
 ' It's her brother, miss — Mr. Seymour his 
 name is. He used to come to the ladies' cabin 
 often to inquire after his ladies — his mamma, 
 you know, and this little *' girl ; " but whether 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 115 
 
 it's the storm, or maybe he's indisposed, you 
 know ; anyways, I've not seen him about this 
 long while.' 
 
 It was in vain that Zoe endeavoured by 
 signs to arrest the worthy woman's loquacious- 
 ness. The stewardess saw nothing surprising 
 in the fact that a gentleman was confined for a 
 few hours to his cabin, either by indolence or 
 sea-sickness. Cherie, however, was more ob- 
 servant, and feeling that the convulsive trem- 
 bling of the small hand increased, and the 
 hysterical sobs became more violent, she en- 
 treated the stewardess to make immediate 
 inquiry regarding the whereabouts of the 
 absent brother. 
 
 The attendant upon the sick and trouble- 
 some departed at once upon her mission. It 
 lay in her department to walk to and fro 
 along the decks when strong men scarcely 
 kept their feet, and women seemed to have no 
 chance at all. She tripped along quite easily, 
 however, for the woman had her sea legs 
 ever at command ; and Zoe, as she saw how 
 
 i2 
 
116 Zoes 'Brami: 
 
 briskly she stepped onward, hoped soon for her 
 return with tidings of the absent * Charley.' 
 
 The little girl meanwhile — in her excuse it 
 must be said that she had not yet lived out 
 her second lustre — the little girl meanwhile 
 seemed to have discovered fresh cause for 
 apprehension in the efforts made to reassure. 
 At that unfortunate moment, too, the storm 
 seemed to have redoubled its fury. There 
 had been a momentary lull, and then, after, 
 as it were, ' taking breath,' it had gone to it 
 again with a will. 
 
 For the space of five long minutes — to Zoe 
 they seemed an hour, so terrified was she for 
 the life, or at least the reason, of her small 
 companion — for five short minutes it appeared 
 as though all the winds of Heaven had been 
 let loose with one fell purpose — namely, the 
 destruction of that ill-fated ship. The frantic 
 way in which she was pitched about, her roll- 
 ings and her staggerings, her quiverings from 
 stem to stern, as though in her last death-agony, 
 can only be imagined by those whose fate it 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 117 
 
 has been to ride upon such stormy billows. 
 To little Minna Seymour it was as if the 
 words of final doom were being spoken, and 
 as with every crashing, thundering sound she 
 expected to find the waters parting to receive 
 her, scream after scream broke from her 
 small quivering lips, and it was utterly in vain 
 that the pitying Zoe addressed her in soothing 
 words of comfort. Cherie, who had from the 
 first found standing impossible, had sunk upon 
 the deck by the little creature's side, and with 
 her arm thrown round the shivering form, 
 was endeavouring to infuse into it life and 
 courage from her own warm breast. At 
 another moment, and had not danger and 
 death and mortal fear been close at hand, Zoe 
 would probably have remembered that her 
 father had enjoined her to be prudent ; and, 
 moreover, the voice of maidenly bashfulness 
 would have whispered to her that her costume 
 was one more fitted for the retirement of her 
 own berth than for the public thoroughfares 
 of a crowded steamer. Wondrously — nay. 
 
118 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 almost superhumanly — beautiful did she look, 
 as with loosened hair and heaving breast she 
 bent over the despairing child. The attitude 
 into which she had fallen was one of such 
 unstudied and exquisite grace, that a sculptor 
 would have hailed as a model beyond all price ; 
 for the rounded limbs were veiled, but scarcely 
 hidden by the light clinging folds of the loose 
 wrapper she had thrown around her, and one 
 small foot, from which the velvet slipper had 
 escaped, peeped from beneath the screening 
 drapery — rose-tinted, soft, and rounded as a 
 child's. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ' The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new, 
 And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.' 
 
 The welcome daylight dawned at last, and 
 the hours of darkness no longer added to the 
 dangers of the storm. The wind, too, had 
 gone round a point or two in the good ship's 
 favour, and she was * riding,' as the stewardess 
 announced to the lady passengers, more 
 easily. 
 
 * Easily, do you call it ? ' exclaimed a rather 
 fast, but pretty Canadian, whose iron nerves 
 had stood her in good stead throughout the 
 gale, * about as easy as my mare when she 
 canters with her wrong foot first.' 
 
 The Stewardess was fond of talking to the 
 recluse of dashing Mrs. Millford. She was 
 the wife of an English officer, who, a year be- 
 
120 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 fore, forgetting altogether the wise proverb, 
 ' Qui va piano va sano,' had been led to the 
 hymeneal altar by the very fast young lady 
 in question. She and her husband were re- 
 turning from *leave,' and the curiosity of both, 
 as indeed for that matter was the case with 
 many of those desoeuvres passengers, had been 
 strongly excited by the system of close se- 
 clusion adhered to by the fair inhabitant of 
 berth No. 27. 
 
 That she was wonderfully lovely was a fact 
 attested by the stewardess, but beyond that 
 exciting piece of information the mystery- 
 loving daughters of Eve could learn nothing. 
 
 ' The young lady doesn't seem given to 
 to talk/ she would reply, when hard pressed 
 by her questioners, ' and her papa — I suppose 
 it's her papa — hasn't once been in to see her 
 since we left the river.' 
 
 ' Very strange ' — * Most mysterious ' — 'And 
 two sleeping berths engaged for her alone ' — 
 ' Such an expense, plenty of dollars there, to 
 hrow away, I reckon.' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 121 
 
 Sucli were among the remarks and ques- 
 tions thrown out by the disappointed querists, 
 nor did the general curiosity in any degree 
 flag, when, instead of (like many others) 
 takinof advantaofe of the calmer weather, 
 the occupant of No. 27 still continued, 
 whether by her own choice, or otherwise, 
 they had no means of ascertaining — a 
 prisoner in her own state-room. 
 
 Cherie, meanwhile, and as the heavy clouds 
 gradually clearing from the sky, allowed the 
 sun to shine out upon the sea, was for almost 
 the first time, since what may be called her 
 incarceration, well contented to remain a 
 prisoner. She was lying on the upper berth, 
 her ' sofa ' she called it — for being nearest to 
 the ^ dim, eternal ' bull's-eye, her days were 
 mostly spent upon that narrow shelf. She 
 was dressed now, plainly and simply dressed, 
 in French travelling fashion, and the waving 
 masses of her dark hair were gathered round 
 her small and regal-looking head, her hands 
 being clasped upon a book which lay upon her 
 
122 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 breast. It was the ' Imitation de Jesus- 
 Christ,' for Zoe was a Catholic, and near her 
 bed — she could see it as she rested there — 
 she had hung an ivory crucifix, exquisitely 
 wrought in box-wood. It had been her 
 mother's once, and when the girl was taken 
 from her home she had received the gift with 
 solemn gratitude, and tears, pure, childish 
 tears, had fallen upon the carved image, 
 which, from that hour, had seemed to the 
 pure heart a talisman against sin and evil. 
 
 She was not looking on that image as she 
 lay so motionless and silent. She had said 
 her prayers to Him who rules the heavens, 
 and holdeth the waters in the hollow of His 
 hand ; and now, after the low murmured invo- 
 cation to * Blessed Mary, Mother mild,' other 
 thoughts would have their way, thoughts 
 which sent the eloquent blood to cheek and 
 brow, and (alone as though she was) lowered 
 the jetty fringes of her dreamy eyes. 
 
 * How could I have been so mad and reck- 
 less ? * the girl was murmuring inwardly. * To 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 123 
 
 disobey my father was sin enough, but to 
 have — ' and here the blush became more 
 vivid, ' to have been seen in such a dress ! so 
 shameful, so disgraceful ! And he must think 
 I sent for him ! sent for him with only — ' she 
 could not carry on the mental picture, but 
 burying her face between her taper fingers, 
 tears of hurt pride and wounded delicacy 
 chased each other down her cheeks ; and who 
 was the *he,' the memory of whose glance 
 had power to set those crystal drops a- 
 flowing, and call the sudden blushes to that 
 lovely face ? Who was the being so fortune- 
 favoured as to fill Zoe's thoughts, and make 
 her tremble to surmise that he might deem 
 her both unmaidenly and bold ? The ques- 
 tion might, by Zoe Gordon, have been 
 answered then and there, for in the child's 
 kind brother she had recognized at once the 
 gentleman by whom her father had been ac- 
 companied when he returned after his long 
 absence to the Adelphi Hotel. 
 
 We left our heroine, at the close of the 
 
124 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 last chapter, engaged in gentle offices of 
 charity, regardless of herself, and in some sort 
 of what are called les convenances, and little 
 dreaming that by the uncertain light of the 
 swaying candle, human eyes were revelling 
 on her perfect form as she rested by the little 
 sufferer's side. All this, the reader may re- 
 member, but what followed after the quest 
 for Charley Seymour was commenced must 
 now become matter of history. 
 
 The stewardess, called for on all sides by 
 sick and sorrowful females, had no sooner 
 guided Mr. Seymour to the neighbourhood 
 of his sister, than her presence being more 
 needed elsewhere, she left him to announce 
 himself to the mysterious tenant of No. 27. 
 
 And Charley Seymour did announce him- 
 self, and that by an admiration sudden, deep, 
 and fervent as ever rose in a man's heart for 
 woman. There was no need to clothe the 
 glowing thoughts in words, for well could 
 Zoe, pure and all untutored as she was in 
 such mute language, read the heart's deep 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 125 
 
 meaning in his eyes. She sprang to her feet 
 with a hurried start of consternation, the mo- 
 ment she perceived his presence, and as with 
 instinctive modesty, she drew the loose wrap- 
 per more closely round her bosom, she would 
 have left him and the child together, had not 
 the latter clung to her long robe convulsively. 
 Zoe had not given a second look at the in- 
 truder whose approach had filled her breast 
 with such exceeding shame ; but when she 
 heard him speak, which he did so tenderly 
 and gently to his little sister, her eyes were . 
 involuntarily raised, and one glance sufficed 
 to convince her that she had seen that hand- 
 some face before. 
 
 ' My little darling,' he whispered to the 
 child, who, though she still retained with one 
 hand her hold on her new friend's dress, was 
 shedding quiet tears on her brother's breast. 
 * My little darling, what does all this mean ? 
 Why, you little coward ! a sailor's daughter, 
 and to tremble so at a capful of wind.' 
 
 * A capful ! oh, Charlie, do listen to it — 
 
126 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 hear \\o\\ it roars, and feel how dreadfully 
 the vessel tosses.' 
 
 ' Well, and what then ? Was it necessary 
 to turn so deadly pale, and sob so, because 
 the ship happens to be not quite steady ? 
 And must you hold that lady's dress, and 
 keep her from her rest because a silly little 
 girl was frightened. Pray excuse her,' he 
 added, addressing Zoe, with the greatest 
 courtesy and respect, *pray excuse her, she 
 has not been well, and my mother is hardly 
 strong enough for such a voyage as this, or 
 she would have looked better after her 
 child; 
 
 Zoe muttered some inaudible words ex- 
 pressive of the pleasure it had afforded her 
 to be of use, and then being conscious that 
 Minna had relaxed her hold, she bent sud- 
 denly down and kissed the pale lips upturned 
 towards her. Zoe was no coquette, and in 
 all innocence the deed was done. The sweet 
 blushing face was hidden for a moment, and 
 she saw not the wild lio^ht which fi^leamed 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 127 
 
 from the dark eyes of him who looked on at 
 that mute caress. 
 
 Minna's fears were now appeased, and al- 
 though the storm still raged, and the steamer 
 pitched with hardly diminished violence, the 
 child's sobs had ceased, and Zoe's good-night 
 had been gratefully returned, when a tremen- 
 dous lurch of the vessel threw her almost 
 prostrate on the deck. The shock was great, 
 and in endeavouring to save herself the poor 
 girl's wrist was painfully strained. Charley 
 Seymour had thrown his arm round her the 
 moment the danger was apparent, and but 
 for his timely aid she might have been even 
 more seriously hurt. 
 
 ' You must accept of my assistance to your 
 berth,' he said pleadingly, for there was some- 
 thing in her grand, pure beauty which awed 
 him into reverence. * You cannot refuse me 
 that small boon, the boon of showing my 
 gratitude for your kindness to my little 
 sister.' 
 
 Very carefully and tenderly he led her on- 
 
128 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 ward, and as she passed him through the 
 narrow door his head bent low before her, 
 and Cherie might have seen (could she have 
 summoned courage to raise her eyes to his) 
 that in his countenance, respect, profound and 
 heartfelt, was largely mingled with admira- 
 tion. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ' And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace 
 A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace 
 Of finer form, or lovelier face.' 
 
 The voyage, though stormy, could not be 
 deemed a long one ; and on the eleventh day 
 Zoe heard, to her intense delight, that the 
 term of her imprisonment was nearly at an 
 end, inasmuch as land had been sighted, and 
 in a few hours they might expect to arrive at 
 the place of their destination. 
 
 The great northern port of her native coun- 
 try was entirely unknown to Zoe, inasmuch 
 as in her voyage to Europe she had embarked 
 in a sailing packet bound to the Havannah, 
 whence her voyage had been continued in a 
 AVest Indian steamer. She was wildly desir- 
 ous to catch a glimpse of land. The confine- 
 ment to which she had been subjected was 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 Zoe's 'Brand. 
 
 beofinnino: to tell both on her health and 
 spirits, and like a caged bird she panted for 
 air and liberty. She longed to send a mes- 
 sage to her father, entreating his permission 
 to emerge from her dungeon, and pace the 
 deck in happy freedom. This, however, she 
 dared not do. She thought over the possi- 
 bility again and again, and each time she 
 turned the project over in her mind, she 
 became the more convinced of its inadvisa- 
 bility. 
 
 She could not account for the feeling, and 
 its existence distressed her greatly, but it 
 was impossible to conceal from herself the 
 truth that she was afraid of her father; not 
 personally afraid, nor did she shrink from him 
 as being likely to accost her in harsh, angry 
 language ; but she did not feel quite at home 
 with him, nor did he, at least to her it seemed 
 so, treat her as most fathers would a child 
 they loved. So Zoe still remained alone 
 within her gloomy 'bower,' hearing the sounds 
 of cheerful laughter, and of active footsteps 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 131 
 
 pacing the thronged decks, while the — Ah, 
 but her time would come ; for had not she a 
 mother, a loving tender parent, watching for 
 her young daughter's coming home ? And 
 then there would be exceeding joy within the 
 house, and Zoe's envy of those happy ones 
 would be forgotten in her own far greater 
 
 joy. 
 
 During the day which followed her meet- 
 ing with Charles Seymour, Cherie had re- 
 mained in trembling expectation of a visit 
 from her father. It seemed to her so natu- 
 ral that little Minna's brother, the intimate 
 acquaintance, as she naturally conjectured 
 him to be, of her reserved and ever-absent 
 parent, should reveal to him the occurrences 
 of the preceding night, and among them of 
 his meeting with herself. That her father's 
 displeasure would be excited by her disobedi- 
 ence, she did not doubt ; and every moment, 
 as it passed, increased her dread of the con- 
 sequences of her rashness. 
 
 The day, however, closed in, as so many 
 
 K 2 
 
132 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 had done before it, without any visit from 
 Mr. Gordon; and as her alarm at his probable 
 anger evaporated, so did her thoughts and 
 recollections fasten more closely round the 
 images of her lately-made acquaintance. 
 More than once since that eventful night had 
 she heard his voice in the passage near her 
 cabin ; and on one occasion, when little 
 Minna had asked and obtained permission to 
 visit her, Zoe had caught, through the half- 
 opened door, a glimpse of her father's friend. 
 
 And now they were rapidly nearing the 
 land; the moment for disembarkation was 
 approaching ; and Zoe asked herself — not 
 once, but frequently, how she could meet 
 his eyes again. 
 
 Many times and often there rose, as if in 
 reality, before her, the events of that memor- 
 able night. Again she saw that handsome 
 stranger, with his deep expressive eyes, and 
 countenance half stern, half playful, bending 
 over the wailing child ; but far more firmly 
 impressed upon her memory than all the rest, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 133 
 
 was the fixed gaze of passionate admiratioa 
 which she had read, with all a woman's 
 quickness, in Charles Seymours eyes. 
 
 And must we blame her if, having seen 
 with pleasure that she was no object of indif- 
 ference to her father's friend, the idea of 
 meeting him once more should be seldom 
 absent from her mind ? She had so little else 
 to occupy her ; and, moreover, it must be 
 remembered that Zoe's feelings had under- 
 gone none of the training enjoined by con- 
 ventional etiquette. A daughter of the 
 sunny South was she, endowed (cursed, we 
 should more aptly call it) with nature's 
 wildest, warmest impulses ; and when the 
 sweet unspoken breath of passion, sighing 
 like summer wind amidst the perfumed flowers, 
 thrilled like undreamt-of magic through her 
 veins, she did not seek to stem the dangerous 
 torrents, but opening wide the gates of fancy, 
 flooded her soul with visions of a bliss un- 
 known before. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 * Silence in love betrays more love 
 Than words, though ne'er so witty ; 
 A beggar that is dumb, you know, 
 May challenge double pity.' 
 
 Great and manifold to the young and imagi- 
 native are the dangers of idleness and solitude. 
 Thousands of times has this important truth 
 been uttered ; thousands of times, both before 
 and since the days when the simple-minded 
 English divine strove to impress upon the 
 minds of little children that 
 
 * Satan (our untiring foe) finds mischief still 
 For idle hands to do.' 
 
 But what use, while men and women are 
 weak, and human passions strong, will be the 
 voice of warning, or the pointing out of sad 
 example ? It is only habit, strong and early 
 formed, which has force enough to combat 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 135 
 
 evil tendencies — habit, and the wholesome 
 exercise of our bodily powers ; and in poor 
 Zoe's case both those aids were wanting. 
 
 But while (after all her small preparations 
 for disembarkation had been made) she sat, 
 not over-patientlj, in her state-room, waiting- 
 for the moment of liberation, the busy ones 
 outside, and those upon the upper deck, were 
 enjoying, after the monotony of the voyage, 
 the bustle consequent on the approaching 
 landing, and the signs of active life around 
 them. 
 
 ^ Almost imperceptible was the steamer's 
 motion now, for she was gliding at slackened 
 speed amongst the many vessels in the 
 crowded harbour, making her way by sure 
 though slow degrees to port. 
 
 On the starboard side of the hurricane 
 deck, with his arm leaning on the railing, 
 stood Mr. Gordon. He had, about an hour 
 previously, despatched a message to his 
 daughter, requesting her to remain w^here she 
 was till such time as he should come in per- 
 
136 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 son to escort her to the shore. It chanced 
 that jMinna and her brother were close to 
 the speaker when the order to the stewardess 
 was given, and the little girl, now differing 
 widely in appearance from the helpless being 
 who had drawn so largely on Zoe Gordon's 
 compassion, darted forward when the magic 
 No. 27 struck upon her ear. 
 
 'Twenty-seven?' she eagerly exclaimed, 
 looking up (when the winds were hushed she 
 was a very fearless child) in Mr. Gordon's 
 face. ' Twenty-seven ? That's where they 
 have shut up that pretty lady that was so 
 kind to me in the storm ! ' 
 
 Mr. Gordon started, but said with tolerable 
 composure, 
 
 * What do you know, my dear, about No. 
 27 ? It's my daughter that occupies that 
 state-room, and she's been sick ever since the 
 voyage began.' 
 
 * No, she hasn't,' replied Minna, speaking 
 with fitting republican spirit. 'She was 
 only sick a spell ; and when I was scared in 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 137 
 
 the storm she heard me crying, and came out. 
 Charley saw her too — didn't you, brother ? ' 
 she added, addressing Seymour, who was 
 leaning over the railings, and apparently 
 solely occupied in watching the shipping 
 through which they were threading their 
 way. 
 
 * You mean three nights ago ?' he said, 
 carelessly, and without looking round at his 
 questioner. 
 
 * No ; the night before last,' cried Minna, 
 impetuously. ' Oh, you must know when 
 it was! and I was silly afterwards, and 
 could not remember the number of the 
 berth, and you told me to multiply the 
 Muses by the Graces. Three times nine 
 are twenty-seven, you know, so I never forgot 
 after that.' 
 
 Happily for Mr. Gordon, no reply to 
 Minna's short harangue was required, for at 
 that moment the steamer ceased to move, 
 and in the general noise and confusion he 
 made his way, with a considerable feeling of 
 
138 Zoe's ^ Braml' 
 
 displeasure against his daughter, to the place 
 of captivity which he had assigned to her. 
 
 Zoe was standing with her fingers on the 
 handle of the door wiien her father entered, 
 and, after inquiring if she were ready, bade 
 her follow him at once. He did not allude 
 to her disobedience of his commands ; nor, 
 indeed, was it the season for explanations, so 
 deafening and indescribable was the tumult 
 that reigned around. Once he looked at her, 
 not, however, either with admiration or ten- 
 derness, but only, as it appeared, to ascertain 
 whether the veil she wore was thick enough 
 to hide her beauty. Apparently the result of 
 his examination was satisfactory, for offering 
 his arm with silent courtesy, he led her up 
 the broad metal-plated companion-ladder to 
 the still crowded deck. 
 
 The change from the half-obscurity of her 
 narrow cabin to the brilliant sunshine, pour- 
 ing upon the thronging eager crowd, was so 
 sudden that for a few moments the girl felt 
 utterly bewildered. Her head was giddy too 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 139 
 
 with the long-continued motion of the ship, 
 so that it was a relief when Mr. Gordon, 
 busied with the multifarious demands upon 
 his attention, desired her to remain quiet for 
 a while on deck, while he proceeded to the 
 needful duty of ' chartering ' a carriage for 
 her use. 
 
 The saloon which had so lately resounded 
 with convivial merriment — with the clatter of 
 plates and glasses — and last, though far from 
 least, with the uproarious violence of political 
 disquisition, was silent and deserted now. 
 Instead of the dozen noisy waiters dashing 
 with fearless dexterity the dinner crockery 
 into its proper places, or, with equal sleight of 
 hand, drawing the corks of bottles, slender- 
 shaped or stout ; instead, I say, of these ex- 
 citing sounds, the gradually-decreasing mur- 
 mur over head was the only evidence that 
 the large floating hostelry was not already 
 and altogether deserted by its tenants. 
 
 Zoe threw herself upon one of the com- 
 fortless horse-hair sofas, and casting back her 
 
140 Zoe\s 'Brand. 
 
 stifling veil, looked around her wonderingly. 
 How strange it seemed to her! To be still 
 there — there in the same ship, so lately the 
 light toy of every breath of heaven, and now 
 still and motionless as the granite wall to 
 which the tired thing lay chained ! And very 
 lonely too she felt herself; for there was no 
 soul to greet her — no one to hurry forward 
 with extended hand, and bid her welcome 
 to her fatherland ! 
 
 The tears stood in her eyes as the scene of 
 that worst of solitudes — the solitude in a 
 crowd, came home to her. The hours had 
 seemed very long during the passage out, but 
 still there had been throughout the time no 
 real sadness, and the end, the happy end, 
 when she would see land again, was ever 
 present to her thoughts. And now the end 
 had come, and brought with it (lives there a 
 human soul who will affirm the case to be a 
 rare one ?) a bitter sense of disappointment. 
 
CHAPTER XVL 
 
 ' Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 
 But I will speak to thee.' 
 
 ZoE glanced up (she had heard a light step 
 near her) through her tear-stained lashes, 
 and saw that she was not alone. Such a 
 start she gave ! It w^as no pretty affectation 
 of a surprise she did not feel, but the genuine 
 evidence of an emotion which she lacked th^ 
 power to conceal. 
 
 Charles Seymour — for as the reader has 
 already conjectured, he it was, whose unex- 
 pected advent drove the life-blood to her 
 cheek — Charles Seymour was standing as if 
 transfixed beside her. He gave no sign of 
 recognition — nay — he confronted her, not as 
 he had done before with head uncovered and 
 a chivalrous air of mute respect, but with a 
 
142 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 countenance in which surprise was mingled 
 with unmistakable annoyance. 
 
 The mid-day sun was shining full upon the 
 pure uncovered brow of the agitated girl, 
 and upon the table before her the small and 
 ungloved hands were resting. On those ta- 
 per fingers Seymour's eyes were fixed — on 
 them, and upon that stainless forehead with 
 its crown of shining hair rippling beneath 
 the winter's sun rays. 
 
 He did not speak ; that seemed so very 
 strange, for surely Zoe thought they were 
 acquaintances at least ; and had she not on 
 that dark stormy night held his young sis- 
 ter in her arms, while — 
 
 Ah ! quickly once again arose the crimson 
 blush as busy memory flooded back the past, 
 and Seymour — well, he was human after all 
 — forgot for one brief moment the discovery 
 he had just made, and saw only a lovely 
 woman in the daughter of the despised 
 Quadroon. 
 
 * Alone ! Miss Gordon,' he exclaimed 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 143 
 
 * Forgive me — at first I hardly knew you — 
 our short meeting took place almost in dark- 
 ness, and since that I have had no chance of 
 seeing you again — of seeing you, and thank- 
 ing you/ 
 
 Zoe had by this time recovered her self- 
 possession. She was not naturally shy, and 
 but for the peculiar circumstances attending 
 their first rencontre, she w^ould have been at 
 her ease at once with Charley Seymour. The 
 change in his demeanor had certainly startled 
 her ; but being utterly unversed in the white- 
 Jie system authorized by good society, she 
 accepted his hurried excuses with unques- 
 tioning trust. 
 
 'I have seen your little sister once,' she 
 said. ' Since that most fearful night — we 
 were both exceeding cowards — and I believe 
 it was my own alarm which made me so 
 ready to sympathize with hers.' 
 
 What a low sweet voice it was ! To Sey- 
 mour, accustomed as he had been to the 
 high-pitched, and what may be called criard 
 
144 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 voices of free-of-speech Yankee ladies, the 
 timhre of Zoe's organ seemed beautiful ex- 
 ceedingly. Like * whispered balm' in eloquent 
 music spoken, the few simple words fell upon 
 his ear, wreathing as it were a potent spell 
 around his senses. 
 
 * Are you going with your father to New 
 Orleans?' he asked hastily, for he fancied 
 that he heard Mr. Gordon's voice, talking in 
 the passage to a last lingering steward. 
 
 Zoe answered in the affirmative. They 
 were to make no stay in New York she had 
 heard her father say, but proceed at once 
 with all speed to the river, and thence to the 
 Crescent City. 
 
 ' You have been in the South before ? ' 
 Seymour asked ; and had his voice and man- 
 ner been less agreeable to her taste, Miss 
 Gordon might have deemed his questions 
 rude. As it was, however, she replied to 
 his query readily, telling him how long ago 
 it was since she had left the South, and that 
 she had been in Paris since — many years in 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 145 
 
 Paris — and was half French indeed, she 
 almost feared. At which idea the pretty 
 creature smiled — a fresh frank smile — dis- 
 closing such teeth, so small and pearl-like, that 
 Charley Seymour stood entranced, forgetful of 
 her father's neighbourhood, his own affairs of 
 business or of pleasure, and — most dangerous 
 of his memory's lapses — the fact that Zoe 
 Grordon sprung from a despised race, and 
 bore upon her peerless brow the brand of 
 Cain. 
 
 The smile which had wrought Charles Sey- 
 mour's admiration to so exalted a pitch, had 
 scarcely faded from the young girl's lips, 
 when a rapid step was heard outside the 
 door, and Mr. Gordon entered. 
 
 He looked greatly discomposed at seeing 
 his daughter engaged in what was evidently 
 familiar conversation with her companion. 
 Zoe's veil too was thrown aside, and as she 
 stood there in the full light of day, the 
 father knew that his secret was discovered by 
 Seymour, and that there, in the head-quar- 
 
 YOL. I. L 
 
146 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 ters of narrow-minded bigotry and cold- 
 blooded detestation of the negro race, but 
 one resource remained to him, namely, that 
 of taking counsel with his young acquaint- 
 ance as to the most efficacious means of 
 avoiding the evils which he had so much 
 cause to dread. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 * You cannot fail of being 
 A heavenly angel ! Smoke your bits of glass 
 Ye blinded swine, or her transfiguration 
 Will blind your wondering eyes.' 
 
 At the time of which I write, a more than 
 usually uneasy feeling had begun to spread 
 itself over the Union. A state of tranquillity 
 and composure has never been amongst the 
 characteristics general in individuals of the 
 American people — from the time when, un- 
 der the guidance of him whose light shines 
 out through the dark history of the past — 
 the purest amongst the few bright stars which 
 did not rise to fall — from the day when 
 Washington left to his native land the legacy 
 of Freedom — the inhabitants of that con- 
 tinent of strange anomalies have been in an 
 ever-seething state of unsatisfiable internal 
 commotion. 
 
 l2 
 
148 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 Nor can this fact be wondered at when we 
 take into consideration the various materials 
 of which the population is composed, the 
 vast extent of territory embraced within the 
 Union, and beyond and above all, the widely- 
 differing and conflicting interests of that 
 mixed and wide-extending population. 
 . But of all the cities of the Union where 
 the symptoms of national restlessness are the 
 most severely apparent, New York may be 
 considered as the most remarkable. In 
 other parts of the great continent, local in- 
 terests appear in some measure to quell and 
 subdue the wild fever of party spirit, and 
 something approaching to the repose which 
 is the normal condition of European cities, 
 is at times observable. But in the vast com- 
 mercial capital, where so many are interested 
 in stirring up commotion, where some are 
 rich enough to oe idle, and where the over- 
 flowing population is daily swelled by the 
 inroads of emigrants from other lands, the 
 thermometer of public feeling is ever kept at 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 149 
 
 fever height, and a kind of political delirium 
 is the natural consequence of so unhealthy a 
 state of things. 
 
 When the vessel which bore our heroine 
 back to her native shore arrived at * York,' 
 it was the commencement of the last official 
 year of the then reigning President, and who 
 was next to 'run' for that despotic sove- 
 reignty was a question, the more than usual 
 importance of which was felt by every free- 
 born citizen. 
 
 The antagonistic feeling between the North 
 and South — between the Slave States and 
 the so-called Free — had, as all persons well 
 versed in American politics were well aware, 
 been of late years gradually increasing in its 
 deep, though unexpressed intensity. It is 
 not my purpose to touch, except with the 
 extremest possible lightness, on political sub- 
 jects, nor will the vexed question of slavery 
 be much argued in these pages. It is with 
 facts we have to do, and they, as the expe- 
 rience of ages should have taught man- 
 
150 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 kind, speak far more truthfully than 
 words. 
 
 When Mr. Gordon decided on making a 
 confidant of Charles Seymour, the former, 
 after signing to his daughter to remain sta- 
 tionary, drew his young friend's arm within 
 his own, and led him outside the saloon. 
 
 ' This is an awkward business,' he said, 
 avoiding the eyes of his companion, and 
 keeping his own upon the deck, ' confound- 
 edly awkward! I suppose you've guessed 
 pretty well how it is, though you've been so 
 long away from the city.' 
 
 Seymour did not immediately reply, for in 
 truth he had been several years absent from 
 the city {id est^ New Orleans), to which gay 
 Southern town Mr. Gordon had alluded, and 
 many of the prejudices engendered by the 
 fatal institutions of his fatherland had be- 
 come faint and indistinct. 
 
 *You see,' continued Zoe's father, who 
 took Charley's silence for assent ; ' You see 
 it's so deuced difficult to know what to do 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 151 
 
 in these cases. I bad to educate her — her 
 mother was brought up in Paris too. You 
 remember her mother, Charles? as hand- 
 some a woman as ever trod the streets of 
 that city yonder, or of Baltimore either for 
 the matter of that ! ' 
 
 ' And handsomer too a thousand times,' 
 responded Seymour, roused by his enthusi- 
 astic worship of female beauty — * A thousand 
 times handsomer than those dressed-out dolls 
 we meet with here; no form — no flesh — 
 skeletons in crinoline, and in pink and 
 white from their Madame Rachel's, and 
 their — ' 
 
 ' Well, well,' said Mr. Gordon, with a 
 rather patronizing smile, for he was relieved 
 by the turn which the conversation had 
 taken ; ' Well, well, you have been unfortu- 
 nate, I fear, in the specimens you have met 
 with abroad of Northern American ladies. 
 I confess, however, that our Southern beau- 
 ties are more to my taste, and, if you remem- 
 ber Mrs. Gordon ? — ' 
 
152 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 ' Remember her ! of course I do ! the 
 kindest and the best — ' 
 
 * Ah, she is all that ! and no wife could 
 have been truer than she has been to me. 
 Her daughter Zoe takes after her I'll be 
 bound in other things besides beauty, and 
 between ourselves, it's my intention to realize. 
 Things look bad to me out here — and when 
 I've once got safe to Europe — why I'll go 
 through the wedding ceremony respectably, 
 and Zoe shall marry as good a gentleman as 
 her beauty can procure her.' 
 
 A cloud, on hearing this declaration, 
 passed over the expressive face of ]\Ir. Gor- 
 don's auditor. The latter w^as, however, too 
 much excited to perceive it, and continued 
 thus — 
 
 'You see the difficulty is, how to get 
 along just now. The girl is so uncommon 
 handsome, that she couldn't pass well in a 
 crowd ; and though I kept the poor child 
 boxed up in her berth all the voyage, I doubt 
 there are some scoundrels in the steamer who 
 
Zees 'Brand' 153 
 
 would have made a row had they known of 
 her being in the after-cabins at all. They'd 
 think themselves degraded — the confounded 
 lean-faced Yankees — if my Southern girl, 
 with the beauty of an angel, ate and drank 
 out of the same platters and cups, and — ' 
 
 But by this time Charles Seymour had 
 discovered the drift of his companion's dis- 
 course, and hastened to give him the assur- 
 ance, that by him the secret, both of Zoe's 
 parentage and her presence on board the 
 steamer, should be carefully kept. 
 
 * That's a good fellow,' cried Gordon grate- 
 fully, adding, with genuine Southern hospi- 
 tality, a hope that whenever his friend Sey- 
 mour found himself either at ' Orleans,' or 
 the neio^hbourhood of Oranofe Creek Planta- 
 tion, he would make himself at home in the 
 house of Zoe Gordon's father. Easily settled 
 enough (in the mind of the unthinking 
 Louisianian parent) was that small epheme- 
 ral affair, that trivial episode in a life of 
 turmoil, and, what was usually to him, of 
 
154 Zoes 'BraiuL' 
 
 pleasurable excitement. With Seymour, 
 however, it Avas widely different ; for, in spite 
 of the discovery he had made, and partly in- 
 deed (so chivalrous was his nature) because 
 the selfish tyrants of a world of crime had 
 made the faint tinge on her brow a shameful 
 stain; partly, I say, for that, he longed to 
 take to his own breast that lovely girl, and 
 casting his arms around her, to taste, in the 
 soul's comfort he would give, a deeper, holier 
 
 joy 
 
 * Than e'er the prosperous knew.' 
 
 He kept his secret well. Answering with 
 light, agreeable courtesy to the invitation 
 which he had received with hidden rapture, 
 and leaving the self-occupied Seymour well 
 pleased with the impression he imagined 
 himself to have produced. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 * Yet the people 
 Murmur at this : 
 Hence I would act advisedly herein.' 
 
 At last, and after what appeared to her end- 
 less delay, Zoe was allowed to plant her foot 
 on the soil of Free America ; and there such 
 a storm of tongues awaited her, as might 
 almost have put to shame and rebuke the 
 tempest beneath which she had so lately 
 trembled. Porters of every shade of colour, 
 from jetty black to faintest yellow, were 
 vociferating loudly for employment, josthng 
 each other with apparently murderous vio- 
 lence, and maintaining what threatened to 
 become a deadly warfare against the better- 
 tempered Paddies, who interfered success- 
 fully with their trade. 
 
 ' Ah now, your honour, and won't I be 
 
156 Zoes ^ Brand' 
 
 liftino^ this il infant box for vour honour's 
 honour,' was the tune to which was sung the 
 various harmonies of Hibernian blarney. 
 
 The Levellers in the States have even 
 taken kindly to that Paddyanian proof of 
 subserviency evidenced in the much-abused 
 words *Your Honour;' and the quick-witted 
 sons of Erin found out this fact betimes, and 
 acted on it. So, amongst the exiles from 
 Old Erin, the 'buttering up' and * slither- 
 ing down ' go on apace, whilst the Yankee 
 gentlemen affect to despise those human 
 importations from the Emerald Isle by which 
 their armies are supplied with food for 
 powder, and democratic tyrants, calling 
 themselves free, are raised to fill the Pre- 
 sidential throne. 
 
 'Off with you,' said Gordon, laughing 
 good-humouredly at the almost superhuman 
 efforts made by some stout 'Galway boys' 
 to obtain possession of his 'plunder.'* 'Off 
 with you,' and with a Yankee-like libe- 
 
 * Id est, baggage. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 157 
 
 rality he tossed a handful of small corns 
 among the crowd. 
 
 * Long life to } er honour, and to the beau- 
 tiful lady that's beside you. Sure it's from 
 the ould country ye are with the fisht on the 
 money, and a heart for the poor man.' 
 
 It might have been evident to anyone well 
 acquainted with the opinions entertained by 
 the Irish emigrants of the landlords, and the 
 upper ten thousand generally, whom they 
 had left on the other side of the water, that 
 this individual specimen of his kind had 
 been indulging in that especial curse of his 
 race, yclept the whisky-bottle. His speech 
 savoured of the days gone by — the days of 
 blarneying and of cringing — before his mind 
 had been opened to his * country's wrongs,' 
 and the glorious tide of emigration had 
 swept him onward in its course. 
 
 There were, as I have said, hundreds of 
 idle fellows from the Emerald Gem hanging 
 about the quays, and at their aspect Zoe 
 marvelled greatly — very ' poor whites ' in- 
 
158 Zoes ^ Brand.' 
 
 deed they seemed, in their dirt and in their 
 rags, and poorly enough esteemed did they 
 appear by the children of the soil who evi- 
 dently regarded them as being but one 
 decree in the social scale above the coloured 
 man, whose claims to human privileges they 
 consider as so little valid. Even in the 
 * freest nation in the world' there are certain 
 difficulties and delays to which rich and poor 
 are alike subjected when landing, on what 
 Zoe had heard spoken of by a Yankee, 
 boastful of his native land, *as the tarnationest 
 fine sile as the Almighty ever struck out of 
 the heavens.' The gentleman in question was 
 in eager conversation with a European new to 
 the delights of American travel, and, during 
 the delays occasioned by the Custom-house 
 investigation, Zoe, from her solitary station 
 in the hired carriage, in which she was wait- 
 ing for her father, amused herself in listening 
 to the vauntings of her countrymen. 
 
 ' Well, I reckon as you gents knows where 
 you're a-going to, and my time's as valuable 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 159 
 
 as yours I expect/ said the driver, who, with 
 his quid in his mouth, and its consequences 
 everywhere apparent, was evidently tired 
 of listening, hailed his employer's return in 
 this unceremonious fashion, — ' I reckon now, 
 you know, where you're bound for.' And 
 then, shouting to an Irish carman, who 
 suggested the expediency of his moving a 
 little out of the way of the latter's cumbrous 
 vehicle, — a shower of imprecations broke 
 from his lips, * You think I'm come here 
 to be your nigger, I 'spose — you — ' 
 
 But his vociferative and blasphemous re- 
 proaches were cut short by Mr. Gordon 
 desiring him, in peremptory tones, to drive 
 to the hotel, naming at the same time a 
 house of good repute, but of third-rate pre- 
 tensions to fashion. 
 
 The coachman made a gesture of con- 
 tempt, and then mounting his box, drove off 
 in the direction indicated. 
 
 The hotel was situated in a broad, hand- 
 some street, through which carriages of 
 
160 ' Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 every description were constantly passing to 
 and fro. There were equestrians also of 
 both sexes mingling with the crowd ; and 
 very gaily dressed ladies unaccompanied in 
 most cases by any attendant gentlemen 
 were thronging the side walks. Zoe felt 
 as though she would be never wearied of 
 watching from the window of the hotel that 
 ever-changing scene ; and when, after instal- 
 ling herself in comparative privacy behind 
 the thick folds of the curtains, she saw her 
 father leave the portico, and walk along the 
 street, no sense of loneliness oppressed her, 
 and her happy girlish spirit rose to its wonted 
 level. But amusement, however inviting and 
 continuous, cannot be expected to gratify all 
 the senses at once ; and when several hours 
 had glided past, Zoe, who had been since 
 early morning without tasting food, began to 
 feel at last the cravings of hunger. 
 
 Mr. Gordon had left no directions for his 
 daughter's guidance, nor had he apparently 
 taken any measures for the supplying of her 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 161 
 
 wants. She had heard the clanging, thrilling 
 summons of a gong, and had rightly con- 
 cluded, when its noise was followed by that 
 of many footsteps pattering along the pas- 
 sage, that an important event had taken 
 place, and that dinner was upon the table. 
 
 Five minutes more elapsed, and Zoe was 
 thinking of taking some decided steps in 
 order to procure for herself some of the 
 necessaries of life, when the door of her 
 room was suddenly opened, and a voice 
 unmistakably Hibernian, called to her aloud 
 that dinner was ready. 
 
 * And ye're not to stay there waiting for 
 yer father — he says — but come along at 
 oust.' 
 
 The language used by the independent 
 Irish ' help ' was far from respectful : never- 
 theless Zoe obeyed the order with alacrity, 
 for she was really hungry, and moreover her 
 only employment, namely, that of gazing on 
 the passing crowds, was, as I said, beginning 
 to pall upon her. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 * Wait — please not to go. I shall never find 
 my way'— slie called to the retreating cham- 
 ber-maid, who, laughing good-humouredly, 
 returned to escort her to the dinner saloon. 
 
 ' Why, sure ye're not skeered,' she said ; for 
 Zoe looked as fresh and fair as though no 
 ocean perils had been passed, and not a 
 single hour's sad imprisonment had fallen to 
 her lot. * Sure ye're not skeered, a great 
 strong gal like you. You won't get along in 
 this counthry if ye're timersome. Well, you 
 do look spry, and that's a fact. Were ye 
 ever in the ould counthry, now ? ' 
 
 ' Never,' answered Zoe, as her conductress 
 hurried her along the wide corridors. 
 
 * But ye're not American born, I guess ? ' 
 
 * Indeed I am,' rejoined Zoe, w4io felt 
 rather puzzled by this close questioning. 
 
 She had no time, however, for further 
 speech, as they had by this time reached the 
 widely-opened door through which issued a 
 Babel-like confusion of tongues, accompanied 
 by other noises incidental to a crowded 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 163 
 
 dinner table, where haste is more an object 
 than either elegance or enjoyment. 
 
 Five o'clock had sounded from the loud 
 voices of the city clocks, when the fair 
 habituees of the hotel, decoUetees a Voutrance, 
 for the benefit of the privileged gentlemen 
 admitted into the sanctuary of their especial 
 table d'hote, seated themselves in their rich 
 rustling silks and gorgeous jewellery at the 
 well-spread board, and fair weak creatures, 
 though they were, * fell to/ as the saying is, 
 with a will. 
 
 M 2 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 * Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery, thou art a 
 bitter draught.' — Sterne. 
 
 It has been said by a keen observer of human 
 nature that the innermost peculiarities of 
 both men and women's nature are more 
 likely to be laid bare at the card table than 
 in any other situation in which they may be 
 placed. Without altogether denying the 
 truth of this remark, I venture to say a word 
 in favour of the dinner versus the card table, 
 as a field where human qualities may be suc- 
 cessfully, if not advantageously, studied. And 
 that this is the case in America, no one who 
 has, with eyes and ears open, travelled through 
 the States, can doubt. 
 
 Yes, a table d'hote dinner in a Northern 
 city is a curious if not a pleasant sight, for 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 165 
 
 there is observable at those monster meals 
 such a total absence of the amenities of life ; 
 such an egotistical and overbearing self- 
 seekingness that one is involuntarily re- 
 minded of the witty Frenchman's pithy 
 description of the free-born Yankees — 
 *iZs sont des fiers cochons, et des cochons 
 jiers: The cochons were all hard at work 
 when Zoe, nervous and agitated, stood for a 
 moment at the door, as though hesitating to 
 enter. In truth, the uproar seemed to her 
 unaccustomed ears to be absolutely stunning, 
 and perceiving, after a cursory glance, no 
 vacant place at the table, and no friend or 
 father's face amidst those rows of unknown 
 countenances, she was on the point of retiring 
 as hastily as she had entered, when an obse- 
 quious coloured waiter drew the attention of 
 the master of the establishment towards 
 her. 
 
 Mr. looked up from the gigantic 
 
 turkey he was carving, and struck, probably, 
 by her beauty and unusual air of distinction, 
 
166 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 made, by dint of much squeezing and 
 pressing, a place for Miss Gordon's chair 
 beside himself. The bustle occasioned by 
 this caused most of the guests to look up from 
 their well-filled plates, and not a few, having 
 ascertained the reason, held their knives and 
 forks upraised, while they gazed with wonder 
 and admiration at the new comer. 
 
 Her entrance alone, and unattended, was 
 in itself sufficient to account for the surprise 
 so evident on every face ; and as the painfully 
 embarrassed girl took possession of her seat, 
 the consciousness that she was the cynosure 
 of every eye, caused the blood to rush up to 
 her very temples, thereby redoubling the love- 
 liness which was already but too apparent. 
 
 Meanwhile, and during the period when 
 his daughter was quietly amusing herself in 
 the sleeping-chamber where he had left her, 
 Mr. Gordon was, as he would himself have 
 said, occupied in business. He had in reality 
 various merchants to visit — useful ac- 
 quaintances they were — men who contracted 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 167 
 
 for tlie cotton and the sugar raised and 
 manufactured, the one on Cedar Levee, and 
 the other on Orange Creek Plantation. But 
 if the truth must be told, Mr. Gordon had 
 in reality no turn for the dry details of mer- 
 cantile affairs. He was essentially a South- 
 ern gentleman, indolent, hospitable, and 
 insouciant — and therefore the reader will not 
 be surprised to learn that after hurrying over 
 his negotiation in a manner which proved 
 extremely profitable to the Yankee specu- 
 lator, he turned his thoughts to more con- 
 genial pastimes. 
 
 Many were the acquaintances whom he met 
 in his morning ramble, and as he was more 
 than once tempted (following the universal 
 practice of liquoring), to step into the pre- 
 cincts of an inviting-looking ' bar,' it ensued 
 that the very existence of poor lonely Zoe 
 escaped his memory, and that four o'clock, 
 the hour for dinner, had sounded, whilst he 
 was yet at a considerable distance from the 
 Hotel. 
 
168 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 The first act of ISIr. Gordon, when he re- 
 turned ta a sense of his parental duties, was 
 to hurry up the stairs, and along the spacious 
 corridors which led to his daughter's chamber. 
 The ceremony of knocking he deemed, natu- 
 rally enough, to be unnecessary ; nor did he 
 entertain the slightest doubt that he would 
 find his patient child awaiting his return, 
 and obedient as, with one exception, she had 
 ever shown herself to his wishes. 
 
 With this conviction on his mind, he 
 entered the room, and great was his conster- 
 nation when, on looking round, he at once 
 perceived that it was empty. His first im- 
 pulse — one, however, which he did not yield 
 to — was to ring the bell furiously — his ob- 
 ject being, of course, to make inquiry con- 
 cerning his daughter — but a moment's re- 
 flection convinced him that the more quietly 
 this was done the better. 
 
 It was just possible, although scarcely 
 probable, that Zoe, wearied of her solitude, 
 and marvelling at his lengthened absence, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 169 
 
 Lad left her room in order to make inquiries 
 concerning him. If this were the case, the 
 evil was not irremediable, and he finally re- 
 solved (after a few minutes' deliberation), on 
 betaking himself to the table d'hote, pre- 
 viously, however, making all secure by a mes- 
 sage, which he intended to leave with the 
 chambermaid for Zoe, to the effect that when 
 she should return she must await his coming 
 there. 
 
 ' And upon my soul,' muttered the South- 
 ern gentleman to himself, ' if I could have 
 guessed the bore this girl would have been to 
 me, she should have remained where she was. 
 Another year would have made no difference 
 to her, and by that time — ' 
 
 But here his soliloquy was cut short by the 
 entrance of the self-same Bridget, whose 
 natural curiosity had been greatly excited by 
 the loneliness of the missing girl. 
 
 * You're wanting your daughter, I ex- 
 pect,' was her unceremonious remark. ' She 
 went down to dinner a spell ago. I reckon 
 
170 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 I spoke to the wrong miss ; for another girl's 
 father sent to fetch her down, and I didn't 
 know one number from another, so there it 
 was. But it's no odds, I guess, to signify.' 
 
 No odds ! Heavens and earth 1 Why 
 that officious blundering wretch (he called 
 her all this in his fury) had done the 
 Louisianian planter an injury which was 
 perhaps irreparable. For had she not in her 
 stupid ignorance introduced into the com- 
 pany of those exclusive free men, a daughter 
 of the race they looked upon as little better 
 than the brutes ? And ought not the conse- 
 quences of Biddy's blunder to fall upon her 
 own head? 
 
 Yes — it was too true that lovely and 
 graceful though she was — accomplished, too, 
 and refined in mind and manners far beyond 
 those with whom accident had thus brought 
 her into contact, Zoe Gordon's presence 
 would be regarded as a deadly insult, and 
 one for which in all probability blood alone 
 could satisfactorily atone. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ' I only hear the lean and mutinous swine 
 Grunting about the temple.' 
 
 * In a crisis 
 Of such exceeding magnitude I think 
 We ought to put Her Majesty, Sweet Beauty, 
 Upon her trial without delay.' 
 
 To describe Mr. Gordon's state of mind as 
 he hurried to the dinner saloon would be im- 
 possible. To say that he had no feeling of 
 compassion for the girl whose perception of 
 her actual position in society was likely soon 
 to be so rudely awakened would be untrue, 
 for he was naturally kind-hearted, and his 
 young daughter's rare personal gifts had 
 roused in his heart feelings both of affection 
 and parental pride. It was that very pride, 
 however, which made him at that anxious mo- 
 ment somewhat oblivious to Zoe's claims on 
 his compassion. And then, be it remembered. 
 
172 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 he did, in common with his countrymen, so 
 bitterly despise the low-born, dollar-loving, 
 unchivalrous race, whose narrow prejudices 
 would, as he was well aware, lead them 
 to outrage every pure and womanly feeling 
 of the delicately-reared Southern maiden. 
 
 There yet remained, nevertheless, a chance 
 of escape, and at that, the anxious man, as he 
 hastened onward, eagerly caught. It might 
 be — he did not think it probable — but still it 
 was on the cards that the fact of Zoe's birth 
 might not have become patent to that bigoted 
 assemblage. The gas shone brilliantly, it is 
 true, from a hundred jets, but by some sin- 
 gular piece of good fortune it might be that 
 no betraying flash had fallen on her low 
 white forehead, or on the taper fingers, 
 which, Frenchwoman like, were, in Zoe's case, 
 usually covered with the most unexception- 
 able of gloves. 
 
 * If so, I am all right,' thought Gordon, as 
 for a moment he placed himself in the door- 
 way and took a general survey of the guests. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 173 
 
 *If so, I am all right, and perhaps my best 
 course would be to let things take their 
 course, and go somewhere else for my dinner.' 
 He was turning away, when Zoe, whose eyes 
 had never for many minutes together been 
 removed from the entrance-door, caught a 
 glimpse of his face. 
 
 * Ah ! ' she exclaimed in joyful accents to 
 a neighbour of the male sex who had, by a 
 series of embarrassing questions, shown him- 
 self to be more inquisitive than polite ; ' Ah ! 
 there is my father at last ; ' and, acting on 
 the impulse of the moment, she sprang from 
 her seat to greet him. 
 
 She did not notice the looks which at 
 sight of Mr. Gordon, and on the hearing of 
 her hasty exclamation, were exchanged be- 
 tween the occupants of the end of the table 
 where she had been seated. Very ominous 
 looks they were, and more than one man (her 
 right-hand and previously most assiduous 
 neighbour was the first to move) rose from 
 their chairs with a kind of angry start, and a 
 
174 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 simultaneous movement, which the bland 
 hotel-keeper strove in vain to arrest. 
 
 Astonished, and half-frightened by the 
 consequences of her impulsive act, Zoe passed 
 towards the now crowded doorway to her 
 father, who still remained where she had first 
 caught sight of him — his face pale with jDas- 
 sion, but with an air of indomitable resolution 
 on his brow. To rejoin him, short as was the 
 distance by w^hich they were separated, was 
 no easy matter ; for he was beginning to be 
 pressed against by several excited and ges- 
 ticulating Yankees, whose wrath that they, 
 and above all, their * ladies,' had broken bread 
 with one of the negro race, was not to be 
 easily appeased. 
 
 ' Well, sir,' said one free-born citizen, 
 w^alking close up to the offender, and speak- 
 ing with the nasal twang which at once be- 
 trays the Northern American; *well, sir, I 
 expect you've made a pretty considerable 
 mistake in bringing that there girl here to- 
 day. You'd best keep your smuts in your 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 175 
 
 own place, and don't think to force gentle- 
 men to keep company with them, or you'll 
 get something you don't expect, I calculate/ 
 
 The speaker was an enormously tall man — 
 so tall, indeed, that his opponent, though con- 
 siderably above the middle height, looked 
 almost short beside him. The breadth of 
 the Northerner was, however, in no degree 
 proportioned to his length, inasmuch as he 
 was thin almost to absurdity, with a long 
 shapeless body, clad in the inevitable black 
 silk * vest ' and a chimney-pot of a hat thrust 
 down defiantly on his long and unkempt locks. 
 
 What Mr. Gordon would have replied to 
 the insolent speech of the indignant giant 
 can never now be known, for at that mo- 
 ment the peace-loving landlord thrust his 
 bulky form between the opponents, and 
 taking Mr. Gordon by the arm, drew, or 
 rather pushed him along the passage. The 
 efforts of the cautious man, who objected 
 greatly to brawls taking place in his well- 
 conducted house, were seconded by Zoe, who. 
 
176 Zoe's 'Braiui: 
 
 clinging closely to her father, sensibly im- 
 peded any efforts at retaliation on his part. 
 
 * You'd best make tracks for your own 
 apartment, I reckon,' said the landlord. ' You 
 see those gentlemen have got their dander 
 up, and they'll be in the majority, I guess, 
 this turn ! ' 
 
 ' D — -n them,' said Gordon, — ' a confoun- 
 ded blackguardly set of under-bred Yankees 
 to have the insolence to dictate to me — ' 
 
 *Come, now, I calculate that won't do, 
 and it's best to keep a civil tongue in your 
 head. You see we're free in these States, 
 and we can't abear the name and sight of 
 slavery.' 
 
 ' Humbug — cursed humbug ! ' muttered 
 Gordon, who, notwithstanding his indigna- 
 tion, thought it best to hasten his own and 
 his daughter's steps along the corridors ; for 
 the Babel-like noise and confusion of tongues 
 was evidently increasing in the dinner-room, 
 and however willing he might be to do 
 battle with his foes, Mr. Gordon shrank 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 177 
 
 from exposing his daughter to insult, nay, 
 even, possibly to injury. 
 
 * There, now, you keep quiet,' said the 
 landlord when they reached the door of their 
 private apartments ; ' you keep quiet a spell ; 
 though of course it's direct against my in- 
 terest to say so, the sooner you and that 'ere 
 gal leave York the better. I'm not over fond 
 myself of having coloured things o' that sort 
 about, and my best rooms isn't for such-like 
 company, I expect.' 
 
 He was closing the door as he finished 
 speaking, and Zoe's heart was faint and trem- 
 bling within her ; for no word that he had 
 uttered had fallen to the ground unheard, 
 and the poor girl stood before her father 
 mute and tearless, but with anguish inde- 
 scribable in her heart. 
 
 Mr. Gordon did not utter a syllable either 
 to console her, or to throw a light upon a 
 mystery which was as yet to his hapless child 
 perfectly unfathomable. He had thrown 
 himself into a rocking-chair, and there re- 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 mained swavinof himself to and fro as if 
 endeavouring tbus to cradle his terrible mor- 
 tification to sleep. Meantime, in the dining 
 saloon, contaminated by that almost un- 
 cleansible pollution, public opinion was mak- 
 ing itself plainly heard and understood by the 
 body of free and enlightened citizens therein 
 assembled; for the fact of the gross insult 
 which had been offered by a Southerner to that 
 distinguished company soon spread through 
 the room, and every man, and what was 
 still more w^orthy of observation, every woman, 
 rose with one accord, and asked for vengeance. 
 
 It was in vain that the landlord endea- 
 voured to throw oil upon the stormy billows ; 
 in vain that he promised to obtain not only 
 a satisfactory explanation but the humblest of 
 apologies from the offender ; insulted dignity 
 swelled too high for words of his to lay the 
 angry spirit, and the dreaded words, ' Lynch 
 law,' began to be more than whispered 
 amongst the infuriated crowd. 
 
 I have said that Zoe stood very sadly near 
 
Zo&s 'Brand: 179 
 
 her angry father. She was terribly afraid 
 that she had offended him past forgiveness, 
 and longed exceedingly to account for her 
 presence at the table d'hote. He must think 
 her so self-willed and disobedient, and would, 
 she feared, be inclined to lay to her charge 
 the annoyance to which he had been sub- 
 jected. With this sad surmise in her heart it 
 would have been a relief indeed could she 
 have poured out her thoughts to the angry 
 man, entreating him at the same time to tell 
 her in what she had offended, and promising 
 with all her love and duty to yield passively 
 in future to every command and wish of his. 
 Gladly, I say, would Zoe have done this, 
 but between her and the author of her being 
 there seemed to have risen up a barrier as 
 unexpected as it was impervious. Why it 
 was and wherefore that she stood before him 
 more as his servant than his child, she knew 
 not, but so in fact it was ; and not Esther 
 waiting for encouragement from the great 
 Assyrian king could have trembled more be- 
 
 n2 
 
180 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 fore the monarch's throne than did that 
 young, pure girl beside her wrathful parent's 
 chair. 
 
 At last he broke silence with an oath. 
 ' God ! ' he exclaimed, rising suddenly 
 from his chair, * what hellish row is that ? 
 By Heavens ! I believe those rowdy brutes 
 are coming here, and what the d — 1 I am to 
 do with you, girl, is more than I can telL' 
 
 ' With me ? Oh, father, do not send me 
 from you 1 ' cried Zoe, piteously. ' Indeed, 
 I meant to do no wrong. I did not wish to 
 disobey you — I — ' 
 
 ' ' Tush, child ! — it is not that — you do not 
 know — the men are brutes; and brutal as they 
 are, you may be in danger from their violence. 
 My child, do not tremble so ; keep close to 
 me. Hark ! here they come,' he continued, in 
 excited tones, as the noise of angry voices grew 
 more near, and a door, the existence of which 
 neither of them had previously noticed, 
 opened suddenly. 
 
 But it was by no inroad of revengeful 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 181 
 
 citizens that the privacy of these two South- 
 erners was thus broken in upon, for one in- 
 dividual, and that one a woman, entered the 
 room, saying, as she did so, 
 
 •Ah, thin, what are ye biding here for 
 among the murthering ruffians, as is seeking 
 to take the life of ye the day ? Hurry, now, — 
 can't ye? — the master does be saying so — 
 down the back stairs, and the lady wid ye 
 Ye'll get safe away yet by the blessing o' 
 God!' 
 
 Even while Biddy (for the eager spokes- 
 woman was no other than the red-haired Irish 
 emigrant) was uttering this frantic exhorta- 
 tion, Mr. Gordon, stimulated to action by the 
 rapidly increasing outcry, had made up his 
 mind to take refuge in flight. He was well 
 aware to what acts of atrocity the anti-liberal 
 party and the inhabitants of the Northern 
 States generally have been frequently led 
 through their hatred and contempt for the ne- 
 gro race. That, in their present state of excite- 
 ment, the after-dinner pastime of ' lynching' a 
 
182 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 Southerner who had insulted them might be 
 resorted to, he entertained little doubt, and 
 rightly deeming the better part of valour to 
 be discretion, he proceeded without delay to 
 follow the energetic Hibernian's advice. 
 
 Loud sounded on the solid door which 
 opened on the corridor the thundering raps 
 of the excited citizens. Tremendous were 
 the curses, and so terrible the threats, that 
 Zoe's blood ran cold within her veins as 
 Biddy with nimble fingers prepared her for 
 the Exodus. 
 
 ' Arrah, now, agra, but ye're all fixed and 
 ready. Hurry now with the jintleman, and 
 I'll look to the boxes mysel'. Hear till 'em, 
 the dirty blackguards ! Sure, it's a lady ye 
 are, every inch of yer, and it isn't sich as 
 thim will be laying a finger on yer the day.' 
 
 They had brought but little baggage with 
 them to the hotel, the principal part of their 
 belongings having been left for inspection at 
 the custom-house ; so it was in light march- 
 ing order that Mr. Gordon and his terrified 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 183 
 
 daughter crept stealthily and under cover of 
 darkness from that inhospitable house. The 
 town was all before them where to choose 
 their place of rest, and very easily was their 
 selection made; for avoiding the broader 
 and , better lighted streets, Mr. Gordon, in 
 gloomy silence, conducted the wearied and 
 tremblinof Zoe to a boardins^-house of hum- 
 ble pretensions, which had been indicated to 
 him by a countryman of Biddy's as a place 
 where a *jintleman' would be safe from 
 annoyance. 
 
 They took possession of a very small, but 
 tolerably clean sitting-room, and there it was 
 that Mr. Gordon, rendered irascible by the 
 events of the day, explained to Zoe — and 
 that with a terseness ill-calculated to allay 
 the bitterness of the truth — that the race 
 from which she sprang was considered one of 
 contemned and miserable Pariahs, and that 
 she herself was esteemed in that busy, pros- 
 perous city little better than a castaway. 
 With what a rush of eager, agonizing in- 
 
184 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 terest surging in upon her tortured heart the 
 poor girl listened to him ! How changed she 
 seemed to lier own self since, liardly two 
 hours ago, she had looked with a light and 
 gladsome spirit upon the busy crowds with- 
 out ! Her thoughts had been all girlish 
 then — a ribbon, a gay flower — the sight of a 
 fair creature, blooming as herself, had only 
 added to the brightness of the picture that 
 she gazed on. But now, how dark that pic- 
 ture seemed! One of a race of slaves! No 
 slave herself, thank God ! No vision of the 
 hated gyves, or still more brutal lash, lent 
 horror to the view. It was only dark — only 
 the sunshine had quite faded out ; and Zoe, 
 when the morning light aroused her from her 
 troubled slumbers, felt for the first time the 
 weight of woe which, as life's weary chain 
 drags its slow length along, presses each 
 day more heavily on the lone wanderer's 
 heart. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ' All present who those crimes did hear, 
 In feigned, or actual scorn, and fear, 
 Men, Avomen, and children slunk away. 
 Whispering with self-contented pride.' 
 
 The arrangements for the effectual tabooing 
 of the negro race, to the third and fourth, and 
 likewise to all following, generations are very 
 ingeniously managed and thoroughly well 
 carried out in the Northern States of the 
 Union. That this is the case is a fact too 
 generally known to require commenting on 
 here, and my only reason for mentioning 
 these cunningly-contrived devices is, that 
 the reader may appreciate the difficulties 
 which lay before Mr. Gordon and his daughter 
 in their way southwards. 
 
 ' You see,' said the greatly-embarrassed 
 planter ' that there is a chance whether we 
 
186 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 can get along at all. It all comes of these 
 cursed Abolitionists with their humbuor and 
 
 o 
 
 their nonsense — Gad ! how I should like to 
 have a few of them in my Brazos estate. 
 I'd give them a taste of the lash, I reckon, 
 in earnest there/ 
 
 He was walking up and down the room 
 with rapid and angry strides, his fragrant 
 cigar between his lips, whilst his young 
 daughter (but for his own exceeding irrita- 
 tion he must have noticed how deadly pale 
 she had become) was seated on a low wooden 
 chair beside the stove. A sufFocatinof atmo- 
 sphere caused by the burning of the deadly 
 anthracite coal oppressed her throat and 
 chest ; for she had been accustomed to a 
 purer air and to the rather scanty wood 
 fires of Madame Duchatel's establishment, 
 so that smoke in the twofold form now 
 conjointly introduced into her lungs was 
 eminently distasteful to her. 
 
 A slight cough — she had tried hard to 
 suppress it — was the only reply she seemed 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 187 
 
 capable of making to her father's irritated 
 remarks ; and on hearing it his exasperation 
 took a new turn. 
 
 ' I guess it's the smoke,' he said pettishly, 
 ' that's not agreeing with you too well, but 
 I reckon you must get used to that sort of 
 thing. It won't do to be a fine lady where 
 you're going; you've seen a specimen of 
 genteel life on this side the water, and I 
 dare say you wish yourself back again in 
 Europe ? ' 
 
 Poor Zoe scarcely knew how to reply to 
 a remark, the tone of which gave it to her 
 ears the sound of a question. 
 
 * It has been a wretched beginning,' she 
 murmured, ' and I can only be grieved that 
 I should have entailed on you so much 
 annoyance.' 
 
 He did not answer, but continued his 
 walk along the greasy, well- trod carpet. 
 
 His daughter rose from her chair, and 
 timidly laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 ' Father,' she began, but the word seemed 
 
188 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 to sting him, for he ahnost jerked himself 
 away from her. 
 
 * Don't be a fool,' he said roughly. 'And 
 remember that "Father" is a word to be 
 forgotten — at least till we get to the Planta- 
 tion. Now mind what I am going to say, 
 and don't be thrusting yourself any more 
 into places where you've no business. The 
 long and the short of the matter is, that you 
 must keep in the background, and that no 
 one must know I've anything to do with 
 you. It will be easy enough in the cars if 
 you'll only mind what I tell you, and keep 
 down that thick lace trumpery you call a 
 veil about your face.' 
 
 After this brief colloquy the precautions 
 deemed necessary for the journey were very 
 soon decided on ; Mr. Gordon continuing to 
 insist strenuously on the importance of con- 
 cealment, and his hapless daugliter listening 
 thereto with a heart full of heaviness, and 
 with dimmed eyes from which she vainly 
 endeavoured to send back the rising tears. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 189 
 
 For to the disappointed girl, to whom the 
 reality of her journey seemed likely to differ 
 so painfully from the pleasant pictures which 
 her young fancy had conjured up, the occur- 
 rences of the last few hours were truly as 
 the passing of a dreary dream. The truth 
 had been broken to her so suddenly that she 
 could scarcely as yet bring herself to com- 
 prehend the new position in which she found 
 herself. On looking back into the past, she 
 could not remember to have heard of in- 
 stances (in the Old World) of oppression or 
 insult similar to that to which she had herself 
 been exposed ; nor did the fact that within 
 her veins there ran a mindinof of the black 
 man's blood convey to her mind any feeling 
 of personal degradation. Mr. Gordon, 
 greatly irritated as he had been at the 
 moment when he partly and so rudely en- 
 lightened his daughter's mind regarding the 
 causes of the late disturbance, had never- 
 theless abstained from informing her of one 
 portion of her melancholy history, which was 
 
190 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 patent to all the world save to herself alone. 
 As yet the unhappy offspring of prejudice 
 and passion was unaware that she and all her 
 race were doomed by her country's laws to 
 be the children of shame, and that on her 
 brow was branded deep the name of * bastard.' 
 Still, and without this terrible knowledge, 
 she was glad enough to draw a screen before 
 the face still flushed Avith shame and anger 
 which met her father's eyes, when on the 
 following morning she descended to their 
 tSte-a-tete breakfast. The planter gazed at 
 her scrutinizingly. After all she was his 
 child, and he would have been proud indeed 
 of that grand peerless beauty had her mother 
 been his lawful wife, and not — alas ! despite 
 her wife-like faithfulness, a slave ! 
 
 He asked the silent girl if she had rested 
 well, and kissed her cheek, calling her his 
 pretty Zoe and his own dear daughter, as 
 a loving parent might. But strange to say 
 she shrank away from his caress, and almost 
 shuddered at his touch. Was it that those 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 191 
 
 tender words, coming so late, seemed offered 
 in the light of an expiation ; or did a voice 
 within her whisper as a dreary secret that 
 the man before her had more strino-ent 
 rights than God has given even to a parent ; 
 and that she saw before her both a master 
 and an enemy? 
 
 God knows ! There are strange warnings 
 given to the human heart, and spirits some- 
 times enter in quite suddenly, and dwell 
 there evermore. Zoe had both seemed and 
 felt herself to be till now a yielding, passive 
 creature — one, unsuspicious of her kind, and 
 only asking to be loved as she would will- 
 ingly love all that came within her reach. 
 She had not guessed — how should she? — that 
 one swiftly-passing hour, bearing on its wings 
 the breath of insult, and the hoarse murmurs 
 of defiance, would stir the latent passion in 
 her breast, and make the pure fluid turbid 
 with the dark admixture. But the wakeful 
 hours of that lonely, miserable night had not 
 been spent in vain ; and as she lay upon her 
 
192 Zoes 'Braiui: 
 
 sleepless pillow, waiting for the long-coming 
 morning light, the strongest of the new emo- 
 tions which had been roused within her, was 
 answer aofainst her father. 
 
 * Why,' she asked herself, ' had he taken 
 her in her unthinking childhood from the 
 plantation home, where she had been safe 
 from cowardly affronts — and, wherefore — 
 ha vino: ofiven her a foretaste of the blessed Old- 
 World life, which she must now endeavour 
 to forget, had he brought her back amongst 
 those mannerless and barbarous men ? 
 
 But even in the depths of her keenly-felt 
 degradation, there glimmered a faint ray of 
 hope, that the sun of liberty would shine at 
 last, and the music of fallen chains ring out 
 upon a startled world. This bright reflection 
 of the beaming thought warmed the high 
 passions of her Southern blood, lending a still 
 more brilliant lustre to her speaking eyes, and 
 calling fresher roses to her rounded cheek. 
 
 * You quite comprehend, my child,' said 
 her father, after the silent meal had been 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 193 
 
 concluded, ' you are to be at one end of the 
 car, and I at the other. No fear if you are 
 alone, and keep your veil down, of your 
 meeting with rudeness, and — by the way — 
 now I think of it, don't take off your gloves, 
 there's little enough to be seen on your fin- 
 ger nails ; but they've such cursed sharp eyes 
 these Yankees, and are so everlastingly sus- 
 picious.' 
 
 Zoe looked down on the pretty taper fin- 
 gers which lay idly on her lap, and then with 
 inquiring eyes into her father's face, 
 
 ' Why am I to hide my hands ? ' she asked. 
 * This is a strange free country surely,' she 
 added, with a little bitter laugh, 'when in 
 such a trifling matter as a pair of gloves a 
 woman may not please herself! Is fashion 
 here so very arbitrary, and — ' 
 
 * It has nothing to do with fashion,' broke 
 in Gordon pettishly, ' unless,' but he checked 
 himself, and added more kindly, ' the truth 
 is, my child, that this absurd prejudice makes 
 these Northern men look out sharp for sign 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
194 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 and, unfortunately, you've got ten at the ends 
 of those pretty digits of yours ; ' and taking 
 her hand in his, he pointed out to her the 
 faint dark tinge upon the finger nails, which 
 to the initiated is a sign infallible of the race 
 from which she came. 
 
 'Branded with a mark,' thought the un- 
 happy girl, as she strove to repress the tears 
 of wounded pride which rose to her hot eye- 
 lids. * Branded with a mark, which can 
 never while I live be obliterated or washed 
 away, and stamped as one whom the world 
 regards, although I know not why, as in- 
 famous.' 
 
 It was a touching and a piteous cry wrung 
 from young lips, to whom the taste of Mara's 
 waters was yet new, and bitter as the hateful 
 wormwood. It was a piteous cry, but the 
 father seemed to heed it not ; but only bade 
 her make good speed, for that the hour of 
 departure was at hand. 
 
 It had been decreed by Mr. Gordon that 
 Zoe was to meet him at the station, whence 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 195 
 
 the cars for Philadelphia were to leave the 
 city, and it formed also a portion of the 
 arrangements that no outward signs of recog- 
 nition should pass between them ; so when 
 the young girl descended from her hackney 
 carriage, no hand was stretched out to assist 
 her, although with watchful eyes, the uneasy 
 parent saw that despite her shrouded features 
 and the simple dress she wore, many glances 
 were cast upon the graceful girl, who could 
 scarcely hope to pass unnoticed, even by the 
 business-loving crowd of eager passengers 
 hurriedly employed in taking their places and 
 their tickets. There was but scant ceremony 
 evinced by that motley assemblage, in which 
 travellers of every degree were to be seen, 
 hustling and pushing for seats in the one 
 caravan-like vehicle, with its stifling stove 
 and comfortless benches. 
 
 Zoe felt far from satisfied with the ar- 
 rangement which consigned her to the close 
 neighbourhood of a powerful- looking Ken- 
 tuckian — clearly one of the 'half-horse, half- 
 
 2 
 
196 Zoe\s 'Brand: 
 
 alligator ' species, with unkempt hair, blanket 
 coat, and trowsers tucked into the dirtiest of 
 boots. She soon, however, began mentally 
 to confess that she had been premature in 
 her condemnation of her rough-looking neigh- 
 bour. Courtesy and civility, as we all know, 
 are not by many means exclusively to be met 
 with in those who possess the exterior ad- 
 vantages of a well- washed face, and boots re- 
 dolent of French polish; and the unpromising 
 looking Kentuckian, w^hose appearance had 
 filled our heroine's mind with unnecessary 
 alarm was, to do him only justice, harmless, 
 and civil enough after a fashion, offering the 
 apparently unprotected girl the place next 
 the window, whilst he (for each seat contains 
 but two persons) took possession of the one 
 which left him free to go and come, to smoke 
 upon the platform or to indulge his na- 
 tional restlessness by walking up and 
 down the narrow passage separating the 
 two rows of horse-hair covered wooden 
 benches 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 197 
 
 Zoe's only comfort, as she saw herself thus 
 surrounded by strangers, was the certainty 
 that her father occupied a place at the 
 furthest extremity of the car. Occasionally, 
 too, she caught a glimpse of him, as, in com- 
 mon with the rest, he strolled out upon the 
 platform,* or passed and repassed her in her 
 ' worst of solitudes.' 
 
 The sameness of travelling in the United 
 States can hardly be conceived by anyone 
 who has not gone through the tedious process 
 of reaching the Ohio river by rail. To my 
 heroine, the trajet must have been more than 
 usually irksome, inasmuch as she was enduring 
 all the dulness of incog., and of transmission, 
 without the conscious dignity which some- 
 times half neutralizes dulness. There was 
 some compensation, however, in the increased 
 kindness of manner exhibited by her father, 
 who, as his fears for her detection lessened, 
 began to talk, when they rested for the night, 
 
 * A small landing-place outside the passenger cars. 
 
198 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 with unmitigated satisfaction, of his return to 
 a country of * gentlemen,' and to the scene of 
 his own mild, though despotic rule — in the 
 plantations of fertile Louisiana. 
 
CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 * To move as one between desire and fear 
 Suspended — ' 
 
 ' Into thy valley of perpetual dream 
 Show whence I came, and where I am, and why.' 
 
 At last — and to Zoe it seemed a weary time 
 and long — the travellers arrived at Cincin- 
 nati. The tired girl was glad to leave the 
 car, even for the pork-deiiled city which 
 stretches along la belle rivieres banks its 
 slaughter-houses, its packing places, and its 
 amphitheatre of white buildings, crowned by 
 their glittering steeples, and shining beneath 
 the winter-sun like minarets in the far-off 
 Eastern land. 
 
 From the rising ground above the city, 
 Zoe, standing by her father's side, looked down 
 upon the far-famed Cincinnati, and listened 
 to the stories of its greatness. She heard of 
 
200 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 many a wonder then — of learned and scienti- 
 fic men who owned it as their birthplace, and 
 of the universe-famed artist — Cincinnati 
 born — from whose studio in old Rome came 
 forth the lovely slave whose plaintive beauty 
 has entranced a world. Zoe listened and 
 admired, while a glow of patriotic feeling 
 warmed her young impulsive heart, beating 
 high with pride of country, and of all things 
 beautiful therein. 
 
 The time, however, running short, before it 
 was necessary to go on board the steamer, 
 and en route to New Orleans — Mr. Gordon, 
 cutting short the burst of enthusiasm, hurried 
 his young daughter down the gently-sloping 
 path and under the still verdant trees towards 
 the river 
 
 He took her through the broadest thorough- 
 fares, avoiding as much as might be the sights, 
 and scents, and sounds which have procured 
 for the active Western town the nickname of 
 * Porkopolis.' But with the best intentions 
 on the planter's part, it was impossible to 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 201 
 
 prevent some ugly facts making themselves 
 apparent to the sensitive organs of the Paris- 
 ' raised ' maiden. Some seven hundred 
 thousand of the swinish trihe cannot be ex- 
 pected to pay the debt of nature without 
 leaving behind them a receipt in full, which 
 those who run through the thronged streets 
 of the Western city may plainly read, and 
 Zoe, as she passed with rapid steps before the 
 'Mammoth Establishment,' had arrived at 
 the conclusion that in one, at least, of the 
 thriving cities of her native land she could 
 heartily pray that her lot in life might not be 
 cast. 
 
 With the love of novelty natural to her 
 age and sex, Zoe hailed with pleasure the 
 sight of the beautiful stream, and, above all, 
 the magnificent river steamer in which her 
 father had engaged their berths for the 
 voyage. For there was her floating home — a 
 towering vessel, awaiting man's command to 
 send her down the clear Ohio. 
 
 The river was o'ershadowed by trees, from 
 
202 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 whose branches the long Spanish moss and 
 mystic misleto floated, and Zoe, glancing 
 back (as the noble * Empress ' left her moor- 
 ings) on the beautiful city to which they 
 were bidding farewell, felt many a childish 
 memory of bygone marvels wake up within 
 her. Hitherto the fact that she, a ' coloured 
 girl,' had intruded into the sacred precincts of 
 the white man's * pale ' had been visited upon 
 her by unmitigated feelings of mortification. 
 The daily discomforts of her journey had also 
 been very great ; and the necessity for con- 
 cealment had entailed upon her so incessant 
 an amount of watchfulness that she had en- 
 joyed few moments of calm meditation, 
 whilst each passing thought was embittered 
 by the consciousness of her own degradation. 
 Youth and health are, however, mighty coun- 
 terbalancers of sorrow, and both were gifts 
 enjoyed in their full perfection by Cherie. 
 Hitherto also she had seen so little of the active 
 pleasures or the business of life. In the Rue 
 La Grange, as we have seen, the faculties 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 203 
 
 through which we understand enjoyment had 
 been utterly dormant, and the wings of fancy 
 had been folded as closely as the sleeping 
 bird's upon its leaf-hid perch. Nor had the 
 awakening at the old chateau in the Landes 
 aroused Zoe to any of the startling realities 
 of this base and brilliant world. It is not 
 the touch of friendship which can unclose 
 the slumbering eyelids, nor does the calm 
 country life, led by calm country people, 
 suffice to rouse the dormant love of strong 
 excitement inherent in the children of the 
 sun. But what the companionship of the 
 mild, intellectual Alfred de Rouvray had 
 failed to effect, was achieved at once by the 
 almost mesmeric influence of her own beauty- 
 loving countryman, and one glance from the 
 searching eyes of Charley Seymour worked 
 the normal miracle in the heart of the 
 Southern maiden. 
 
 ' Shall I ever see him again ? ' was the un- 
 answered question which the musing girl for 
 ever asked herself. She had beheld him last 
 
204 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 (it was at the moment when she left the 
 steamer) amongst a bevy of pretty, laughing 
 girls — fast — desperately so — they had seemed 
 to her who was forbidden to place herself, 
 even mentally, in their ranks ; and Zoe, as 
 she saw a tall, fair, dazzling beauty, with 
 golden hair, and eyes of heaven's own blue, 
 place a flower in Charles Seymour's hand, 
 hated her own darker beauty, and would have 
 given years of life for leave to touch his hand 
 before them all. 
 
 She was thinking of him now as she sat 
 near the narrow gallery, which, in the huge 
 Mississippi steamers, encircles the stern of 
 those floating houses of entertainment. 
 There was nothing particularly interesting 
 in the view on which she gazed — a rapid, 
 running, lordly, river, with low banks, on 
 which the cotton-wood trees, giants in size 
 and height, growing thickly, and close to the 
 water's edge, was all that met her sight. The 
 view was, as I have said, monotonous in the 
 extreme, and to one who had lately journeyed 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 205 
 
 both in Europe and America, through many a 
 scene remarkable both for its sylvan and 
 architectural beauty, the absence of interest 
 may be supposed to have been doubly felt. 
 This however — and for my heroine's sake I 
 reveal the truth regretfully, was far from be- 
 ing the case — for the memory of one who 
 breathed the air of the vast Western atmo- 
 sphere was strong within her, and every pass- 
 mg object was rendered glowing by the light 
 which he had kindled. 
 
 Zoe enjoyed greater liberty now, than she 
 had done during the earlier part of her 
 journey. It chanced that on board the 
 ' Empress ' there w as no one cognizant either 
 of Mr. Gordon's name, or of the anything but 
 uncommon character of his domestic habits. 
 Zoe had, therefore, taken her place both in 
 the state saloon, and at the many meals par- 
 taken of by the passengers, and whether or 
 not her origin was suspected, certain it is that 
 from those of the rougher sex she received 
 her due meed of admiration and attention. 
 
206 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 In the ladies' saloon there were some who 
 certahily looked at her askance ; but the 
 gentlemanlike manners, and handsome per- 
 son of Mr. Gordon, aided not a little by his 
 evident wealth, secured for his daughter much 
 outward consideration ; and Zoe, restored 
 thereby to some degree of self-confidence, 
 bore her part well amongst the motley com- 
 pany. Amongst them there were very few 
 whom the Parisian-taught girl regarded as in 
 the light either of gentlemen or ladies. The 
 former were for the most part men to whom 
 the normal use of brushes was apparently 
 unknown, and whose abuse of the * weed ' 
 was too varied and incessant to be agreeable. 
 As regarded dress, and outward adornment, 
 the ladies could not be complained of as neg- 
 lectful ; for to Zoe's French taste their smart- 
 ness was overpowering. Silks and satins, and 
 jewels decked the persons of the many pretty 
 women who lounged in utter idleness on the 
 rocking-chairs ; and Cherie was glad to 
 escape from their inane gossip to the solitude 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 207 
 
 of her own small cabin, and the indulgence 
 of day dreams, never, in all human proba- 
 bility, to be realized. 
 
 The river voyage had been for many days 
 almost entirely unproductive of incidents. 
 The water being very low great speed w^as 
 too frequently out of the question, so that 
 some of the customary events of a Mississippi 
 voyage, namely, those of 'snagging' and 
 explosion, were considerably lessened. 
 
 There were on board about the usual 
 complement of human cargo — whites and 
 blacks, in their various and well-defined 
 places, whilst coloured waiters and fat 
 bullocks, pigs, dry goods, and general com- 
 estibles filled up every vacant place in that 
 three-storied tenement. When the * Em- 
 press ' was about three days' distance from 
 the Crescent city, she took on board from 
 a well-kept looking plantation-landing, a 
 gentleman and lady, with two attendant 
 coloured servants, who were waiting by the 
 river-side for a passage. The steamer was 
 
208 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 hailed by an atheletic sloe-coloured young 
 man — the valet, as it afterwards appeared, of 
 the sugar planter, whose intention it was to 
 go down South, and spend a portion of the 
 winter at New Orleans. 
 
 This event took place late in the evening, 
 but though the sun had long since set, a 
 brilliant moon shed its rays from a cloudless 
 sky over the rapid river, tinging its turbid 
 waters with silver, and throwing out into 
 bold relief the dusky forms of the forward 
 ranks of cotton-wood trees. 
 
 Zoe and her father were on the hurricane 
 deck, walking to and fro, when the party 
 came on board ; and Mr. Gordon, after cast- 
 ing a scrutinizing glance at the new comers, 
 made some remark to his daughter on the 
 lateness of the hour, which induced that 
 dutiful young lady to bid him a hurried 
 ' good night ' and to descend noiselessly to 
 the seclusion of her cabin. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ' Lock in fear, for there is dimness ; 
 Ills unshapen float anigh. 
 Look in awe ; for this same nature, ' 
 
 Once the Godhead deigned to die.' 
 
 Certainly that river voyage was unvary- 
 ing and wearisome enough. The stream 
 being unusually low, the dangers of snag- 
 ging ^ were, as I have before stated, in some 
 sort diminished, for the enemy was ' above 
 board,' — and not always playing — as the say- 
 ing is — cartes sous table. The captain too of 
 the * Empress ' was for his class and country 
 a singularly cautious man, objecting when 
 the night was veri/ dark, and the depth of 
 water totally uncertain, to the popular sport 
 of racing at high-pressure speed with rival 
 
 * Runniag against the trunks and branches of trees which 
 have made themselves an anchorage in the stream. 
 
 VOL. I. P 
 
210 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 steamers. This excess of caution angered 
 the ladies not a little, and even Zoe felt 
 disappointed when the challenges from pass- 
 ing vessels were refused, and when with con- 
 temptuous words and gestures from those on 
 their decks more enterprising vessels went on 
 their way rejoicing. 
 
 It was the evening succeeding that on 
 which the planter and his young wife had 
 been taken on board, when Zoe with her 
 father were enjoying, on the hurricane deck, 
 the moonlit beauty of a breezeless night. 
 The slave-girl looked wonderfully lovely with 
 the pale rays shimmering on her glossy hair, 
 and gleaming on her pale cheek and fault- 
 less features. Clearly cut, and pure as mar- 
 ble was the profile turned towards her father, 
 and the cheek on which the long, dark lashes 
 rested, was one to dream of in a troubled 
 slumber, or dwell upon in fancy when alone 
 with thoughts untellable. And there was 
 one beside the cold, hard man to whom she 
 owed the more than doubtful blessing of her 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 211 
 
 being, whose gaze was fixed admiringly upon 
 that perfect face — and who standing there 
 before the father and his child, looked pity- 
 ingly upon the one, w^hilst he continued with 
 the other an argument in which both parties 
 appeared to take the liveliest interest. The 
 subject of their dialogue was not without its 
 interest for Zoe — but whilst following the 
 speakers in their rapid explanations of their 
 respective views, she little guessed — poor 
 child ! — what a vital and all -important in- 
 terest for her those arguments contained, 
 and that liberty and more than life itself 
 were boons for which that eager man was 
 pleading. 
 
 Perhaps it was the knowledge of who that 
 pleader was which distracted the maiden's 
 attention from his reasonings : for her new 
 acquaintance was no other than Charles Sey- 
 mour's elder brother (Davenport by name), 
 whose father owned extensive cotton planta- 
 tions on the left bank of the river, and but 
 a short distance from her father's plantation. 
 
 P 2 
 
212 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 The period at which my story commenced 
 was, as the reader may recollect, the summer 
 but one previous to the election of Abraham 
 Lincoln to the Presidency of the United 
 States. That the discontent, arising from a 
 thousand causes which had been for years 
 brewing and fermenting in the heart of the 
 Southern States, was then rapidly arriving at 
 explosion point, is a circumstance too well 
 known to need comment here. 
 
 The election of such a President was to be, 
 as all were aware, the signal for throwing 
 oiF the yoke of a Government against which 
 every natural feeling entertained by Southern 
 men revolted ; and so early as the month of 
 November in that memorable year, it had 
 become a question among private individuals 
 in what fashion the struggle for independene 
 was to be conducted. 
 
 That the great cause of the quickly- 
 coming agitation was to be not the tariff 
 question, but that of Slavery, was a truth 
 which each man admitted to himself, and to 
 
Zoe's ^ Brand, 213 
 
 his intimate bosom friend, whilst in public 
 its existence was indignantly repudiated. 
 Amongst the slave -owners generally, the 
 question in tete-a-tete was freely discussed, 
 and it was on the subject of slavery that the 
 conversation between Seymour and Mr. Gor- 
 don had on that evening turned. 
 
 The former was a man of considerable 
 powers of mind, the which good gifts had for 
 years been employed in the endeavour to 
 solve the mighty problem, and diminish the 
 terrible evils (to all individuals concerned) of 
 slave-property. 
 
 ' To us they are in every respect — at least 
 in my opinion — a curse,' said Davenport, in 
 answer to a remark made by his companion. 
 'A curse collectively, as bringing upon us the 
 reprobation of all respectable nations ; and a 
 curse individually, inasmuch as they are a bar 
 to all progressive movement, and — whatever 
 may be urged to the contrary — far from re- 
 munerative possessions to ourselves.' 
 
 * There I agree with you,' said Mr. Gordon, 
 
214 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 'for what with feeding and clothing them, 
 the care of the sick and aged, and the years 
 which elapse before the children are old 
 enough to work, we are often considerably 
 out of pocket by our negroes.' 
 
 * Which, by the way,' responded Seymour, 
 * is one of the reasons why (as I believe is still 
 too often the case) those brutal Yankee over- 
 seers work the poor devils to death so unmer- 
 cifully.' 
 
 ' I don't believe that often happens — cer- 
 tainly not so often as in the English factories, 
 where wretched children of eight and even 
 seven years old are worked for hours to the 
 crippling of their limbs, and the weakening 
 of their constitutions for life. I saw a good 
 deal of that when I was last in Liverpool — 
 and what I say is — let the English Abolition- 
 ists look at home, and set their own slaves 
 free, before they waste all their bunkum upon 
 us.' 
 
 * I grant that in other countries there are 
 terrible sufferings inflicted upon the million,' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 215 
 
 began Davenport — but he was interrupted 
 by his opponent saying eagerly, 
 
 ' And inflicted by whom ? By their own 
 parents, who, for the sake of earning a few 
 more weekly pence, send their children — 
 their very infants, I may say, into those 
 crowded dens where the air is pollution — to 
 toil—to curse their parents and their God — 
 to suffer and to die ! And it is the fellow- 
 countrymen and women of these miserable 
 offerings to the god of gold, who preach about 
 the cruelty of separating mothers from their 
 children, when the use and abuse of English 
 little ones is patent to the world. Why, 
 look at our young negro stock, with their 
 free healthy limbs — their laughing, fearless 
 countenances, and their ignorance of early 
 vices — of bad language, and of the knowledge 
 which makes men thieves and murderers — I 
 say, look at these, and then compare them 
 with the degraded dwindled specimens of 
 mortality which are to be counted by tens of 
 thousands in the great manufacturing cities 
 
216 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 of England, and I think that you, and anyone 
 else who goes in for humanity and all that 
 sort of thing, will admit, that as regards the 
 children at least, our little darkies have a 
 precious deal the best of it/ 
 
 * No doubt in the world about that,' said 
 Davenport, * but at the same time, and on the 
 eve of so momentous a crisis, we should bear 
 in mind, that Great Britain has been so long 
 accustomed to her own chronic abuses, that 
 she has ceased to see them, while her eyes 
 are ever kept open to the fact of slavery as it 
 exists in name, as well as fact in the South- 
 ern States of the Union. In my opinion, our 
 chance of success in a struggle with the 
 North would be but small — while victory 
 would be almost as ruinous as defeat.' 
 
 'There I differ from you entirely,' broke 
 in his antagonist eagerly, * for as the result 
 of the contest which must follow a declaration 
 of Secession, I see nothing but a future of 
 glory and prosperity — when the banner of 
 liberty and independence is once raised, thou- 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 217 
 
 sands upon thousands will flock to join the 
 riofhtful cause — the Western States will be as 
 one with us, and we shall be more than a 
 match for the dollar-loving, nasal-twanging, 
 hypocritical Yankees, who have so long 
 striven to crush us beneath their iron 
 heel ! ' 
 
 Davenport shook his head, while endea- 
 vouring to suppress a smile at his opponent's 
 vehemence. 
 
 * The result,' he said, ' will prove, which of 
 us — whether you or I am in the right. The 
 temper of the Western States, and the part 
 they intend to take in the coming struggle, 
 will soon be seen ; and should it appear to be 
 adverse to the Southern cause — ' 
 
 * We have our natural ally — the country 
 whose prosperity depends on our well-doing 
 to fall back upon — England will never (be- 
 cause the doing so would be her ruin) aban- 
 don us. Great Britain is one with the South. 
 With her we have ever lived in community 
 of feeling as well of interest, and the first 
 
218 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 shot fired by the Southern Confederacy will 
 be the signal for England's fleet to leave her 
 shores, and for her armies to join us on the 
 battle-field.' 
 
 'The fear is,' said Davenport, in a low tone, 
 ' that Great Britain will not consider ours as 
 the cause of freedom ; and to obtain the aid 
 you speak of, we must come cleared from 
 what the English nation would call the stain 
 of slavery. It would, to my thinking, be a 
 glaring instance of national inconsistency 
 were England to array herself on the side of 
 a people with whom freedom is but a name.' 
 
 Mr. Gordon looked at the speaker in 
 amazement. ' These are dangerous senti- 
 ments,' he said, * and a little out of the com- 
 mon, as coming from the owner of a large 
 gang of plantation hands.' 
 
 * Not an owner yet,' said Seymour, ' and 
 should the tide of affairs take the turn which 
 I think probable, the chances — ' 
 
 ' Come, come,' interrupted Gordon hastily, 
 and more than half in anger, ' this sort of 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 219 
 
 talk won't quite do, my friend, especially 
 where every mother's son has got his ears 
 open, and where we're all Inclined to look 
 pretty sharp after our privileges. When you 
 come to my place we'll have another jaw 
 about this slave-power question ; in the mean- 
 time, as this talking's dry work, what say you 
 to a sherry cobler this cold night ? ' 
 
 And so saying, the Southern gentleman 
 lounged away, leaving his daughter to descend 
 unaided to the privacy of her state-room. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 * The present and the past thou hast beheld — "* 
 It was a desolate sight. 
 
 * But sure you don't mean actually to say 
 that Georgiana Porcher married a coloured 
 man? I can't bring myself to realize it, 
 that's a fact.' 
 
 The speaker was a pretty, showily-dressed 
 little woman, who, with her suite, and a hus- 
 band who appeared to occupy a very sub- 
 ordinate position in her establishment, had 
 been taken on board at a bend of the river 
 a few hours' steam above Natchez. They 
 found more than one acquaintance on board 
 the * Empress ; * and considerable had been 
 the amount of hand-shaking between black- 
 satin vested and narrow-chested male pas- 
 sengers, meeting thus accidentally on the 
 bosom of the great 'Father of Waters.' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 221 
 
 In the sacred retreat dedicated to the 
 ladies, Mrs. Brownlow at once enthroned 
 herself, taking exclusive possession of the 
 first vacant rocking chair, and looking, with 
 her wealth of chains and bracelets, and her 
 maroon-coloured velvet gown, no inappro- 
 priate addition to the damask furniture and 
 gilded cornices with which the expensively- 
 decorated saloon abounded. The hour of 
 dinner was approaching, and the ladies were 
 all decked out for conquest. Amongst them 
 Mrs. Brownlow had early discovered a fa- 
 vourite fellow-gossip, whom in the city of 
 Baltimore, the great lady — for Mrs. Brown- 
 low owned at least eight hundred friends — 
 had honoured with her friendship. 
 
 The humbler of the two fair scandal- 
 mongers was a large, strongly-made woman, 
 dark-browed, and of an aspect denoting all 
 the decision of character, which, in fact, she 
 wanted. A lady of the debatable ground 
 was she — a denizen of the Border States, 
 and lacking, therefore, the habit of high rule 
 
222 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 which sat so well upon her slighter, paler 
 friend. 
 
 ' I can't bring myself to realize that 
 Georgiana Porcher married a coloured man, 
 and that's a fact.' 
 
 ' Well, she did,' responded the loquacious 
 Mrs. Walker, who had lost no time in o])en- 
 ing out her budget of news. ' Well, she did. 
 I got a letter when I was to Cork, in Ireland, 
 telling me that Mr. Damian was sparking 
 her in Paris, but I couldn't believe it, for all 
 he's so rich. It's disgusting to think what 
 some women will do for money.' 
 
 ' Disgustinfj — I should think so, indeed ! ' 
 But she's mistaken if she thinks she'll come 
 round me again. I always thought her a vulgar 
 girl as Georgy Porcher, and she'll be a good 
 spell worse, I reckon, now she's Mrs. Damian.' 
 
 ' She'll never have the brass to show her 
 face again to hum. She'll keep clear of the 
 States, I guess, from this out. But he's 
 powerful rich, they say.' 
 
 * 0' course he is, or she'd never have con- 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 223 
 
 eluded to marry him. When I was to Rome 
 last, there was nothing that man didn't 
 buy — statues and pictures — not j^roper ones, 
 you know, the nasty fellar,' she added, in a 
 confidential whisper ; ' and they do say he uses 
 his servants right down awful.' 
 
 What reply the acquiescent Mrs. Walker 
 would have made to this series of accusations 
 against the absent ' half-breed ' was doomed 
 to remain unknown, for at that moment the 
 deafening sound of the gong echoed through 
 the boat, and each man, woman, and child 
 scrambled away in search of the most con- 
 venient dining place. 
 
 It chanced that Mrs. Brownlow found her- 
 self seated next to a person (by name un- 
 known to her), but whose courteous manners 
 convinced her at once that he was what she 
 would have called a ' high-toned gentleman.' 
 This individual, who was no other than 
 Davenport Seymour, ingratiated himself first 
 by the notice he took of her little boy, a fair- 
 haired Anglo-Saxon, in purple velvet vest 
 
224 Zoe's 'Brand. 
 
 and knickerbockers, and secondly, bj tbe 
 zeal with which he catered for her creature 
 comforts. 
 
 There was so little in the horrid boat that 
 suited the appetite of the pampered planter's 
 lady. The turkey was all grease, and when 
 her demand for a * side bone ' was repeated 
 by her gallant neighbour, it was so 'imper- 
 tinent ' of the captain, or the bird, or some- 
 body — it did not matter whom — to demon- 
 strate that turkeys, anatomically speaking, 
 had but two sides, both of which had already 
 been disposed of amongst the numerous 
 claimants for the appreciated bonne bouche. 
 And then there ^vere the sweet potatoes 
 fried in some disofustinor abomination, too 
 horrible to think of; w4iile really the sight 
 of tliose course-feeding Yankee women de- 
 vouring squash pie and oysters, with molasses 
 over all, was enough to make her loathe the 
 very sight of food for ever. 
 
 At her other side sat her small son — 
 an incipient tyrant in his way already, and 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 225 
 
 ripe for every infant act of despotism. To 
 keep the child even in decent order was a 
 hopeless task from the moment that fami- 
 liarity with the scene before him had bred 
 contempt for every actor in it but his tiny 
 self. There was no satisfying either the 
 child's hunger or his caprices. He had a wild 
 wish for everything he saw, from Daven- 
 port's seal ring, to brandy peaches ; and when 
 at last, upon a sign from his mamma, the 
 black nurse Chloe, who stood behind his 
 chair, dexterously abstracted from the half- 
 gorged boy a glass of bitter ale, which he 
 was on the point of putting to his lips, the 
 little autocrat snatched up a knife that lay 
 within his reach, and turning sharply round, 
 would, but for Seymour's timely intervention, 
 have plunged it into the luckless Chloe's 
 arm. 
 
 Apparently this little episode — uthogh 
 witnessed by the entire company, was an 
 event of too common occurrence to call for 
 observation or remark ; nor did the young 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 Zoes ^ Brand : 
 
 gentleman's parents appear to think that any 
 remonstrance on their part was called for. 
 To Davenport's mind, however, which had of 
 late been gradually opening to many of the 
 gigantic evils entailed upon his country by 
 England's fatal legacy of slavery — the lesson 
 was not without its effect ; and when, on a 
 gracious invitation from Mrs. Brownlow, he 
 joined her society in the ladies' saloon, the 
 subject uppermost in his thoughts became, 
 and that not without intention on his part, 
 the prevailing topic of conversation. 
 
 Amongst those who had joined the circle 
 round Mrs. Brownlow was Dr. Lane ; also a 
 secret friend to the gradual emancipation of 
 the negro race ; and after the tastes of the 
 ladies had been consulted by a still further 
 vituperation (on their part) of the degraded 
 Mrs. Damian, a more serious disquisition 
 regarding the * great question ' took the place 
 of female gossiping and slander. 
 
 ' You have been lately through Virginia, 
 I believe,' remarked Dr. Lane, addressing 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 227 
 
 Seymour, during a pause in the ladies' hitherto 
 animated conversation — ' I feel a great in- 
 terest just now from family circumstances in 
 that State, and should be glad to know how 
 they're getting along there.' 
 
 ' Just moderate, and that is all anyone can 
 say for them. I was most through the Tur- 
 pentine districts,* and even they did not look 
 to me over w^ell.' 
 
 ' And why ? I suppose the Abolitionists 
 are doing their usual mischief there — fright- 
 ening the slaveholders by their hypocritical 
 and injudicious agitation into measures of 
 severity which they probably would not 
 otherwise have dreamt of.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that. It did not strike 
 me that the Slave potentates live in any fear 
 of their human chattels. Many of them, 
 however, and those amongst the most intelli- 
 gent, were partisans of abolition, not from 
 
 * Extensive pine forests in South Carolina, where the tur- 
 p3ntine produced gives employment to a very large number 
 of slaves. 
 
 q2 
 
228 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 motives of humanity, for, to own the truth, 
 (taking into consideration the treatment 
 which they receive as freemen in the North) 
 Liberty strikes me as a very doubtful blessing 
 to the negro.' 
 
 * Then why were these men for abo- 
 lition ? ' asked Dr. Lane, whose long resi- 
 dence in Europe, and amongst Europeans, 
 had rather thrown him back in local know- 
 ledge as regarded the opinions of his country- 
 men. 
 
 * Simply from economical motives. They 
 think that there is more money to be made 
 by hiring than by possessing negroes.' 
 
 ' And are they borne out in this opinion 
 by facts?' 
 
 * In my opinion — yes ,* for supposing, which 
 they tell me is the case, that each negro's 
 cost is to these men a hundred-and-fifty dol- 
 lars a-year, and that they could hire free 
 Blacks for eighty or a hundred, it follows as 
 a matter of course that these calculators 
 should be favourable to abolition.' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 229 
 
 * There must be tremendous outgoings on 
 the plantations, as well as in the turpentine 
 districts ; and this, taken in conjunction with 
 the quantity, nearly a fourth, as I have heard, 
 of valuable land, now left totally unculti- 
 vated, may well induce men to ask them- 
 selves and one another whether the system 
 handed down to us by our English ancestors, 
 is, after all, either the wisest or the best they 
 could find to pursue.' 
 
 ' The " outgoings " certainly are, as you 
 remark, on an enormous scale,' said Seymour. 
 ' And in order to have a faint idea of this, 
 we need only take a glance at the aged and 
 useless negroes, — the sick, the infirm, the 
 expectant mothers, and the children of 
 tender age, who are all so many useless 
 burthens upon an often-impoverished estate. 
 To say nothing of the months of necessary 
 idleness, during which the feeding and the 
 clothing of the " hands " do not of course 
 cease with their labour.' 
 
 ' I once made a calculation,' continued 
 
230 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 Seymour, * of how much one of my turpen- 
 tine-making friends could save were he not 
 the holder of those expensive possessions 
 called slaves. I arrived at my conclusion 
 from his own statements, and I was well 
 rewarded for my trouble, if only by the look 
 of unutterable astonishment with which he 
 greeted my discovery.' 
 
 ' Well, but the calculation,' said Mrs. 
 Brownlow. * It seems to me your kinder 
 talking treason, Mr. Seymour; but still T 
 conclude I'd like to hear how you prove that 
 we could be better off without our ser- 
 vants — you'll be pretty considerable smart if 
 you can make that go down.' 
 
 The lady was evidently rapidly losing her 
 temper, a circumstance still more clearly de- 
 monstrated by a certain vigorous remon- 
 strance in the shape of a sharp box on the 
 ear administered by her little well-ringed 
 hand to the hapless Chloe who had unwit- 
 tingly incurred her fair mistress's displeasure. 
 
 Seymour noticed the clouded ray, and 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 231 
 
 while obeying the lady's behest, resolved to 
 curtail his ' calculation ' as much as was 
 consistent with clearness. 
 
 ' You say, I observed to my friendly host ' 
 (this was Davenport's account of his famous 
 discovery), ' that you possess two hundred and 
 seventy negroes — the value of which, with 
 your mules, your distilleries, and other per- 
 sonal property, you estimate at two hundred 
 thousand dollars; added to this you have 
 twenty thousand acres of land, estimated at 
 about three dollars and a half an acre ; in all 
 two hundred and seventy thousand dollars. 
 One hundred and fifty-four " hands " in work 
 return you each year a profit of eleven thou- 
 sand dollars, which, without taking into ac- 
 count the cost of your animals' keep, the 
 wear and tear of mules and machinery, and 
 of the loss of your slaves by death, leaves an 
 interest of four per cent, on your capital. 
 Now, with the mere price of your property, 
 let us call it seventy thousand dollars, placed 
 out at safe interest in the Old World or in 
 
232 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 the North, you could reahze a decidedly 
 higher interest by one or two per cent, at 
 least. And if you were to place these 
 seventy thousand dollars in any regular line 
 of commerce, adding to it as you do your 
 time and labour, you would realize a profit 
 infinitely greater than that which you now 
 obtain from your entire capital.' * 
 
 Seymour rose from his chair as he ceased 
 speaking, and unwilling to bide the pitiless 
 storm which he saw brewing, he bade the 
 fair lady a courteous good-night, and retired 
 from the saloon. Zoe Gordon had been an 
 attentive listener to the conversation we have 
 been detailing. She had watched well and 
 narrowly the countenance of the arrogant 
 little lady whose rights as a slaveowner's 
 wife were, as she imagined, being imperti- 
 nently encroached upon ; and when Seymour, 
 after his courtly obeisance, took his leave of 
 
 * For this calculation, I am indebted to Mr. Edward 
 Kirke, author of a work on Southern States Slavery. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 233 
 
 them for the night, she felt as though the 
 only spirit in that gorgeous saloon, with 
 which her own could hold communion, had 
 departed, and left her there in darkness and 
 alone. 
 
 Great was the relief to the lonely girl — 
 lonely in the midst of that buzzing swarm of 
 life's busy bees — when at last some signs ap- 
 peared upon the river's banks of the tropical 
 vegetation which formed so large a portion 
 of her childish memories — Natchez was in 
 sight ! Natchez standing on the bluff, which 
 by contrast with the everlasting flats bor- 
 dering the great ' Father of Waters,' might 
 almost be magnified into hills — Natchez, with 
 its bananas and its orange-groves, its shady 
 avenues and its verdant groves. 
 
 A considerable number of the passengers 
 on board the ' Empress ' were to be landed 
 at this prettiest of Louisianian towns, and 
 among them were both the Brownlow family 
 and that of the excellent Dr. Lane. 
 
 The steamer stopped with what — to those 
 
234 Zoe\s 'Brand: 
 
 unaccustomed to Transatlantic recklessness 
 — would have seemed like fatal rapidity at 
 the landing, and the disembarkation of Dr. 
 Lane with his wife and coloured servants 
 commenced. A crowd of black and yellow 
 persons, of both sexes, hurried down to the 
 waterside to meet them, and loud and long 
 was the welcome accorded to * young massa ' 
 by the simple retainers to whom he 
 had ever proved himself, in the best and 
 truest sense of that much-abused word — a 
 friend. 
 
 While the kindly Southerners were cor- 
 dially shaking hands with those whom they 
 had never called their slaves, Zoe looked 
 wistfully after their retreating figures; for 
 both the young doctor and his wife, although 
 they had never gone the length of speaking 
 to the girl whom they, with some truth, 
 classed as an Octaroon, had looked at her 
 with eyes full of sympathy and pity — at least 
 the poor child thought so — and therefore was 
 it that she saw them go at last with sorrow, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 235 
 
 and that a strange loneliness oppressed her 
 when the huge moving house hissed off 
 again, and left those genial-hearted friends 
 amidst the orange-trees that graced the 
 shore. 
 
 One more day upon the waters — only one, 
 and the note of preparation has sounded in 
 Zoe's state - room, whilst jMr. Gordon, in 
 hourly expectation of their approach to the 
 landing appertaining to Orange Creek Plan- 
 tation, walks the deck in busy idleness, but 
 with the visible importance of a man who 
 owns two hundred slaves, and the best Pa- 
 risian cook in Louisiana. 
 
 ' How far are we from home, papa ? ' asked 
 Zoe, not quite bravely, for she had grown 
 to fear her father lately. He had spoken 
 harshly to her more than once, especially 
 when angered by the open contempt which 
 some rude spirits had betrayed towards her ; 
 for men are different in this from women, 
 and know no pity often, but only anger, when 
 one that nature bids them love, is scorned 
 
236 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 and treated with contumely. So the Southern 
 gentleman had used rough words to Zoe till 
 the girl had shrunk within herself in morti- 
 fication and in bitterness of spirit. But as 
 they neared the goodly acres and wide-spread 
 cane plantations which called him master, 
 the father's heart seemed to grow warmer 
 towards his child, and Zoe detecting the 
 vvelcome change, repeated her question with 
 a bolder heart. 
 
 * Are we near home, papa ? You will 
 think it nonsense, perhaps, but I almost 
 fancy I remember that bend in the river, 
 with those ilexes growing near. And the 
 long hanging moss ! Oh, dear papa, the moss 
 which old Aunty Judith used to gather for 
 me! Indeed, indeed I think that is the 
 place.' 
 
 * Nonsense, child,' her father said, good- 
 humouredly. * Haven't you learnt yet to 
 know how like one yard of JVIississipi shore is 
 to another. Why, you'll see scarce anything 
 else all the way to New Orleans, and past 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 237 
 
 it, too — pretty near all the way down to the 
 Delta. No, no, that isn't Orange Creek 
 Plantation. Ours is a sight grander than 
 that, I reckon, as you'll say when once you 
 get ashore there.' 
 
 And the planter rubbed his hands, with 
 the pleasant sensations bestowed by a con- 
 sciousness of undisputed, and, as he believed, 
 indisputable, power. 
 
 * Will mamma come down to meet us in 
 the carriage ? ' asked Zoe, hesitatingly ; for 
 only once had Mr. Gordon spoken of that 
 loving mother, to see whose well-remembered 
 gentle face again Cherie would have dared 
 far greater dangers, mortifications, and dis- 
 comforts than those which during the past 
 month she had been called upon to endure. 
 
 Unfortunately, as the Octaroon, for so we 
 will continue to call her, said the words, they 
 were standing near the entrance to the main 
 saloon, and from it a handsome female face 
 peered out : 
 
 * We shall see you, Mr. Gordon, I suppose, 
 
238 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 after Fall at New Orleans,' spoke a voice, 
 shrill and clear, which appertained to the 
 head in question. 'You'll come to the balls, 
 I reckon — partners arn't too many down 
 South ; and I love a waltz and a polka as 
 much as any girl in the States.' 
 
 ' And dance it as well, or better,' said the 
 gallant Mr. Gordon ; while poor Zoe, whose 
 question regarding her mother remained un- 
 answered, slunk away with an innate con- 
 sciousness that her presence was undesired, 
 if, indeed, it were not considered as an in- 
 trusion. 
 
 ' Well, I guess I ought to,' continued the 
 lively Miss Greenhaugh, ' for I have had 
 practice enough. Why, the night before I 
 left York I danced till I hadn't a dry thread 
 about me.' 
 
 Zoe caught the words as she slowly walked 
 ])ast the open window of the saloon. She 
 thought Miss Greenhaugh rude and unre- 
 fined, and wondered, too, a little at her 
 father's taste in choosing such an intimate. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 239 
 
 Ah, well, she had far stranger things to learn, 
 poor child, in that country of inconceivable 
 anomalies — stranger things to learn and suffer 
 ere the sanguine heart would cease to hope, 
 and the purified spirit would be fitted for 
 the Peace Above which it is so hard for 
 those who are * careful and troubled about 
 many things' either to appreciate or com- 
 prehend. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 * Where is the man who has the power and skill 
 To stem the torrent of a woman's will ? 
 For if she will, she will, you may depend on't ; 
 And if she won't, she won't, so there's an end on't.' 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when Mr. Gor- 
 don announced to his daughter that the right 
 * bend ' in the river was reached at last, and 
 that in a few more minutes the * Empress ' 
 would be taking in her needed supply of wood 
 at Orange Creek Landing. 
 
 Zoe hastened to her state-room, and taking 
 down the pretty Parisian hat, which, in readi- 
 ness for immediate use, hung on a wooden peg 
 behind the door, she smoothed her braided 
 hair before the mirror. For a single minute 
 only — she had the true French gift of giving 
 extra charms by a single touch of her magic 
 fingers — for a single moment she looked at 
 her reflected face, wondering if ' dear mamma ' 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 241 
 
 would like the change that time had wrought 
 in her young daughter's face; and hoping — 
 oh ! so earnestly — for the praise of one whose 
 approbation absence had rendered still more 
 precious to her heart. 
 
 The slackened movement of the vessel 
 warned her that her time on board was short, 
 so snatching up the few small travelling ar- 
 ticles which encumbered her cabin, she went 
 out upon the stern gallery, and stood there 
 waiting for her father's summons. 
 
 The * Empress' was gliding along quite 
 slowly to the little pier; and Zoe, as she 
 stood upon the side which faced the shore, 
 could see the dear old place, unchanged by 
 time, but wearing, however, to her at least, 
 an aspect, despite its wood-clothed majesty. 
 less imposing than of yore. 
 
 She thought — for children's eyes are mighty 
 magnifiers — that the live oaks, with their 
 moss-like coverings, had branches more wide- 
 ly-spreading ; and then the orange-trees which 
 she remembered were far more verdant, and 
 
 VOL. I. li 
 
242 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 bore upon tlioir boughs a richer show of golden 
 fruit. 
 
 But humbler, poorer, smaller as was the 
 reality than the one which Zoe's fancy had 
 called up, still the love of home could paint 
 it with imagination's touch, and set the land- 
 scape in a frame of price. 
 
 The girl leant over the balustrade, her 
 rounded chin pressed on her small white 
 hand, and with a foot which matched its 
 beauty well, just peeping through the iron 
 railing. She did not see — for far away from 
 that confusing scene her thoughts had wan- 
 dered — she did not see amongst the crowd a 
 hard, cold face, which from the lower deck 
 peered up to hers — a cold, hard face, beard- 
 less, and devoid of flesh, with iron eyes that 
 might have glared from out a metal bust ; and 
 high check-bones, on which the skin was 
 drawn so tightly that the ugly substance 
 seemed to shine and glitter. 
 
 The name of the man — he was one whom 
 Mr. Gordon would have little scrupled to 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 243 
 
 designate as a ' greasy Yankee ' — was Morse 
 — John Lincoln Morse — or Link, as his inti- 
 mate companions called him ; and he had 
 been, since the steamer touched at Memphis, 
 the fellow-passenger of the Gordons. He 
 seemed, when first he came on board, to have 
 no acquaintances amongst the motley com- 
 pany then and there assembled ; but an A me- 
 rican steam-boat is not a place where a man 
 need, perforce, remain in the dismal solitude 
 of a crowd, and Mr. John L. Morse soon 
 found himself at no loss for companionship. 
 Who or what he was, no one thought it ne- 
 cessary to question. He was free with his 
 dollars, ready to drink and play, and an adept 
 at the kind of low waggery capable of elicit- 
 ing from the precincts of the 'bar' those 
 roars of laughter, certainly unrestrained by 
 the ' sw^eet control of gracefulness ' which 
 startled the ladies in their cabins through the 
 early watches of the night. 
 
 This unpleasing specimen of a rowdy North- 
 erner had appropriated to himself, during the 
 
 R 2 
 
244 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 often-recurring public meals, a place exactly 
 opposite to the Octaroon. From the first he 
 had detected that minute drop of what is called 
 ' coloured blood ' which still remained, after 
 the eighth cross, in the blue veins of the fair 
 girl before him ; and the impulse to betray 
 the secret, and enjoy the luxury of a triumph 
 over the Southern * aristocrat,' was at first 
 almost irresistible. There w^as, however, some- 
 thing in the sweet face before him, which for 
 a moment quelled, even in that coarse nature, 
 the longing for a brutal pleasure. Have we 
 not all read how that in the days called * dark,' 
 when chivalry, before it passed into a now 
 almost-forgotten institution, was an instinct 
 amongst the sons of Adam — have we not all 
 read, I say, of fair young virgins venturing, 
 with fearless breasts, into the lions' den, and 
 taming the furious passions of the beasts by 
 contact with the maiden's heavenly purity? 
 A miracle such as this perhaps was worked 
 for Zoe, when the Yankee laid aside for a 
 brief space his evil projects, and drank in 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 245 
 
 better inspiration as he listened to her low, 
 soft voice. 
 
 She never noticed him, by word or look or 
 sign ; and yet he strove by many an awkward 
 ruse to mark his presence. He used to fix his 
 cold, keen eyes upon her by the hour, trust- 
 ing to the mesmeric influence which such 
 long-continued gazing is sometimes known to 
 exercise on feeble natures. And when (it 
 was up-hill work at first), by dint of scraping, 
 bowing, cringeing, doing at every turn some 
 little gallant oflSce for the fairer sex, he ob- 
 tained at last a footing in the ladies' cabin, a 
 step was gained which he determined to take 
 due advantage of. 
 
 There were ladies in that place who, look- 
 ing at his dollars, forgot the coarseness of his 
 raw-boned face, and who laughed loudly at 
 his doubtful stories, deeming them most witty, 
 because, forsooth, the utterer was a moneyed 
 man ! Once, and once only, he had dared to 
 speak to the * proud gurl ' — he called her so 
 when reasoning with himself on his great 
 
246 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 folly for standing so in awe of ' Gordon's 
 daughter.' 
 
 ' She's but a nigger after all,' he said, ' and 
 oughter feel tarnation glad when a white 
 gentleman condescends to look her way.' 
 
 But, notwithstanding this bold assertion, 
 Link's heart went pit-a-pat when he remarked, 
 one cloudy evening upon the upper deck, to 
 Zoe Gordon, that he thought they'd have some 
 rain before the morning — ' the clouds was so 
 etarnal low.' 
 
 He knew she heard the words, and also 
 that she doubted not for whose ear that 
 highly -original remark was made ; for without 
 a look or word in answer, she drew her large 
 French cashmere closer round her splendid 
 form, and with her proud head erect she 
 passed him by unnoticed. 
 
 It was a foolish and a girlish act to make 
 so pitiless an enemy of such a man as John 
 L. Morse. But is not the immediate follow- 
 ing of an impulse ever dangerous ? And is 
 there one of us who cannot look back to in- 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 247 
 
 stances innuniGrable when he or she, in the 
 agony of bitter retrospection, has hopelessly 
 exclaimed, * Oh, that I had thought before I 
 acted, and calculated chances before 1 made 
 the fatal jump to a conclusion ! ' 
 
 From the very instant when Zoe, impelled 
 by a natural feeling of repulsion, turned from 
 her Yankee admirer with a scorn she did not 
 attempt to disguise — from that moment, I 
 say, might be dated half at least of the cala- 
 mities that afterwards befell her. John Lin- 
 coln Morse vAas a man who owed his success 
 in life principally to a tenacity of purpose 
 more nearly resembling an animal instinct 
 than a human quality. It was as the perse- 
 verance of the bee in the gathering of its 
 honeyed store, and as the untiring energy of 
 the mole, working its way through dark and 
 tortuous paths. Every object during his life, 
 of some thirty years and upwards, had been 
 subservient to the one great aim of the specu- 
 lator's life, and that object was, Yankee-like, 
 the making of a fortune. The son of a small 
 
248 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 sliopkeej)er in New York, Link bad never 
 known what it v/as to be idle. From the 
 time when the State schoolmaster pronounced 
 him capable of doing a sum in compound ad- 
 dition, old Morse, acting on the favourite 
 national proverb that ' Time is money,' put a 
 stop to young Link's daily walks to school, 
 with ' satchel at his back' and *shininof morn- 
 ing face ' beaming with such youthful guile- 
 lessness as juvenile Yankees can boast of, 
 and ordered the ' smart boy ' to remain and 
 work at home. 
 
 To do this, Link was nothing loth. The 
 sound of clinking silver was pleasant in his 
 ears, and the scent of dirty dollar notes 
 savoury in his nostrils. He was ten years old 
 at that time, and a tall lad of his age ; so 
 his father, finding he had all his wits about 
 him, speedily admitted him to his confidence, 
 trusting him, too, in various ways, to an ex- 
 tent which would seem well-nigh incredible 
 to persons unacquainted with the precocious 
 acuteness and the naturally intense love of 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 249 
 
 gain peculiar to a Yankee gentleman of ten- 
 der years. 
 
 At twenty-one John L. Morse, feeling the 
 capacity for successful speculation strong 
 within him, entered into business on his own 
 account. And a very varied business, if re- 
 port did not belie him, was carried on by the 
 long-headed, long-bodied, and long-legged 
 young man, whose black silk vest was con- 
 spicuous every day on 'Change for its unvary- 
 ing shabbiness ; and whose hat, wide-brimmed 
 and of a gone-by fashion, was pushed back 
 from a high narrow forehead till it rested 
 almost on his coat-collar. For, as I said before. 
 Link's love of money-making was an instinct 
 rather than a human quality. He was not 
 turned from his pursuit by any of the feelings 
 by which men are distinguished from other 
 brutes that perish. No love of dress, or de- 
 sire to look well in the eyes of others, prompted 
 him to the mad measure of wasting a hard- 
 earned dollar on self-adornment. To him 
 personal vanity was a thing unknown, nor 
 
250 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 could one of womankind, however fair or frail, 
 boast of having received more than a passing 
 eye-glance from the speculator, w^hom the 
 exaggerating world pronounced too soon to be 
 a millionnaire. 
 
 When a man has remained till the age of 
 thirty not only heart-whole, but unscathed by 
 even a passing blast of passion, the awaken- 
 ing to a new, and to the most overwhelming 
 of sensations, is too overpowering to be pain- 
 less. A compound sensation, too, is rarely 
 pleasurable, and in Morse's case the dawn of 
 love was clouded by many a darker, if not 
 stormier, passion. He saw — in fancy only, it 
 is true, but still with terrible clearness, thoee 
 dark languid eyes he loved to look on, turned 
 with voluptuous fondness on some favoured 
 lover ; he saw the perfect arm pressed round 
 the neck of one whose eager step she had 
 rushed forth to meet ; and — but why dwell 
 longer on the self-imposed torments of a man 
 who loved a particular star far, far above him, 
 not only not wisely, but not well ? Suffice it 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 251 
 
 that for days he feasted his greedy eyes on 
 Zoe's matchless beauty, and that when he saw 
 her go at last without a look or word to show 
 that he — the wealthy Northerner — was 
 deemed worthy of a farewell notice, his love 
 half-turned to hate, and in his inmost soul 
 he registered a vow — one which it seemed 
 most probable he would keep — to make that 
 girl his own, and not to be deterred by any 
 cost or crime from bending that haughty 
 spirit to his will. 
 
CHAPIER XXVI. 
 
 * Where art thou, beloved To-morrow ? 
 When young and old, and strong and weak, 
 Eich and poor, through joy and sorrow. 
 Thy sweet smiles we never seek 
 In thy place. Ah ! well-a-day ! 
 We find the thing we fled — To-day.^ 
 
 For many preceding hours a sharp look-out 
 had been kept on the plantation for the red 
 funnel of the well-known * Empress' steamer. 
 The news had been early spread abroad that 
 the ' massa' and the ' lily lady ' were expected 
 to arrive at Orange Creek in that highly 
 popular vessel, and all hands were in readi- 
 ness to bid the great man and his young 
 daughter welcome. 
 
 The first object on the land that attracted 
 Zoe's attention was a handsome landau — one 
 that would not have seemed out of place 
 even in the gay streets of Paris — for it was 
 
Zoe's 'Brami: 253 
 
 built according to modern fashion, and to it 
 were harnessed a magnificent pair of high- 
 stepping, bay, carriage horses. An aged 
 coachman in showy livery, and with a face as 
 black and polished as his own boots, w^as 
 seated in state upon the yellow-fringed ham- 
 mer cloth, while a footman in every respect 
 dressed to match, was planted at the carriage 
 door. 
 
 ' Well, Sam, how are you, my man ? and 
 how are all at home ? ' was the greeting of 
 Mr. Gordon to the ancient retainer, who, 
 with a grin which ruthlessly displayed the 
 ravages made by time amongst his once ivory- 
 like masticators, grasped with respectful 
 energy the hand extended to him. 
 
 ' Massy bery good,' he said, lifting his hat 
 from the iron-grey wool which thickly 
 covered his solid-looking poll ; * massa bery 
 good — dis chile and de boys be all well, 
 thanks be to Gorra Mighty; and dis be de 
 little lady. My! but Missy Zoe is a lady 
 now, as lubly as a queen ! ' 
 
554 Zoes 'BrandJ 
 
 Zoe held out her hand to the old man, who 
 had by this time scrambled down from his 
 elevated seat, and was standing, reins in 
 hand, beside them. 
 
 ' I remember you and Lucy well, Sam,' 
 Miss Gordon said with a smile, which went 
 straight to the negro's heart. * Does she 
 still live in the little hut by the river, and can 
 she make the same maize cakes ? When I 
 was a little girl I liked them better far than 
 anything I used to eat at home.' 
 
 The old coachman shook his head lugu- 
 briously. 
 
 ' Ole Luce got bery ole missy — ole Luce 
 too old for anything but scold. Her tongue, 
 though, not ole yet somehow, and its talkee 
 talkee all Gorra Mighty day and night. I 
 tell you — yeah — yeah — yeah. Oh my! but lily 
 missy, a beauty for ole Luce to see — ole Luce 
 that nu'ssed the lily lady when she a pica- 
 ninny so 'igh — ye-ah ye-ah ye-ah,' and the 
 negro broke into an indescribable and very 
 far from musical sort of laughter. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 255 
 
 In the midst of it Mr. Gordon touched 
 his daughters arm, and bade her enter the 
 pretty open carriage which was waiting to 
 convey her to her home. 
 
 * Plenty of time, my dear,' he said ' to 
 listen to Sam's endless chatter when we have 
 seen your mother. I fear you will find her 
 altered — not quite well in short. She's been 
 a little sick this Fall, and I've had a line from 
 her to-day to say she feels no better/ 
 
 ' Zoe's heart sank within her as her father, 
 with a very serious face, announced her mo- 
 ther's illness. He held a piece of paper 
 folded in his hand, and on it there was plainly 
 to be seen the writing, clear and flowing, 
 which Zoe knew to be her mother's. 
 
 Before those few, but ominous words were 
 spoken the earth had not contained a brighter, 
 happier creature than that now silent girl. 
 The sun shone very gaily on the turbid river, 
 and playing amidst the branches of the grand 
 old trees made flickering shadows on the 
 greensward ; while all around, the free-born, 
 
256 Zoe\H 'Brand: 
 
 gladsome birds, with gaudy plumage, hopped 
 from twig to twig. Here and there a scarlet 
 nightingale — so called of Virginia — glanced 
 past the carriage swiftly, and anon a mock- 
 ing bird, in pale brown raiment, humble and 
 Quaker-like in garb, but endowed with in- 
 tellectual faculties above its fellows, addressed 
 the 'massaV carriage from liis station on a 
 low projecting branch, and witli the genuine 
 impudence of a professed stump orator, stared 
 the young lady boldly in the face, and wagged 
 his long tail and his tongue continuously. 
 
 A secret fear of hearing tidings still more 
 sad kept Zoe silent. She did not dare to 
 ask a question of her father, which might 
 confirm the terrible suspicion to which his 
 words had given birth. A very coward was 
 she as she sat beside him, dwelling (with the 
 impulsive haste of youth to arrive at a dreaded 
 conclusion) on home scenes of woe, of sick- 
 ness, and despair which were spread out before 
 her. 
 
 And thus in silence and reserve the father 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 257 
 
 and his child, in that luxurious carriage, 
 rolled on through the sylvan paths, to the 
 rich planter's home ; and every step of those 
 proud, prancing steeds, as it brought Zoe 
 Gordon nearer to the certainty she feared, 
 made her young heart beat with almost pain- 
 ful throbbings, and sent the rich blood 
 farther from her colourless cheek. 
 
 VOL. r. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 * But ever and anon of griefs subdued 
 There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, 
 Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued.' 
 
 Mrs. Gordon, the lady who had for nearly 
 twenty years lived in true wife-like fashion 
 with the opulent owner of two hundred of 
 her race, had been graciously allowed by her 
 lover and owner (and the concession was a 
 rare one) to bear his name. She was the 
 daughter of a Louisianian planter, an ex- 
 senator, and a man possessing a fair average 
 amount of humane feelings towards his black 
 and coloured human property. By one of 
 the latter, who was a Quadroon of remark- 
 able beauty, he became the father of a girl — 
 a slave, I need not say, from her birth — but 
 one whom he recognized as his child, and 
 whose rearing and education were carefully 
 attended to. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 259 
 
 Mr. T , although a man of nominal 
 
 wealth, was — no unusual case in the 
 South, where a reckless expenditure is the 
 rule, and prudence ( misnamed common ) the 
 exception — was, I say, in reality, what in 
 England is called a man of straw. Of this 
 
 fact Mrs. T , the legitimate wife of the 
 
 insolvent planter, remained in real or pre- 
 tended ignorance. She was a handsome 
 woman herself, with daughters; too, who 
 promised to be, ere many years should have 
 passed by, her rivals in attraction. So pretty, 
 lively Mrs. T made the most of the sea- 
 son of matronly youth that remained to her, 
 dressing herself, regardless of expense, in 
 rich Parisian raiment, and indulging her true 
 Creole taste for diamonds and promiscuous 
 luxuries. A very small portion of her time 
 was spent on her husband's plantation, the 
 air of which she affirmed disagreed with her 
 health. So the expensive lady betook her 
 self in the gay summer season to Saratoga 
 Springs, or to other lively places of pul)lic 
 
 s2 
 
260 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 resort ; and during the winter there was not 
 in dissipated New Orleans, a daughter of the 
 South who more thoroughly enjoyed the 
 Parisian-like pleasures, which a true lover 
 of agreeable pastimes is in that city of dan- 
 gerous pastimes called upon to indulge in. 
 
 Meanwhile Clarissa T , the slave 
 
 daughter of this gay lady's husband, was 
 growing up to early Southern womanhood. 
 
 The continued connection of Mr. T 
 
 with Clarissas mother was neither a secret 
 nor a source of annoyance to his wife. On 
 the contrary, — and the case is very far indeed 
 from an unusual one, — she willingly per- 
 mitted the slave girl to associate with her 
 own daughters, while the constant presence 
 of a useful housekeeper on the plantation 
 was a matter for congratulation rather than 
 displeasure. 
 
 When Clarissa was sixteen her father died 
 suddenly — died before he had given his hap- 
 less child her grant of manumission — and 
 leaving his house so hopelessly out of order. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 261 
 
 that the creditors were justified in seizing at 
 once upon everything which came under the 
 head of tangible property. In the catalogue 
 of these things, there appeared first and fore- 
 most, and printed in large, conspicuous 
 characters, the name of a coloured girl 
 named Clarissa, aged fifteen, handsome, 
 and clever — a long list of desirable quali- 
 fications following the simple announcement 
 of the young girl's name. 
 
 This portion of my story being retrospec- 
 tive, and such an event as the selling of a 
 white slave into bondage being an event of 
 no rare occurrence, I shall not dwell upon 
 the details of the auction, at which Mr. 
 Jasper Gordon, who was then an independent 
 young planter having just attained his ma- 
 jority, purchased the beautiful daughter of 
 his bankrupt acquaintance. 
 
 Lot 13, id est, the 'clever coloured girl,' 
 Clarissa, was knocked down to the owner of 
 Orange Creek Plantation for the sum of fifteen 
 hundred dollars ; and, to speak literally, the 
 
262 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 knocking down of soul and body cost a far 
 heavier price than that. For the girl, to her 
 exceeding misery — she being still a slave — 
 had tasted not only of the tree of knowledge, 
 but of that which teaches us to discern be- 
 tween good and evil, and therefore from the 
 day when she became the mistress of the 
 man who had bid up boldly for her beauty, 
 there was a sense of wrong and outrage in 
 her breast, nor did she ever tread the ways of 
 peace again. 
 
 And yet, what choice was given her, when 
 in her pale and yet unsullied loveliness she 
 followed her new owner meekly to his home ? 
 In Paris, where she had had a two years' ' fin- 
 ishing,' the girl had been taught to love both 
 liberty and virtue ; and pure as unsullied 
 snow was the young Christian when she 
 left the land where the young and lovely may 
 be virtuous if they will. She had been 
 taught to say her prayers to God, and lift 
 her hands to ' Blessed Mary undefiled ' in 
 humble supplication. In a dove- white robe 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 263 
 
 and veil, emblems of her innocence, she had 
 knelt before the sacred altar of the Deity, 
 and on her glossy, youthfid head a bishop's 
 hand had lain, whilst he, the anointed high- 
 priest of the Church, had given her that 
 Church's blessing and absolution. 
 
 And ever since those days, until the one 
 when, with bent brow and shrinking spirit, 
 she crossed the threshold of her master — 
 ever since that day, her small transgressions, 
 both of word, and deed, and thought had 
 been poured out with conscientious unreserve 
 to the old priest— her father's friend, who, in 
 the gentle dignity of his fourscore years, lis- 
 tened in Christian charity, but asked few 
 questions of the sinless child. 
 
 Clarissa then, when every chattel that the 
 ruined planter owned was sold, was taken to 
 the Orano:e Creek Plantation, and there at 
 once commenced the course of life, which, to 
 the patient helpless victim, was to have no end. 
 And yet there live in this bad world of ours 
 not a few, who would not deem the poor 
 
264 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 slave girl a victim. She had fallen into rich 
 and liberal hands, and he who owned her 
 was young, handsome, and humane. She 
 lived with him in luxury, idleness, and quiet. 
 Not a single wish but what was granted, 
 almost before the mistress slave could utter 
 it — while for respect! why, she was a very 
 queen, with twice one hundred subjects to 
 obey her will. 
 
 And yet she was not happy. On her 
 young life there seemed to lie the burthen of 
 a heavy curse — the curse of irremediable sin 
 — the shame that hovers as a heavy cloud 
 over a race despised. She never went again 
 upon her knees before the kind old man, who 
 still was found in the cathedral of the Cres- 
 cent City, ready in the still Confessionals to 
 hear the sighs of the repentant. She never 
 dared to pray in secret to God again — for 
 very shame she could not — for the alterna- 
 tive, should she renounce her sin, was far too 
 terrible for a woman, lonely, weak, and loving, 
 to dream of for a moment. Relationless she 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 265 
 
 was in that Gomorrah of the South, the busy, 
 thriving Louisianian city. Relationless and 
 friendless, save for him who gave her shelter, 
 clothes, and food, in guerdon for her shame, 
 and for the love she bore him. Her mother 
 had not pitied her when she became the 
 household property of a wealthy man. Such 
 changes and such modes of life were nor- 
 mal with the women of her race ! and to be 
 a white man's leman ! — to share his wealth, 
 to drive in carriages, to bear him children, 
 and be at once his slave, companion, friend, 
 and quasi wife, was the best lot in life — so 
 deemed the mother — which could be drawn 
 by the fair victims of an institution which 
 even churchmen, those sworn upholders of 
 morality, have dared to praise — as given by 
 God to benefit the human race. 
 
 Clarissa's mother, more fortunate than her 
 hapless child, was free. Some years before 
 the planter's death she had secured her manu- 
 mission papers, with a promise, which, as we 
 have seen, was never fulfilled, that Clarissa, 
 
266 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 or Clarice, as she was more usually called, 
 should, on her return from Europe, partici- 
 pate in the priceless boon. She had given 
 birth to other children besides the daughter 
 whose early history we are reverting to, but 
 they, fortunately for themselves, were boys, 
 and being withal energetic lads, and endowed 
 with a fair amount of ability for business, 
 were early placed by their father in European 
 houses of business. The chances of their 
 wishing at some future time to visit their 
 native country were provided for, and the 
 two young men, Jree citizens of the world, 
 and known by the generic name of Smith, 
 were, in one of the large German commercial 
 towns, gradually, but surely rising to fortune 
 and independence. 
 
 But for the possession of those two thriv- 
 ing merchant sons, it is certain that Mrs. 
 
 T (as in her own peculiar class of demi 
 
 monde she was invariably called) would have 
 remained in the Southern city, or rather, in 
 true French fashion, have betaken herself to 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 267 
 
 Orange Creek Plantation, there to sliare the 
 pleasant luxuries brought by her young 
 daughter's sale. For, as I remarked before, 
 the mode of life which had been not only her 
 own but that of the mother who bore her, 
 caused no feeling of shame to tinge the pale 
 brown cheek of the middle-aged Quadroon. 
 Use doth breed a habit in a woman, and 
 when the devil drives, necessity must fain 
 
 submit ; so Mrs. T saw Clarice go to 
 
 her new home without a pang — and leaving 
 the New World for ever, set sail for the 
 adopted country of her sons. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 * Odours of orange flowers and spices 
 Reached them from time to time, 
 Like airs that breathe from Paradise 
 Upon a world of crime. 
 
 *And on her lips there played a smile, 
 As holy, meek, and faint, 
 As lights in some cathedral aisle, 
 The features of a saint.' 
 
 Clarice was almost a child herself when 
 little Zoe — the infant than whom no off- 
 spring of white parents in the Northern 
 States could have been more delicately fair — 
 made its appearance to claim in its turn the 
 dire inheritance of slavery and degradation. 
 Long before the baby's birth, Clarice had 
 become reconciled in some sort to her lot; 
 and had ceased to think regretfully of the 
 bygone days when the home of an honest 
 man might have been gladdened by her 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 269 
 
 presence, and when the hope was hers to 
 meet one day as a pure Christian matron 
 the loving gaze of her own sinless child. 
 
 She never had but that one, only that 
 little tender blossom laid upon the breast 
 of Clarice Gordon, and called her by the 
 endearing name of mother. But to describe 
 the passionate devotion of the young 'coloured 
 girl' to the helpless, wailing thing, on which 
 its father looked with such entire indifference, 
 passes the power of words. Her life was 
 often solitary — for to the planter she was 
 more regarded as a pretty toy and plaything 
 than as the companion and adviser which a 
 wiser man than he would have discovered in 
 the gentle slave. For weeks together he 
 would leave her in that large, silent house, 
 without a friend or neighbour near — and then 
 it was that Clarice, tired of her books, and 
 her embroidery work, began to take a warmer 
 interest in her humbler fellow- captives, whose 
 sorrows, and whose daily sufferings she soon 
 learnt to make her own. 
 
270 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 The cabins of the negroes were for the 
 most part situated at the distance of about 
 half-a-mile from the house, and it was a 
 pleasant walk for the * young mistress ' under 
 the spreading trees, to reach the quarters 
 where the coloured people lived. They used 
 to hail her visits — those poor untaught simple 
 creatures, as though they were an angel's 
 from the happy ' Dixie's Land.' The women 
 would come out on Sundays — a strict holiday 
 to them — and kiss her jewelled hand, whilst 
 little children, happy, laughing, rolly-polly 
 things, would take the playthings from her 
 which she brought them (even infant picture 
 books, though half-forbidden by the law), and 
 wooden dolls and horses, which the variously- 
 hued coloured picaninnies thought wonderful 
 inventions ; for the creatures' pleasures were 
 not greatly varied, and the missus, too, had 
 brought the toys from the city, * de grand 
 great city which they had heard about, but 
 nebber seen ' — and might not probably in all 
 their natural lives. Ignorant too and simple- 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 271 
 
 minded even as those children were the 
 working * hands,' on Massa Gordon's sugar 
 plantation, for they deemed his magnitude 
 as a mighty potentate only second to that 
 enjoyed by a Celestial Ruler, and as his 
 queen and consort, Madame Clarice was both 
 worshipped and beloved. 
 
 But, as I have said before, it was not only 
 in their joys that the young slave girl bore a 
 part, for though she might not hope to make 
 them wise, she strove, with many a bashful 
 blush at first, to lead them gently in the 
 path of duty. 
 
 She told them of the great example 
 Christians have before them. Of Him who 
 bade his followers bear with patience, insult, 
 pain, and grief, trusting to the great reward 
 hereafter in the world where from all faces 
 tears will be wiped away. 
 
 It was on his return, after a lengthened 
 absence in the city, that Mr. Gordon found 
 his recent purchase (the pleasure of whose 
 society had not yet even begun to pall upon 
 
272 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 him) busy in a negro's hut with a large 
 Bible on her knees. He had hastened home 
 full of anticipated happiness. The remem- 
 brance of the young girl whose love, together 
 with her priceless beauty, he had made his 
 own, quickened his pulses, and made each 
 instant of delay a grievance to him. He had 
 come laden, too, with presents for his fair 
 mistress — with the last books and music, 
 both from the Northern capital and the 
 world beyond the seas. So, when he found 
 no fair one waiting his arrival in the 
 luxurious drawing-room, no figure springing 
 joyfully to greet his coming from the low 
 causeuse, on which Clarice loved to rest, he 
 felt uneasy for a moment, and knew how 
 sorely he would miss his slave, should death, 
 the great loosener of all earthly bonds, set 
 the young captive free. 
 
 At that time Clarice was approaching 
 the period of her confinement, and being 
 young and delicate, Gordon's sudden alarm 
 was in some degree to be accounted for. He 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 273 
 
 dwelt upon the possibility of her illness 
 for a moment, and then ringing a silver 
 hand - bell which stood upon the table, 
 he impatiently waited the coming of the 
 servant he had summoned. There was 
 information, ample and reassuring in Cesar's 
 shining ebony face, and no sooner had Mr. 
 Gordon heard that the ' mistress ' had 
 walked towards the negro quarters than 
 he sallied forth, half pettishly it must be 
 owned, in her pursuit. 
 
 He was guided in his search by the small 
 white Cuba dog, Clarice's especial favourite 
 and companion, who was keeping faithful 
 watch and ward outside a hut, which differed 
 nothing, in outward appearance at least, 
 from those by which it was surrounded. 
 These huts were built of rough planks, so 
 loosely put together that anyone stationed 
 outside could hear, and not unfrequently see, 
 what was passing in their interior. Each 
 hut contained but one room, and was roofed 
 with shingle. 
 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 A plot of garden ground was tbe invari- 
 able surrounding of these small tenements, 
 and every negro could boast of bis small 
 poultry-yard and breeding pig, from the 
 sale of which live produce the ingenious 
 * darkies' contrived to derive no inconsider- 
 able profit. 
 
 Joybell, the four-footed sentinel, guided, 
 as I before said, her master to the place 
 of Zoe's temporary retreat, which was no 
 other than the hut of a paralytic negress, 
 whose days of work had long been over, 
 and whose time was chiefly passed in the 
 comfortable arm-chair procured for her by 
 the kindness of her mistress. 
 
 Mr. Gordon stooped down to caress the 
 little animal (who in noiseless fashion wel- 
 comed him by placing her soft white paws 
 upon his knee), and as the ' Massa,' whose 
 presence created little commotion (inasmuch 
 as the niggers were for the most part at 
 their daily toil), paused for a moment near 
 the unglazed windows, his quick ears caught 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 275 
 
 the sound of Clarice's voice inside the 
 hut. Old Deb, the paralytic patient, was 
 hard of hearing, so the clear soft tones 
 were slightly raised, and every word that 
 Clarice read from the holy book upon her 
 knee came distinctly to the ears of the 
 listening man. 
 
 It was a touching picture or rather would 
 have been so to one capable of appreciating 
 the force of contrast as it was exhibited 
 in those two widely-different beings. The 
 aged woman in her elbow-chair bent 
 forward eagerly to catch the blessed words 
 of comfort, her shaking head enveloped 
 in a yellow cotton handkerchief, and her 
 shrivelled hands, of which the palms had 
 changed from black to an unhealthy flesh 
 colour, clasped together in the eagerness of 
 her wrapt attention. 
 
 Close beside her sat Clarice, bare-headed, 
 and with the setting sun shining through 
 the unglazed window gilding her glossy 
 hair. Once already she had read the 
 
 t2 
 
276 Zoe's 'Brand/ 
 
 passage from Holy Writ which had so 
 entranced the aged crone that she begged 
 the favour of a repetition. 
 
 ' Dat berry fine,' she muttered through 
 her toothless gums. * Dat berry fine, Miss 
 Clarriss. Ole Deb she lub to hear dat verse 
 again. Dat berry good of Gorra Mighty. 
 Dat said to negroes, eh Missus ? ' 
 
 This question Mrs. Gordon boldly an- 
 swered in the affirmative, assuring Deb, 
 to her exceeding comfort, that the Saviour 
 of mankind has told us that with the 
 Almighty God of heaven there is no 
 respect of persons; and having so said 
 she proceeded to repeat the passages which 
 had elicted from the half-palsied slave so 
 fervent an expression of gratitude : — 
 
 'Let the brother of low degree rejoice in 
 that he is exalted : but the rich, in that he is 
 made low : because as the flower of the grass 
 he shall pass away' 
 
 ' For the sun is no sooner risen with a 
 burning heat, but it withereth the grass, and 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 277 
 
 the Jiower thereof falleth, and the grace of 
 the fashion of it perisheth : so also shall the 
 rich nianfade away in his ways.' 
 
 ^Blessed is the man that endureth tempta- 
 tion : for when he is tried, he shall receive 
 the crown of life, which the Lord hath pro- 
 mised to them that love him.' 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 '."We had a message long ago 
 That like a river peace should flow, 
 And Eden bloom again below. 
 We heard, and we began to wait.' 
 
 Strange words, indeed, were those Scripture 
 ones with which our last chapter was con- 
 cluded to hear repeated in the hut of a negro 
 slave. Strange words for her to read who 
 was bound hand and foot, and fast enchained 
 in soul as well as body to the man who 
 listened to them with a lowering brow, and 
 eyes that glittered savagely. 
 
 She was there — that girl whom he had 
 purchased at so high a price — to minister 
 to his pleasures, to be for ever at his beck 
 and call with pretty smiles and lures, and 
 such sweet wiles as woman's wit and her 
 innate coquetry teach quickly, even to a 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 279 
 
 wretched slave. In striking contrast to a 
 vocation such as this, was the work in which, 
 to all appearance, Clarice was engaged, and 
 Gordon, looking at her pure, clear eyes and 
 reverent attitude, felt like a man who had 
 been wronged, and registered a vow upon the 
 instant to make a stand against what he 
 deemed the baneful influence of such faith as 
 hers by every means that lay within his 
 power. A religious mistress was an anomaly 
 entirely unsuited to his ideas of pleasure ; 
 and therefore it was that for the time being, 
 he left no stone unturned to remedy the 
 misfortune he had so suddenly discovered. 
 
 He brought her dangerous, ay, even poi- 
 sonous writings from that hot-bed of many 
 crimes, the pleasant, brilliant. Southern town. 
 They had but lately reached the Crescent city 
 — those evil emanations from the Paris press; 
 and Gordon thought, and not altogether un- 
 reasonably, that their influence might do 
 much to counteract the better, higher prin- 
 ciples early instilled into the slave girl's heart. 
 
280 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 He cared but little for her virtue, and for her 
 purity still less. She was no lawful wife of 
 his, her children could but be his chattels 
 and his property. They would have no rights 
 of citizens — and if— which was probably his 
 intention — their enfranchisement should fol- 
 low on their birth — why, after all — what 
 were they ? Beings of a race tabooed, and de- 
 graded by the brand burnt in by white men's 
 prejudices, — a brand not to be effaced in this 
 hard world for ever. 
 
 But cold of heart, and sensualist although 
 he was, a better, warmer feeling was awakened 
 in the planter's breast, when a white child, 
 with soft fair hair, lay on the slave-mother's 
 bosom, and smiled upon him with small rosy 
 lips. She was so like his mother, too — his 
 mother who had been a beauty in her day, but 
 had died before the little Zoe saw the light. 
 
 The child grew daily both in intelligence 
 and grace, and as time glided by, Gordon, 
 although his affection for the mother was 
 still strong, had yielded to many another of 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 281 
 
 those facile pleasures which in the luxurious 
 easy South, beset the white man's path. 
 
 He never interfered with Clarice as her 
 child grew up to girlhood, but let her teach 
 his daughter to be good and gentle as her- 
 self. Gradually too, and apparently unnoticed 
 by her master, she introduced amongst the 
 household servants the habit of daily prayers. 
 Morning and evening she assembled them 
 together in her pretty drawing-room, and 
 amongst them holding up her little hands, 
 and praying in her infant fashion for bless- 
 ings on the head of father and of mother, 
 knelt the little daughter whose early promise 
 of intellect bade fair to raise her at an early 
 age from a pretty plaything to a valued 
 companion. 
 
 After awhile Clarice's life on the planta- 
 tion was far from a solitary one, for Mr. 
 Gordon was famed for his hospitality, and 
 his house might have been almost literally 
 described as an open one. There was a 
 charm, too, in Mrs. Gordon's society and con- 
 versation which would have attracted guests 
 
282 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 even in the absence of the host's cordial wel- 
 come and his generous wines ; so that soon 
 many of the neighbouring planters (men of 
 wealth and standing in the city), accompanied, 
 in some instances, by the ladies whose position 
 was analogous to that of Clarice, visited her 
 frequently in her home amidst the orange 
 groves ; and after the liaison had grown into 
 the habit of years, Mrs. Gordon was allowed 
 the indulgence of winters spent at New 
 Orleans, where she lived, comparatively 
 speaking, in the world, and could endeavour, 
 while partaking of such gaieties as were per- 
 mitted to her class and kind, to forget her 
 absent child, who, by her father's wish, and 
 his alone, was acquiring in the French capital 
 tastes and habits so utterly at variance with 
 her future position in society. 
 
 This has been a long digression, but before 
 following the Paris pensionnaire to her well- 
 remembered home, it was necessary to sketch 
 the previous history of the mother whom the 
 tender-hearted girl had so long pined to see 
 and to embrace. 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 * All common things — each day's events 
 That with the hour begin and end ; 
 Om* pleasures and our discontents 
 
 Are rounds by which we may ascend.' 
 
 As the returned travellers drove slowly on, 
 Zoe's quickening memory recognized in every 
 shadowing tree and opening glade some scene 
 of childish happiness. She would have spoken 
 out aloud her pleasure at each fresh recog- 
 nition, had not her spirit been crushed by 
 painful forebodings, and had not a cloud, as 
 if of answering depression, begun to lower 
 on her father's brow. At length, and after 
 the drive had lasted for about half a tedious 
 hour, they came to a clearing amongst the 
 sycamores and plantains, where, standing on 
 a well-kept lawn, dotted with flow^er-beds, 
 the planter's spacious domicile broke upon 
 
284 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 their view. It was an irregular building, with 
 a facade, extending to the length of nearly 
 seventy feet, and a sloping roof over its one 
 story — or I should rather say, to speak more 
 correctly, its story and a half. The roof, so to 
 speak, spread out far beyond the walls, cover- 
 ing, as it did so, a large verandah or piazza, 
 which extended, not only from one end to the 
 other of the tenement, but also along one 
 side. The portion of the piazza which 
 adorned the front of the house was unen- 
 closed, but filled with flowers and creeping 
 plants, with pretty benches and ornamental 
 tables, soft sofas, and divans. The verandah 
 at the side, also of at least fifteen feet in 
 width, was enclosed by a wooden wall similar 
 to those appertaining to the house — namely, 
 thick planks of resinous pine, which had been 
 at an earlier date painted of a dark stone- 
 colour, the traces of the sombre tinting being 
 only in patches to be traced upon the wood. 
 The apartment formed by this enclosed piazza 
 was used in the family both as a smoking 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 285 
 
 and a billiard-room. Zoe's heart beat almost 
 to suffocation as the horses slowly drew the 
 carriage along the sandy road that led up to 
 the piazza. Like all impulsive and sensitive 
 beings, her nerves were far from strong, and 
 tears found their way readily to her eyes. 
 To hide these tell-tale witnesses of her emo- 
 tion, she drew her veil more closely round 
 her face, and then her father saw and com- 
 mented on the obvious trembling of her 
 little hand. 
 
 * Come, come, child, this will never do,' 
 he said ; * your mother requires to see smiles, 
 not tears ; and if you meet her with so sad 
 a face, ^vhy her spirits will sink at once to 
 zero.' 
 
 Zoe made a strong effort to appear com- 
 posed, as she said, in a low voice, 
 
 * If I had only heard before that she was 
 ill, I could have borne it better ; but I was 
 so very happy, that this news takes me by 
 surprise.' 
 
 Poor child ! The bitter lesson was as 
 
286 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 yet unlearnt, that for each cherished, loved 
 illusion of our youth we pay the heavy 
 penalty of tears; and that never, till the 
 heart has hardened in affliction's furnace, can 
 it be deemed impervious to the blows of Fate. 
 
 * Tush ! nonsense, girl ! ' her father an- 
 swered — (he was one of those men who 
 imagine that grief may be hustled away as 
 you would push unseemly rubbish into a 
 secret corner) — ' Tush ! nonsense ! you would 
 have had an extra fortnight's fretting ; and 
 besides, this fear is — may be — quite unne- 
 cessary — your mother may be only nervous ; 
 but here we are — make haste — she's in the 
 drawing-room of course, and waiting for us.' 
 
 He spoke with a kind of irritable abrupt- 
 ness, which to one who knew him well 
 would have betrayed the anxiety he was 
 desirous to conceal. There was a strange 
 stillness, too, about the place which fright- 
 ened Zoe, as, with her hand pressed tightly 
 on her heart, she followed her father's foot- 
 steps along the matting-covered floor. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 287 
 
 The carriage had made its approach so 
 noiselessly, that Mrs. Gordon, -as she lay 
 upon her sofa in the room, which (owing to 
 the unusual coldness of the weather), had 
 its doors and windows closed against outward 
 sounds, heard not the noise of wheels or 
 coming footsteps. She had been expecting 
 with feverish longing the advent of her hus- 
 band and her child ; but the old nurse Lucy, 
 who had lived with Clarice since the latter 
 was an infant drawing its nurture from the 
 faithful creature's sable breast, had feared 
 the effects of suspense and agitation, and 
 told the harmless falsehood that some hours 
 must yet elapse before the * Empress' steamer 
 could reach the little quay. So Clarice, who 
 had passed a sleepless night of feverish watch- 
 ing, laid herself down at sunset on the soft 
 cushions of her favourite sofa, and, tended by 
 the faithful negress, strove to rest. 
 
 It was a beautifully-furnished and a lofty 
 apartment that into which Mr. Gordon 
 ushered his young daughter, the walls being 
 
288 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 hung with showy pictures of considerable 
 value, and • the tables strewed with books 
 and pretty toys and trinkets. 
 
 But the loveliest object in that gay cham- 
 ber — at least the young girl thought so — 
 was the graceful woman lying there so silent 
 in her deep repose — the long dark lashes 
 sweeping her flushed cheek, and the rich 
 waving hair falling loosely on her snow-white 
 wrapping-gown. 
 
 As they crept with cautious footsteps to- 
 wards the sleeping woman, the head, on 
 whose thick and glossy tresses were already 
 traced some lines of silvery hue, moved for 
 a moment uneasily on the pillow, and then, 
 the dark eyes opening wildly, the mother 
 recognized her daughter, and starting from 
 her recumbent posture, she threw her arms 
 round Zoe's neck. 
 
 * My child — my precious one,' she sobbed, 
 * my little Cherie — I had feared that you 
 would come too late — I did not trust in 
 God's goodness — I thought that I should 
 
Zoe\^ 'Brand: 289 
 
 never see my child again — and it has nearly 
 broken my heart, dear.' She murmured, 
 while fondly smoothing the rippling hair on 
 her young daughter's brow, * It has nearly 
 broken my heart to feel that I might die 
 before you came to bless me with the sight 
 of your bright face.' And into those loved 
 eyes she gazed with a kind of piteous fond- 
 ness, smoothing the fair cheek, down which 
 hot tears were raining, with her white, wasted 
 hand. 
 
 * And not a word for me, Clarice ? ' put in 
 Mr. Gordon, who, besides that he was not 
 fond of being overlooked, thought that agi- 
 tation could not but be injurious to the in- 
 valid. * Not a word to me, after bringing 
 back your girl in safety this long distance? 
 Come, let me look at you, and see what all 
 this talk of illness means.' 
 
 He drew her towards him as he spoke, 
 and led her near the open window — Zoe 
 still holding her mother's fingers closely, for 
 the precious form appeared to her so frail 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 and spirit-like, she almost feared its passing 
 from their presence like an unreal visitant of 
 earth. 
 
 ' You're thinner, dear, than when I left 
 you,' Mr. Gordon said, in a low, kindly voice, 
 and after he had pressed a kiss upon her 
 forehead ; ' thinner, but in no ways worse, 
 I hope. And here is Zoe come to cheer 
 you up. Look at her again, and tell me if 
 you would have known our little girl. She's 
 very like you — only not so handsome, Clarice 
 — not nearly so handsome as you are even 
 now, poor girl ; but — ' 
 
 'Ah, Jaspar!' sobbed the agitated woman, 
 ' you must not talk of beauty now before my 
 child — I want to have her with me quite 
 alone — I want to lay my tired head upon her 
 heart. I feel so weary, dear — so very, very 
 weary.' 
 
 Her voice sank to a whisper, and Gordon 
 feared for a moment that she was about to 
 faint, so deadly pale had grown her cheek 
 and lips. But Lucy, the old negro nurse. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 291 
 
 came suddenly to his relief, by saying au- 
 thoritatively, 
 
 ' Now, you go along, massa. Miss Clariss 
 very well, if you don't bother — Miss Clariss 
 glad to see de lily lady. Ah ! Gorra Mighty 
 bless her pretty face 1 You go along, massa 
 — you not wanted yet awhile — you jez keep 
 to yer own place.' And suiting the action 
 to the word, and trusting to her old-esta- 
 blished character as a sick-nurse autocrat, 
 old Lucy gently pushed the master from her 
 ladv's room. 
 
 u 2 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 * A maid unasked may own a well-placed flame, 
 Not loving first, but loving wrong, is shame.' 
 
 Before they parted for the night, a calmer, 
 brighter influence had stolen soothingly over 
 the hearts of Clarice and her daughter. It 
 was such happiness to be again together. 
 Such joy to Zoe in the knowledge that the 
 one being on the earth whose love would 
 never fail, lay now beneath the roof which 
 sheltered her, and that the morning's sun 
 would shine again upon that tender face. 
 
 But the first countenance which met the 
 young girl's eyes was very different from the 
 one that had remained stamped upon her 
 heart, in wakefulness and slumber, through 
 the silent watches of the night. She lay 
 upon her bed, a curtainless one, for the 
 ' mosquito bars ' were drawn aside, as un- 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 293 
 
 needed during that rare time of frost and 
 snow. She lay upon her bed watching the 
 sun's rays, as they played through the twining 
 creepers adorning the wide verandah ; and 
 as she lay there, thinking drowsily — a little 
 slave-girl, with bare feet and scanty garments, 
 tripped lightly along the floor. How strange 
 it seemed to see that small black housemaid 
 (with her woolly bullet-head, and mouth dis- 
 tended to its broadest grin, when the young 
 * Missus ' spoke to her with cheerful kind- 
 ness) lighting the fire, and with the fragrant 
 pine- wood feeding the flame as it rose up- 
 wards in the hearth, and shimmered on the 
 dusky shining face of little Suzy. 
 
 But strange as seemed at first to Cherie 
 the attendance of those ebon servitors, the 
 force of early habit soon reconciled her to 
 their colour, and after awhile everything 
 around her assumed a lighter, brighter, hue. 
 Her mother's health, too, had ceased for the 
 moment to give her much cause for uneasi- 
 ness ; for Mrs. Gordon, although still suffer- 
 
294 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 ing from the chronic cough, which for months 
 had threatened to set the imprisoned spirit 
 free, seemed to have derived new strength, 
 and to have taken a new lease of life since 
 the return of her young daughter. The 
 fading of the lovely Southern flower had 
 dated from the time when the light of the 
 child's sunny smile had departed from that 
 often lonely home. She had never complained, 
 never implored that the banished one might 
 return to gladden the still house with the 
 cheering * patter ' of childish feet, and the 
 mother s heart with the only loving caresses 
 in whose truthfulness we do not dare to 
 doubt. But though she spoke not of her 
 sorrow, save to the nurse who had ever made 
 * good missy Gordon's ' griefs her own ; yet 
 heavily on the loving woman's heart the 
 burthen lay — and often in her rich luxurious 
 home, with no one near her but the people of 
 her race — in silence and in solitude she pined 
 for her one blessing, for the little fairy blos- 
 som lent in mercy to her by her God ! 
 
Zoe's 'Brand! 295 
 
 Seven years had passed away, and heaped 
 up in the mother's breast was such a store of 
 love for Zoe, that time appeared as though it 
 would be far too short, even if lengthened 
 out for years, to pour the treasure forth into 
 the restored one's heart. Never was she 
 wearied of admiring the fresh young beauty 
 of the gladsome girl. She would twine her 
 fingers in the golden-tinted hair, and deck it 
 with bright flowers and jewels, while Zoe, 
 prizing at its rightful due each loving glance 
 and word, believed, while holding the thin 
 hand in hers, that never in this earthly sphere 
 had there been seen such wonderful ethereal 
 beauty as that which beamed from her sick 
 mother's face. 
 
 Another heartfelt pleasure, too, and one 
 which she had scarcely hoped would so soon 
 be hers, was granted (soon after her return) to 
 Zoe. It came in the shape of a letter from 
 Pauline — not a long one — for the giddy 
 French girl, however ready of wit and quick 
 of tongue, did not possess the smallest grain 
 
296 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 of the perilous cacoethes scribendi, with which 
 to leaven the dull hours of absence. Little, 
 then, she said in her illegible text, intended 
 to be a rAnglaise, but which was in truth a 
 hieroglyphic scrawl, requiring a practised eye 
 to read aright, — 
 
 ' Ma Cherie — I write to you from Paris, 
 adored Paris now, or would be if you were 
 here to share our pleasures. Why did you 
 go, tres chere 'f Your absence has left a void 
 never to be filled. I am always desolee — 
 entends-tu? — always desolee when I think of 
 my poor pet away amongst the savages — the 
 Indians, Hottentots, what are they ? Dieu ! 
 I think I know tres pen de chose of all the 
 learning that was crammed into our poor 
 little heads at the old Prison, for I seem to 
 feel so little where you are, my pauvre chere 
 exilee. How can anyone exist out of this darl- 
 ing Paris ? " Le lieu du monde ou Von pent le 
 mieux se passer du bonheurJ' And when one 
 is happy, too ! Quand le coeur a parle 1 For, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 297 
 
 Cherie, child, let me whisper in your little ear 
 a great, great secret. There is a young Baron 
 maman meant for you — who — but you will 
 laugh at me — only he looks une foule de 
 jolies choses, and sends me flowers— such a 
 grand bouquet for my fete, so that it is not 
 only fancy — and — Bien — you shall know 
 more some day; and now about poor 
 Alfred. Petite coquette ! Qu'as-tu fait 
 du coeur de ce pauvre garqon qui faime tant ? 
 He has not smiled since you left France. 
 // voudrait avoir des ailes. He would fly 
 to you over the horrid sea ; he would pray 
 you to come back if he could hope — Bah! 
 What am I saying ? Of course you would 
 come back — you do not want to live among 
 the Cherokees; and when I say that little 
 Naide fait sa cour au pauvre Alfred, will 
 you like it, Cherie ? I love her very much, 
 but she is not my own Cherie, and so 
 shall not be my sister. Ecris bientot a 
 votre Pauline qui vous aime jusqu'a la 
 mart: 
 
298 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 This letter, to Mrs. Gordon's infinite satis- 
 faction, was shown to her by its joyous young 
 recipient. A pleasant hour it gave her ; for 
 to talk of Europe and of Paris, to speak the 
 language that she loved the best — to wander 
 back in fancy to the scenes where had been 
 spent some of her own bright childhood — 
 all these were pleasant pastimes to the in- 
 valid woman whose later years had dragged 
 along so wearily at that distant plantation 
 peopled only by a race of slaves. But when 
 Zoe had told her mother every petty secret 
 of her innocent existence — had described to 
 her many times and often her daily life in 
 the dull Parisian Pensionnat, as well as her 
 too-short holiday in distant Basse-Bretagne ; 
 when she had related every incident of her 
 stormy voyage, a blush, sudden and vivid, 
 spread over her face as Charley Seymour's 
 name came faltering from her lips. 
 
 Mrs. Gordon listened in silence, and only 
 glanced up furtively while her daughter told 
 her simple story. It was an old one; and 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 299 
 
 had the heroine been other than a Southern 
 maiden, the first opening chapter would have 
 scarce been read. But to the girl in whose 
 blue veins there coursed a liquid fire, a 
 volume of life's history had told its all- 
 engrossing tale since he bad touched her 
 hand, and lighted up the flames which time 
 could never quench. 
 
 When all was told, the mother having her 
 turn to speak, said, while she looked into 
 her daughter's shy face, tenderly, 
 
 ' Tell me more of Alfred, dearest ; of M. 
 de Rouvray — I like to hear of him the best. 
 This Southern gentleman may be very hand- 
 some, very gallant, but, dear, I don't put 
 faith in them, for they — they don't and can't 
 respect us, darling.' 
 
 ' Oh, mother, — mama mia — do not say so. 
 If you only had been near and seen him ! — 
 if you had heard his words ! Why, even 
 Pauline's brother does not seem to think me 
 more a lady to be reverenced.' 
 
 Clarice shook her head mournfully. 
 
300 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 ' Poor child,' she whispered, * you have 
 everything- to learn — you have had no ex- 
 perience of the life before you — you do not 
 know your place — my place, my precious, 
 and the place of every woman of our race is 
 this, the only country we can call our own.' 
 
 * I do not understand you, mother,' Zoe 
 said. ' I know that we are hated and despised 
 by those coarse, arrogant Northerners, who 
 yet profess to be our friends; but here — 
 here in my mother's country — here where 
 the women seem so beautiful, the servants 
 faithful; and the prosperity, as I have heard, 
 of everyone depends upon the patient in- 
 dustry of the coloured people; I can see 
 no reason why we should be hated, and less 
 reason still why we should be treated with 
 contempt.' 
 
 She looked with eager inquiry into her 
 mother's care-worn face ; but, instead of re- 
 plying directly to her appeal, Clarice turned 
 the subject of conversation, by again alluding 
 to her daughter's steam-boat acquaintance. 
 
Zoes \BrancU 301 
 
 ' The plantation belonging to the Sey- 
 monrs is but a few miles lower clown the 
 river,' she remarked, ' and the elder brother 
 often visits us. Your father says he was on 
 board the ' Empress ' with his bride.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Zoe, eagerly. * Such a lovely 
 woman Mrs. Seymour looked to be, although 
 I never saw her in the full light without her 
 veil. Mr. Davenport Seymour was always 
 talking to papa ; yet somehow — I can't say 
 how it was, but when I came on the hurri- 
 cane-deck the bride would walk another way. 
 I think that she was very shy ; there could 
 be no other reason, could there, mother dear, 
 why she should avoid and shun me ? ' 
 
 Now was the moment, if at all, to reveal 
 to the unsuspecting girl the painful truth; 
 now was the moment to prepare her for 
 the cruel mortifications, the soul -crushing 
 shame and the heart-breaking disappoint- 
 ments forming the component parts of the 
 cup of bitterness which she must drink to 
 the last dreas. No one could be more 
 
302 Zoes 'Brand* 
 
 thoroughly convinced than was the unhappy 
 Clarice of the necessity that her child's eyes 
 should be early opened to the truth ; but for 
 all that wise and prudent foresight, her cou- 
 rage failed her when the moment for action 
 came ; and the mother's tongue was tied. 
 
 It was such a shameful tale she had to 
 tell, should she relate her own dark history 
 to that pure-hearted child ! How could she, 
 a mother, tear aside the curtain behind which 
 so foul a skeleton was hid ? Was it for her 
 to whisper, that amongst those of her pro- 
 scribed and miserable race virtue was scarcely 
 known by name ; while, as for the reality — 
 pshaw! — men would but laugh and jeer at 
 the bare mention of the sacred word when 
 coupled with the name of Southern slave- 
 women ! 
 
 These cruel truths had, from her earliest 
 youth, been patent facts to Clarice — familiar 
 they had been as household words spoken in 
 intimate companionship, and yet despite their 
 almost normal use, the sight of that fair girl 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 303 
 
 had made them stand forth boldly in all 
 their hideous nakedness, as sacrileges against 
 a woman's holy purity, and an insult to the 
 God who made her in His image. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 ' The good he scorned 
 Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, 
 ' Kot to return ; or if it did, its visits, 
 
 Like those of angels, yhort and far between.' 
 
 New Orleans, as all the world knows, is, as 
 a city, very French in the habits, as well as 
 the tastes, of its inhabitants. A stranger 
 visiting the place would be especially struck 
 by this characteristic during the gay period 
 of the Carnival, when the entire population 
 seems, even as is the case in the Catholic cities 
 of Europe, to have broken out into moment- 
 ary madness, so reckless is the mirth, and so 
 ungovernable appear the untamed spirits of 
 the revellers. 
 
 The month of February of the year but one 
 preceding that which witnessed the election 
 of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency found New 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 305 
 
 Orleans in a state of excitement which had 
 nearly risen to fever-heat. The almost cer- 
 tainty that the turn of fortune's wheel would 
 place a Republican despot, and above all, an 
 Abolitionist, on the Presidential throne, was 
 a calamity dwelt upon in its various forms and 
 phases by all classes of the community ; and, 
 as may readily be imagined, the owner of 
 Orange Creek Plantation was not behind his 
 compatriots, either in anxious forebodings or 
 in projects for the resistance which all foresaw 
 would shortly be entailed upon the slave- 
 owners. 
 
 To remain at a distance from the city, from 
 the head-quarters of information, and from 
 the great mart where the spirit of speculation 
 neither slumbered nor slept, was to the planter 
 simply an impossibility ; and so it came to 
 pass that one short week after Zoe's return, 
 he signified his intention to Clarice to remove 
 his family into winter quarters. 
 
 Contrary to her wont, Mrs. Gordon ven- 
 tured on a remonstrance. 
 
 VOL. I. X 
 
306 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 ^ This is a surprise, Jaspar,' she said, * and 
 forgive me when I say that it is not a pleasant 
 one. You know I do not love the city, dear. 
 What do I meet with there but mortifications, 
 which I am safe from here? I bore them 
 bravely when I was there alone ; but when I 
 think of that poor child, and that, once estab- 
 lished in that heartless place, she must know 
 all — all, Jaspar; and to you, at least, I need 
 not dwell upon the meaning of that small, 
 terrible word.' 
 
 ' Well, my dear, I'm sorry — sorry almost 
 as you can be ; but it's only putting off the 
 evil day to keep her from the knowledge 
 which I only wonder that she hasn't guessed 
 before.' 
 
 ^ She guess ! Oh, Jaspar ! Such a child 
 as that — what should she know of sin and 
 passion, of men and women's cruelty to fallen 
 creatures such as I am, and of the inheritance 
 which we must leave to her — the only one, 
 alas ! ' she continued, with increasing energy ; 
 * for as yet you have not made our Zoe free. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 307 
 
 nor left her by your Will such a provision as 
 will make her independent both of men's pity 
 and their evil passions.' 
 
 * Well, vrell/ said Gordon impatiently, 
 ' that affair is only delayed, and can be seen 
 to any day. Besides, how in Heaven's name 
 am I to make my will without a lawyer? 
 Thank God, we haven't that nuisance on the 
 estate. You've got your nigger parson, Clarice, 
 and for aught I know, a coloured doctor some- 
 where ; but a lawyer passes you, my girl, and 
 without one of those black gentry to assist us, 
 Zoe, can have no proper manumission papers 
 — nor, as I said before — can the bequest 
 about which you seem so anxious be arranged. 
 
 Clarice sighed heavily. 
 
 * I don't know why it is,' she said, ' but I 
 have a strange presentiment that if I leave 
 home now, I shall never see this dear old 
 house again. I think that I should like to 
 die here, Jaspar, and be buried under the 
 sycamore trees near little Joybell's grave- 
 It may seem silly to talk so of a dog, but 
 
 x2 
 
308 Zoes 'Brand: 
 
 think how often, for long months together, I 
 had but him for a companion and a friend. 
 Nay, do not laugh at your poor Clarice, dear, 
 for — ' 
 
 She might have spared that prayer, for 
 Gordon had grown very serious, watching as 
 he did the changes on her speaking counte- 
 nance, and reckoning up in silence the ravages 
 which decline had made in a figure once so 
 full and rounded. 
 
 * My poor girl ! ' he murmured, as he threw 
 his arm round the woman whose love and 
 faith had been for many a year his own, un- 
 shaken by long absence and neglect, by harsh 
 words spoken hastily, by broken promises, 
 and by a frequent faithlessness to the vows 
 which he had sworn to her. 
 
 • My poor girl,' he said, * you must not 
 make me miserable by dwelling on these 
 nervous fancies. The change will do you 
 good — so Dr. Austin says ; and as for Zoe, 
 why, supposing that she does contrive to guess 
 the truth — and that she will I have no doubt, 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 309 
 
 for she is as quick-witted a young lady as I 
 ever chanced to come across — supposing that 
 she does, I say, why we must console her 
 with the gift of freedom ; and before many 
 months are over, Clarice — but this is a secret 
 for your ear alone — before many months are 
 over, you and I and Zoe will set sail for 
 Europe — for the sunny South, my love — for 
 Naples or for Sicily, or wherever I can learn 
 that you will best gain health and strength. 
 There will be no curious, evil eyes about us 
 there — no insult for the warmest-hearted 
 woman and the loveliest girl who ever set 
 their feet on Europe's soil ; and there, with 
 my own faithful wife beside me, we will 
 marry Zoe to a gentleman pur sang, and end 
 our days together in another land than this/ 
 He spoke with such enthusiastic warmth 
 that Clarice caught a spark from the bright 
 glow, and for the instant all the dreary pre- 
 sent melted into nothingness, whilst in the 
 horizon of the distant future she saw a golden 
 opening for her child. She said no other 
 
310 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 word against the plan of migrating to the city 
 for the Carnival delights, and tried instead to 
 hope that, through her care, Zoe might still 
 escape the blow which at any ill-fated moment 
 might fall upon her head. 
 
 For the girl herself, she listened to the 
 news with silent but unqualified delight ; for 
 had not Seymour spoken of New Orleans as 
 of a place of rendezvous, and did not the hours 
 of life seem almost wasted that were passed 
 where he was not ? 
 
 Clarice noted the deep flush that dyed her 
 daughter's cheek, nor did the joyous voice, 
 carolling through the wide piazza, escape the 
 anxious mother's ear — 
 
 * C'est que moi je t'aime, 
 Comme un bien supreme, 
 Plus que ma vie,' &c. 
 
 The sounds melted away in the distance, 
 and the rest of the refrain was heard by none 
 save, perhaps, the two gentlemen — namely, 
 Mr. Gordon and Davenport Seymour, who 
 
Zoes ''Brandt 311 
 
 were playing at billiards under the enclosed 
 piazza. 
 
 The voice was very beautiful; but if the 
 players caught the joyous sounds, they made 
 no sign of approbation, and only the mother's 
 troubled sigh followed the sweet tones as 
 they died away in the silence of the night. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ' 'Tis not a set of features, nor complexion, 
 The tincture of the skin that I admire ; 
 Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, ^ 
 
 Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense.' 
 
 A HIGH, bleak searching wind was whirling 
 through the streets and along the Levee* of 
 the Crescent City, when Zoe and her invalid 
 mother stepped from the steamboat which had 
 brought them from Orange Creek Plantation. 
 They landed amidst a crush of sugar casks, 
 cotton bales, and cursing porters ; swearing, 
 excited natives of the Emerald Isle ; and 
 patient, willing, coloured beasts of burthen — 
 overtasked bipeds, who, without question or 
 complaint, pursued in silence the hard work 
 assigned them. 
 
 * The embankment by which the Mi ssissippi is prevented 
 from flooding the city, New Orleans being several feet below 
 the river's level. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 313 
 
 Mrs. Gordon drew her shawl still closer 
 round her, as, shivering and half terrified by 
 the bustling scene, she stood upon the 
 Levee waiting for the hired carriage which 
 was to convey them to their city residence. 
 Three years had passed since she had last 
 found herself in that confusing, busy place — 
 and time, as it left its mark upon that languid 
 frame, had not rendered her more powerful 
 to cope with travelling difficulties as they 
 occur in every country, but more especially 
 on Transatlantic soil. 
 
 They had brought several servants (the 
 Southerners, by the way, never use the name 
 of slave) with them down the river, and 
 amongst the rest was one named Angelique, 
 who played the part of Mrs. Gordon's maid, 
 and dressed her mistress — for she had a pretty 
 taste — in true Parisian fashion. Angelique, 
 though under twenty, had already gone through 
 many of the vicissitudes incidental to slave 
 life and calling. She was the mother, too, of a 
 young child some few shades fairer than her- 
 
314 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 self, Angelique being a mulatto, that is to 
 say, of the first cross — namely, that between 
 the white and pure black races. She was a 
 beauty in her way, full formed, and upright, 
 with glowing eyes, sensual, and passion-stained. 
 A pretty little fellow also was the young boy, 
 whom she called Freddy, a child with jetty 
 spiral curls, great laughing sloe-like eyes, and 
 teeth that shone and glittered like the milk- 
 white specks in a dark-faced picture by 
 IMurillo's hand. 
 
 Angelique, who was a very favoured ser- 
 vant, had prayed the master that the child 
 should come with her 'down river' to the city; 
 and Mr. Gordon, who was an easy-going man, 
 had not said No to her request. 
 
 ' I think you'll find the urchin in the way,' 
 he said, *but please yourself; ' and as the boy, 
 who seemed entirely at his ease with the 
 great man, began to seize upon his gold guard- 
 chain as a plaything, he stroked the little 
 fellow's curly head with quite paternal kind- 
 ness, while Angelique kept near them, moving 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 315 
 
 to and fro (her figure was superb, and her 
 walk splendid), watching the master toying 
 with her petted child. But we must return 
 to the noisy scene upon the Levee, where 
 Mrs. Gordon looks around and trembles in 
 affright, for the discharging of a full cargo on 
 the New Orleans quays is a curious sight, and 
 one in which is noticeable to its full extent 
 the kind of recklessness which seems indi- 
 genous in the American character. 
 
 In tossing out the cotton bales, and rolling 
 forward the huge casks of sugar and molasses, 
 the absence of precaution as to whether any 
 human being may possibly be injured by the 
 operation is perfectly marvellous. To Cherie, 
 as she stood there, nervous and bewildered, 
 it seemed as though nothing short of a miracle 
 could prevent some helpless creature falling 
 a sacrifice to the want of caution momentarily 
 displayed by the more than half-intoxicated 
 Irishmen, and the panting unreasoning negroes, 
 by whom the dangerous work was done. 
 
 Clarice stood upon the broad open space 
 
316 Zoe's ^ Brand.' 
 
 strewed with unnumbered cotton bales, and 
 with the lumbering clattering carts, driven 
 by careless coloured drivers dashing past her 
 for their loads. She stood there shivering, 
 for the high wind blowing straight from the 
 wintry regions of ice-bound Canada, pierced 
 through the slender covering which the indo- 
 lent and stay-at-home Southern women ever 
 deem sufficient to guard them from the 
 winter s cold. At every gust, the dust, light 
 and penetrating, was driven on along the 
 quay in showers, powdering the light garments 
 of the ladies, and filling the corners of 
 their eyes with tiny noxious particles. The 
 negro servants, Caesar and Angelique, were 
 busied in collecting the luggage which still 
 remained on board. It was a work of time, 
 for the vessel was thronged with visitors to 
 the city, and the coloured searchers for their 
 master's property were thrust aside by those 
 who had the white man's right to be the first 
 and foremost. So Clarice waited with her 
 daughter on the quay — her pale cheek grow- 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 317 
 
 ing paler in the frosty air, her white lips 
 quivering, and a racking cough breaking at 
 each passing instant from her panting chest. 
 
 Zoe grew very nervous. Her father had 
 not accompanied them from the plantation, 
 he having left it some days before, ostensibly 
 to make preparations for their arrival ; and 
 there beside her, seated (for her limbs began 
 to fail her) upon the nearest cotton bale, was 
 the feeble invalid, suffering in patient silence. 
 
 Freddy, the little coloured boy, gamesome 
 and thoughtless as became his three short 
 years, had escaped unheeded from the cabin, 
 and was enjoying his temporary freedom 
 amongst the merchandise upon the Levee. 
 He was, as I have said, a pretty object with 
 his jaunty hat crowning the jetty curls — his 
 scarlet blouse, and happy laughing face. A 
 pretty object, truly, yet no living soul re- 
 garded him with applause or approbation ; 
 for on that face was marked, plainly as if 
 written with a 'scarlet letter,' that little 
 Freddy was the child of shame ! 
 
318 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 His play at last brought him quite uear to 
 Clarice, who did not love the child, and drew 
 a little back, holding her daughter's hand, and 
 trembling still more violently than before. 
 
 'What is it, mother?' Zoe asked. 'How 
 pale and cold you look! and where is An- 
 gelique ? How long she stays ! If I could 
 only leave you for an instant, I would see 
 about our things myself.' 
 
 The words were scarcely spoken, when a 
 cry, as of some human soul in direst agony, 
 rang out upon the air. A cry it was, such 
 as her ears had never listened to before — 
 harsh, hoarse, and desperate. The girl's 
 first thought was of her mother, who sat 
 transfixed and like a marble statue, only her 
 eyes were widely opened, and her hands up- 
 raised, as if in supplication. The scene takes 
 time to tell, but, almost in the twinkling of 
 an eye, a tragedy had been enacted in that 
 busy place, and a pure sinless soul had gone 
 up to the God who gave it ! 
 
 I have said that the little coloured boy. 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 319 
 
 straying onward in his sport, had neared the 
 place where * Madam Gordon ' sat. The lady, 
 thinking little of the child, had, after drawing 
 her flowing garments from his touch, fastened 
 her eyes upon the steamer's gangway, across 
 which, she every moment hoped to see the 
 form of her servant ' Angy ' (as her fellow- 
 negroes called her) making its long wished- 
 for appearance. At last it came — a bright 
 gay figure, with a head covered by a scarlet 
 handkerchief — the springing, active shape, in 
 spreading crinoline, and dress of many hues. 
 The waiting maid had walked half way across 
 the plank, when a sight met her eyes which 
 turned her blood to ice. On, straight before 
 her, she had caught a glimpse of her small run- 
 away, seated on the dusty ground, and play- 
 ing there unconsciously. Unconsciously, in- 
 deed, and with a fatal infant thoughtlessness, 
 for little Freddy — the yellow slave girl's dar- 
 ling — never saw what * Angy ' did, namely, a 
 huge monstrous cask — the largest of its kind 
 — impelled by many hands, and rolling swiftly 
 
320 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 onwards to her boy. She shrieked aloud — that 
 awful shriek that made the coarse, hard-work- 
 ing men stand still to listen — and then, with 
 a wild frantic rush, she hurried to the child. 
 
 She was too late ! the monstrous instru- 
 ment of death had done its work — over the 
 small prostrate form — unwitting of the ob- 
 stacle, the men had rolled it forward, and 
 there — beneath the garish sun — a broken- 
 hearted mother wailed over the mutilated 
 form in impotent despair! 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 'Things without remedy 
 Should be without regard: what's done, is done.' 
 
 Other eyes besides the mother's had seen 
 the child's impending fate with almost equal 
 terror, as well as impotence to avert the 
 dread calamity ; for Clarice had watched 
 the rapid onward progress of the terrible 
 overwhelming mass. 
 
 The scene was one — to that frail woman 
 — of such unexampled horror, that for a 
 moment her senses deserted her, and her 
 wild distended eye-balls bore witness to 
 the tumult in her brain. 
 
 * Mother, what is it ? ' Zoe cried, for her 
 attention having been (as we have seen) 
 otherwise directed, she could in no way ac- 
 count for the change upon her mother's face. 
 
 ' Mother, what is it ? ' 
 
 VOL. I. Y 
 
322 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 But for all reply, Mrs. Gordon, feeble and 
 over-excited, burst into a sudden fit of 
 hysterical tears and laughter. 
 
 Then Zoe's alarm was at its height, and 
 looking wildly round she implored the assist- 
 ance of the bystanders. A crowd, chiefly 
 of coloured people, had gathered round the 
 mutilated corpse of Angy's child. They 
 gazed at it with a kind of stupid wonder, 
 pitying the distracted mother somewhat, but 
 still entertaininor in their hearts a kind of un- 
 comprehended feeling that the little fellow, 
 despite his red-plumed hat and scarlet rai- 
 ment, was happier far in Dixie's Land than 
 with a nigger's life before him. 
 
 Angy — the poor bereaved and desolate 
 mother — had snatched up to her bosom the 
 crushed remnant of her departed treasure, 
 and holding it there closely, bore it to the 
 cotton bale on which the * Missus,' with her 
 head upon her daughter's breast, sobbed out 
 her strange unnatural laughter. 
 
 * Oh, please,' cried Zoe, as in a moment a 
 
Zoe's 'Brand: 323 
 
 portion of the reality of what had occurred 
 broke in upon her senses. * Please, not here. 
 Oh, Angy, I am very, very sorry — poor little 
 Freddy! But mamma, my own mamma! 
 Ah, there is Caesar ! And the carriage ! 
 Come, dearest,' and she threw her arm round 
 Mrs. Gordon's waist. ' For my sake — for 
 Zoe's — try to walk — all will be over soon — 
 and you will be at home and quiet with papa.' 
 
 A ring of iron seemed to clasp the un- 
 happy woman's throat as she strove in vain 
 to answer. She pressed her daughter's hands, 
 and pointing with the other to the spot 
 where the poor infant's blood was sinking 
 in the dust, she rose up slowly from her 
 seat. 
 
 By Caesar's exertions, the hired carriage 
 had been brought quite close to where the 
 ladies stood, and soon, to her infinite relief, 
 Zoe saw her mother's failing form extended 
 on the cushions. Then, and only then, she 
 fully felt how heavy had been the blow dealt 
 to the hapless waiting-woman. 
 
324 Zoe's 'Brand! 
 
 'Caesar,' she whispered, 'stay with Ange- 
 lique, I fear her httle boy is injured, and — ' 
 
 * De lilley chile is dead, Miss Zoe,' was 
 Caesar's uncompromising reply. ' De big 
 cask kill him flat — poor lilly fellar ! ' 
 
 Zoe shuddered, and would have followed 
 the pitying impulse to remain and comfort 
 the afflicted woman, had not her mother's 
 closed eyes and death-like pallor warned her 
 of the danger of delay. 
 
 Hurriedly she repeated to Caesar her direc- 
 tions that every care should be taken, both 
 of Angelique and the dead child ; and then 
 taking her own place by the side of the 
 nearly unconscious Clarice, Zoe ordered the 
 coachman to drive them to their city home. 
 
 No sooner had the vehicle left the Levee, 
 than Caesar, on kindly projects bentj ap- 
 proached the spot — it was not many yards 
 away — where Angelique, in a crouching posi- 
 tion, and resting on her long heels, rocked 
 her body to and fro with little Freddy's 
 cor[)se still pressed closely to her bosom. 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 325 
 
 The blood of the hapless child had soaked 
 through all her gaudy clothing, staining the 
 breast from which the little lips had drawn 
 their sustenance — with the ghastly evidence 
 of a violent death. 
 
 She did not seem to notice Csesar, as 
 through the now rapidly-dispersing throng 
 he came towards her. 
 
 ' Angy,' he said, ' Lor', bless us ! Yer not 
 gwine to faint away — gib me the chile — 
 hold up ! Oh, poor crittur — he ain't dead, 
 may be. He looks like gwine to heaven too.' 
 
 He made a movement as if to take the 
 stiffening body from her arms, but Angy 
 held it fast. 
 
 ' You go along,' she screamed, ' clear out 
 — I won't hab nigger's touching Massa's chile. 
 He gen'leman born, as good as dat Miss Zoe 
 and Madame Clarice, dat look on an hab de 
 laugh at pretty Freddy. Oh, oh, oh ! ' 
 
 The tears were chasing each other down 
 her cheeks, and falling on the still open eyes 
 of ' Massa's chile,' 
 
326 Zoe's 'Brand: 
 
 ' Dey laugh at pretty Freddy ; but I know 
 IVIassa he be rale mad. He lub poor Angy, 
 and de lily picaninny — de lily, lily picaninny. 
 Oh, my! Oh, my! But dar, I'll fix 'em,' 
 she added, springing up with startling energy, 
 and speaking in a voice which nearly re- 
 sembled a howl. 'I'll fix 'em! Warn't it 
 dem as let poor Freddy die under de cask ? 
 AVarn't it dem as saw him playing dere, 
 and nebber look to see him safe? As Gorra 
 Mighty's good, I'll fix dem niggur women. 
 De Missus is it ! Ugh ! She noding better 
 den Angy, I b'lieve you — and if I'm gwine 
 to torment for it — mind — I say — I'll fix 'em.' 
 
 There was no possibihty of soothing the 
 excited w^oman, who was deaf to all the argu- 
 ments Caesar brought to bear upon the sub- 
 ject ; so the faithful servant, fearing danger 
 for her should the white men near happen to 
 hear her threats, took the poor creature by 
 the arm, and dragged, rather than led, her 
 from the spot. 
 
 A liffht bandaiia handerchief was thrown 
 
Zoes 'Brand: 327 
 
 over the clay, cold face of little Freddy, and 
 then the curtain fell before a scene which was 
 not without its effect on the future destinies 
 of many of the characters appertaining to 
 our story. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : PRIKTEI) BT W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMTORD STREET, 
 AND CHARING CROSS.