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MR. FITZGERALD lingered on the wharf till the
vessel containing his treasure was no longer visible.
Then he returned to the carriage, and was driven to his
hotel. Notwithstanding a day of very unusual excitement
and fatigue, when he retired to rest he felt no inclination to
sleep. Rosabella floated before him as he had first seen
her, a radiant vision of beauty surrounded by flowers. He
recalled the shy pride and maidenly modesty with which
she had met his ardent glances and impassioned words.
He thought of the meek and saddened expression of her
face, as he had seen it in these last hurried interviews, and
it seemed to him she had never appeared so lovely. He
remembered with a shudder what Madame Guirlande had
said about the auction-stand. He was familiar with such
scenes, for he had seen women offered for sale, and had himself
bid for them in competition with rude, indecent crowds.
It was revolting to his soul to associate the image of Rosa
with such base surroundings; but it seemed as if some
fiend persisted in holding the painful picture before him.
He seemed to see her graceful figure gazed at by a brutal
crowd, while the auctioneer assured them that she was warranted
to be an entirely new and perfectly sound article,—
a moss rosebud from a private royal garden,—a diamond fit
for a king's crown. And men, whose upturned faces were
like greedy satyrs, were calling upon her to open her ruby
lips and show her pearls. He turned restlessly on his pillow
with a muttered oath. Then he smiled as he thought

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to himself that, by saving her from such degradation, he
had acquired complete control of her destiny. From the
first moment he heard of her reverses, he had felt that her
misfortunes were his triumph. Madly in love as he had
been for more than a year, his own pride, and still more the
dreaded scorn of proud relatives, had prevented him from
offering marriage; while the watchful guardianship of her
father, and her dutiful respect to his wishes, rendered any
less honorable alliance hopeless. But now he was her sole
protector; and though he had satisfied her scruples by marriage,
he could hide her away and keep his own secret;
while she, in the fulness of her grateful love, would doubtless
be satisfied with any arrangement he chose to make.
But there still remained some difficulties in his way. He
was unwilling to leave his own luxurious home and exile
himself in the British West Indies; and if he should bring
the girls to Georgia, he foresaw that disastrous consequences
might ensue, if his participation in their elopement should
ever be discovered, or even suspected. “It would have
been far more convenient to have bought them outright,
even at a high price,” thought he; “but after the Signor repeated
to me that disgusting talk of Bruteman's, there could
be no mistake that he had his eye fixed upon them; and it
would have been ruinous to enter into competition with
such a wealthy roué as he is. He values money no more
than pebble-stones, when he is in pursuit of such game.
But though I have removed them from his grasp for the
present, I can feel no security if I bring them back to this
country. I must obtain a legal ownership of them; but
how shall I manage it?” Revolving many plans in his
mind, he at last fell asleep.

His first waking thought was to attend a meeting of the

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creditors at noon, and hear what they had to say. He
found ten or twelve persons present, some of gentlemanly
appearance, others hard-looking characters. Among them,
and in singular contrast with their world-stamped faces,
was the ingenuous countenance of Florimond Blumenthal.
Three hundred dollars of his salary were due to him, and
he hoped to secure some portion of the debt for the benefit
of the orphans. A few individuals, who knew Mr. Fitzgerald,
said, “What, are you among the creditors?”

“I am not a creditor,” he replied, “but I am here to
represent the claims of Mr. Whitwell of Savannah, who,
being unable to be present in person, requested me to lay
his accounts before you.”

He sat listening to the tedious details of Mr. Royal's
liabilities, and the appraisement of his property, with an
expression of listless indifference; often moving his fingers
to a tune, or making the motion of whistling, without the
rudeness of emitting a sound.

Young Blumenthal, on the contrary, manifested the absorbed
attention of one who loved his benefactor, and was
familiar with the details of his affairs. No notice was
taken of him, however, for his claim was small, and he was
too young to be a power in the commercial world. He
modestly refrained from making any remarks; and having
given in his account, he rose to take his hat, when his attention
was arrested by hearing Mr. Bruteman say: “We
have not yet mentioned the most valuable property Mr.
Royal left. I allude to his daughters.”

Blumenthal sank into his chair again, and every vestige
of color left his usually blooming countenance; but though
Fitzgerald was on tenter-hooks to know whether the escape
was discovered, he betrayed no sign of interest.

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Mr. Bruteman went on to say, “We appraised them at
six thousand dollars.”

“Much less than they would bring at auction,” observed
Mr. Chandler, “as you would all agree, gentlemen, if you
had seen them; for they are fancy articles, A No. 1.”

“Is it certain the young ladies are slaves?” inquired
Blumenthal, with a degree of agitation that attracted attention
toward him.

“It is certain,” replied Mr. Bruteman. “Their mother
was a slave, and was never manumitted.”

“Could n't a subscription be raised, or an appeal be
made to some court in their behalf?” asked the young
man, with constrained calmness in his tones, while the expression
of his face betrayed his inward suffering. “They
are elegant, accomplished young ladies, and their good
father brought them up with the greatest indulgence.”

“Perhaps you are in love with one or both of them,”
rejoined Mr. Bruteman. “If so, you must buy them at
auction, if you can. The law is inexorable. It requires
that all the property of an insolvent debtor should be disposed
of at public sale.”

“I am very slightly acquainted with the young ladies,”
said the agitated youth; “but their father was my benefactor
when I was a poor destitute orphan, and I would sacrifice
my life to save his orphans from such a dreadful calamity.
I know little about the requirements of the law,
gentlemen, but I implore you to tell me if there is n't some
way to prevent this. If it can be done by money, I will
serve any gentleman gratuitously any number of years he
requires, if he will advance the necessary sum.”

“We are not here to talk sentiment my lad,” rejoined
Mr. Bruteman. “We are here to transact business.”

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“I respect this youth for the feeling he has manifested
toward his benefactor's children,” said a gentleman named
Ammidon. “If we could enter into some mutual agreement
to relinquish this portion of the property, I for one
should be extremely glad. I should be willing to lose
much more than my share, for the sake of bringing about
such an arrangement. And, really, the sale of such girls
as these are said to be is not very creditable to the country.
If any foreign travellers happen to be looking on,
they will make great capital out of such a story. At all
events, the Abolitionists will be sure to get it into their
papers, and all Europe will be ringing changes upon it.”

“Let'em ring!” fiercely exclaimed Mr. Chandler. “I
don't care a damn about the Abolitionists, nor Europe
neither. I reckon we can manage our own affairs in this
free country.”

“I should judge by your remarks that you were an Abolitionist
yourself, Mr. Ammidon,” said Mr. Bruteman. “I
am surprised to hear a Southerner speak as if the opinions
of rascally abolition-amalgamationists were of the slightest
consequence. I consider such sentiments unworthy any
Southern gentleman, sir.”

Mr. Ammidon flushed, and answered quickly, “I allow
no man to call in question my being a gentleman, sir.”

“If you consider yourself insulted you know your remedy,”
rejoined Mr. Bruteman. “I give you your choice
of place and weapons.”

Mr. Fitzgerald consulted his watch, and two or three
others followed his example.

“I see,” said Mr. Ammidon, “that gentlemen are desirous
to adjourn.”

“It is time that we did so,” rejoined Mr. Bruteman.

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“Officers have been sent for these slaves of Mr. Royal,
and they are probably now lodged in jail. At our next
meeting we will decide upon the time of sale.”

Young Blumenthal rose and attempted to go out; but a
blindness came over him, and he staggered against the wall.

“I reckon that youngster's an Abolitionist,” muttered
Mr. Chandler. “At any rate, he seems to think there's a
difference in niggers,—and all such ought to have notice
to quit.”

Mr. Ammidon called for water, with which he sprinkled
the young man's face, and two or three others assisted to
help him into a carriage.

Another meeting was held the next day, which Mr.
Fitzgerald did not attend, foreseeing that it would be a
stormy one. The result of it was shown in the arrest and
imprisonment of Signor Papanti, and a vigilant search for
Madame Guirlande. Her cousin, Mr. Duroy, declared
that he had been requested to take care of her apartments
for a few weeks, as she was obliged to go to New York on
business; that she took her young lady boarders with her,
and that was all he knew. Despatches were sent in hot
haste to the New York and Boston police, describing the
fugitives, declaring them to be thieves, and demanding that
they should be sent forthwith to New Orleans for trial.
The policeman who had been employed to watch Madame's
house, and who had been induced to turn his back for a
while by some mysterious process best known to Mr. Fitzgerald,
was severely cross-examined and liberally pelted
with oaths. In the course of the investigations, it came
out that Florimond Blumenthal had visited the house on
the day of the elopement, and that toward dusk he had
been seen lingering about the premises, watching the

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windows. The story got abroad that he had been an accomplice
in helping off two valuable slaves. The consequence
was that he received a written intimation that, if he valued
his neck, he had better quit New Orleans within twentyfour
hours, signed Judge Lynch.

Mr. Fitzgerald appeared to take no share in the excitement.
When he met any of the creditors, he would sometimes
ask, carelessly, “Any news yet about those slaves of
Royal's?” He took occasion to remark to two or three
of them, that, Signor Papanti being an old friend of his, he
had been to the prison to see him; that he was convinced
he had no idea where those girls had gone; he was only
their music-teacher, and such an impetuous, peppery man,
that they never would have thought of trusting him with any
important secret. Having thus paved the way, he came
out with a distinct proposition at the next meeting. “I
feel a great deal of sympathy for Signor Papanti,” said he.
“I have been acquainted with him a good while, and have
taken lessons of him, both in music and Italian; and I like
the old gentleman. He is getting ill in prison, and he can
never tell you any more than he has told you. Doubtless
he knew that Madame intended to convey those girls to
the North if she possibly could; but I confess I should
have despised him if he had turned informer against the
daughters of his friend, who had been his own favorite pupils.
If you will gratify me by releasing him, I will make
you an offer for those girls, and take my chance of ever
finding them.”

“What sum do you propose to offer?” inquired the
creditors.

“I will pay one thousand dollars if you accede to my
terms.”

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