to the past exploits of Amos in the "nigger-catching" line. Amos proudly produced letters to authenticate his prowess. They bore the signature of Charlton. "I want you to lend me those letters, Mr. Slink."

"Could n't do it, Mr. Vance. Them letters I mean to hand down to my children.”

"Well, it's of no consequence. I'll go into the next store for the rest of my goods."

"Don't think of it. Here! take the letters. Only return 'em." Vance not only secured the letters, but got Mr. Slink to go with him to the hospital to identify Quattles.

Then, on his way, enlisting three friends who were good Union men, one of them being a justice of the peace, Vance led them where the wounded man lay. Slink, who was known to the parties, identified the patient as the Mr. Quattles of the Pontiac; and the identification was duly recorded and sworn to. Vance then read his notes aloud to Quattles, whose competency to listen and understand was formally attested by the surgeon. The justice administered the oath. Quattles put his name to the document, and the signature was duly witnessed by all present.

No sooner was the act completed than the patient sank into unconsciousness. "He'll not rally again," said the surgeon. A quick, heavy breathing, gradually growing faint and fainter, and lo! there was a smile on the face, but the spirit that had left it there had fled!

Vance first went to the apothecary whose name was on the pill-box. "Did Mr. Gargle keep the books in which he pasted his prescriptions ?”

"Yes, he had them for twenty years back."

"Would he look in the volume for 18-, for a certain number?"

"Willingly."

In two minutes the number was found, and the day of the prescription fixed. Vance then proceeded to the office of L'Abeille, turned to the newspaper of that day, and there, in the advertising columns, found a sale advertised by P. Ripper & Co., auctioneers. It was a sale of a "lot" of negroes; and as a sort of postscript to the specifications was the following

"Also, one very promising little girl, an orphan, two years old, almost white; can take care of herself; promises to be very pretty; has straight, brown hair, regular features, firstrate figure. Warranted sound and healthy. Amateurs who would like to train up a companion to their tastes will find this a rare opportunity to purchase."

Not pausing to indulge the emotions which these cruel words awoke, Vance went in search of Ripper & Co. The firm had been broken up more than ten years before. Not one of the partners was in the city. They had disappeared, and left no trace. Were any of their old account-books in the warehouse? No. The building had been burnt to the ground, and a new one erected on its site.

"Where next?" thought Vance. "Plainly to Natchez, to see if I can learn anything of Davy and his wife.”

CHAPTER XXV.

IT

MEETINGS AND PARTINGS.

"I hold it true, whate'er befall,

I feel it when I sorrow most,

"Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all."

Tennyson.

T being too late to take the boat for Natchez, Vance proceeded to the St. Charles. The gong for the five o'clock ordinary had sounded. Entering the dining-hall, he was about taking a seat, when he saw Miss Tremaine motioning to him to occupy one vacant by her side.

"Truly an enterprising young lady!" But what could he do?

"I'm so glad to see you, Mr. Vance! I've not forgotten my promise. I called to-day on Mrs. Gentry, the depths. Miss Murray has disappeared, nobody knows where!"

found her in absconded,

"Indeed! After what you've said of her singing, I'm very anxious to hear her. Do try to find her.”

"I'll do what I can, Mr. Vance. There's a mystery. Of that much I'm persuaded from Mrs. Gentry's manner.”

"You mustn't mind Darling's notions on slavery."

"O no, Mr. Vance, I shall turn her over to you for conversion."

"Should you succeed in entrapping her, detain her till I come back from Natchez, which will be before Sunday." "Be sure I'll hold on to her."

Mr. Tremaine came in, and began to talk politics. Vance was sorry he had an engagement. The big clock of the hall pointed to seven o'clock. He rose, bowed, and left.

66

Why," sighed Laura, “can't other gentlemen be as agreeable as this Mr. Vance? He knows all about the latest fashions; all about modes of fixing the hair; all about music and

dancing; all about the opera and the theatre; in short, what is there the man does n't know?"

Papa was too absorbed in his terrapin soup to answer.

Let us follow Vance to the little house, scene of his brief, fugitive days of delight. He stood under the old magnolia in the tender moonlight. The gas was down in Clara's room. She was at the piano, extemporizing some low and plaintive variations on a melody by Moore, "When twilight dews are falling soft." Suddenly she stopped, and put up the gas. There was a knock at her door. She opened it, and saw Vance. They shook hands as if they were old friends. "Where are the Bernards?"

"They are out promenading. I told them I was not afraid." "How have you passed your time, Miss Perdita ?”

“O, I've not been idle. Such choice books as you have here! And then what a variety of music!"

"Have you studied any of the pieces?"

Tacitly accepting him as her teacher, she played it without embarrassment. Vance checked her here and there, and suggested a change. He uttered no other word of praise than to say: "If you'll practise six years longer four hours a day, you'll be a player.”

"I shall do it!" said Clara.

“Have you heard that famous Hallelujah Chorus, which the Northern soldiers sing?”

"No? Why, 't is in honor of John Brown (any relation of Perdita?) You shall hear it."

And he played the well-known air, now appropriated by the hand-organs. Clara asked for a repetition, that she might remember it.

"Sing me something," he said.

Clara placed on the reading-frame the song of "Pestal.” "Not that, Perdita! What possessed you to study that?" "It suited my mood. Will you not hear it?

"No! .... Yes, Perdita. Pardon my abruptness. But that song was the first I ever heard from lips, O so fair and dear to me!"

Clara put aside the music, and walked away toward the window. Vance went up to her. He could see that she was with difficulty curbing her tears.

O, if this man whose very presence inspired such confidence and hope, — if it was sweeter to him to remember another than to listen to her, where in the wide world should she find, in her desperate strait, a friend?

There was that in her attitude which reminded Vance of Estelle. Some lemon-blossoms in her hair intensified the association by their odors. For a moment it was as if he had thrown off the burden of twenty years, and was living over, in Clara's presence, that ambrosial hour of first love on the very spot of its birth. "For O, she stood beside him like his youth, — transformed for him the real to a dream, clothing the palpable and the familiar with golden exhalations of the dawn!" Be wary, Vance! One look, one tone amiss, and there'll be danger!

"Let us talk over your affairs," he said. "To-morrow I must leave for Natchez. Will you remain here till I come back?"

Clara leaned out of the window a moment, as if to enjoy the balmy evening, and then, calmly taking a seat, replied: "I think 't will be best for me to lay my case before Miss Tremaine. True, we parted in a pet, but she may not be implacable. Yes, I will call on her. To you, a stranger, what return for your kindness can I make?”

“This return, Perdita: let me be your friend. As soon as 't is discovered you've no money, your position may become a painful one. Let me supply you with funds. I'm rich; and my only heir is my country."

"No, Mr. Vance! I've no claim upon you, none whatever. What I want for the moment is a shelter; and Laura will give me that, I'm confident."

Vance reflected a moment, and then, as if a plan had occurred to him by which he could provide for her without her knowing it, he replied: "We shall probably meet at the St. Charles. You can easily send for me, should you require my help. Be generous, and say you'll notify me, should there be an hour of need?"