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The old merchant received Mr. King with marked
politeness; for though he suspected him of anti-slavery
proclivities, and despised him for that weakness, he
had great respect for a man whose name was as good as
gold, and who was the father of such an eligible match as
Eulalia.

After some discursive conversation, Mr. King said, “I
am desirous to tell you a short story, if you will have patience
to listen to it.”

“Certainly, sir,” replied the old gentleman.

His visitor accordingly began by telling of Mr. Royal's
having formed one of those quadroon alliances so common
in New Orleans; of his having died insolvent; and of his
two handsome octoroon daughters having been claimed as
slaves by his creditors.

“What the deuce do you suppose I care about his octoroon
daughters?” interrupted Mr. Bell, impatiently. “I
was n't one of his creditors.”

“Perhaps you will take some interest in it,” rejoined
Mr. King, “when I tell you that the eldest of them was
married to Mr. Gerald Fitzgerald of Savannah, and that
she is still living.”

“Do you mean the Mr. Fitzgerald who married my
daughter Lily?” inquired he.

“I do mean him,” was the response.

“It's false,” vociferated Mr. Bell, growing almost purple
in the face.

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“No, sir, it is not false,” replied Mr. King. “But you
need not be so much excited. The first marriage did not
render the second illegal; first, because a sham ceremony
was performed to deceive the inexperienced girl; and secondly,
because, according to the laws of the South, any
marriage with a slave, however sanctified by religious
forms, is utterly void in law.”

“I consider such a law a very wise provision,” replied
the merchant. “It is necessary to prevent the inferior
race from being put on an equality with their superiors.
The negroes were made to be servants, sir. You may be
an advocate for amalgamation, but I am not.”

“I would simply ask you to observe that the law you so
much approve is not a preventive of amalgamation. Mr.
Fitzgerald married the daughter of the quadroom. The
only effect of the law was to deprive her of a legal right to
his support and protection, and to prevent her son from receiving
any share of his father's property. By another
Southern law, that `the child shall follow the condition of
the mother,' her son became a slave.”

“Well, sir, what interest do you suppose I can take in
all this?” interrupted the merchant. “It's nothing to me,
sir. The South is competent to make her own laws.”

Mr. King begged his attention a little longer. He then
proceeded to tell how Mr. Fitzgerald had treated the octoroon,
at the time of his marriage with Miss Bell; that he
had subsequently sold her to a very base man, in payment
of a debt; that she, terrified and bewildered by the prospect
of such a fate, had, in a moment of frantic revenge,
changed her babe for his daughter's; and that consequently
the Gerald he had been educating as his grandson was in
fact the son of the octoroon, and born a slave.

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“Really, sir,” said Mr. Bell, with a satirical smile, “that
story might sell for something to a writer of sensation novels;
but I should hardly have expected to hear it from a
sensible gentleman like yourself. Pray, on whose testimony
do you expect me to believe such an improbable fiction?”

“On that of the mother herself,” replied Mr. King.

With a very contemptuous curl of his lip, Mr. Bell answered:
“And you really suppose, do you, that I can be
induced to disinherit my grandson on the testimony of a
colored woman? Not I, sir. Thank God, I am not infected
with this negro mania.”

“But you have not asked who the woman is,” rejoined
Mr. King; “and without knowing that, you cannot judge
candidly of the value of her testimony.”

“I don't ask, because I don't care,” replied the merchant.
“The negroes are a lying set, sir; and I am no Abolitionist,
that I should go about retailing their lies.”

Mr. King looked at him an instant, and then answered,
very calmly: “The mother of that babe, whose word you
treat so contemptuously, is Mrs. King, my beloved and honored
wife.”

The old merchant was startled from his propriety; and,
forgetful of the gout in his feet, he sprung from his chair,
exclaiming, “The Devil!”

Mr. King, without noticing the abrupt exclamation, went
on to relate in detail the manner of his first introduction to
Miss Royal, his compassion for her subsequent misfortunes,
his many reasons for believing her a pure and noble woman,
and the circumstances which finally led to their marriage.
He expressed his conviction that the children had been
changed in a fit of temporary insanity, and dwelt much on

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his wife's exceeding anxiety to atone for the wrong, as far
as possible. “I was ignorant of the circumstance,” said he,
“until the increasing attraction between Gerald and Eulalia
made an avowal necessary. It gives me great pain to
tell you all this; but I thought that, under a reverse of circumstances,
I should myself prefer to know the facts. I
am desirous to do my utmost to repair the mischief done by
a deserted and friendless woman, at a moment when she
was crazed by distress and terror; a woman, too, whose
character I have abundant reason to love and honor. If
you choose to disinherit Gerald, I will provide for his future
as if he were my own son: and I will repay with interest
all the expense you have incurred for him. I hope
that this affair may be kept secret from the world, and that
we may amicably settle it, in such a way that no one will
be materially injured.”

Somewhat mollified by this proposal, the old gentleman
inquired in a milder tone, “And where is the young man
who you say is my daughter's son?”

“Until very recently he was supposed to be dead,” rejoined
Mr. King; “and unfortunately that circumstance led
my wife to think there was no need of speaking to me concerning
this affair at the time of our marriage. But we
now have reason to think he may be living; and that is
why I have particularly felt it my duty to make this unpleasant
revelation.” After repeating Tulee's story, he said,
“You probably have not forgotten that last winter two slaves
escaped to Boston in your ship `The King Cotton'?”

The old merchant started as if he had been shot.

“Try not to be agitated,” said Mr. King. “If we keep
calm, and assist each other, we may perhaps extricate ourselves
from this disagrecable dilemma, without any very

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disastrous results. I have but one reason for thinking it
possible there may be some connection between the lost
babe and one of the slaves whom you sent back to his
claimant. The two babes were very nearly of an age, and
so much alike that the exchange passed unnoticed; and
the captain of `The King Cotton' told Gerald that the eldest
of those slaves resembled him so much that he should
not know them apart.”

Mr. Bell covered his face and uttered a deep groan.
Such distress in an old man powerfully excited Mr. King's
sympathy; and moving near to him, he placed his hand on
his and said: “Don't be so much troubled, sir. This is a
bad affair, but I think it can be so managed as to do no
very serious harm. My motive in coming to you at this
time is to ascertain whether you can furnish me with any
clew to that young man. I will myself go in search of
him, and I will take him to Europe and have him educated
in a manner suitable to his condition, as your descendant
and the heir of your property.”

The drawn expression of the old merchant's mouth was
something painful to witness. It seemed as if every nerve
was pulled to its utmost tension by the excitement in his
soul. He obviously had to make a strong effort to speak
when he said, “Do you suppose, sir, that a merchant of
my standing is going to leave his property to negroes?”

“You forget that this young man is pure Anglo-Saxon,”
replied Mr. King.

“I tell you, sir,” rejoined Mr. Bell, “that the mulatto
who was with him was his wife; and if he is proved to be
my grandson, I'll never see him, nor have anything to do
with him, unless he gives her up; not if you educate him
with the Prince Royal of France or England. A pretty

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dilemma you have placed me in, sir. My property, it
seems, must either go to Gerald, who you say has negro
blood in his veins, or to this other fellow, who is a slave
with a negro wife.”

“But she could be educated in Europe also,” pleaded
Mr. King; “and I could establish him permanently in lucrative
business abroad. By this arrangement—”

“Go to the Devil with your arrangements!” interrupted
the merchant, losing all command of himself. “If you expect
to arrange a pack of mulatto heirs for me, you are
mistaken, sir.”

He rose up and struck his chair upon the floor with a
vengeance, and his face was purple with rage, as he vociferated:
“I'll have legal redress for this, sir. I'll expose
your wife, sir. I'll lay my damages at a million, sir.”

Mr. King bowed and said, “I will see you again when
you are more calm.”

As he went out, he heard Mr. Bell striding across the
room and thrashing the furniture about. “Poor old gentleman!”
thought he. “I hope I shall succeed in convincing
him how little I value money in comparison with righting
this wrong, as far as possible. Alas! it would never have
taken place had there not been a great antecedent wrong;
and that again grew out of the monstrous evil of slavery.”

He had said to the old merchant, “I will see you again
when you are calmer.” And when he saw him again, he
was indeed calm, for he had died suddenly, of a fit produced
by violent excitement.

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