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J 
 THE 
 
 PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 BY MRS. CAROLINE LEE IIESTZ. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LINDA," "RENA," "LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE," " ROBERI 
 GRAHAM," "EOLINE," "COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE," ETC. 
 
 " I saw her, and T lov'd her — I Fought her and I won ; 
 A dozen pleasant summers, and more, since then have run; 
 And half as many voices now prattling by her side, 
 Remind me of the autumu when she became my bride." 
 
 Thomas MadceUar. 
 "Nothing shall assuage 
 Your love hut marriage: for such is 
 The tying of two in wedlock, as is 
 The tuning of two lutes in one key: for 
 Striking the strings of the one, straws will stir 
 Unou the strings of the other; and in 
 Two minds linked in love, one cannot be 
 Delighted, but the other rejoiceth." — Lilly's Sappho. 
 
 |3 1) i I a b c I p I) i a : 
 T. B. PETERSON, NO. 102 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1S54, by 
 
 A. HART, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 B. B. HEARS, STEREOTYPER. T. K. & P. G. COLLINS, PRINTERS. 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 It was the intention of the author to have 
 given this book to the world during the course 
 of the past season, but unforeseen occurrences 
 have prevented the accomplishment of her pur- 
 pose. She no longer regrets the delay, as she 
 believes it will meet a more cordial recejDtion at 
 the present time. 
 
 When individual or public feeling is too highly 
 wrought on any subject, there must inevitably 
 follow a reaction, and reason, recovering from the 
 effects of transient inebriation, is ready to assert 
 its original sovereignty. 
 
 Not in the spirit of egotism, do we repeat whr « 
 
 was said in the preface of a former work, that we 
 
 were born at the North, and though destiny has 
 
 removed us far from our native scenes, we cherish 
 
 for them a sacred regard, an imdvmcr attachment. 
 
 •j 
 1 1 BEAR Y UNIV. OF 
 HORTH CAROLINA , 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 It cannot therefore be supposed that we are ac- 
 tuated by hostility or prejudice, in endeavouring 
 to represent the unhappy consequences of that 
 intolerant and fanatical spirit, whose fatal influ- 
 ence we so deeply deplore. 
 
 We believe that there are a host of noble, 
 liberal minds, of warm, generous, candid hearts, 
 at the North, that will bear us out in our views 
 of Southern character, and that feel with us that 
 our national honour is tarnished, when a portion 
 of our country is held up to public disgrace and 
 foreign insult, by those, too, whom every feeling 
 of patriotism should lead to defend it from igno- 
 miny and shield it from dishonour. The hope 
 that they will appreciate and do justice to our 
 motives, has imparted enthusiasm to our feelings, 
 and energy to our will, in the prosecution of our 
 literary labour. 
 
 When we have seen the dark and horrible 
 pictures drawn of slavery and exhibited to a gaz- 
 ing world, we have wondered if we were one of 
 those favoured individuals to whom the fair side 
 of life is ever turned, or whether we were created 
 with a moral blindness, incapable of distinguish- 
 ing its lights and shadows. One thing is certain, 
 and if we were on judicial oath we would repeat 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 it, that during our residence in the South, we 
 have never witnessed one scene of cruelty or op- 
 pression, never beheld a chain or a manacle, or 
 the infliction of a punishment more severe than 
 parental authority would be justified in applying 
 to filial disobedience or transgression. This is 
 not owing to our being placed in a limited sphere 
 of observation, for we have seen and studied do- 
 mestic, social, and plantation life, in Carolina, 
 Alabama, Georgia, and Florida. We have been 
 admitted into close and familiar communion with 
 numerous families in each of these States, not 
 merely as a passing visiter, but as an indwelling 
 guest, and we have never been pained by an in- 
 human exercise of authority, or a wanton abuse 
 of power. 
 
 On the contrary, we have been touched and 
 gratified by the exhibition of affectionate kind- 
 ness and care on one side, and loyal and devoted 
 attachment on the other. We have been espe- 
 cially struck with the cheerfulness and content- 
 ment of the slaves, and their usually elastic and 
 buoyant spirits. From the abundant opportu- 
 nities we have had of judging, we give it as our 
 honest belief, that the negroes of the South are 
 1* 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 the happiest labouring class on the face of the 
 globe ; even subtracting from their portion of en- 
 joyment all that can truly be said of their trials 
 nnd sufferings. The fugitives who fly to the 
 Northern States are no proof against the truth 
 of this statement. They have most of them been 
 made disaffected by the influence of others — - 
 tempted by promises which are seldom fulfilled 
 Even in the garden of Eden, the seeds of discon- 
 tent and rebellion were sown ; surely we need 
 not wonder that they sometimes take root in the 
 beautiful groves of the South. 
 
 In the large cities we have heard of families 
 who were cruel to their slaves, as well as unna- 
 turally severe in the discipline of their children. 
 (Are there no similar instances at the North ?) 
 But the indignant feeling which any known in- 
 stance of inhumanity calls forth at the South, 
 proves that they are not of common occurrence. 
 
 We have conversed a great deal with the co- 
 loured people, feeling the deepest interest in 
 learning their own views of their peculiar situa- 
 tion, and we have almost invariably been de- 
 lighted and affected by their humble devotion to 
 their master's family, their child-like, affectionate 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 reliance on their care and protection, and above 
 all, with their genuine cheerfulness and content- 
 ment. 
 
 This very morning, since commencing these 
 remarks, our sympathies have been strongly 
 moved by the simple eloquence of a negro wo- 
 man in speaking of her former master and mis- 
 tress, who have been dead for many years. 
 
 "Oh !" said she, her eyes swimming with tears, 
 and her voice choking with emotion, "I loved 
 my master and mistress like my own soul. If I 
 could have died in their stead, I would gladly 
 done it. I would have gone into the grave and 
 brought them up, if the Lord had let me do it. 
 Oh ! they were so good — so kind. All on us 
 black folks would 'ave laid down our lives for 
 'em at any minute." 
 
 "Then you were happy?" we said; "you did 
 not sigh to be free ?" 
 
 " No, mistress, that I didn't. I was too well 
 off for that. I wouldn't have left my master and 
 mistress for all the freedom in the world. I'd 
 left my own father and mother first. I loved 
 'em better than I done them. I loved their chil- 
 dren too. Every one of 'em has been babies in 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 my arms — and I loved 'em a heap better than I 
 done my own, I want to stay with 'em as long 
 as I live, and I know they will take care of me 
 when I get too old to work." 
 
 These are her own words. We have not 
 sought this simple instance of faithful and endur- 
 ing love. It came to us as if in corroboration of 
 our previous remarks, and we could not help re- 
 cording it. 
 
 The history of Crissy and the circumstances of 
 her abduction are true. 
 
 The character of Dr. Darley is drawn from life. 
 Though death has now set the seal of eternity 
 on his virtues, we would not violate the sanctity 
 of private life by bringing his real name before 
 the public. Should those he loved best on earth 
 recognise the lineaments we have attempted to 
 draw, may they accept this imperfect tribute to 
 his exalted worth, his brilliant and commanclimr 
 talents, as well as his pure and genuine philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 Many of the circumstance we have recorded 
 in these pages are founded on truth. The plot 
 of the insurrection, the manner in which it was 
 instigated and detected, and the brief history of 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Nat, the giant, with his domestication in a North- 
 ern family, are literally true. 
 
 If any one should think the affection mani- 
 fested by the slaves of Moreland for their master 
 is too highly coloured, we would refer them to 
 the sketch of Thomas Jefferson's arrival at Mou- 
 ticello on his return from Paris, after an absence 
 of five years. It is from the pen of his daughter, 
 and no one will doubt its authenticity. 
 
 "The negroes discovered the approach of the 
 carriage as soon as it reached Shad well, and such 
 a scene I never witnessed in my life. They col- 
 lected in crowds around it, and almost drew it 
 up the mountain by hand. The shouting, &c, 
 had been sufficiently obstreperous before, but the 
 moment the carriage arrived on the top it reached 
 the climax. When the door of the carriage was 
 opened, they received him in their arms and bore 
 him into the house, crowding around, kissing his 
 hands and feet, some blubbering and crying, 
 others laughing. It appeared impossible to satisfy 
 their eyes, or their anxiety to touch, and even 
 to kiss the very earth that bore him. These 
 were the first ebullitions of joy for his return, 
 after a long absence, which they would of course 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 feel; but it is perhaps not out of place to acid 
 here, that they were at all times very devoted in 
 their attachment to their master. They believed 
 him to be one of the greatest, and they knew him 
 to be one of the best of men, and kindest of mas- 
 ters. They spoke to him freely, and applied 
 confidingly to him in all their difficulties and 
 distresses; and he watched over them in sickness 
 and health ; interested himself in all their con- 
 cerns ; advising them, and showing esteem and 
 confidence in the good, and indulgence to all." 
 
 We can add nothing to this simple, pathetic 
 description. Monticello is hallowed ground, and 
 the testimony that proceeds from its venerated 
 retreat should be listened to with respect and 
 confidence. The same accents might be heard 
 from Mount Vernon's august shades, where the 
 grave of Washington has been bedewed by the 
 tears of the grateful African. 
 
 But we have done. 
 
 If we fail to accomplish the purpose for which 
 we have written, we shall at least have the con- 
 solation of knowing that our motives are disin- 
 terested, and our aim patriotic and true. 
 
 Should no Northern heart respond to our ear- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 nest appeal, we trust the voice of the South will 
 answer to our own, not in a faint, cold, dying 
 echo, but in a full, spontaneous strain, whose re- 
 verberations shall reach to the green hills and 
 granite cliffs of New England's "rock-bound 
 coast." 
 
 Caroline Lee IIentz. 
 
THE 
 
 PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Mr. Morelakd, a Southern planter, was travelling 
 through the New England States in the bright season 
 of a Northern spring. Business with some of the mer- 
 chant princes of Boston had brought him to the North : 
 but a desire to become familiar with the beautiful sur- 
 roundings of the metropolis induced him to linger long 
 after it was transacted, to gratify the taste and curiosity 
 of an intelligent and liberal mind. He was rich and 
 independent, had leisure as well as wealth at his com- 
 mand, and there was something in the deep green fields 
 and clear blue waters of New England that gave a 
 freshness, and brightness, and elasticity to his spirits, 
 wanting in his milder, sunnier latitude. 
 
 He found himself one Saturday night in a sweet 
 country village, whose boundaries were marked by. the 
 136 (13) 
 
14 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 most luxuriant shubbery and trees, in the midst of which 
 a thousand silver rills were gushing. He was pleased 
 with the prospect of passing the ensuing Sunday in a 
 valley so serene and quiet, that it seemed as if Nature 
 enjoyed in its shades the repose of an eternal Sabbath. 
 The inn where he stopped was a neat, orderly place, and 
 though the landlord impressed him, at first, as a hard, 
 repulsive looking man, with a dark, Indian face, and 
 large, iron-bound frame, he found him ready to perform 
 all the duties of a host. Requesting to be shown to a 
 private apartment, he ordered Albert, a young mulatto, 
 who accompanied him on his journey, to follow him with 
 his valise. Albert was a handsome, golden-skinned 
 youth, with shining black hair and eyes, dressed very 
 nearly as genteelly as his master, and who generally 
 attracted more attention on their Northern tour. Accus- 
 tomed to wait on his master and listen to the conversa- 
 tion of refined and educated gentlemen, he had very 
 little of the dialect of the negro, and those familiar with 
 the almost unintelligible jargon which delineators of the 
 sable character put into their lips, could not but be 
 astonished at the propriety of his language and pronun- 
 ciation. 
 
 When Mr. Moreland started on his journey to the 
 North, his friends endeavoured to dissuade him from 
 taking a servant with him, as he would incur the danger 
 of losing him among the granite hills to which he was 
 bound: — they especially warned him of the risk of taking 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 15 
 
 Albert, whose superior intelligence and cultivation would 
 render hirn more accessible to the arguments which would 
 probably be brought forward to lure him from his alle- 
 giance. 
 
 "I defy all the eloquence of the North to induce 
 Albert to leave me," exclaimed Mr. Moreland. "Let 
 them do it if they can. Albert," he said, calling the 
 boy to him, who was busily employed in brushing and 
 polishing his master's boots, with a friction quick enough 
 to create sparkles of light. -'Albert, — I am going to 
 the North, — would you like to go with me?" 
 
 "To be sure I would, master, I would like to go any- 
 where in the world with you." 
 
 " You know the people are all free at the North, 
 Albert." 
 
 " Yes, master. 
 
 " And when you are there, they will very likely try 
 to persuade you that you are free too, and tell you it is 
 your duty to run away from me, and set up for a gentle- 
 man yourself. What do you think of all this ?" 
 
 Albert suspended his brush in the air, drew up his 
 left shoulder with a significant shrug, darted an oblique 
 glance at his master from his bright black eyes, and then 
 renewed his friction with accelerated velocity. 
 
 " Well, my boy, you have not answered me," cried 
 Mr. Moreland, in a careless, yet interested manner, 
 peculiar to himself. 
 
 "Why, you sec, Mars. Russell (when he addressed his 
 
J.6 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 master by his Christian name, he always abbreviated his 
 title in this manner, though when the name was omitted 
 he uttered the title in all its dignity), — " you see, Mars. 
 Russell," — here the mulatto slipped the boot from his 
 arm, placed it on the floor, and still retaining the brush 
 in his right hand, folded his arms across his breast, and 
 spoke deliberately and earnestly, — "they couldn't come 
 round this boy with that story ; I've hearn it often enough 
 already ; I ain't afraid of anything they can say and do, 
 to get me away from you as long as you want me to 
 stay with you. But if you are afraid to trust me, mas- 
 ter, that's another thing. You'd better leave me, if you 
 think I'd be mean enough to run away." 
 
 "Well said, Albert !" exclaimed Mr. Moreland, laugh- 
 ing at the air of injured honour and conscious self-appre- 
 ciation he assumed ; " I do trust you, and shall surely 
 take you with me ; you can make yourself very amusing 
 to the people, by telling them of your home frolics, such 
 as being chained, handcuffed, scourged, flayed, and burned 
 alive, and all those little trifles they are so much in- 
 terested in." 
 
 " Oh ! master, I wish I may find everybody as well 
 off as I am. If there's no lies told on you but what I 
 tell, you'll be mighty safe, I know. Ever since Miss 
 Claudia" — 
 
 "Enough," cried Mr. Moreland, hastily interrupting 
 him. He had breathed a name which evidently awakened 
 painful recollections, for his sunshiny countenance be- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 17 
 
 came suddenly dark and cold. Albert, "who seemed 
 familiar with his master's varying moods, respectfully 
 resumed his occupation, while Mr. Moreland took up his 
 hat and plunged into the soft, balmy atmosphere of a 
 Southern spring morning. 
 
 It is not our intention to go back and relate the past 
 history of Mr. Moreland. It will be gathered in the 
 midst of unfolding events, at least all that is necessary 
 for the interest of our story. We will therefore return 
 to the white-walled inn of the fair New England village, 
 where our traveller was seated, enjoying the long, dewy 
 twilight of the new region in which he was making a 
 temporary rest. The sun had gone down, but the glow 
 of his parting smile lingered on the landscape and red- 
 dened the stream that gleamed and flashed through the 
 distant shrubbery. Not far from the inn, on a gradual 
 eminence, rose the village church, whose tall spire, sur- 
 mounted by a horizontal vane, reposed on the golden 
 clouds of sunset, resembling the crucifix of some gor- 
 geous cathedral. This edifice was situated far back from 
 the road, surrounded by a common of the richest green, 
 in the centre of which rose the swelling mound, conse- 
 crated by the house of God. Some very handsome 
 buildings were seen at regular intervals, on either side 
 of the road, among which the court-house stood conspi- 
 cuous, with its freestone-coloured wall and lofty cupola. 
 There was something in the aspect of that church, with 
 its heaven-ascending spire, whose glory-crown of linger- 
 
18 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 ing day-beams glittered with a kind of celestial splen- 
 dour, reminding him of the halo which encircles the 
 brows of saints ; something in the deep tranquillity of 
 the hour, the soft, hazy, undulating outline of the dis- 
 tant horizon, the swaying motion of the tall poplars that 
 margined the street far as his eye could reach, and 
 through whose darkening vista a solitary figure gradu- 
 ally lessened on the eye, that solemnized and even sad- 
 dened the spirits of our traveller. The remembrances 
 of early youth and opening manhood pressed upon him 
 with suddenly awakened force. Hopes, on which so sad 
 and awful a blight had fallen, raised themselves like 
 faded flowers sprinkled with dew, and mocked him with 
 their visionary bloom. In the excitement of travelling, 
 the realities of business, the frequent collision of inte- 
 rests, the championship of oft invaded rights, he had lost 
 much of that morbidness of feeling and restlessness of 
 character, which, being more accidental than inherent, 
 would naturally yield to the force of circumstances 
 counter to those in which they were born. But at the 
 close of any arbitrary division of time, such as the last 
 day of the week or the year, the mind is disposed to 
 deeper meditation, and the mental burden, whose weight 
 has been equipoised by worldly six-day cares, rolls back 
 upon the mind with leaden oppression. 
 
 Moreland had too great a respect for the institutions 
 of religion, too deep an inner sense of its power, to 
 think of continuing his journey on the Sabbath, and he 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. it 
 
 was glad that the chamber which he occupied looked oul 
 upon that serene landscape, and that the morning shadow 
 of the lofty church-spire would be thrown across his win- 
 dow. It seemed to him he had seen this valley before, 
 with its beautiful green, grassy slopes, its sunset-gilded 
 church, and dark poplar avenue. And it seemed to him 
 also, that he had seen a fair maiden form gliding through, 
 the central aisle of that temple, in robes of virgin white, 
 and soft, down-bending eyes of dark brown lustre, and 
 brow of moonlight calmness. It was one of those dim 
 reminiscences, those vague, dream-like consciousnesses 
 of a previous existence, which every being of poetic tem- 
 perament is sometimes aware of, and though they come, 
 faint shadows of a far-off world, quick and vanishing as 
 lightning, they nevertheless leave certain traces of their 
 presence, "trails of glory," as a great poet has called 
 them, proceeding from the spirit's home. 
 
 While he sat leaning in silence against the window 
 frame, the bell of the church began to toll slowly and 
 solemnly, and as the sounds rolled heavily and gloomily 
 along, then reverberated and vibrated with melancholy 
 prolongation, sending out a sad, dying echo, followed by 
 another majestic, startling peal, he wondered to hear 
 such a funeral knell at that twilight hour, and looked up 
 the shadowy line of poplars for the dark procession 
 leading to the grave. Nothing was seen, however, and 
 nothing heard but those monotonous, heavy, mournful 
 peals, which seemed to sweep by him with the flaps of 
 
20 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 the raven's wings. Twenty times the bell tolled, and 
 then all was still. 
 
 "What means the tolling of the bell?" asked he of 
 the landlord, who was walking beneath the window. 
 "Is there a funeral at this late hour ?" 
 
 " A young woman has just died," replied the land- 
 lord. " They are tolling her age. It is a custom of 
 our village." 
 
 Moreland drew back with a shudder. Just twenty. 
 That was her age. She had not died, and yet the death- 
 bell might well ring a deeper knell over her than the 
 being who had just departed. In the grave the remem- 
 brance of the bitterest wrongs are buried, and the most 
 vindictive cease to thirst for vengeance. Moreland was 
 glad when a summons to supper turned his thoughts into 
 a different channel. 
 
 There might have been a dozen men seated around 
 the table, some whose dress and manners proclaimed 
 that they were gentlemen, others evidently of a coarser 
 grain. They all looked up at the entrance of Moreland, 
 who, with a bow, such as the courteous stranger is 
 always ready to make, took his seat, while Albert placed 
 himself behind his master's chair. 
 
 "Take a seat," said Mr. Griniby, the landlord, 
 looking at Albert. "There's one by the gentleman. 
 Plenty of room for us all."* 
 
 "My boy will wait," cried Mr. Moreland, with un- 
 
 * A fact. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 21 
 
 conscious haughtiness, while his pale cheek visibly red- 
 dened. " I would thank you to leave the arrangement 
 of such things to myself." 
 
 "No offence, I hope, sir," rejoined Mr. Grimby. 
 ' We look upon everybody here as free and equal. This 
 is a free country, and when folks come among us we 
 don't see why they can't conform to our ways of think- 
 ing. There's a proverb that says — 'when you're with 
 the Romans, it's best to do as the Romans do.' " 
 
 "Am I to understand," said Mr. Moreland, fixing his 
 eye deliberately on his Indian-visaged host, " that you 
 wish my servant to sit down with yourself and these 
 gentlemen?" 
 
 " To be sure I do," replied the landlord, winking his 
 small black eye knowingly at his left-hand neighbour. 
 " I don't see why he isn't as good as the rest of us. 
 I'm an enemy to all distinctions myself, and I'd like to 
 bring everybody round to my opinion." 
 
 "Albert!" cried his master, "obey the landlord's 
 wishes. J" want no supper ; take my seat and see that you 
 are well attended to." 
 
 "Mars. Russell," said the mulatto, in a confused and 
 deprecating tone. 
 
 "Do as I tell you," exclaimed Mr. Moreland, in a 
 tone of authority, which, though tempered by kindness, 
 Albert understood too well to resist. As Moreland 
 passed from the room, a gentleman, with a very prepos- 
 
22 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sessing countenance and address, who was seated on the 
 opposite side of the table, rose and followed him. 
 
 " I am sorry you have had so poor a specimen of 
 Northern politeness," said the gentleman, accosting 
 Moreland, with a slight embarrassment of manner. " I 
 trust you do not think we all endorse such sentiments." 
 
 "I certainly must make you an exception, sir," 
 replied Moreland, holding out his hand with involuntary 
 frankness ; " but I fear there are but very few. This 
 is, however, the first direct attack I have received, and 
 I hardly knew in what way to meet it. I have too much 
 self-respect to place myself on a level with a man so 
 infinitely rny inferior. That he intended to insult me, I 
 know by his manner. He knows our customs at home, 
 and that nothing could be done in more positive viola- 
 tion of them than his unwarrantable proposition." 
 
 They had walked out in the open air while they were 
 speaking, and continued their walk through the poplar 
 avenue, through whose stiff and stately branches the 
 first stars of evening were beginning to glisten. 
 
 "I should think you would fear the effect of these 
 things on your servant," said the gentleman, — "that 
 it would make him insolent and rebellious. Pardon me, 
 sir, but I think you were rather imprudent in bringing 
 him with you, and exposing him to the influences which 
 must meet him on every side. You will not be surprised, 
 after the instance which has just occurred, when I tell 
 you, that, in this village, you are in the very hot-bed of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 23 
 
 fanaticism ; and that a Southern planter, accompanied 
 by his slave, can meet but little sympathy, consideration, 
 or toleration ; I fear there will be strong efforts made to 
 induce your boy to leave you." 
 
 "I fear nothing of that kind," answered Moreland. 
 " If they can bribe him from me, let him go. I brought 
 him far less to minister to my wants than to test his 
 fidelity and affection. I believe them proof against any 
 temptation or assault ; if I am deceived I wish to know 
 it, though the pang would be as severe as if my own 
 brother should lift his hand against me." 
 
 "Indeed! — I did not imagine that the feelings were 
 ever so deeply interested. While I respect your rights, 
 and resent any ungentlemanlike infringement of them, 
 as in the case of our landlord, I cannot conceive how 
 beings, who are ranked as goods and chattels, things of 
 bargain and traffic, can ever fill the place of a friend or 
 brother in the heart." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I assure you, that next to our own 
 kindred, we look upon our slaves as our best friends." 
 
 As they came out of the avenue into the open street, 
 they perceived the figure of a .woman, walking with slow 
 steps before them, bearing a large bundle under her arm ; 
 she paused several times, as if to recover breath, and 
 once she stopped and leaned against the fence, while a 
 dry, hollow cough rent her frame. 
 
 "Nancy," said the gentleman, "is that you? — you 
 should not be out in the night air." 
 
24 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 The woman turned round, and the starlight fell on a 
 pale and wasted face. 
 
 "I can't help it," she answered, — "I can't hold out 
 any longer, — I can't work any more ; — I ain't strong 
 ' enough to do a single chore now; and Mr. Grimby says 
 he hain't got any room for me to lay by in. My wages 
 stopped three weeks ago. He says there's no use in my 
 hanging on any longer, for I'll never be good for any- 
 thing any more." 
 
 "Where are you going now?" said the gentleman. 
 
 " Home !" was the reply, in a tone of deep and hope- 
 less despondency, — " Home, to my poor old mother. I've 
 supported her by my wages ever since I've been hired 
 out ; that's the reason I haven't laid up any. God 
 knows " 
 
 Here she stopped, for her words were evidently choked 
 by an awful realization of the irremediable misery of her 
 condition. Moreland listened with eager interest. His 
 compassion was awakened, and so were other feelings. 
 Here was a problem he earnestly desired to solve, and 
 he determined to avail himself of the opportunity thrown 
 in his path. 
 
 " How far is your home from here ?" he asked. 
 
 "About three-quarters of a mile." 
 
 " Give me your bundle — I'll carry it for you, you are 
 too feeble ; nay, I insist upon it." 
 
 Taking the bundle from the reluctant hand of the 
 poor woman, he swung it lightly upward and poised it 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 25 
 
 on his left shoulder. His companion turned with a look 
 of unfeigned surprise towards the elegant and evidently 
 high-bred stranger, thus courteously relieving poverty 
 and weakness of an oppressive burden. 
 
 " Suffer me to assist you," said he. "You must be 
 very unaccustomed to services of this kind ; I ought to 
 have anticipated you." 
 
 " I am not accustomed to do such things for myself," 
 answered Moreland, "because there is no occasion ; but 
 it only makes me more willing to do them for others. 
 You look upon us as very self-indulging beings, do you 
 not?" 
 
 " We think your institutions calculated to promote the 
 growth of self-indulgence and selfishness. The virtues 
 that resist their opposing influences must have more 
 than common vitality." 
 
 "We, who know the full length and breadth of our 
 responsibilities, have less time than any other men for 
 self-indulgence. We feel that life is too short for the 
 performance of our duties, made doubly arduous and 
 irksome by the misapprehension and prejudice of those 
 who ought to know us better and judge us more justly 
 and kindly. My good woman, do we walk too fast?" 
 
 "Oh, no, sir. I so long to get home, but I am so 
 ashamed to have you carry that bundle." 
 
 He had forgotten the encumbrance in studying the 
 domestic problem, presented to him for solution. Here 
 was a ooor young woman, entirely dependent on her 
 
26 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 daily labour for the support of herself and aged mother, 
 incapacitated by sickness from ministering to their ne- 
 cessities, thrown back upon her home, without the means 
 of subsistence : in prospective, a death of lingering tor- 
 ure for herself, for her mother a life of destitution or a 
 helter in the almshouse. For every comfort, for the 
 bare necessaries of life, they must depend upon the com- 
 passion of the public ; the attendance of a physician 
 must be the work of charity, their existence a burden on 
 others. 
 
 She had probably been a faithful labourer in her em- 
 ployer's family, while health and strength lasted. He 
 was an honest man in the common acceptation of the 
 word, and had doled out her weekly wages as long as 
 they were earned ; but he was not rich, he had no super- 
 fluous gold, and could not afford to pay to her what was 
 due to her stronger and more healthy successor ; he 
 could not afford to give her even the room which was 
 required by another. What could she do but go to her 
 desolate home and die ? She could not murmur. She 
 had no claim on the affection of the man in whose ser • 
 vice she had been employed. She had lived with him 
 in the capacity of a hireling, and he, satisfied that he 
 paid her the utmost farthing which justice required, dis- 
 missed her, without incurring the censure of unkindness 
 or injustice. We ought to add, without deserving it. 
 There were others far more able than himself to take 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 27 
 
 care of her, and a home provided by the parish for 
 every unsheltered head. 
 
 Moreland, whose moral perceptions were rendered 
 very acute by observation, drew a contrast in his own 
 r ind, between the Northern and Southern labourer, when 
 educed to a state of sickness and dependence. He 
 brought his own experience m comparison with the lesson 
 of the present hour, and thought that the sick and dying 
 negro, retained under his master's roof, kindly nursed 
 and ministered unto, with no sad, anxious lookings for- 
 ward into the morrow for the supply of nature's wants, 
 no fears of being cast into the pauper's home, or of be- 
 ing made a member of that unhappy family, consecrated 
 by no head, hallowed by no domestic relationship, had 
 in contrast a far happier lot. In the latter case there 
 was sickness, without its most horrible concomitant, po- 
 verty, without the harrowing circumstances connected 
 with public charity, or the capricious influence of private 
 compassion. It is true, the nominal bondage of the 
 slave was wanting, but there was the bondage of poverty, 
 whose iron chains are heard clanking in every region 
 of God's earth, whose dark links are wrought in the 
 forge of human suffering, eating slowly into the quivering 
 flesh, till they reach and dry up the life-blood of the 
 heart. It has often been said that there need be no such 
 thing as poverty in this free and happy land ; that here 
 it is only the offspring of vice and intemperance; that 
 the avenues of wealth and distinction are open to all. 
 
28 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 and that all who choose may arrive at the golden portals 
 of success and honour, and enter boldly in. Whether 
 this be true or not, let the thousand toiling operatives 
 of the Northern manufactories tell ; let the poor, starving 
 seamstresses, whose pallid faces mingle their chill, wintry 
 gleams with the summer glow and splendour of the North- 
 ern cities, tell ; let the free negroes, congregated in the 
 suburbs of some of our modern Babylons, lured from 
 their homes by hopes based on sand, without forethought, 
 experience, or employment, without sympathy, influence, 
 or caste, let them also tell. 
 
 When Moreland reached the low, dark-walled cottage 
 which Nancy pointed out as her home, he gave her back 
 her bundle, and at the same time slipped a bill into her 
 hand, of whose amount she could not be aware. But 
 she knew by the soft, yielding paper the nature of the 
 gift, and something whispered her that it was no niggard 
 boon. 
 
 "Oh, sir," she cried, "you are too good. God bless 
 you, sir, over and over again !" 
 
 She stood in the doorway of the little cabin, and the 
 dull light within played luridly on her sharpened and 
 emaciated features. Her large black eyes were burning 
 with consumption's wasting fires, and a deep red, central 
 spot in each concave cheek, like the flame of the magic 
 cauldron, was fed with blood alone. Large tears were 
 now sparkling in those glowing flame-spots, but they did 
 not extinguish their wasting brightness. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 29 
 
 "Poor creature!" thought Moreland. "Her day of 
 toil is indeed over. There is nothing left for her but 
 to endure and to die. She has learned to labour, she 
 must now learn to wait." 
 
 As he turned from the door, resolving to call again 
 before he left the village, he saw his companion step 
 back and speak to her, extending his hand at the same 
 time. Perceiving that he was actuated by the Christian 
 spirit, which does not wish the left hand to know what 
 the right hand doeth, he walked slowly on, through an 
 atmosphere perfumed by the delicious but oppressive 
 fragrance of the blossoming lilacs, that lent to this ob- 
 scure habitation a certain poetic charm. 
 
 During their walk back to the inn, he became more 
 and more pleased with his new acquaintance, whose 
 name he ascertained was Brooks, by profession an ar- 
 chitect of bridges. He was not a resident of the village, 
 but was now engaged in erecting a central bridge over 
 the river that divided the village from the main body of 
 the town. As his interests were not identified with the 
 place or the people, his opinions were received by More- 
 land with more faith and confidence than if they issued 
 from the lips of a native inhabitant. 
 
 When they returned to the inn, they found Albert 
 waiting at the door, with a countenance of mingled vex- 
 ation and triumph. The landlord and several other 
 men were standing near him, and had evidently been 
 engaged in earnest conversation. The sudden cessation 
 137 
 
SO THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 of this, on the approach of Mr. Moreland, proved that 
 he had been the subject of it, and from the manner in 
 which they drew back as he entered the passage, he 
 imagined their remarks were not of the most flattering 
 nature. 
 
 "Well, Albert, my boy," said he, when they were 
 alone in his chamber, "I hope you relished your supper." 
 
 "Please, Mars. Russell, don't do that again. I made 
 'em wait on me this time, but it don't seem right. Be- 
 sides, I don't feel on an equality with 'em, no way. They 
 are no gentlemen." 
 
 Moreland laughed. 
 
 " What were they talking to you about so earnestly 
 as I entered ?" asked he. 
 
 " About how you treated me and the rest of us. Why, 
 Mars. Russell, they don't know nothing about us. They 
 want to know if we don't wear chains at home and mana- 
 cles about our wrists. One asked if you didn't give us 
 fodder to eat. Another wanted to strip off my coat, to 
 see if my back wa'n't all covered with scars. I wish 
 you'd heard what I told 'em. Master, I wish you'd 
 heard the way I give it to 'em." 
 
 "I have no doubt you did me justice, Albert. My 
 feelings are not in the least wounded, though my sense 
 of justice is pained. Why, I should think the sight of 
 ■ ui round, sleek cheeks, and sound, active limbs would 
 be the best argument in my favour. They must believe 
 you thrive wonderful ly on fodder." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 31 
 
 "What you think one of 'em said, Mars. Russell? 
 They say you fatten me up, you dress me up, and carry 
 me 'bout as a show-boy, to make folks think you treat 
 us all well, but that the niggers at home are treated 
 worse than dogs or cattle, a heap worse. I tell 'em it's 
 all one big lie. I tell 'em you're the best — " 
 
 "Never mind, Albert. That will do. I want to 
 think — " 
 
 Albert never ventured to intrude on his master's think- 
 ing moments, and, turning away in respectful silence, he 
 soon stretched himself on the carpet and sunk in a pro- 
 found sleep. In the mean time Moreland waded through 
 a deep current of thought, that swelled as it rolled, and 
 ofttimes it was turbid and foaming, and sometimes it 
 seemed of icy dullness. He was a man of strong intel- 
 lect and strong passions ; but the latter, being under the 
 control of principle, gave force and energy and warmth 
 to a character which, if unrestrained, they would have 
 defaced and laid waste. He w r as a searcher after truth, 
 and felt ready and brave enough to plunge into the cold 
 abyss, where it is said to be hidden, or to encounter the 
 fires of persecution, the thorns of prejudice, to hazard 
 everything, to suffer everything, rather than relinquish 
 the hope of attaining it. He pondered much on the 
 condition of mankind, its inequalities and wrongs. He 
 thought of the poor and subservient in other lands, and 
 compared them with our own. He thought of the groan- 
 ins; serfs of Russia ; the starving sons of Ireland ; the 
 
32 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 squalid operatives of England, its dark, subterranean 
 workshops, sunless abodes of want, misery, and sin, its 
 toiling millions, doomed to drain their hearts' best blood 
 to add to the splendours and luxuries of royalty and 
 rank ; of the free hirelings of the North, who, as a class, 
 travail in discontent and repining, anxious to throw off 
 the yoke of servitude, sighing for an equality which ex- 
 ists only in name ; and then he turned his thoughts 
 homeward, to the enslaved children of Africa, and, tak- 
 ing them as a class, as a distinct race of beings, he came 
 to the irresistible conclusion, that they were the happi- 
 est subservient race that were found on the face of the 
 globe. He did not seek to disguise to himself the evils 
 which were inseparably connected with their condition, 
 or that man too oft abused the power he owned ; but in 
 view of all this, in view of the great, commanding truth, 
 that wherever civilized man exists, there is the dividing 
 line of the high and the low, the rich and the poor, the 
 thinking and the labouring, in view of the God-pro- 
 claimed fact that "all Creation toileth and groaneth to 
 gether," and that labour and suffering are the solemn 
 sacraments of life, he believed that the slaves of the 
 South were blest beyond the pallid slaves of Europe, or 
 the anxious, care-worn labourers of the North. 
 
 With this conviction he fell asleep, and in his dreams 
 he still tried to unravel the mystery of life, and to re- 
 concile its inequalities with the justice and mercy of an 
 omnipotent God. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Moreland breakfasted in his own room, and the 
 peace of the Sabbath morning brooded on his heart. 
 He took his seat at the window, and watched the 
 shadows of the trees playing on the white walls of the 
 church, and the golden gleam of its vane flashing on 
 the blue of the sky. He was glad when the deep-toned 
 bell called the worshippers together, and the people 
 began to ascend the grassy slope that led up to the 
 house of God. Mr. Brooks, his new friend, offered to 
 accompany him and usher him to a seat; an offer he 
 gratefully accepted. The pew to which he conducted 
 him was situated at the right hand of the pulpit, in one 
 of the wings of the church, so that he was facing the 
 congregation, and could see them without appearing to 
 gaze, as they glided, one by one, up the central aisle, to 
 their accustomed places. 
 
 The interior of the church was very simple and pure. 
 The green curtains and hangings of the pulpit, and the 
 green screen that ran around the gallery, made a 
 charming contrast with the unsullied whiteness of the 
 
 (33) 
 
34 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 wails, and harmonized with the green boughs that 
 shaded the windows, and the green grass that carpeted 
 the common. 
 
 There was no organ, with gilded pipes and sounding 
 bellows, to give dignity to the orchestra, but Moreland 
 caught a glimpse of white robes behind the curtain of 
 the gallery, and he was sure some beautiful daughters 
 of Zion were assembled there to sing praises to their 
 God. He wanted the service to commence, so that ho 
 could see the figures of that vestal choir, as well as hear 
 their ming-lins; voices. His ear was gratified before his 
 eye, for while waiting the coming of the minister, an 
 anthem began to roll forth from the invisible band, whose 
 notes filled the intervals of sound between the echoing 
 peals of the bell. The commencing words of the anthem 
 were grand. Moreland had heard them before, but they 
 came to him with a new sense, because he was prepared 
 to receive new impressions. 
 
 "Before Jehovah's awful throne, 
 Ye nations bow with sacred joy; 
 Know that the Lord is God alone, 
 He can create, and He destroy." 
 
 Among the voices that gave utterance to these adoring 
 words, was one which, though sweet and soft and femi- 
 nine beyond expression, seemed to drown every other. 
 It rose, like the imagined hymn of an angel, clear and 
 swelling, and then died gently away, to rise again with 
 richer, fuller harmony. Moreland, whose devotional 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 8,5 
 
 feelings were always exalted by sacred music, listened 
 with breathless rapture, wondering what sweet bird of 
 song had folded its wings behind that green enclosure. 
 
 At the conclusion of the anthem, where it is affirmed 
 that the truth of God shall stand firm as a rock, 
 
 "While rolling years shall cease to move," 
 
 when again and again the sublime refrain was repeated, 
 that single voice alone fell upon his ear. On that alone 
 the "rolling years" seemed borne onward to eternity. 
 Other voices sang, and their notes died away ; but hers 
 kept rolling and warbling round the arching walls of the 
 church, till the house was filled with* their melody, and 
 Moreland kept looking up, almost expecting to see them 
 forming into something visible, as well as audible, into 
 silvery or crystal rings, sparkling and glittering on the 
 eye. He held his breath so long, that the act of respi- 
 ration became painful, when renewed, and so intensely 
 had he listened that the moisture gathered on his brow. 
 The anthem ceased as the venerable minister walked 
 up the aisle and ascended the pulpit. He looked con- 
 genial with the music that heralded his approach, with 
 his silver hair, mild, benignant countenance, and deep 
 set thoughtful eyes. He was just such a minister as on 
 would associate in idea with that pure, simple church, 
 and white-robed singing band. His prayer breathed the 
 very spirit of devotion. It reminded Moreland of the 
 "Lord, save or we perish" of drowning Peter — "God 
 
36 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 be merciful to me a sinner" of the weeping publican. 
 After the reading of a beautiful opening hymn, the 
 choir rose, and the eyes of Moreland rested on one fair 
 face, which he knew, by intuition, belonged to the min- 
 strel maiden whose voice had so -charmed his ear. It 
 rose above the green curtain like a lily from its bed of 
 sheathing leaves, so fair, so spiritual, so serene, it was 
 impossible not to imagine an atmosphere of fragrance 
 surrounding its purity and bloom. He was right. The 
 hymn commenced, and the same sweet strains gushed 
 from the lips, on which he was now gazing. He could 
 not see the colour of her eyes, for they were downcast, 
 but he could see the soft shadow of long, dark, drooping 
 lashes on her cheeks, and he could see the bright, deep 
 hue of chestnut brown that dyed her hair. He remem- 
 bered the vision that had flitted before him the preceding 
 evening, and it seemed to him that he had met this 
 maiden stranger in some of the dim-remembered scenes 
 of a past eternity. He could not shake off this wild 
 idea, born of a poetic temperament and excited imagi- 
 nation. What was there about this young female that 
 so singularly attracted him ; — him, who had lately 
 abjured the very thought of woman, in a widowhood of 
 heart, far deeper and sadder than that which death 
 creates ; who had torn from his bosom the wilted gar- 
 lands of love, and cast them, in indignation and despair, 
 at the feet of a fallen and degraded idol ? She was not 
 more beautiful than some of her companions, perhaps 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 37 
 
 not as beautiful as some, and yet he gazed only on her, 
 watching the lifting of her drooping lids, as the Persian 
 watches the rising of the star of day. It was not till 
 the close of the hymn, the beginning of the sermon, 
 after the curtain was drawn on one side and the singers 
 seated, that she raised her eyes and fixed them steadily 
 on the evangelical countenance of the pastor. Though 
 bent on another, Moreland felt their dark magnetism to 
 his heart's core. This sudden, powerful attraction, 
 exercised by the simple village maiden, would not have 
 been so strange had he been a young, romantic boy ; but 
 he was a man of some sad experience, who, before he 
 entered that church, believed himself cold and insen- 
 sible to the most seductive charms of womankind. At 
 length, roused to the reflection that he might attract 
 observation by the intensity of his gaze, he turned also 
 towards the minister and endeavoured to rivet his atten- 
 tion on the truths he uttered. It is not to be supposed 
 that a distinguished-looking stranger would pass entirely 
 unnoticed in a village church, and there was many an 
 eye perusing his face, while his was bent on the gallery ; 
 and there were some who thought his fixed and earnest 
 gaze the bold, free stare of conscious wealth and arro- 
 gance. They had heard that a Southern gentleman, 
 accompanied by a mulatto slave, had stopped at the inn 
 the preceding night, and they were not slow in identi- 
 fying the individual with the handsome stranger before 
 them. There were a few, however, who did not judge 
 
S3 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRTDE. 
 
 Lira in this harsh manner, who had heard — (strange how 
 quickly such things are winged in a country village) — 
 how he had carried Nancy Brown's bundle all the way 
 home for her, and put in her hand a ten dollar bill, 
 without saying a word about it, and they lifted up their 
 heart? and blessed him, though he knew it not. 
 
 When the benediction was pronounced, and the con- 
 gregation passed out, Moreland lingered in the vestibule 
 waiting for the choristers to descend. She came at 
 last, leading by the hand a little girl of about five years 
 of age, whose countenance bore a strong resemblance to 
 her own. So many people were crowded in the door- 
 ways, she was obliged to pass so close to Moreland that 
 her white dress floated against him ; and if it had been 
 the wing of a seraph he could not have felt a thrill of 
 deeper reverence. She did not look at him, but he felt, 
 by the colour that glowed on the lilies of her cheek, that 
 she was aware of his presence and his gaze. 
 
 "Eula!" said the little girl, "don't walk so fast; 
 Papa is coming." 
 
 Eula ! — blessings on that cherub mouth for pronounc- 
 ing the name he so longed to know. But that large, 
 bustling gentleman, with reddish-auburn hair and florid 
 complexion, and small, keen, restless black eyes, was 
 that Eula's father ? To be sure, it must be, for does 
 she not take his arm with an affectionate, confiding air ; 
 and does not the little smiling five-year old thing frisk 
 round to the other side of him, catching hold of his 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE 39 
 
 hand as if it were an ingot of gold she was grasping, 
 instead of four freckled fingers and one stout thumb ! 
 
 "Who is that reddish-haired gentleman?" ashed 
 Moreland of Mr. Brooks, as they walked slowly in the 
 wake of light the sweet-voiced maiden seemed to leave 
 behind her. 
 
 " His name is Hastings," replied his companion, " one 
 of the most conspicuous characters in the village. He 
 is considered a very shrewd, intelligent man, and, al- 
 though not at all popular, has nevertheless a great deal 
 of influence in the community." 
 
 "What is his profession?" 
 
 " He cannot be said to have any exclusive profession. 
 He prepares young men for college, edits a paper called 
 the "Emancipator, "writes essays, delivers public lectures 
 on all the leading topics of the day, and, among these, 
 as you are doubtless prepared to hear, slavery, or rather 
 anti-slavery, occupies a very conspicuous place." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried Moreland, with an unaccountable 
 feeling of pain at the intelligence ; " and is that young 
 lady on his right arm his own daughter ?" 
 
 " Yes ! that is Miss Eulalia Hastings, or, as she is 
 often called, the Flower of the villa s;e. She sings like 
 an angel. You heard her voice in church. She is 
 highly educated and accomplished, though she is so 
 modest and retiring she makes no display. She is 
 universally beloved and admired, and makes friends 
 even of her father's enemies." 
 
40 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Of course, she inherits all her father's prejudices 
 against the South?" remarked Moreland, in a tone that 
 seemed to ask a negation. 
 
 " Very probably ; though they must be softened by 
 
 i passing through such a medium. I heard him say once, 
 
 that if wife or child of his were languishing in a con- 
 es o 
 
 sumption, and he knew he could add ten years to their 
 lives by sending them to the milder climate of the South, 
 his conscience would not justify the act, so utterly does 
 he abhor its institutions." 
 
 " You think, then, he would not allow his daughter to 
 marry a Southerner?" This was said in a light, sar- 
 castic tone, which was followed by one more serious. 
 "Is he a man of wealth as well as influence ?" 
 
 "No, not at all. His father left him considerable 
 property, but he has wasted it in fruitless speculations 
 and visionary schemes for the improvement of the age. 
 He always has a hobby which he rides without mercy or 
 judgment. The one on which he is mounted at present 
 is the immediate emancipation of the negro race. You 
 must not feel slighted if he invites your servant (I do 
 not like the word slave) to come and break bread with 
 him, without extending towards you the rites of hospi- 
 tality." 
 
 "Is there a possibility of his doing this?" asked 
 Moreland. 
 
 " We can only judge of the future by the past," 
 replied the architect. " Not very long ago, while travel- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 41 
 
 ling in a neighbouring state, lie came across a runa- 
 way negro, one of the most repulsive objects I ever 
 saw, — gigantic in stature, black as ebony, with coarse 
 and brutal features, and manners corresponding to his 
 appearance. He took him at once under his protection, 
 gave him a seat in his carriage, brought him home, 
 introduced him to his family, gave him a seat at table 
 between his wife and eldest daughter, put him in their 
 best bedroom, and appeared to feel himself honoured by 
 having such a guest." 
 
 "I like this," interrupted Morsland ; "it shows that 
 he is sincere, and is willing to put his principles to the 
 proof. But Miss Hastings, surely this must have been 
 very repugnant to her feelings ; she could not willingly 
 submit to such an infliction." 
 
 He said this with a shudder of inexpressible loathing, 
 as he looked on the delicate, graceful figure walking 
 before him, and imagined it placed in such close juxta- 
 position with the rough, gigantic negro. 
 
 "I suspect Miss Eulalia did not relish it very much," 
 said Mr. Brooks; "but filial respect closed her lips. 
 She happened to fall sick immediately after his arrival, 
 whether as a consequence I know not, and thus escaped 
 further personal contact. But the best part of the 
 story is to come. Mr. Hastings, after he had gained 
 sufficient e"clat for his philanthropy and great-hearted- 
 ness, was very willing to transfer his protege to some 
 of his neighbours, but no one was willing to accept the 
 
42 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 responsibility, and the fellow liked his quarters too well 
 to think of leaving them. He grew very insolent and 
 overbearing, and his host was at last compelled to turn 
 him out of the house. Since then, he has had a double 
 bolt fastened to his doors ; and his dreams, I suspect, 
 are haunted by black spectres, armed and equipped for 
 murder and robbery." 
 
 The attention of Moreland was diverted by the 
 diverging steps of the party before him. They turned 
 aside into a path leading to a neat, modest-looking 
 dwelling, shaded by sycamore trees, beside whose deep 
 green, the scarlet berries of the mountain ash gleamed 
 with coral splendour. Like most of the other houses, 
 it wanted the graceful verandah, — the pillared piazza of 
 Southern climes, — and gave one an impression of glare 
 and exposure ; but the smooth, beautiful green that 
 surrounded it, and the richness of branching shade that 
 embosomed it, compensated for the want of these arti- 
 ficial embellishments. As Mr. Hastings opened the 
 gate that shut in the front yard, and held it open for 
 his daughters to pass through, the handkerchief of 
 Eulalia droppel from her hand, and a light breeze blew 
 it back directly at the feet of Moreland ; he caught it 
 with eagerness, and as she turned immediately, with a 
 consciousness of the loss, he stepped forward and pre- 
 sented it, with a respectful and graceful bow. He was 
 thus brought face to face with her, and the soft, electric- 
 beaming eyes seemed to shed into his bosom a fioo^ of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 43 
 
 living light. With an impulse bold as irresistible, ho 
 pressed the hand which received the handkerchief from 
 his ; and though he saw the startled crimson rush to her 
 cheek, he could not repent of his presumption. He 
 ould not help doing it, — it was an expression of sym- 
 pathy as involuntary as it was sincere. He felt as if a 
 mighty barrier of prejudice separated him from one to 
 whom he was irresistibly attracted, and he was forced 
 in this, perhaps their only meeting, to give expression in 
 some way to his suddenly awakened, but passionate 
 emotions. It was like taking the hand of a friend 
 through the grate of a convent, the bars of a dungeon, 
 in token of a long farewell. He walked in silence the 
 rest of the way ; and his companion smiled to himself 
 at the impression the Flower of the Village had evidently 
 made on the Southern planter. 
 
 Moreland had the good sense to tell Albert to remain 
 in the kitchen during meal-times, so that the equilibrium 
 of the landlord might not be disturbed by an appearance 
 of servility on one part, and aristocracy on the other. 
 And, whether Mr. Grimby thought he had taken an 
 ultra step the preceding evening, or whether he was 
 influenced by Albert's warm praises of his master, and 
 his evident attachment and devotion to him, he was much 
 more polite in his deportment and respectful in his man- 
 ners. Still, he was anxious to draw him into a political 
 or sectional discussion, for he believed himself, in strength 
 of argument, superior to even his oracle, Mr. Hastings. 
 
44 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 So, in imitation of the play of the fox and glove, ha 
 went round and round, ready to drop the gauntlet at the 
 most favourable moment. But Moreland's mind was 
 preoccupied, and he did not think the Sabbath calm 
 should be ruffled by the contentions of party, or the 
 warrings of self-love. 
 
 He did not attend church the after part of the 
 day. He was resolved to struggle with the weakness 
 which he blushed to feel. He would not place himself 
 again within the influence of that seraph voice, or that 
 fair, music-breathing face. He could not bridge the 
 gulf of prejudice that yawned between them ; and he 
 would not linger on the opposite side sighing for the 
 flowers that bloomed in vain for him. So he seated 
 himself at the window, with book in hand, respecting 
 himself for the dignified stand he had mentally taken ; 
 but the position he occupied was very unfavourable for 
 the strength of his resolution. The church was so near 
 that through its open windows he could hear distinctly 
 the venerable accents of the minister, and the sweet and 
 solemn notes of the choristers. He could distinguish 
 the nightingale-voice, which, once heard, never could be 
 forgotten, — it came flowing out into the sunshine, min- 
 gling with and melting into the blue waves of ether, 
 rolling in the "upper deep ;" it came floating across the 
 gulf, over whose bridgeless depths he had been lament- 
 ing, on soft and downy wings, like a messenger dove, 
 bearing promises of peace and love ; it hovered over the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 45 
 
 dim retreats of memory, and its thrilling strains blended 
 with the echoes of a voice which had in other hours 
 enthralled his soul ; — but that had breathed of the pas- 
 sions of earth, this of the hopes of immortality. Of 
 course he could not read, and, suffering the book to fall 
 from his fingers, he sunk into a long, deep revery. 
 
 Intending to recommence his journey early the follow- 
 ing morning, he thought he would walk out before sun- 
 set, and take his last look of the charming valley in 
 which the village was set, like a polished gem. Not 
 seeing his agreeable and intelligent new friend, the 
 architect, he sauntered along without any companion 
 but his own thoughts, turning into by-paths, without 
 knowing whither they went, assured they would lead him 
 only to green fields and tranquil waters, or, perchance, 
 to some garden of the dead. He was surprised to find 
 himself close to Nancy Brown's little cottage. He re- 
 cognised the pale purple of the lilac bushes through the 
 old dark fence, and the air was heavy with their fra- 
 grance. A natural movement of humanity urged him to 
 enter, and see if he could do anything more for the poor 
 invalid, who had interested his feelings so much. The 
 door was open, and he stood on its threshold withou 
 having his approach perceived. She was there, th 
 white-robed, singing maiden worshipper of the temple, 
 and she had already heard the story of his kindness and 
 liberality from the lips of the grateful Nan;y. She had 
 just been listening to it, and the glow was on Ler heart 
 188 
 
46 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 when lie entered. A smile of welcome, involuntary as 
 the heart-beat, which at that moment was quickened, 
 dawned on her lips, but was instantaneously overcast by 
 a cloud of reserve. It was probably the recollection of 
 his presumptuous act in the morning, which drew the 
 sudden cloud over her dawning smile. It is impossible 
 to describe the effect of her appearance in that little, 
 low, dark cottage, in .contrast with extreme age and de- 
 crepitude on one side, and deadliness and emaciation on 
 the other. She sat between Nancy and her mother, and 
 each poor, pale, drooping figure caught something of 
 life and brightness from her youthful and benignant 
 aspect. She was pale too, but hers was the pallor of 
 moonlight, so fair, so lustrous, it diffused around a kin- 
 dred softness and repose. When Moreland first stepped 
 upon the threshold, a very quick, slight, vanishing 
 blush flitted over her cheek, then left it as colourless 
 and calm as before. 
 
 Nancy, whose eyes were fixed on her face, did not 
 perceive as quickly the entrance of her benevolent 
 visiter. 
 
 "There is a gentleman at the door," said Eulalia, 
 rising from her seat. 
 
 Naicy turned round, and, recognising the kind and 
 liberal Granger, asked him to walk in, and offering him 
 her own chair, took a seat on the side of the bed. Her 
 surprise and ..mbarrassment brought on a violent fit of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 47 
 
 coughing, whose hollow, wasting sound reverberated 
 painfully in the narrow apartment. 
 
 " This is the good gentleman I was just telling you 
 about," said she, as soon as she could recover breath. 
 "Mother, this is the gentleman that carried my bundle 
 for me, and gave me that money last night. Oh, sir, I 
 don't know what to say to you. I never did know how 
 to talk, but there are a heap of words here, if I could 
 only get 'em out." Here Nancy pressed her wasted 
 hand on her heart, with a great deal of expression, 
 though with little grace. 
 
 " The Lord bless you, sir !" cried the old mother, her 
 voice trembling and quavering with age and imbecility. 
 " The Lord reward you for your good deeds ! Well, 
 well, I never would have believed such a fine gentleman 
 as you would have carried Nancy's bundle for her. I 
 never would. Well, it's a blessed thing not to be proud. 
 Just like Miss Euly here. She ha'in't got one bit of 
 pride. She's just as willing to wait on such a poor old 
 creatur as me, as if I was of some account in the world." 
 
 It was pleasant to the ear of Moreland to find himself 
 associated with Eulalia Hastings, even in the mind ot 
 this humble, indigent creature. There was another 
 thing that pleased him. The woman was not mercenary. 
 She appreciated more highly the simple act of conde- 
 scension, the carrying of the bundle, than the money 
 which was given to relieve their wants. He had too 
 much ease of manner, had seen too much of the world, 
 
48 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 to suffer himself to be. embarrassed by this unexpected 
 meeting. He thought there was something peculiar in 
 it ; the accidental arrangement of circumstances which 
 brought him in contact with the lovely chorister. The 
 distance between them seemed wonderfully diminished. 
 When he first saw her, in her elevated position in the 
 gallery, singing the praise of God in words of surpassing 
 grandeur, his imagination exalted her into one of that 
 celestial band who stand in white robes about the throne, 
 day and night, chanting the eternal chorus, "Hallelu- 
 jah ! the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." Now, she 
 was on a level with himself, seated near him in the abode 
 of indigence and suffering ; he heard her gentle, speak- 
 ing accents, fraught with human sympathy and sensibi- 
 lity. He began to think it possible that he might 
 defer his journey a few days longer. There was nothing 
 particularly to hasten his return. It was far better for 
 him to be away, far from the remembrances that dark- 
 ened his home. He could not possibly find a more 
 quiet resting spot than in this beautiful valley, where 
 
 " The green of the earth and the blue of the sky" 
 
 seemed to meet in gorgeous rivalship. 
 
 Would it not be well to seek an acquaintance with 
 Mr. Hastings, and endeavour, with earnestness and de- 
 liberation, to remove his prejudices and give him juster 
 views of his fellow beings ? While he thus communed 
 with himself, Mrs. Brown was not idle. In the inno- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 49 
 
 cence and curiosity of second childhood, she sat gazing 
 on their elegant visiter, through the spectacles, which 
 she wiped at least a dozen times with the corner of her 
 checked apron, so as to assist her faded vision. 
 
 "May I make bold to ask your name, sir?" said she. 
 "I know most everybody that lives hereabouts, but I 
 don't think you live in these parts, do you?" 
 
 " I should ask your pardon for not introducing myself 
 sooner, madam," was the courteous reply. "My name 
 is Moreland. I reside in the distant South." 
 
 "The South!" repeated the octogenarian. "Well, 
 that is far off. What part of the South?" 
 
 "I reside in Georgia." 
 
 "The South!" again repeated she, bewildered by the 
 idea of such immense distance. " Ain't it there where 
 they have so many black folks to wait on 'em, with great 
 iron chains on their hands and feet ? Well, well, who 
 would have thought it ? You don't look as if you come 
 from^among such a dreadful set of people — not one bit. 
 Law me ! you don't say so !" 
 
 Here she again took off her spectacles, wiped them 
 laboriously, readjusted them, and fixed her dim, glim- 
 mering glance once more on the face of the Southern 
 stranger. She was probably searching for those linea- 
 ments of harshness and cruelty, those lines of tiger 
 grimness and ferocity, she had so often heard described. 
 
 "Mother!" exclaimed jSTancy, whose natural delicacy 
 of feeling and deep gratitude were greatly shocked by 
 
50 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 these remarks, "you'll offend the gentleman. She 
 don't mean any harm, sir — no more than a child." 
 
 "Do not fear that I shall be offended," said More- 
 land, with an irrepressible smile at the old lady's perse- 
 vering scrutiny. " I like to hear what people think of 
 us. It may do us good. You are mistaken, madam," 
 added he, addressing the mother; " our black people do 
 not wear chains, unless outrageous and criminal beha- 
 viour force us to such severity." 
 
 Perhaps Moreland would not have thought it worth 
 the effort, to refute the charges of a poor, imbecile, 
 ignorant woman, who only repeated what she had heard 
 from higher powers, had not the daughter of Hastings 
 been present to listen to his words. But he could not 
 bear that she should look upon him as one of that 
 " dreadful set," represented as dwelling amid clanking 
 chains and galling manacles, and banqueting on human 
 blood. He saw, that though her eye was cast modestly 
 downward, she was no inattentive or uninterested lis- 
 tener. 
 
 "Well," ejaculated the old lady, half in soliloquy and 
 half in harangue — " I don't mean to give offence, to be 
 sure. You've been mighty good to Nancy, and I can't 
 take away the blessing that's gone up to heaven for you 
 now, if I wanted to. But I'm sorry such a likely, kind- 
 hearted gentleman as you seem to be, should live where 
 such a sinful traffic is carried on. I've hearn Squire 
 Hastings tell such awful things about it, it e'enamost 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 51 
 
 made my hair stand on end. He used to lecture and 
 speechify in the school-house close by, and as long as I 
 could hobble out doors I went to hear him, for it always 
 helped me powerfully in spirit. He's a mighty knowing 
 man, and has a way of telling things that makes one's 
 flesh creep. He's her father, Squire Hastings is. She 
 ain't ashamed to hear me tell on't." 
 
 Eulalia made a scarcely perceptible shrinking, back- 
 ward motion, at this eulogium on her father. She had 
 heard it many a time before, but it never had seemed so 
 exaggerated or ill-timed as at the present moment. 
 
 "I am sorry you have been led to believe us so aw- 
 fully wicked and cruel, my good woman," said Moreland, 
 looking at Eulalia's evidently troubled countenance, 
 though his words were addressed to Dame Brown. " 1 
 cannot wonder so much at yourself, who have probably 
 lived secluded from the world, and received your opinions 
 from those around ; but that those, who have had abun- 
 dant opportunities of knowing what we really are, beings 
 of like passions with themselves, as upright in principle, 
 as honest in opinion, as kind in action, should represent 
 us as such monsters of iniquity, does indeed seem won- 
 derful. We claim no exemption from the faults and 
 failings of poor fallen humanity, but we do claim a share 
 of its virtues. The clanking chains of which you speak 
 are mere figures of speech. You hear instead merry 
 voices singing in the fields of labour or filling up the 
 pauses of toil. Sadly have I missed in my northern 
 
52 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 travels, the joyous songs and exhilarating laughter of 
 our slaves." 
 
 "You don't say so! Well, well! One does hear 
 such strange things. You don't say they ever sing and 
 laugh! Why, I thought they did nothing but cry and 
 groan and gnash their teeth, all the day long. Well, it 
 'is hard to know what to believe." 
 
 "I wish you were able to travel so far," said More- 
 land, looking compassionately at Nancy's hectic cheeks, 
 " and occupy a cabin in one of my plantations, where 
 the balmy air would restore you to health. One day 
 passed in the midst of the negroes would be worth a 
 thousand arguments in our favour. You would see there, 
 age free from care or labour, sickness tenderly nursed, 
 and helplessness amply provided for. The poor invalid 
 is not compelled to leave the master whom she has 
 served, when health and strength are exhausted, but, 
 without any care or forethought of her own, is watched 
 over as kindly as if born of a fairer race." 
 
 Nancy sighed. She thought of her days of servitude, 
 her waning health, her anxious fears and torturing appre- 
 hensions of future want, and it seemed to her the mere 
 exemption from such far-reaching solicitudes must be a 
 blessing. She thought, too, of the soft, mild atmosphere 
 that flowed around those children of toil, and wished she 
 could breathe its balm. 
 
 " I wish it was not so far off," she exclaimed ; " but," 
 she added, with a deeper sigh, " I never could live to 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 53 
 
 reach there. And if I could, mother is too old to bear 
 the journey. And then we couldn't afford it." 
 
 Moreland was sorry he had suggested an impracticable 
 idea. He did not intend to raise hopes which could not 
 e realized, though so uncalculating was his benevolence 
 e would willingly have paid the expenses of the jour- 
 ney, if by so doing he could have restored health to her 
 frail and broken constitution. 
 
 "We've mighty good friends here," said the old lady, 
 wiping away the falling tears with the corner of her 
 apron. "Miss Euly is just like an angel to us; and 
 there are others too, who, if they don't look as pretty, 
 are 'most as kind as she is." 
 
 Eulalia rose to depart. She had lingered in the hope 
 that Moreland would go, but the sun was darting his 
 horizontal rays through the window, throwing rosy lines 
 across her fair face, and she felt he was waiting her 
 motion. She felt embarrassed when he also rose, doubt- 
 ing the propriety of being escorted by a stranger. 
 
 " I will see you again," were his parting words to 
 Nancy and her mother. So it was evident he had made 
 up his mind not to leave on the morrow. 
 
 "May I escort you home?" he asked, when he opened 
 the gate for her to pass out. " Though we have had no 
 formal introduction, I have announced my own name, 
 and I know it is Miss Hastings whom I have the honour 
 of addressing." 
 
 " We village maidens are quite independent," she 
 
54 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 replied, with a smile ; "we are not accustomed to escorts 
 in our rural walks, especially when leading from such 
 lowly dwellings. Strangers seldom find out as readily 
 as you have done, sir, the abodes of poverty." 
 
 "It was accident," he answered, gratified by her 
 manner, which implied approbation, if not interest, "I 
 can claim no credit for seeking. Though you must have 
 discovered that I am disposed to arrogate to myself all 
 the merit I can possibly lay hold of, I hope you will not 
 think me a vain boaster." 
 
 "I think you have the power of making the worse 
 appear the better reason," she said, with a smile that 
 softened the sarcasm of her words. 
 
 "You have no pleasing impressions, I fear, of our 
 beautiful South, Miss Hastings. You have had dark 
 and forbidding pictures drawn of it. You look upon it 
 as a moral Aceldama, and shudder at the view. Is it 
 not so ?" 
 
 "I love to think of your sunny clime," she answered, 
 while a dawning colour mingled with the glow of sunset 
 on her cheek, "of your magnolia bowers and flowery 
 plains. I have heard a great deal of your chivalry and 
 liberality, and love to listen to their praises ; but I do 
 not love to think of the dark spot in your social system, 
 that is gradually spreading and deepening, and destroy- 
 ing all its beauty and happiness. I do shudder when 
 I think of this. I did not mean to say so much, but 
 you have forced it from me." 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. DO 
 
 "I admire your candour. I did not expect to hear 
 you speak so mildly, considering the prejudices of birth 
 and education. Your father is, I understand, an avowed 
 champion of what he believes to be truth, and it is per- 
 fectly natural that you should respect his opinions an 1 
 adopt them as your own. Yet, if you grant me the 
 privilege of your acquaintance, I hope to be able to con- 
 vince you that those opinions are erroneous, and that 
 though we have a dark spot in our social system, like 
 every other cloud, 'it turns its silver lining to the 
 light.' " 
 
 "My father does not adopt his opinions lightly," said 
 she, with modest emphasis ; "he has been a great student 
 from his youth up, and something of a traveller, too. 
 He does not wish to believe evil of mankind, neither 
 does he, until the conviction is forced upon him." 
 
 " But you would not regret, if I could prove to you 
 that he was mistaken in his estimate of Southern 
 character, — that there is far less of cruelty, oppression, 
 and sorrow in our midst than you now believe, — would 
 you?" 
 
 This was said with such irresistible frankness, that 
 had Eulalia been a more obstinate adherent than she 
 was to her father's sentiments, she could not have 
 uttered a cold negation. Naturally as reserved as she 
 was modest, she was surprised at the freedom of her 
 conversation with an utter stranger. His morning bold- 
 ness, which she had at first deeply resented (though she 
 
56 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 made no commentary on it to her father), now occurred 
 to her as accidental ; he had probably merely intended 
 to take a firm hold of the handkerchief, and grasped her 
 hand instead. She could not help being pleased with 
 the ease and grace of his manners ; and the kindness 
 and condescension she had witnessed in Mrs. Brown's 
 cottage were genuine passports to her favour. It was 
 not often, in the retirement of her village home, that 
 her exquisite sense of refinement was so fully gratified ; 
 she had lived in a world of her own, whose visionary 
 inhabitants were very much such beings as Moreland. 
 He did not seem like a stranger, but rather as the incar- 
 nation of her own bright and beautiful idealities. She 
 wanted her father to know him, to hear him talk, and 
 listen to his eloquent self-defence. She was astonished 
 when she reached their own gate, the walk had seemed 
 so very short, and wondered what had become of the 
 setting sun, — she had not marked its going down. 
 
 "Sister Eula ! have you come back?" exclaimed a 
 sweet voice, through the bars of the gate, and a little 
 sunshiny head was seen beaming behind it. She, Eula's 
 morning companion, stood with her feet on the lower 
 round of the gate, and, when it was opened, swung back 
 with it, laughing merrily at having secured so brave a 
 ride. 
 
 Moreland, who was very fond of children, caught 
 her in his arms, promising her a better and longer ride 
 than the limits of the gate could furnish. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 57 
 
 "I've seen you before," said she, peeping at him 
 through her bright hair, which fell shadingly over her 
 brow; "I saw you this morning; you picked up sister 
 Eula's handkerchief. Papa said — " 
 
 "Dora!" interrupted Eulalia, "here are some flowers 
 for you. Nancy gave them to me. Don't you want 
 them ?" ' 
 
 "Oh, yes!" exclaimed the child, eagerly extending 
 her hand, and forgetting what papa had said, which 
 Moreland would have very much liked to hear. 
 
 Papa was standing in the door, looking very portly 
 and dignified, not a little surprised at seeing the stranger 
 whom he had so keenly observed in the morning, walk- 
 ing quietly up his own yard, in company with one 
 daughter, and bearing the other, perched like a bird on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "Papa, don't you see me riding?" cried Dora, from 
 her elevated seat, long before they reached the door. 
 
 Mr. Hastings descended the steps, and the child leaped 
 into his arms. 
 
 "Little romp!" cried he, setting her down very 
 kindly, "go to your mother." And away she flew to 
 tell her mother of the stranger's coming, and her- own 
 marvellous adventure. 
 
 "Mr. Moreland, father," said Eulalia. "He met me 
 at Mrs. Brown's cottage, and it being late, he accom- 
 panied me home." 
 
 Moreland felt something as if a gimlet were boring 
 
58 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 in his flesh, while enduring the piercing glance of the 
 philanthropist ; but he did not wince under the infliction, 
 though it somewhat galled him. 
 
 " Won't you walk in, sir ?" said Mr. Hastings, holding 
 out his hand. " Glad to see you, if you have time to sit 
 clown." 
 
 This was an unexpected condescension, of which 
 Moreland unhesitatingly availed himself. He wanted to 
 enter the home of Eulalia, and see her in the midst of 
 domestic associations. 
 
 "He has not seen the tiger's claws," thought More- 
 land; "or, perhaps, like the keeper of a menagerie, he 
 confronts the wild beast that he may have the glory of 
 taming him." 
 
 They entered a very neat and modestly furnished 
 parlour, curtained with white muslin and carpeted with 
 domestic manufacture. The furniture was of the sim- 
 plest kind, though there was an air of taste and even 
 elegance diffused over the room. There was a pretty 
 work-box inlaid with pearl and surrounded by hand- 
 somely bound books, on the centre table. These he set 
 down at once as the property of Eulalia. There were 
 beautiful flowers, not in gilded vases, but set in crystals 
 on the mantelpiece. These, he was convinced, had been 
 arranged by the hands of Eulalia. He looked in vain 
 for a piano or guitar, as accompaniments to her enchant- 
 ing voice. 
 
 " Take a seat, sir," said Mr. Hastings, trying to 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 50 
 
 draw forward a prim-looking arm-chair, which was 
 known in the household by the patronymic of old maid, 
 from its peculiarly precise appearance — " and make 
 yourself at home. We don't use any ceremony here." 
 
 "Ceremony is the greatest enemy of enjoyment," 
 said Moreland, waiving the chair of state, and seating 
 himself in one of less ambitious appearance. " I trust 
 I am not encroaching on your hospitality, by accepting 
 your invitation too readily. This is a Sabbath evening, 
 and you may be accustomed to pass it with your family 
 alone. A stranger may intermeddle with your joys. 
 If so, I would not, for any consideration, intrude." 
 
 "Not at all, not at all, sir," replied his host. "We 
 commence our Sundays on Saturday night, and when 
 the Sabbath sun goes down, we feel privileged to enjoy 
 social intercourse with our neighbours and friends ; 
 quiet, sober intercourse of course, but we do not object 
 to a friendly call. Stay and take tea with us. We will 
 be happy to have you. Eula, tell your mother a gentle- 
 man will partake of our family supper." 
 
 How could Moreland refuse such a cordial invitation ? 
 Of course he did not, but accepted it with all imaginable 
 readiness. He could not account for this unexpected 
 hospitality, where he had looked scarcely for ordinary 
 courtesy. He was unconsciously doing Mr. Hastings 
 great injustice. It does not follow, because a man is 
 narrow and one-sided in his views, and bitter and obsti- 
 nate in his prejudices, that he is destitute of social graces 
 
60 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 and domestic virtues. Moreland had his prejudices too, 
 though he did not know it. He had imagined there was 
 very little hospitality at the North, and that strangers 
 were looked upon with a cold and suspicious eye. He 
 thought the hearts of people were cold in proportion as 
 they receded from the burning sun of the tropics, and 
 that passion, the great central fire of the human bosom, 
 giving life and splendour to every other element, was 
 wanting in the less genial latitude he was now crossing. 
 
 Mr. Hastings, like most men, was actuated by mixed 
 motives. He believed in the good old scripture injunc- 
 tion of hospitality to strangers, and he was exceedingly 
 fond of making imjjressions, and enlarging the bounds 
 of his influence. He took great pride in his argument- 
 ative powers, and thought he should have a dazzling 
 opportunity to display them. He saw in prospective a 
 glorious field of disputation, where he would gather more 
 laurels than he could possibly dispose of. His prophetic 
 glance pierced still further, and he beheld one black wave 
 rolling after another from the Southern shores, before 
 the resistless gales of his eloquence. 
 
 He was very fond of distinction. He loved to have 
 strangers call at his house, assured that when they left 
 the place, they would carry the impression that Mr. 
 Hastings was the greatest man in the village, nay more, 
 the greatest man in the country. Then he was very 
 fond of his children. Eulalia was the pride of his heart 
 and the delight of his eyes. The simple attention of 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 61 
 
 escorting her home pleased him. The caressing kindness 
 to little Dora charmed him ; and, though the stranger 
 belonged to a class of men whom he denounced as devoid 
 of humanity, principle, or religion, against whom he 
 had commenced a deadly crusade, with all the fanaticism 
 of Peter the Hermit, and the rashness of Richard Cceur 
 de Lion ; moved by all these blended motives, he smiled 
 blandly upon him, giving a gentle friction to his hands, 
 as if to warm and ignite his hospitable feelings. 
 
 It was not long before little Dora came into the room 
 with a hop-skip-and-jump step, announcing that supper was 
 ready ; and Mr. Hastings, with a courteous bow, ushered 
 his guest into an adjoining room, where the family board 
 was spread; here he was introduced to "my wife," — a 
 very intelligent and dignified-looking lady, — and " my 
 son Reuben," a handsome, bright-eyed, auburn-locked 
 youth of about seventeen, who perused the stranger's 
 lineaments with vivid curiosity, — " Eulalia, my daughter, 
 you have already seen." Yes ! he had seen Eulalia, — 
 it was a circumstance he was not likely to forget. He 
 had seen her in the house of God, surrounded by a halo 
 of music and prayer ; — he had seen her in the cottage 
 of the poor, making the dark and lowly places of life 
 beautiful by her presence ; — he now saw her presiding 
 with quiet grace and self-possession at her father's 
 board, for she occupied her mother's seat at the head 
 of the table, behind an old-fashioned, massy silver urn. 
 This shining relic of antiquity reflected brilliantly the 
 139 
 
62 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 lamp-light that flowed from the centre of the table, and 
 it also seemed to reflect the soft, virgin lustre of Eulalia's 
 illuminated face. It was a real patriarch, this old tiger- 
 footed silver urn, having descended through three gene- 
 rations, and it set off the table wonderfully. 
 
 Dora slided into a seat on the left hand of Moreland, 
 who, in gratitude for the compliment, helped her most 
 munificently to butter and honey, which a glance from 
 her mother's eye admonished her not to eat too lavishly. 
 
 " We are accustomed to wait upon ourselves at table," 
 said Mr. Hastings, as Moreland received his cup of 
 coffee from Eulalia's hand; "I fear our independent 
 mode of living cannot be very agreeable to you, sir, 
 whose customs are so different." 
 
 " On the contrary, nothing can be more agreeable 
 than a family circle like this, uninterrupted by the pre- 
 sence of attendants, oftentimes as useless as they are 
 annoying." 
 
 ' Indeed ! I thought a table at the South was never 
 considered properly set without a negro placed at the 
 back of every chair." 
 
 " I do not think the number of chairs governs the 
 number of attendants," answered Moreland, with a 
 smile; " though there is usually a superfluity. Yielding 
 to the force of habit, I allow myself to be waited on, 
 without thinking of it, though I consider it by no means 
 indispensable." 
 
 "I am glad you can conform so readily to our plain, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. G3 
 
 republican habits. How do you like our Northern por- 
 tion of the country, sir?" 
 
 "I see much to admire in the luxuriance of your 
 vegetation, your rich, blooming clover fields and culti- 
 vated plains. I admire it most as a proof of the energy 
 and industry of the sons of New England, which can 
 convert your hard and granite soil into regions of beauty 
 and fertility, rivalling the spontaneous richness of the 
 South. I am charmed with your delightful summer 
 climate, so soft, yet invigorating ; and I honour your 
 noble institutions. But," he added, "I admire, most 
 of all, the intelligence, refinement, and loveliness of the 
 daughters of New England, to which description has 
 never done justice." 
 
 Surely, Moreland was trying to ingratiate himself in 
 the favour of the family, by this fine and flattering 
 speech ; but though it sounded very much like one pre- 
 pared and polished for the occasion, it was nevertheless 
 spontaneous and sincere. By pluralizing the daughter 
 of Mr. Hastings, he had ventured to express an admi- 
 ration becoming too strong for repression. He forgot 
 the barriers which a few hours before had seemed so 
 insurmountable ; he forgot that Mr. Hastings was the 
 avowed enemy of his dearest social and domestic rights 
 and privileges ; that probably the very seat which he 
 now occupied was lately filled by a gigantic negro ; that 
 the fair hands of Eulalia had poured coffee for him from 
 that silver urn ; and that the smile of welcome beamed 
 
64 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 as kindly on one as the other. He remembered only 
 the loveliness of her person, the sweetness of her man- 
 ners, the inexpressible charm that drew him towards 
 her. 
 
 " Sister Eula stamped that butter," whispered Dora, 
 as his knife severed a yellow rose from its stem. " She 
 made that plum cake, too." 
 
 Moreland smiled at the communication, imparted with 
 the innocent desire of elevating Sister Eula in his esti- 
 mation, and thought the butter and the cake had a 
 double relish. No one had heard Dora's whispered 
 secret but himself, she had brought her rosy little mouth 
 in such close proximity with his ear. 
 
 "It is not polite to whisper at table, Dora," said her 
 mother, gently, but reprovingly, and Dora hung her 
 head and put her finger in her mouth, with suddenly- 
 acquired awkwardness. Moreland, excessively amused 
 by the remark and its consequences, glanced at Eula- 
 lia's hand, which happened to be raised at that moment 
 to shade back a loosened ringlet from her cheek. The 
 glance was suggested by the thought that the hand 
 which had been employed in moulding and spatting that 
 golden ball, and manufacturing that excellent cake, 
 could not possess much feminine delicacy of colour or 
 lineament, but he was pleased to see that it was fair and 
 symmetrical. Not so dazzlingly white as Claudia's 
 snowy, but perjured hand, but pure from the stains of 
 labour, and harmonizing with the delicacy of her face. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERID1 65 
 
 The truth was, Eulalia knew nothing of the drudgery 
 of housekeeping, and but little of its cares. She wag 
 wonderfully expert with her needle, as her father's and 
 brother's shirts, her mother's and sister's dresses could 
 testify, had they tongues to speak. But her mother 
 who was very proud of Eulalia's beauty, and very care- 
 ful to keep it in high preservation, had habituated her 
 to sew in gloves, with truncated fingers, ingeniously 
 adapted for such a purpose. She swept and garnished 
 her own room every day till it was a miracle of neatness ; 
 but she had been taught, as a regular duty, to draw on 
 a pair of thick woollen mittens before she wielded the 
 broom and exercised the duster. Had it not been for 
 her mother's watchfulness, Eulalia's hands might not 
 have justified the admiration of the fastidiously observing 
 Moreland. 
 
 Though no servant attended the supper table, and 
 Mr. Hastings boasted of their independence, they had a 
 woman of all ivork in the kitchen, whose labour would 
 have shamed the toil of three of Moreland's stoutest 
 slaves. She rose with the dawn of day, and continued 
 her tread-mill course till its close. She baked and 
 brewed and washed and ironed and scrubbed and 
 scoured, hardly giving herself time to talk, or sitting 
 clown but to eat. It is true, Mrs. Hastings assisted her 
 in many of these operations, but the heavy burden of 
 toil rested on her, and they dreamed not, because she 
 was willing to assume it for the weekly stipend she re- 
 
66 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 ceived, that they exacted too much of her health and 
 strength. It is true, that every night, to use her own 
 ■words, " she was fagged out and tired e'en a'most to death, 
 hut she had it to do, and there was no use in grumbling 
 about it. If she didn't take care of herself, who would ? 
 If she didn't try and lay up something for a rainy day, 
 she wondered how she was to be taken care of, if she 
 was sick and had to be laid by." So Betsy Jones toiled 
 on, and her one dollar and a half per week, supplied 
 clothes for herself and orphan brother, who was inca- 
 pacitated, by lameness, from earning his daily bread. 
 The physician's fees, who attended him, were also 
 drained from the same source. How much she had to 
 lay up for a rainy day may be easily imagined. Betsy 
 had none of the false pride which is often found in her 
 class. She had no ambition to put herself upon a per- 
 fect equality with her employers. She did not care 
 about sitting down with them at meal time, nor did she 
 disdain the summons of a tinkling bell. 
 
 "I should look putty," she said, "sitting down in 
 my dirty duds by the side of Miss Euly, fixed off in all 
 her niceties. I don't care about sitting down till I've 
 done all my drudgery and all my little chores, and then 
 I'm too jaded out to think of primping and furbishing 
 up for company. If I've got to work I'll work, and done 
 with it, let alone trying to be a lady." 
 
 But with all Betsy's humility, she had a just appre- 
 ciation of herself, and could assert her dignity, when 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 67 
 
 occasion required, with due emphasis. When Mr. Hast- 
 ings installed his sable protege" into the honours of the 
 household, when she saw him introduced into the guest 
 chamber, where he swathed his huge limbs in the nice 
 linen sheets she had so carefully bleached and ironed, 
 and she was called upon to make up the bed and arrange 
 the room, she stoutly rebelled, and declared "she 
 wouldn't do no such thing. She wa'n't hired to wait 
 upon a nasty runaway, who she knew never had to work 
 half as hard as she had. Great, lazy, good-for-nothing 
 fellow, that he was. lie talk about being abused like 
 a dog ! Why he was as fat as stall-fed beef, and as 
 strong as a lion." 
 
 "Well, Betsy, I must do it myself then," said Mrs. 
 Hastings, "rather than waste any more words about it. 
 I am sorry, however, to see that you have no more com- 
 passion for a poor, hunted, persecuted being, whom my 
 husband has seen fit to receive under his sheltering 
 roof." 
 
 "If the kitchen is good enough for me, it is good 
 enough for such as him," exclaimed Betsy, opening all 
 the windows energetically, and whisking the counterpane 
 and sheets over the sill. 
 
 "I shall make it myself, Betsy," said Mrs. Hastings, 
 with heroic determination, "I don't want to hear any 
 more grumbling." 
 
 "Just as you please, Miss Hastings," cried Betsy, 
 
68 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 leaving the room with a resounding step. "He's no 
 more parsecuted than I am, the Lord knows." 
 
 Whatever were Mrs. Hastings's feelings, she expressed, 
 no opposition to the will of her lord and master, whom 
 she looked up to as the great philanthropist of the age, 
 as one of those martyr spirits who, though they may 
 weave for themselves a crown of thorns in this world, 
 will exchange it for a diadem of glory in the next. 
 
 After this unexpected digression, caused by little Do- 
 ra's whisper, we will return to the supper table, or 
 rather to the parlour, for there is no one at the table 
 now but Mrs. Hastings and Betsy, who are both busy 
 in putting away the best china, the cut glass preserve 
 dishes, and silver urn, brought out for the occasion. 
 
 "Now, that's a real gentleman," said Betsy, peeping 
 into the parlour through the crack of the door. "I'd 
 as lieves wait upon him as not. He's as handsome as a 
 pictur, and he don't look a bit proud neither, only sort 
 of grand, as t'were. If I was Miss Euly — la sus !" 
 
 "Betsy !" said Mrs. Hastings, in a tone of grave re- 
 buke, "you had better attend to your dishes." 
 
 Betsy flourished her napkin, but she would peep a 
 little more. 
 
 "La me!" she exclaimed, "if they ha'n't got the 
 singing books out, and, there, they are all sot round the 
 middle table. Did you ever? Well! Miss Euly does 
 .sing like a martingale." 
 
 As there is no use in peeping through an aperture 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 69 
 
 ■when we have the freedom, of the house, we will enter 
 the parlour and seat ourselves in the old maid, which, 
 being too heavy to be moved with convenience to the 
 centre table, chances to be standing vacant in the corner. 
 
 Mr. Hastings was proud of his daughter's singing, as 
 well he might be. It was really music to his soul, as 
 well as his ear. He had a fine voice himself, and so 
 had Reuben. And even little Dora had been taught to 
 sing the praises of her God and King, with childhood's 
 cherub tones. 
 
 "It is our custom," said Mr. Hastings, rubbing his 
 hands slowly and gently, "it is our custom, Mr. More- 
 land, to have some sacred music every Sunday evening. 
 We have no instruments but those which God has given 
 us, and which we try to tune to His glory. My daugh- 
 ter, here, has a tolerable voice, my son sings a pretty 
 good bass, and I myself can get through a tune without 
 much difficulty. Will you join us, sir? You look as 
 if you could help us, if you pleased." 
 
 "With all my heart," replied Moreland, taking a 
 seat at Eulalia's side, and appropriating a singing 
 book for their mutual benefit. " If I can do nothing 
 better, I can at least turn the leaves, as I listen*." 
 
 But he could do a great deal better, and it was not 
 long before his voice was heard mingling with the sweet 
 hosannas of Eulalia, while bending over the same book, 
 so near, that her warm, pure breath floated against his 
 glowing cheek. He was carried back to the days of 
 
70 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 his childhood, when his mother taught him the songs of 
 Zion, while cradled in her arms or pillowed on her knee. 
 The recollection softened and moved him to such a de- 
 gree that his voice choked and then ceased. Eulalia 
 involuntarily turned and looked in his face, and, sur- 
 prised at the emotion she saw depicted there, her own 
 voice faltered. There wag something so exquisitely soft 
 and sympathetic in the expression of her dark hazel 
 eyes, so innocent, yet so full of intelligence, that More- 
 land felt bewildered by the glance. 
 
 "Oh!" thought he, and it was with difficulty he re- 
 frained from expressing his thoughts aloud, " I am 
 oppressed with a sense of beauty and sweetness unknown 
 before. All that is pathetic and holy in the past rises 
 up to hallow and subdue the intoxication of the present 
 moment. Strange, that I, born amid the sunny groves 
 of the South, should come to the cold clime of New 
 England to find an influence as warm, as powerful and 
 instantaneous as is ever felt under the glowing skies of 
 the tropics." 
 
 " We do not seem to make out quite as well with that 
 tune as the others," said Mr. Hastings, thinking More- 
 land was probably out of practice and could not help 
 stumbling over some difficult notes ; " perhaps we had 
 better try another ; or perhaps we had better stop alto- 
 gether. This must be dull amusement to you, sir." 
 
 " On the contrary, my feelings have only been too 
 deeply interested," replied Moreland, ashamed of the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 71 
 
 interruption he had caused. " This sweet family music, 
 these words of adoration and praise, heard under the 
 stranger's roof, reminded me so vividly of my own early 
 home, that my heart is softened to almost boyish weak- 
 ness. I pray you to continue." 
 
 After sing-ino- some charmino; anthems, in which Mrs. 
 Hastings, whose voice was only less sweet than Eulalia's, 
 also joined, the books were closed, the chairs moved 
 back, and Moreland reluctantly rose to depart. 
 
 " No hurry, sir," said Mr. Hastings ; " happy to have 
 you sit longer. Happy to have you call again. How 
 long do you think of remaining in our village ?" 
 
 " I did think of leaving to-morrow," replied his guest ; 
 "but," involuntarily looking at Eulalia, "I may pro- 
 bably remain a few days longer." 
 
 " You stop at Mr. Grimby's ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, I shall call and have a few hours' chat with 
 you. I like you, sir — excuse my frankness — and I want 
 to do you good. I think I can. I am a man who have 
 read and studied and reflected a great deal, and have 
 arrived, I flatter myself, at very just views of men and 
 tilings. In the mean time," — here he opened a secre- 
 tary, whose glass doors were lined with green silk, and 
 took out a bundle of papers, — " allow me to present you 
 with these papers. Give them, if you please, a careful 
 perusal, and if you are a candid man, as I trust you 
 are, you cannot fail of being a convert to my opinions. 
 
r2 THE PLANTERS NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 Yes, sir," continued he, warming with his subject, "you 
 will find my arguments unanswerable. They are founded 
 on truth. ' The eternal days of God are hers,' and it is 
 in vain to contend against her omnipotent power." 
 
 Moreland reddened ; he saw the package consisted of 
 numbers of the "Emancipator," edited by Mr. Hastings 
 himself. The gauntlet was now thrown down; he* must 
 take it up and enter the lists of controversy, coute qui 
 coute. 
 
 "I am an earnest seeker of truth, myself," replied 
 he, " and, as you say, I trust a candid one. Should 
 you prove to me that my preconceived opinions are 
 erroneous, I will most ingenuously acknowledge it. But 
 I, too, have read and studied and reflected, and if I 
 have arrived at different conclusions, I shall call upon 
 you to examine mine, with equal frankness and impar- 
 tiality." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," cried the philanthropist; — 
 " there's not a more impartial man in the world than 
 myself, or one more open to conviction. But once con- 
 vinced I am right, you might as well attempt to move 
 the everlasting hills from their base, as shake the 
 groundwork of my firm and rooted opinions. I will call 
 and see you to-morrow." 
 
 And thus, after exchanging the usual courtesies of 
 the parting moment, terminated Moreland's first visit to 
 the home of Eulalia Hastings. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 When Moreland returned to the inn, not seeing Albert, 
 and feeling very thirsty, he walked through the passage 
 leading to the back part of the house to a bench where a 
 bucket of water was usually standing. In so doing, he 
 had to pass the kitchen, which, unlike those of the South, 
 belonged to the main suite of apartments, and was only 
 separated from the dining-room by an apartment which 
 served as a store-room or pantry. Though it was a 
 warm summer evening, the blaze roaring in the large 
 chimney illuminated the whole passage through the open 
 door. A woman was seated on the hearth stirring some- 
 thing in a large oven with a long stick, and, as she stirred, 
 the aromatic smoke, which rose from the iron censer, was 
 impregnated with the rich odour of burning coffee. Al- 
 bert was standing on the opposite side of the fire-place, 
 with a very nonchalant air, watching the operation and 
 inhaling the aroma in his expanded nostrils. The per- 
 spiration was dripping from the poor woman's brow ? 
 which she kept wiping with one hand, while she plied 
 with the other her oaken wand. Moreland recognised 
 
 (73) 
 
74 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the landlady, Mrs. Grimby, whom he had seen bustling 
 about the house, though she had never made her ap- 
 pearance at table. His chivalrous regard for woman 
 was quite pained at seeing her thus unpleasantly and 
 laboriously occupied, while his boy stood idly gazing by* ; 
 and, stepping across the threshold, he accosted the land- 
 lady, much to her surprise and embarrassment. She 
 had no cause for shame, for nothing could be more neat 
 or well arranged than the kitchen furniture ; and the 
 white floor, unstained by grease, bore evidence of a 
 thorough Saturday's scouring. Rows of shining tin 
 utensils, bright and glittering as burnished silver, 
 adorned the walls on one side, shelves of white crockery 
 the other. It was altogether an attractive, rejoicing- 
 looking room ; and had it been a December instead of 
 a June evening, and the atmosphere sparkling with 
 frost instead of silvering in a summer mist, Moreland 
 could have made himself very comfortable in the midst 
 of that culinary finery. 
 
 "Why don't you make my boy assist you, madam?" 
 said he ; " he has nothing else to do, and can stand the 
 heat much better than yourself." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," she replied, dusting a chair, and 
 placing it near the door while she was speaking ; " I 
 couldn't think of setting him to work, I'm sure. This 
 is nothing but play, to what I've been doing these 
 several days, — my best help is gone home, Nancy 
 Brown, she did the work of two common girls ; but 
 
TIIB PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 75 
 
 she got sick, and I do think she's done her last job in 
 this world. I hain't been able to get any one in her 
 place yet, and somebody's got to do the work ; it's, as 
 Mr. Grimby says, them that keeps tavern are as bad off 
 is the slaves are, and I know it's true ; but folks are 
 bliged to live." 
 
 "Albert, stir that coffee," said his master; "I am 
 astonished you have not offered to do it yourself." 
 
 The mulatto sprang forward, seized the stick, and, 
 giving it first a graceful flourish round his head, began 
 to stir, with vigorous hand, the brown and smoking 
 kernels. 
 
 "Why, Mars. Russell," said he, with an apologetic 
 smile, " you must 'xcuse me this time ; I have been 
 conversing with the lady, and forgot all about offering 
 to help her ; I'm willing, though." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Grimby, "he seems mighty kind. 
 It is warm work," she added, drawing back from the 
 gloAving hearth, and exposing her fervid face to the 
 evening breeze that came in through an open casement. 
 
 "I beg you will take the liberty to call upon my boy 
 whenever you wish his assistance," said Moreland, pitying 
 the poor overtasked woman ; " he can do almost anything ; 
 you will find he has a light foot and an active hand." 
 
 " Who's going to wait on you, Mars. Russell ?" asked 
 the mulatto, with a slight shrug of the shoulders. 
 "Who's going to brush your. clothes, black your boots, 
 and do a heap of things beside ?" 
 
76 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 " You can do all that I require, and have a great deal 
 of time left, Albert," replied his master. "I expect 
 you will conform to my wishes, and do credit to your 
 Southern training. Do you find it difficult to supply 
 yourselves with servants, madam?" said he, addressing 
 the landlady, not from mere curiosity, but a desire to 
 inform himself of the true condition of the labouring 
 class. 
 
 "We never think of calling them servants," replied 
 Mrs. Grimby ; " they won't allow us to do that. They 
 wouldn't stay with us if we did. We speak of them as 
 help, hired help, but never as servants. Yes, it is some- 
 times next to impossible to get anybody for love or 
 money. All the girls are for going to the factories, 
 where they have higher wages and lighter work. I 
 don't think we can blame them much, though for my 
 part, I'd rather, a great deal, do housework, than stand 
 all day long behind the wheels and looms, with the cot- 
 ton fuz choking the lungs and stopping up the nostrils. 
 They think it more genteel ; but I don't see any differ- 
 ence, for my part. I never did think there was any 
 disgrace in work ; if I did, I should lead a mighty mean 
 life of it. 
 
 " You took tea at Squire Hastings', didn't you ?" said 
 she, first making the assertion, and then asking the 
 question. 
 
 "Yes," replied Moreland, with a sudden bounding of 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 77 
 
 the heart, which it was well the landlady could not see. 
 "Are you acquainted with the family?" 
 
 " To be sure I am. There's not many families in the 
 village that I don't know. I used to visit Mrs. Hast- 
 ings, but since Mr. Grimby took the tavern I've no time 
 to go nowhere. Squire Hastings is the knowingest gen- 
 tleman anywhere about, and Miss Eulaly is the nicest 
 girl I ever saw in my life. I don't suppose there's a 
 girl in the county that's had as many good offers as she 
 has ; but she don't seem to take to anybody. I don't 
 blame her for setting store by herself, for beauty is her 
 least merit." 
 
 Moreland thought the landlady a very discerning as 
 well as industrious woman, and felt more than ever dis- 
 posed to give her the assistance of his leisurely servant. 
 He also thought her a woman of delicacy ; for in the 
 course of their conversation she had neither directly nor 
 indirectly attacked those habits and customs, so at vari- 
 ance with her own. He would willingly have remained 
 longer, listening to the praises of Eulalia, but he did 
 not care about Mr. Grimby's coming into the kitchen 
 and finding him so familiarly established there ; so leav- 
 ing Albert at his post of honour, he retired to his own 
 chamber, and began to peruse the documents which Mr , 
 Hastings had placed in his hand. 
 
 At first he glanced over them carelessly, as if fulfilling 
 an irksome task imposed upon him ; then his attention 
 became fixed ; sometimes a disdainful smile curled his 
 140 
 
78 the planter's northern bril-e. 
 
 lip, then a hot flush rose to his temples, or an indignant 
 frown contracted his brow. The articles were well 
 written, and calculated to give an impression of extreme 
 candour and philanthropy. There was much truth in 
 them, but the true was so ingeniously woven with what 
 was false, none but the most experienced eye could 
 detect the tinselry from the gold. There were facts, too, 
 but so distorted, so wrenched from their connexion with 
 other extenuating facts, that they presented a mangled 
 and bleeding mass of fragments, instead of a solid body 
 of truth. 
 
 "Is it possible," he exclaimed, "that such things can 
 be published and circulated and read by a rational and 
 intelligent community as truth, as Christian truth, pub- 
 lished, too, under the broad banner of philanthropy, 
 nay, more, under the banner of the cross of Christ ? 
 Were they speaking of the dark ages of the world, over 
 whose sanguinary archives the dim and mouldering veil 
 of antiquity is floating, we might not wonder ; but that 
 such misrepresentations should be made of our own times, 
 of our own country, by those who might inform them- 
 selves of the reality, is indeed incredible. Why, if I 
 believed one-fourth part of what I see stated here, I 
 would forsake my native regions, the grave of my mother, 
 the home of my youth, the friends of my manhood, pre • 
 perty, reputation, everything, making my whole life an 
 expiatory sacrifice for the involuntary sins of my bygone 
 years. I should think every gale wafted from our sweet 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 79 
 
 jessamine bowers was laden with pestilential exhalations, 
 and every sunbeam darting from our lovely skies would 
 turn into a burning arrow, fastening into the soul." 
 
 lie rose, greatly excited, and walked to the window 
 that looked out upon the village church. He drew back 
 the curtain and gazed on the tranquil beauty of the night 
 scene. He could see the outline of the lofty dome, 
 crowned with the jewelry of heaven, and a little farther, 
 he distinguished a lighted window, glimmering through 
 the foliage, which he believed belonged to the chamber 
 of Eulalia. How peaceful it looked, that solitary light, 
 streaming through the dewy shades and mingling with 
 the stellar splendours of the heavens ! Gradually he 
 raised his thoughts above that solitary light, above those 
 stellar glories, above the deep, ethereal blue of the ze- 
 nith, till, ascending higher and higher, they reached the 
 great Source of all. For a few moments his soul seemed' 
 to bask in the blaze of eternal truth. The passions of 
 men, their vain strife, their petty controversies and war- 
 ring interests, dwindled down into little specks, scarcely 
 distinguishable in the full blaze of the Godhead. " He 
 who sitteth in the heavens shall laugh," thought More- 
 land, during his brief apocalypse. " He shall laugh at 
 the pitiful devices of man, and sweep away every refuge 
 of lies. In the great golden scales of immutable justice 
 our motives will be weighed, and when they are found 
 wanting, as they too oft will be, frail and fallible beings 
 as we are, the angel of mercy will plead in our behalf. 
 
80 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 Oh, glorious thought ! that we are to be judged here- 
 after by God, not man.'" 
 
 With this sublime reliance he fell asleep, and dreamed 
 that he was wandering in his own native bowers, by the 
 side of Eulalia Hastings. 
 
 At a rather late hour of the next afternoon, Mr. 
 Hastings called and was received by Moreland, with due 
 courtesy and cordiality. He invited him into the par- 
 lour, but Mr. Hastings suggested a seat in the passage, 
 where a fine current of air was flowing. Moreland would 
 have preferred a less public place, for the passage of a 
 country inn is a thoroughfare for loungers and smokers 
 and drinkers, who feel that they have as good a right to be 
 there as the greatest nabob in the land. But Mr. Hast- 
 ings was so accustomed to speak in public and to feed 
 on public applause, that he did not like to confine to 
 the individual ear, sentiments which would undoubtedly 
 enlighten and regenerate mankind. He required the 
 excitement of numbers to elicit the latent enthusiasm 
 of his intellect. His arguments, like the claws of the 
 lion, were embedded in a soft covering, and it was only 
 when he came in collision with others that their strong 
 gripe was felt and their clenching power acknowledged. 
 
 "Well, sir!" said he, applying the usual friction to 
 his ready matches, "I hope you are pleased with the 
 papers I gave you for perusal?" 
 
 " Pleased !" repeated Moreland, and, in spite of his 
 desire to keep it back, a haughty flush swept over his 
 
TIIE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 81 
 
 brow; "you did not expect that I should be pleased 
 with what, if true, would make me one of the veriest 
 scoundrels on the face of the earth." 
 
 " Softly, softly, sir. We make no individual remarks, 
 — conscience may apply them, but they are of general 
 signification. The man who is not willing to merge all 
 personal feelings in the good of the human race, is 
 unworthy the name of a philanthropist or a Christian. 
 We are the champions of truth, justice, and humanity, 
 and wage eternal war with falsehood, oppression, and 
 cruelty. Like the ancient warriors, who went forth in 
 their war-chariots, from which a thousand scythes were 
 gleaming, ready to mow down all opposing ranks, — we 
 suffer the wheels of justice to roll down, though the 
 votaries of error be crushed in their majestic evolutions." 
 
 "You have made a very happy comparison, sir," 
 answered Moreland, from whose brow the angry flush 
 had entirely faded ; " your blows are as indiscriminate 
 and aimless as the bristling weapons to which you 
 allude. As you seem to have so much respect for 
 ancient authorities, suppose we imitate the famous 
 example of the Roman and Alban brothers, vdio de- 
 cided, by their threefold combat, the destinies of their 
 countries. I am willing to stand forth as the champion 
 of mine, for you compel me to draw a dividing line 
 between the North and the South, thus anticipating 
 that division of interests which your uncalculating zeal 
 will surely bring about." 
 
82 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 By tins time, the bar-room, which was nearly opposite 
 them, was filling up with eager listeners, whose ears were 
 open and distended, but from whose mouths the fumes 
 of tobacco were steaming, till the hall was clouded with 
 this incense of the tavern. Moreland was glad to see 
 his friend, the bridge architect, making his way through 
 the crowd and taking a quiet seat by the door. 
 
 " Well, let us begin the combat by one plain, positive 
 question?" said Mr. Hastings, his keen black eyes 
 sparkling like ignited coals. " Do you justify slavery ?" 
 
 "Were you to ask me if I justified the slave trade, 
 — that traffic forced upon us, by that very British 
 government which now taunts and upbraids us with such 
 bitterness and rancour for the institution whose corner- 
 stone itself has laid, — I would answer JVo ! but if you 
 mean the involuntary slavery which surrounds me and 
 my brethren of the South, I reply, I can justify it ; we 
 had no more to do with its existence than our own. We 
 are not responsible for it, though we are for the duties 
 it involves, the heaviest perhaps ever imposed upon 
 man." 
 
 " Do you assert that you are not responsible for its 
 continuance ; that you have not the power to break the 
 chains another's hand has forged ; to restore the free- 
 dom which was as much the birthright of their ancestors 
 as your own?" 
 
 "We have the poiver to do many things which reason 
 and right forbid. We have the power to cast thousands 
 
TEE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 83 
 
 of helpless, ignorant, reckless beings on their own 
 resources, or to commit them to the tender mercies of 
 those who, while they rave of their injuries, hold out no 
 hand to redress them ; but we believe it our duty to take 
 care of them, to make the life of servitude, which seem 
 their present destiny, as much as possible a life of com- 
 fort and enjoyment ; and, while we reap the benefit of 
 their labour and the fruit of their toil in their day of 
 vigour, to nurse them in sickness, provide for them in 
 old age, and save them from the horrors and miseries of 
 want." 
 
 " I should like to know how many masters believe this 
 their duty," interrupted Mr. Hastings; "or, believing 
 it, fulfil the obligations you have described. I should 
 like to have you explain the tales of cruelty and suffer- 
 ing, the cries of anguish that have rent the very hea- 
 vens, and moved the spirit of men to a resistance that 
 can never again be subdued to passiveness." 
 
 " That there are hard and cruel masters," replied 
 Moreland ; "that there is in consequence much suffering 
 and wrong, I grieve to acknowledge ; for wherever human 
 nature exists, man has abused his privileges, and the cry 
 of human suffering pierces the ear of the Almighty. 
 But no sufferings which they can possibly endure, n 
 degradation to which they are ever forced in their pre- 
 sent condition, can compare to the misery, the degra- 
 dation and hopelessness of their lot, in their native 
 Africa, where they are doomed to a slavery more galling 
 
84 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 than imagination can conceive, and steeped in a super- 
 stition so dark and loathsome that the soul shudders at 
 the contemplation. Have you never read of the heca- 
 tombs of human victims slaughtered at the grave of a 
 barbarian chief, or the shrieks and groans of wives, sac- 
 rificed with the most terrific rites, to the manes of their 
 husbands? I will not speak of the horrors of canni- 
 balism. There is no need of calling up such revolting 
 images. I only wished to present before you a faint 
 picture of the native African, and contrast it with even 
 the most degraded of our Southern slaves." 
 
 " Sir," exclaimed Mr. Hastings, "pardon me for say- 
 ing it — you are begging the question. You could give 
 no better proof of the weakness of your cause, than the 
 manner in which you elude our arguments. I do not 
 pretend to speculate upon their condition in their native 
 country. We know but very little about it, and I doubt 
 not the accounts we hear are highly coloured and mon- 
 strously exaggerated. I never presume to arraign the 
 Almighty for any of his arrangements and dispensations. 
 He placed the negro in Africa, and there he ought to 
 remain, in spite of the avarice and cupidity of his white 
 brethren." 
 
 "Indeed!" replied Moreland, "I am astonished that 
 you do not question the justice and mercy of God, hi 
 creating this subservient and benighted race, with linea- 
 ments so devoid of beauty and grace, and swathing them 
 in a skin, whose hue is the blackness of darkness, mak- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 85 
 
 ing a boundary line between us, as distinct, yea, more 
 distinct than that which severs the noonday from mid- 
 night. The mulatto, in whose veins the blood of the 
 white man is flowing and brightening their dusky tide, 
 partakes of the beauty and intelligence of our race, — but 
 take the native African, examine his lineaments, fea- 
 tures, and peculiar characteristics, and say if he came 
 from the hands of God in a state of equality with our- 
 selves, endowed with equal physical and intellectual 
 powers, intended for our bosom companions and familiar 
 friends." 
 
 "If you are about to hide yourself in the counsels of 
 the Almighty," cried Mr. Hastings, with increasing ex- 
 citement of manner, "I give up the discussion. I see 
 you close up every avenue to conviction, and indulge in 
 a sophistry I consider unworthy of an honest, upright 
 mind. Sir, we might talk in this way for six thousand 
 years without changing my immutable conviction, that, 
 as long as you allow the existence of slavery, you are 
 living in sin and iniquity, that you are violating the 
 laws of God and man, incurring the vengeance of hea- 
 ven, and the retributions of eternity. I use strong lan- 
 guage, sir, for the occasion justifies it. I am a philan- 
 thropist, sir, a champion of truth, and I have sworn to 
 defend it at any sacrifice, yea, that of life itself, if the 
 offering be required." 
 
 "But if you could be convinced," said Moreland, be- 
 coming more calm and energetic as his opponent grew 
 
86 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 fiery and vehement, "that, by your premature efforts, 
 and overheated zeal, you increase the evils, which time 
 alone can remedy ; that you only rivet more closely the 
 bonds you rashly attempt to wrench asunder by the 
 hand of violence ; that, instead of being the friends, you 
 are in reality the worst enemies of the bondman whoso 
 cause you espouse ; that, by adopting a kinder, more 
 rational course, you would find in us co-labourers and 
 brethren, instead of antagonists ; if you could be con- 
 vinced of all this, sir, would you not lay down your 
 weapons, and reflect on the consequences that may flow 
 from your present course of action ?" 
 
 " I never can be convinced, sir ; it is utterly impossible. 
 I know that I am right, and that you are wrong. This 
 conviction is one of those first, great truths, which are 
 learned by intuition, not by the slow process of reason- 
 ing. God is both the teacher and the judge. You are 
 wasting breath, sir. I am sorry to inform you of it, 
 but you are wasting much precious breath on me." 
 
 " I have not sought this discussion," replied the South- 
 erner, " and I have no wish to prolong it, at the risk of 
 kindling feelings of personal animosity. I came among 
 you, a peaceful stranger, pressing upon you no claims, 
 assuming no privileges, but what you all freely share. 
 It is true I have met with much liberality and expansion 
 of feeling, much hospitality and generous appreciation, 
 especially among the princely-spirited Bostonians, where 
 X found many a brother in heart and soul. I have 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 87 
 
 become acquainted, too, with noble, liberal, and candid 
 men wherever I have travelled in your Northern regions ; 
 but I have also met with those whose vocation it seemed 
 to trample on our rights, to tread upon them as they 
 would grapes in the winepress, though blood instead of 
 purple juice gushed up beneath their feet. It has been 
 mine to oppose the shield of defence to the sword of 
 aggression, though I would gladly lay aside all bellige- 
 rent weapons, and cultivate that friendly communion, 
 which no sectional interest should disturb or destroy." 
 
 Moreland had an exceedingly clear, sweet, and finely 
 modulated voice. He never lost the command of it by 
 passion or excitement, it never became indistinct through 
 diffidence or confusion of ideas ; but, swelling like a well- 
 tuned melodious instrument, charmed the ear, while it 
 riveted the attention. In this respect he had a great 
 advantage over Mr. Hastings, whose voice often shivered 
 and broke, when pitched on too high a key, or became 
 thick and incoherent in the vehemence of argument. 
 The loungers in the bar-room, who had long been accus- 
 tomed to the eloquence of the latter, listened with a 
 keener, deeper interest, to the thrilling accents of the 
 former. The tones, the manner, the sentiments -were 
 new. They began to think there could be two sides to 
 a question ; that there was a possibility, though Squire 
 Hastings was certainly a remarkably great man, one of 
 the greatest men that ever lived, that other men had 
 some sense too. The stranger had a good deal of spunk 
 
88 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 ■ — they liked to see it. They liked a man who knew 
 how to stand up for himself, even if he wasn't on the 
 right side of the argument. They were for giving him 
 fair play, sea-room and land-room, and waited, with 
 segars suspended in the air, and necks stretched eagerly 
 forward, for the continuation of the scene ; but Mr. 
 Hastings, fearful of the fascinating influence of his 
 opponent on the minds he considered subservient to his 
 own, closed the discussion by a sudden and unexpected 
 stroke of policy. Advancing with great frankness of 
 manner towards Moreland, he held out his hand, 
 saying, 
 
 " We had better renew our conversation some future 
 hour. We are both getting a little too warm for the 
 season. I hope, however, you will not believe me actu- 
 ated by personal hostility. On the contrary, as I said 
 before, I like you very much as a man. Come and see 
 me again while you stay, and I have no doubt we shall 
 understand each other better. I do not want you to go 
 away with the impression that Northern hospitality and 
 liberality are confined to the walls of our metropolis." 
 
 Moreland did not forget that it was the father of Eu- 
 lalia that thus addressed him, and he suffered his hand 
 to close over the hand of the philanthropist, and pro- 
 mised to renew the social pleasures of the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Grimby, after Mr. Hastings had 
 retired " I never saw the squire in such a tight fix be- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 89 
 
 fore. He's got somebody now that knows how to talk 
 about as well as he does, and I'm glad to see him pushed 
 a little. I shouldn't wonder if you deserved the most 
 credit, for it is harder to be smart on the wrong side 
 than the right. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 The laugh was echoed in the bar-room, for the land- 
 lord had the reputation of being a wit, and all his say- 
 ings received their full amount of credit. Moreland was 
 not sorry to escape from so uncongenial an atmosphere ; 
 and joining his friend, the architect, he recovered, in a 
 long walk through the skirts of the village, the serenity 
 of his temper and the equilibrium of his mind. There 
 was something in the clear good sense and calm ration- 
 ality of Mr. Brooks, inexpressibly soothing to his 
 chafed and wounded spirit. It was pleasant to meet 
 with one who had broad and comprehensive views of 
 men and things, views which were not confined to the 
 narrow horizon of the present, but extended into the 
 boundlessness of the future. 
 
 That night, as he stood near the window in deep me- 
 ditation, deliberately drawing on his gloves, Albert came 
 and stood before him, with a very dissatisfied counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "Mars. Russell," said he, putting his left hand in his 
 bosom and giving a kind of flourish with his right, 
 "please, how long you going to stay here, in this little, 
 mean, no-account place?" 
 
 Moreland started. It was the very question he was 
 
90 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 asking himself, though put in a very different manner, 
 and he had no answer ready for either interrogator. 
 
 " Why, are you tired, Albert ?" 
 
 "Yes, master, that I am. And if I've got to work 
 for Mistress Grimby all this time, I don't care how soon 
 we start. She's kept me on the go ever since the day 
 broke, a scrubbing and scouring on all fours, till I can 
 hardly stand up straight. She took you at your word, 
 Mars. Russell, I can tell you. She's had a real day's 
 work out of my bones." 
 
 Albert sucked in his breath, and, stooping down, 
 rubbed his knees, with a significant gesture. "Then, 
 I'm so dirty, master. I'm really ashamed to look you 
 in the eye. I'm willing to do anything for you, Mars. 
 Hussell, but I have no opinion of making myself a dog, 
 for folks that ain't no quality after all." 
 
 Moreland could not help thinking that his politeness 
 had been understood in its broadest sense, and he re- 
 gretted the benevolent impulse which had urged him to 
 make the offer. He knew he should give more offence 
 by withdrawing his services, than he had won gratitude 
 by their spontaneous offer. He sympathized, too, with 
 Albert's wounded aristocracy, which had never bled so 
 copiously before. 
 
 "My poor boy," said he, smiling at Albert's half- 
 comic, half-rueful look, " you have not been used to such 
 hard usarre, I must acknowledge. It is well to have a 
 taste of what the Northern bondwomen have to endure, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 91 
 
 bo that you may be more contented with your own lot. 
 I suppose the good lady herself worked as hard as your- 
 self." 
 
 "Yes, master, there's no denying that, and she didn't 
 grumble neither, not much. I do have a feeling for 
 women, and am willing to do as much for them as any- 
 body else — but there's bounds, Mars. Russell." 
 
 " I will see about it, Albert. You need not do any- 
 thing more to-night; I shall not be abroad late." 
 
 He was about to close the door, when Albert's "Mars. 
 Russell," in an unusually deprecating tone, arrested his 
 steps. 
 
 "Please, master, how long you going to stay?" 
 
 "I cannot tell, Albert, — are you getting home-sick?" 
 
 " Yes, that I am, master ; I'm most pined away to a 
 skeleton aready. They give me a plenty to eat, but not 
 of the right sort. I hain't set eyes on a mouthful of. 
 bacon and greens since I ben here. I've got nobody to 
 sing and dance with ; and I've most forgot how to laugh. 
 Hi, Mars. Russell, if I ever get back home again, the 
 way I'll jump Georgia motions will be a caution." 
 
 " We will be at home soon," cried Moreland, laughing, 
 while a vision of bright ebony faces, dancing and singing 
 by the light of the moon, under the boughs of the old 
 pine-trees, rose to his remembrance. A few minutes 
 later, he stood under the dewy branches of the syca- 
 mores, which seemed, as they rustled in the night gaie ? 
 to whisper the sweet name of Eulalia. 
 
92 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 He was invited into the family sitting-room, and wel- 
 comed with great cordiality. There was a delightful 
 home-atmosphere diffused around every object. Mr. 
 Hastings was sitting, with a book, in which he seemed 
 earnestly engaged, in his right hand, while his left arm 
 was thrown round Dora, who was enthroned on his 
 knees. Reuben, the student youth, was bending over a 
 heavy and venerable-looking tome that was spread open 
 before him ; his head was leaning on his hand, which 
 was half buried in a mass of dark red, glowing curls. 
 Mrs. Hastings was busily engaged in knitting, that most 
 cosy and domestic of all occupations ; and Eulalia's 
 hand held a roll of snowy linen, in which her threaded 
 needle was brightly glittering. The graceful parapher- 
 nalia of woman's industry was round her. Her dress 
 was the perfection of neatness and taste; she rose at 
 his entrance, while her soft yet thrilling eye beamed 
 with the welcome her modest lips dared not think of 
 uttering. 
 
 Dora bounded from her father's knee with the light- 
 ness of a fawn, and openly expressed her rapture at 
 seeing him again. Moreland's warm heart responded to 
 her joyous greeting. No barrier of ceremony interposed 
 its cold restraint between him and his sweet child friend. 
 He could take her in his arms, kiss her blooming cheek, 
 and feel drawn closer to Eulalia by these tender, inno- 
 cent caresses. He could take many a liberty, under 
 pretext of amusing his little companion, which he would 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 93 
 
 not have done without her participation. He would not 
 have dared to penetrate into the mysteries of Eulalia's 
 rosewood work-box, but Dora drew it towards her, and 
 displayed her politeness by exhibiting, one by one, its 
 hoarded treasures. Almost everything it contained 
 had a history, which the young chatterbox was eager to 
 tell. 
 
 " My dear, I fear you are troublesome," said her 
 mother. " You had better get down and sit in a chair. 
 You must not appropriate Mr. Moreland's visit to your- 
 self." 
 
 "Who did you come to see ?" asked the child, looking 
 smilingly into his eyes — " Sister Eula ?" 
 
 Every one laughed at this abrupt question, even 
 Eulalia, though the pale blush of her cheek indicated a 
 transient confusion. 
 
 " What makes you think I came to see Sister Eula, 
 more than yourself?" asked Moreland, thinking the child 
 had most marvellous penetration. 
 
 " Cause you look at her so hard," cried Dora, in a 
 confidential half-whisper, "and cause she's so pretty." 
 
 The pale blush-rose on Eulalia's cheek turned to 
 crimson, and Moreland himself was conscious of an 
 uncomfortable glow, while the student youth actually 
 shouted with laughter. 
 
 "My dear," said Mrs. Hastings gravely, "you are 
 entirely too forward. You talk too much for a little 
 girl. You must go to bed immediately." 
 141 
 
94 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Please, ma, I won't talk any more," exclaimed the 
 little culprit. "I ain't a bit sleepy." 
 
 Moreland pleaded eloquently in her behalf. He said 
 she deserved a reward for calling such a bright and 
 beautiful colour to her sister's cheek ; that he admired 
 her discrimination, and thanked her for giving him credit 
 for so much good taste and judgment. So sportively 
 and gracefully did he bear himself through the awk- 
 wardness of the moment, that it was soon forgotten, and 
 conversation flowed on without pause or interruption. 
 There was a cluster of flowers standing in the centre of 
 the table. 
 
 "You like flowers, do you not?" said he to Eulalia. 
 
 "Like is too cold a word," she replied. "I love 
 them next to human beings. They have a language to 
 me, deeper than words, sweeter even than music." 
 
 " If you want beautiful flowers, you must come to the 
 South," he said. "All that you cultivate here with so 
 much care, grows wild in our forests and enamels our 
 green savannas. The yellow jessamine gilds our woods 
 with its blossoming gold, the virgin's bower twines its 
 soft purplish wreath with the rosy clusters of the multi- 
 flora, and the coral honeysuckle rivals the scarlet bloom 
 of your mountain ash-trees. You have no conception 
 of the beauty of s)me of our Southern landscapes, the 
 ? uxuriance of our gardens, the fragrance of our flowers." 
 
 "As I never expect to witness these beautiful scenes," 
 replied Eulalia, "I must be content with the productions 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 95 
 
 of our colder soil. As I cannot compare them with yours, 
 I enjoy ours as far as my taste has been developed, 
 though I am conscious of capacities of beauty which 
 have never yet been exercised — and probably never will 
 be." 
 
 As she said this, her voice saddened, and her eye 
 looked pensive under the shade of its drooping lashes. 
 
 " I wish I could see those pretty flowers !" said Dora. 
 "Do you live a great way off?" 
 
 "A great way," replied Moreland; smiling, "but I'll 
 take you home with me, if you'll go. I'll make you a 
 bower of roses, and you shall be Queen of the blooming 
 year!" 
 
 "Will you? — may I?" she exclaimed, then jumping 
 down, she ran to her father, who seemed in profound 
 meditation. " Pa, may I go home with Mr. Moreland, 
 and live with him in a beautiful bower ?" 
 
 "Foolish, foolish child!" he cried, "you know not 
 what you ask." 
 
 The words were nothing in themselves, — they might 
 refer to the distance to be overcome, to the impracti- 
 bility of the thing ; but Moreland felt there was a deeper 
 meaning, and if literally translated would read thus : — 
 
 " Foolish child ! you know not that beneath those 
 beautiful flowers is concealed the bite of the serpent, 
 the sting of the adder. Though fair and smiling to the 
 eye, — thou bright and sunny land! — yet it shall be 
 
96 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 better for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment 
 than for thee." 
 
 "/should like to travel in the South," cried Reuben, 
 lifting his eyes from his book, and speaking with great 
 animation. "I should like, of all things, to visit the 
 Southern States ?" 
 
 "Why, my son?" asked Mr. Hastings, in a tone of 
 grave surprise. 
 
 " I have heard so much about them, I want to judge 
 for myself," replied the youth, with decision. 
 
 " Come and visit me," said Moreland, observing a 
 fire and intelligence in the countenance of the youth 
 which he had not noticed before, " the woods of Carolina 
 and Georgia furnish rare sport for the hunter, and our 
 streams abound in fish." 
 
 " Reuben has tasks before him somewhat less fasci- 
 nating than hunting and fishing," said his father; "but 
 rather more indispensable. We have not quite as much 
 leisure here as you gentlemen of the South. Time, v/ith 
 us, is wealth; and we realize, in its fullest sense, the 
 meaning of golden moments and the diamond sands of 
 the hour-glass. Sir," added he, fixing his keen eyes 
 steadfastly on Moreland's face, " I presume, from the 
 hospitalities you are offering my children, that you are 
 a married gentlemen." 
 
 " I have been married," replied Moreland, turning 
 very pale, then reddening even to the hue of crimson. 
 
 "Your wife is dead?" continued Mr. Hastings. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 97 
 
 "No, sir; she wlio was my "wife still lives; but she 
 no longer bears my name. I am free from the marriage 
 bond, but not by death." 
 
 There was a pause after these unfortunate questions. 
 Mr. Hastings hemmed and cleared his throat, and More- 
 land, perhaps fearful of being probed still deeper, turned 
 towards him and said — 
 
 " It is very painful to me to allude to these circum- 
 stances. Being a stranger, I cannot explain them. I 
 therefore prefer to remain silent. It was more to escape 
 from sad and bitter recollections, than to attend to the 
 demands of business, that I left my Southern home and 
 became a wanderer here." 
 
 He paused in great agitation. The soft, dark eye of 
 Eulalia met his own, beaming with sympathy and glis- 
 tening with sensibility. There was no reproach, no sus- 
 picion in its clear depths of light. Her delicacy was 
 wounded by her father's abrupt inquisitiveness. She 
 wanted to apologize for him, to soothe the pain he had 
 inflicted, — but what could she say, or do ? She felt, too, 
 an inexplicable shock. She had never dreamed that 
 Moreland was a married man ; true, he was divorced, 
 but that was so shocking. He had loved and wedded. 
 The ties were broken ; but could hearts be wrenched 
 asunder by the hand of violence, without for ever bleed- 
 ing? She wished she had not known it, or knowing so 
 much, that more could be revealed. 
 
 "I am sorry that I touched upon an unpleasant 
 
03 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 theme," said Mr. Hastings. "I had no intention of 
 intruding on domestic misfortunes. We Yankees are 
 accused of being inquisitive, and perhaps we are a little 
 so. It is natural, however, for us to feel some interest 
 in those who are brought in contact with us. You see 
 us here in the bosom of our families — just as we are — 
 without disguise or mystery. In this respect you have 
 a decided advantage, who give us nothing but your name 
 in return." 
 
 "You are right, Mr. Hastings. A stranger should 
 always bear credentials with him, proving his claims to 
 a hospitable reception. I have these in my trunk, which 
 I would be happy to show you, if it would not trespass 
 on your attention. I brought letters of introduction 
 from some of the first men of the South, which have 
 given me a passport to the best society of New York 
 and Boston. I would be glad if my private history 
 were fully known, knowing that your sympathies would 
 be all enlisted in my favour ; but I cannot win them by 
 a process so exquisitely painful." 
 
 "Let us say no more about it," said his host. "I 
 intended this evening to avoid every unpleasant subject, 
 every national difference, and have a real social, free 
 and easy time. Supposing we have a little music. We 
 can have some songs to-night. Eula, give us one of 
 your little simple Scotch airs — one of the melodies of 
 Burns. Burns is my favourite poet, sir. He wrote as 
 if there were burning coals upon his heart. He was a 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 99 
 
 man as well as a poet. Come, Eula, you are always 
 ready. You have no instrument to tune. I believe you 
 are fond of music, Mr. Moreland?" 
 
 " Passionately so — especially the music of the human 
 voice." 
 
 And Eulalia sang till the very air seemed to ripple 
 as her melodious breath mingled with it3 waves. She 
 needed no accompaniment. Why should she ? The 
 nightingale has none. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Day after day passed away, and still Moreland lin 
 gered in the village, unable to break the spell that bound 
 him to the spot. Week after week passed away, and 
 still he lingered, feeling the spell that bound him 
 stronger and still more strong. He no longer sought to 
 liberate himself from the enchantment. He resolved 
 that Eulalia Hastings should be his wife, if he had the 
 power to win her affections, in spite of the terrible 
 warfare her father was making against his principles 
 and practice. In spite of the awful declaration, he so 
 well remembered, recorded in one of her father's written 
 documents, " that he would rather a daughter of his 
 should be laid in the deepest grave of New England 
 than be wedded to a Southern slaveholder," he resolved 
 to triumph over all opposition, and transplant this 
 Northern flower to his own sunnier clime. 
 
 "For many virtues had he admired several women," 
 and one he had loved, with all the vehemence of pas- 
 sion — loved "not wisely, but too well." He had loved, 
 in spite of the resistance of reason, the warnings of 
 
 (100) 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 101 
 
 prudence, and trusted against the admonitions of friend- 
 ship and the pleadings of affection. Now reason and 
 prudence justified, instead of opposing his choice. Eu- 
 lalia possessed every qualification wanting in the bril- 
 liant, but misguided Claudia. There was about her a 
 pure, sweet, fresh womanliness, a virgin delicacy, a 
 strong but guarded sensibility, a deep, genuine, but 
 unobtrusive piety. She was fair without vanity, intel- 
 ligent and highly cultivated without pedantry or display, 
 admired, caressed, and beloved, without pride or vain- 
 glory. Yet with all these charming and engaging 
 qualities, he could see that her character was only half 
 developed ; that there was a latent strength and enthu- 
 siasm, a sleeping power, which, like lightning, is born 
 only of the night-cloud and the storm. The good land- 
 lady, while boasting of her many lovers, had remarked 
 "that she took to none of them," and it was probable, 
 that the portals of her heart, that temple adorned with 
 such pearls and precious gems, had never yet opened 
 and closed on the divinity destined to be enshrined and 
 worshipped there. 
 
 And what were Eulalia's feelings ? Her youth had 
 been gliding over a smooth, unrippling stream, calmly 
 and quietly, yet monotonously. Now the current quick- 
 ened and swelled, and sunbeams and shadows chased 
 each other over the surface. New life was born within 
 her. She lived in a new and more glorious world. All 
 that her pure heart had ever imagined of manly excel- 
 
102 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 
 
 lence, or imagination dreamed of manly grace, she found 
 realized in Moreland. His homage humbled, while it 
 exalted her ; for she deemed herself unworthy to re- 
 ceive it. 
 
 She began to believe in the existence of a second love, 
 stronger than the first. He offered to tell her the his- 
 tory of his former ill-fated attachment, and the causes 
 which had destroyed it ; but though her curiosity had 
 been strongly excited, she refused to hear what she knew 
 would give him pain to reveal. With implicit confidence 
 in his honour and truth, she believed him blameless in 
 the transaction, and she shrunk with unconquerable 
 repugnance from hearing from his lips the name of 
 Claudia. It was mentioned no more. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that village gossip was mute, 
 when there was such abundant fuel to feed its loquacity, 
 or that parental solicitude was slumbering, when there 
 was so much to excite and alarm it. Mr. Hastings 
 found himself in a most awkward and distressing situa- 
 tion. He was an exceedingly ambitious man — ambitious 
 for himself and his children. Had wealth been at his 
 command, he would have loved to make a display of 
 magnificence and pomp, that would have dazzled the 
 eyes of the more lowly and obscure. He wanted his 
 daughter to marry a distinguished man, who would give 
 consequence to the family, and increase his own influ- 
 ence. Here was a gentleman of wealth beyond his 
 most sanguine expectations, of most refined and capti- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 103 
 
 vating manners, intelligent, accomplished, and bearing 
 the highest credentials of his birth and standing — a man 
 of whose alliance he would be proud; but he belonged 
 to a class which, for years, he had been denouncing as 
 unworthy of the fellowship of Christians ; he dwelt in a 
 portion of the land doomed by him as the Sodom and 
 Gomorrah of modern times, over which the God of 
 retribution was brooding in the awful might of coming 
 vengeance. His principles, his consistency, his reputa- 
 tion were at stake. He had always believed the South- 
 erners a selfish, aristocratic, lazy, self-indulging, cruel 
 set of people ; he had whetted and sharpened his preju- 
 dices on the rough grindstone of popular ignorance, till 
 they had acquired the edge and keenness of the razor. 
 The unexpected appearance of a Southern gentleman in 
 his own immediate circle, the first with whom he had 
 ever become familiarly acquainted, was an exciting inci- 
 dent in the village monotony of his life. He could not 
 help admiring him as an individual, he could not help 
 acknowledging the truth and candour of many of his 
 arguments ; but the champion of truth must never admit 
 the possibility of his having been in error, and the 
 character for consistency must be preserved at any 
 sacrifice. 
 
 " What, marry my daughter !" he exclaimed, when 
 the crisis arrived for which he had been preparing all 
 the ammunition of his intellect. " Sir, I am sorry, very 
 sorry, but it can never be. There is a great gulf between 
 
104 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 us, — one that I fear will never be filled. Were I to 
 consent to this union, I should destroy, by a single act, 
 the labour and devotion of years. Were you a poor 
 New England farmer, I would willingly receive you as 
 ,aj son ; but holding the position and advocating the 
 principles you now do, you can never be to me more 
 than you have hitherto been, — the guest of my house- 
 hold, the companion of the passing hour." 
 
 " Is the future happiness of your daughter a question 
 of no interest in your mind?" asked Moreland, who had 
 nerved himself to encounter the most vigorous opposi- 
 tion ; but who believed that patience and perseverance 
 and will could finally overcome it. 
 
 "Does she know of your application?" asked the 
 father, anxiously. 
 
 " She does. It is with her sanction that I come ; and 
 I am authorized to say, that her happiness as well as 
 my own is involved in your decision." 
 
 " You should not have done this. You knew what 
 my sentiments were. You had read from my own pen 
 a sentence I know you must have remembered, ' that I 
 would rather see a daughter of mine laid in the deepest 
 grave of New England than wedded to a Southern 
 planter.' You had received my answer before making 
 the proposition. You have trifled with my daughter's 
 affections, and endangered her peace. You should not 
 have done this — you should have made your first appeal 
 to me, sir. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 105 
 
 "I have done nothing clandestine, sir," replied More- 
 land, proudly ; " from my very first visit, you must have 
 perceived my admiration of your daughter. I have 
 never attempted to conceal my feelings, — they have 
 been as open as the day. I had read the awful declara- 
 tion to which you refer ; but I did not, could not believe 
 it the real language of your heart. I looked upon it 
 as a figure of rhetoric, and nothing more. Sir, your 
 daughter's heart is mine, — I have won it by no subtle 
 arts, no secret means. It is the reward of my pure 
 affection, — my strong and ardent love. Give her to me, 
 and I will receive her as the dearest, holiest trust ever 
 given to man. Give her to me, and I will bear her to a 
 clime more congenial to the delicacy of her constitution 
 than this, where eastern blasts wither so early the fairest 
 flowers of life ; I will guard her with a tenderness and 
 devotion equalled only by her loveliness and worth." 
 
 "Mr. Moreland," cried Mr. Hastings, putting his 
 hands behind him and walking up and down the room 
 with short, quick steps, "you agitate me very much. 
 Eulalia is a dear child to me — a blessed child. From 
 her cradle to the present hour she has never, to my 
 knowledge, deserved reproof or blame. I love all my 
 children, but Eulalia is the darling of my heart. God 
 forgive me if I have sacrificed her happiness to my im- 
 prudence !" 
 
 "You have not sacrificed her happiness, you have se- 
 cured it, sir. She will be the centre of a happy home 
 
106 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 She will be surrounded by affluence and comfort, the 
 mistress of faithful, affectionate beings, by "whom she 
 ■will be beloved and adored. She will bring light and 
 joy to scenes darkened by domestic disappointment, and 
 exercise a mother's holy influence over the child, doomed 
 to the saddest of all orphanages." 
 
 " Ah ! I am glad you mentioned this. Were there 
 no other objection, I could not consent to her marriage 
 with one who has been divorced. She might be exposed 
 to much sorrow and misconstruction. Besides, it proves 
 that your affections are easily excited, and probably 
 easily subdued. You will soon forget my daughter." 
 
 " I cannot wonder at your want of faith in my stabi- 
 lity and constancy, but I have been more unfortunate 
 than blameworthy. I was very young when I married, 
 and if I erred in my choice I may be forgiven on the 
 plea of youth and inexperience. Passion may die away, 
 but love, such love as I bear Eulalia, can never change. 
 She was created for me in the great counsels of eternity. 
 The moment I saw her my soul claimed her as its own. 
 I was led here for no other purpose but to find her, my 
 heart's immortal counterpart. I have remained for no 
 other purpose but to win her, and I will stay till love, 
 stronger than the trumpet blast of Israel's priests, shall 
 break down the Jericho of prejudice and fanaticism." 
 
 Moreland was losing his usual self-possession. A hot 
 flush crimsoned his cheek; his voice became husky and 
 tremulous. He was beginning to feel as proud as Lu- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 107 
 
 cifer. Mr. Hastings seemed a very insignificant object 
 to be placed in opposition to the mightiness of his will. 
 Mr. Hastings felt the influence of this regal passion of 
 the moment, and a dark reddish spark kindled in his 
 
 "Do you threaten me?" he exclaimed, looking stea- 
 dily in the face of Moreland. " I tell you, young man, 
 that lofty tone will have far less effect than the one you 
 used awhile ago. I am a sturdy, independent Yankee, 
 and high words have no more power on me than the 
 summer wind on the century-rooted oak. When I be- 
 lieve I am in the right I am as firm as my own granite 
 hills, and you might as well attempt to move them as 
 me." 
 
 Moreland, who had never withdrawn his eye one mo- 
 ment from the dark red spark burning so intensely on him, 
 felt the power of an inexorable will grasping and clench- 
 ing him, till a cold numb feeling came over him. The 
 hot colour died away on his cheek, leaving him as pale 
 as marble. He could not, would not, even for Eulalia's 
 sake, humble himself before this obstinate, immovable 
 man, only to be trampled on and crushed. He moved 
 towards the table and took up his hat. There was i* 
 wild rose in it, which he had plucked by the wayside, 
 intending to give it to Eulalia. It was wilted, but sur- 
 passingly sweet in odour. The sight of that withered 
 flower softened his feelings, and turned them in a new 
 channel. It seemed an emblem of Eulalia, doomed to a 
 
108 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 heart-blight, beneath which her youth and beauty would 
 languish and fade. He thought less of his own sorrow 
 than hers, of whose love he had every assurance inge- 
 nuous modesty could impart. 
 
 " Am I to understand that your decision is unalter- 
 able ?" he asked, in a tone far less regal than that which 
 had so exasperated Mr. Hastings. " Is it your inexo- 
 rable resolution that I shall not wed your daughter ?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 Moreland laid his hand on the latch and was passing 
 out, when Mr. Hastings added, with an entire change 
 of manner — " I am sorry to part with one unpleasant 
 feeling on either side. I do not wish to give you pain. 
 You have paid my daughter a great compliment, which 
 we shall all appreciate. You must perceive that I am 
 actuated by principle alone. I am a poor man, and you 
 are rich. Were my judgment to be influenced by per- 
 sonal accomplishments, yours would be irresistible. I 
 have but one objection, but that is insurmountable. 
 Were you an humble missionary to some heathen land, 
 I would give her to you in the name of the living God ; 
 I would give her as the firstling of my flock ; I would 
 devote her as a lamb without spot or blemish, to a good 
 and glorious cause." 
 
 "1 look upon myself as a missionary," replied More- 
 land, with a kindling countenance. "I look upon every 
 master and mistress in our Southern land, as missiona- 
 ries appointed to civilize and christianize the sons and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 109 
 
 daughters of Africa. To them Ethiopia is stretching 
 out its sable hands, and through them they are lifted to 
 God. If all the efforts of all the missionaries in our 
 country were concentrated in the dark regions of Africa, 
 they could not, judging of the success of their labours 
 elsewhere, make one-tenth part of the number of con- 
 verts that are found in our households and plantations. 
 In our towns and villages, the churches of the negroes 
 rise side by side with our own. Their prayers of faith, 
 their hymns of praise, ascend on the same breeze, and 
 are borne upward to the same heaven. Once more, 
 then, I entreat you, give me your daughter, and look 
 upon her evermore as the wife of a Christian mis- 
 sionary." 
 
 "I cannot consent to evil that good may come," was 
 the emphatic reply. "But one condition I will make. 
 Liberate your slaves ; remove the curse from your house- 
 hold and your land ; come to me with a pure, unbur- 
 dened conscience, and I will oppose no barrier to your 
 love." 
 
 "I have offered many of them their freedom, on con- 
 dition that they go to Liberia, but they will not listen 
 to the proposition. And I cannot, even to secure Para- 
 dise itself, cast upon the Northern world the large 
 family dependent upon me for comfort and support. 
 Under such circumstances, the freedom for which you 
 plead would be their direst curse, instead of their great- 
 est blessing. I believe, in God's good time, the day of 
 142 
 
110 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 liberation will come, if man will wait his leading. No, 
 sir, I cannot accede to your proposition ; nor is it from 
 mercenary motives that I refuse. Heaven knows I am 
 above such considerations. If I can purchase happiness 
 only at the sacrifice of duty, then I must be for ever 
 wretched." 
 
 " May you live to have very different ideas of duty 
 from what now govern you ! You have decided the 
 question yourself, and I am glad of it. You can no 
 longer reproach me for destroying the happiness of 
 Eulalia." 
 
 "You might have spared me that," exclaimed More- 
 land, with irrepressible bitterness. Then, fearing to 
 trust himself to say more in his present maddened state 
 of feeling, he made a silent bow and left the house. 
 
 As he passed through the yard he met Dora, with her 
 hands laden with flowers. She sprang to meet him, 
 with a bright and joyous smile ; but on seeing his pale, 
 stern, and agitated countenance, she seemed bewildered 
 and frightened, and the flowers dropped from her hands. 
 
 "What's the matter?" she cried. "What makes you 
 look so sorry and angry ? Don't you love me any 
 more t 
 
 Without saying a word, he took the child in his arms 
 and pressed her to his bosom, with a wild passion, of 
 which he was not aware. He identified her for the mo- 
 ment with Eulalia, and felt as if he could no longer 
 restrain the overflowings of his love and despair. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. Ill 
 
 "Please don't!" said the little girl, entreatingly — 
 skrinking from the arms which had always before so 
 gently encircled her — gazing earnestly and fearfully in 
 his face. 
 
 "Dora, I am going home," he exclaimed. "I am 
 going, never to return." 
 
 "Going? when?" cried the child. 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 "Let me go and tell Eula," said Dora, running two 
 or three steps from him in her eagerness to tell the 
 tidings, — 'then returning and taking hold of his hand, she 
 hurst into tears. 
 
 "What makes you go when we all love you so ? Why 
 can't you live here all the time ?" 
 
 " It is because I love you that I must leave you. 
 Tell Eula — but it is no matter — I must see her once 
 more before I go." 
 
 Bending down and kissing the fair forehead now 
 clouded with grief, he passed from under the shade of 
 the sycamore boughs, through the white gate and into 
 the open street. He thought he caught a glimpse of a 
 pale face, at an upper window, — a white, faint gleam, 
 like a vanishing star, — but he dared not look back 
 again. He dared not think of the anguish he was 
 leaving behind, — he could hardly bear the weight and 
 intensity of that which he was bearing away. 
 
 "Albert," said he, as soon as he found himself in 
 
112 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 his own room, " get everything ready ; "we shall go to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Bless you for the news, Mars. Russell!" exclaimed 
 the overjoyed mulatto ; " I'm mighty glad to hear it. 
 Won't I see old Georgie again? Wont I say howdy to 
 all the blessed old darkies? But," — pausing abruptly, 
 while a sudden seriousness settled on his bright face, — 
 " what the matter, master ? Anything happened to 
 worry you ? Any bad news from home ?" 
 
 "No ! I only wish to be perfectly quiet. Don't talk 
 to me." 
 
 Throwing himself into a chair by the window, he 
 leaned his throbbing temples on his hand, and fixed his 
 gloomy gaze on the God-devoted temple, — the birth- 
 place of his love and his sorrow. There he sat, with- 
 out change of position, till supper was announced. 
 
 "I want no supper," said he, without moving. 
 
 "Indeed, Mars. Russell, you'll be sick, at this rate," 
 said Albert, watching with increasing anxiety his pale 
 and altered countenance; "indeed, you are sick now," 
 he added, laying his hand humbly but affectionately on 
 his master's burning forehead; "you've got fever, sure 
 enough, this minute. 'Spose I go and get a doctor, 
 master ?" 
 
 This act might seem too familiar, to those unaccus- 
 tomed to the caressing freedom of manner often per- 
 mitted to a favourite slave. One of Albert's chief 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 113 
 
 delights was to brush his master's hair, and bathe his 
 temples, when suffering from a sick and aching head. 
 
 "Don't be foolish, boy," he cried; "I tell you again, 
 there's nothing the matter with me." 
 
 " But, Mars. Russell, you don't know how hot your 
 head is." The smooth, bronze-coloured fingers gently 
 threaded the dark hair that fell heavily on his master's 
 brow. 
 
 "You shall see how easily I can cool it," said More- 
 land ; and, wishing to relieve the anxiety of his humble 
 friend, he rose and approached the wash-stand, intend- 
 ing to plunge his aching temples in the brimming basin; 
 but he reeled, and would have fallen, had not Albert's 
 arms supported him. 
 
 "I do feel strangely here," said he, putting his hand 
 to his head. "I had better lie down awhile." 
 
 Albert smoothed the pillow under his head, as gently 
 as a woman could have done ; then bringing the basin 
 to the bed-side, he bathed his forehead and moistened 
 his hair, till the throbbing veins seemed less wiry to the 
 touch. He stood, dark and gentle as the twilight, now 
 stealing soft and stilly round the room, and hanging a 
 dusky curtain over the bed. 
 
 That night, when the family of Mr. Hastings gath- 
 ered round the supper table, the place of Eulalia was 
 vacant — she had a sick headache — she was lying down 
 — she did not want any supper. Mrs. Hastings looked 
 very sad ; Mr. Hastings had a grave, contracted brow, 
 
114 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 and even Dora's sunny brow of childhood wore the gloom 
 of solemn thought. The first word uttered was by her, 
 after looking at her father. 
 
 " Papa, is it right to say grace if one isn't thankful ?" 
 
 "What makes you ask such a strange question, 
 child?" 
 
 " I thought you didn't look thankful to-night, papa, 
 that's all." 
 
 Reuben laughed, but Mrs. Hastings drew a deep sigh. 
 She felt that the blessing -was wanting at the board, 
 from which the sweet face of Eulalia was banished by 
 reason of sorrow. She knew the sorrow must be deep 
 and full, which she had not the power to confine within 
 her own unselfish bosom. The submissive and unques- 
 tioning wife was merged in the anxious, sympathizing 
 mother, and her heart instinctively rebelled against her 
 husband's cold and harsh decree. She admired and 
 esteemed the gentle and gallant stranger, whom she 
 would probably never more behold, and loved him, 
 because he loved her Eulalia. He had come among 
 them like a beam of light, and what darkness and dull- 
 ness he would leave behind ! 
 
 " How sorry I am Mr. Moreland is going away !" 
 exclaimed Dora, again breaking the heavy silence. 
 " Papa, what makes him go ? And what made him look 
 so strange and sorry when he went away?' : 
 
 " He wanted to take your sister Eula away with him, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 115 
 
 and I would not let him," replied the father, laying down 
 his knife and fork. 
 
 " But he would bring her back again, papa !" 
 
 "He wanted her to live there all the time. You 
 would not be likely ever to see her again. We should 
 no more hear her sweet voice in the temple of God or at 
 the altar of home. She would be to us just as if she 
 were dead ; for the places that now know her would no 
 more be gladdened by her presence." 
 
 He looked at his wife while he was speaking, and the 
 words sunk deep in her soul. He had touched the right 
 chord. She shuddered at the desolation of the prospect 
 he presented, and wondered she had not realized its 
 dreariness and darkness. 
 
 " I am sure he is rich enough to bring her home to 
 visit us, every year or two," cried Reuben, whose heart 
 Moreland had completely captivated, " and I think him 
 good enough to do it, if you ask him." 
 
 " Evil was the day the Southern stranger came among 
 us," exclaimed Mr. Hastings sternly, "if he has made 
 all my children aliens from their father's principles." 
 
 " You have always encouraged us, sir, to express 
 independent opinions," said Reuben manfully. " I must 
 acknowledge that I have a very different opinion of the 
 South and Southern people, since Mr. Moreland came 
 here. When I am a man I intend to travel among 
 them, and judge for myself." 
 
 "Really, young man, you are mapping out a glorious 
 
116 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 future," exclaimed his father, sarcastically. "Perhaps 
 you are looking forward to the time when you can pur- 
 chase a plantation, fill it with live human stock, and 
 flourish your whip with as much grace as any other 
 lordly slave-master. Perhaps you have been thinking 
 the sacrifice of your sister a trifling thing in comparison 
 with your own advancement." 
 
 "Father, you know I am above such meanness," cried 
 the youth, his keen black eye actually corruscating as 
 he spoke; "besides, I do not think my sister would be 
 sacrificed by marrying such a man as Mr. Moreland. 
 If she ever sees another like him in this part of the 
 world, it is more than I imagine." 
 
 Reuben, too much excited to command his temper, 
 got up suddenly and left the table, followed by the gen- 
 tle reproach of his mother's eyes. Mr. Hastings seemed 
 thunderstruck at this first outbreak of independence in 
 his son, whom he still looked upon as a mere child, 
 bound to think exactly as he thought, and to do exactly 
 as he did. It was altogether an uncomfortable meal, 
 and when Betsy came to clear away the dishes she found 
 them nearly as full as when she put them on the table. 
 Shrewd and intelligent as she was, she had not been un- 
 observant of the signs of the times, and was not without 
 her suspicions of the cause of Eulalia's sudden indispo- 
 sition. She had reasons of her own for wishing to see 
 her ; so, upon the pretext of bearing her a hot cup of 
 tea, she entered her chamber. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 117 
 
 The lamp was placed upon the hearth, burning against 
 a back-ground of odorous, fresh pine boughs, that filled 
 with dark green shade the place occupied in winter with 
 glowing flame. The bed on which Eulalia lay was in a 
 kind of twilight, and her pallid face was hardly distin- 
 guishable from the pillow, save by the dark framework 
 of her dishevelled hair. 
 
 "Here, Miss Eula, is a cup of tea," said Betsy, soft- 
 ening her voice to its lowest key, and approaching the 
 bed; "it will do your head good. I couldn't get along 
 no how in the world, if it wer'n't for my tea o'nights. 
 It helps one mightily." 
 
 "No, I thank you, Betsy," answered Eulalia, covering 
 her eyes with her hand, to hide the moist and swollen 
 lids. " I shall be well in the morning. Don't trouble 
 yourself about me." 
 
 "It's mighty strange," said Betsy, seating herself 
 and absently sipping the fragrant beverage rejected by 
 Eulalia, "it's strange how it happened, but Mr. More- 
 land's sick, too. While the folks were at supper, I run 
 over to Miss Grimby's to borrow a handful of hops, and 
 they all seemed in a powerful fright. Albert was run- 
 ning after a doctor, saying his master was in an awful 
 way, taken all of a sudden, or so." 
 
 Eulalia started from her pillow and leaned eagerly 
 forward, as if to catch the lowest sound of Betsy's nasal 
 tones. 
 
 "Oh! Betsy, are you sure this is all true?" she 
 
118 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 exclaimed, pushing back her hair with both hands, and 
 gazing wistfully in her face. 
 
 " To be sure it is true, or I wouldn't be the one to 
 say it," replied Betsy, emphatically. 
 
 Now Betsy had a habit of exaggeration, in which she 
 unconsciously indulged, and she used the epithets power- 
 ful and awful without meaning all that the lexicogra- 
 pher attributes to them. " I declare," continued she, 
 "that Albert is the lovingest creatur I ever beheld. 
 The way he loves his master, I couldn't begin to tell, — 
 and I don't wonder at it, for a nicer gentleman never 
 came into these parts. He's given away ever so much 
 money to the poor, besides what he's done to Nancy. 
 It's well Albert's there to take care of him. Mrs. 
 Grimby's got a new gal to help her, the awkwardest 
 thing I ever set eyes on; and she's been working so 
 hard lately, she looks herself as if she'd been dragged 
 through a knot-hole." 
 
 While Betsy's tongue ran on, with a kind of railroad 
 speed, Eulalia had risen and thrown one arm around 
 the bed-post, against which she stood leaning. Her 
 heart had been faint and sick before, under the cold 
 burden of disappointed hope ; now it ached and throbbed 
 with sudden anxiety and dread. Moreland sick, and 
 perhaps dying, at an inn ! Had he come, had he lin- 
 gered only for this ! 
 
 "Does father know of it?" she asked. "No! I 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 119 
 
 know he does not. Tell him, Betsy, and he will go 
 and see him." 
 
 " I expect there's not much use in the Squire's 
 going," muttered Betsy, "unless he'll give him the 
 right medicine. I've seen all that's been going on; 
 and, tho' I've no right to say it, I'm desperate sorry, 
 at the way things have turned. He'd make you a 
 grand, good husband, and you'd live like the lady you 
 was born to be. As for the stories they tell about 
 whipping and slashing the niggers, I don't believe a 
 word on't. Albert says they are all lies, — that he'd a 
 heap rather live there than here, and be as free as the 
 rest of us. Free! — I wonder what they call free?" 
 continued Betsy, feeling of the knots and callouses of 
 her toil-worn hands. " I know I ain't free, or I wouldn't 
 work, like a pack-horse, from one year's eend to another. 
 I'm obliged to woik to live, and to make others live, and 
 God knows I'm willing ; but I should like to know what 
 rest and pleasure I have ? I haven't sot down before 
 since I got up this blessed morning. Albert says the 
 niggers sing and dance as much as they please, when 
 their work is done up. I wonder how I would look 
 singing and dancing ! Now, don't be angry, Miss Euly, 
 but the Squire's standing in his own light this time. 
 There ain't a lady in the land but what would envy you, 
 not one. You'll never get such another chance, as sure 
 as you're born." 
 
 "Betsy" said Eulalia, sinking down on the bedside, 
 
120 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 still embracing the post with the clinging hands, " I 
 know you mean to be kind, but you must not talk in 
 that way. Please go and tell father how very sick 
 he is." 
 
 "I'll tell him," she answered reluctantly, and slowly 
 rising, with the now empty cup in her hand, and taking 
 a step or two towards the door. " I'll tell him, though 
 it's no use. You are as sick as he is, I dare say. You 
 look as white as a ghost, and as limber as a wet rag. 
 I'll tell you what I will do, Miss Euly, if it will be any 
 comfort to you. I'll run over to the tavern again, after 
 I've done up all my chores, and see how the gentleman 
 really is, and if he needs watchers I'll set up with him 
 myself, for I know nobody can beat me nussing, when I 
 try — my poor lame brother knows that's true." 
 
 " You are too tired, Betsy. You have been working 
 too hard ; but you are a kind nurse — I know it well 
 myself." 
 
 "Albert can spell me," cried Betsy, nodding her head, 
 " and if I do set up at night, it don't make me lazy next 
 day. Folks can do with a heap less sleep than they 
 think they can, if they only try it." 
 
 Mrs. Hastings entered, and Betsy withdrew, having 
 rested herself from the toils of the day by pouring into 
 Eulalia's ear her affectionate sympathy. 
 
 Mr. Hastings was really troubled when he heard of 
 the illness of Moreland, and immediately walked over to 
 the inn to ascertain the truth of the statement. Ha 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 121 
 
 found the physician there, who talked professionally of 
 inflammatory symptoms, of a tendency of blood to the 
 brain, and the necessity of perfect quietude. He pro- 
 nounced it a most sudden and violent attack, one that 
 •would require great skill to conquer, and experience to 
 understand. Mr. Hastings was not so much alarmed as 
 he would have been, had he not known that almost all 
 the Doctor's patients had very violent and dangerous 
 attacks, and that he pronounced their cure as little short 
 of a miracle. Still he felt very uncomfortable, and 
 walked homewards with slow and heavy steps. The 
 image of Eulalia, when he had told her of the decree 
 which had gone forth ; the deadly pallor of her com- 
 plexion ; the unutterable anguish of her glance, turned 
 from him to heaven, as if appealing to its mercy ; the 
 sudden pressure of her hand upon her heart, as if an 
 arrow were quivering there — came to him in the dark- 
 ness like accusing phantoms, and would not vanish away. 
 The countenance of Moreland, too, when he asked him 
 "if that was his unalterable decision," so pale, agitated, 
 and stern, would rise before him, drawn only too vividly 
 on the shadows of night. He could not help asking 
 himself, if he were doing right to separate those whom 
 God seemed to have united by a love so passing strong, 
 so transcending all he had ever witnessed in the romance 
 of life. He questioned his own principles, his own 
 motives, and wondered if it were really his duty to 
 
122 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sacrifice his daughter's happiness to his own reputation. 
 He seemed much less in his own estimation, walking 
 alone, under the great dark dome of night, whose starry 
 hieroglyphics proclaimed an antiquity deep as eternity ; 
 lie felt much less, we repeat, with these solemn influences 
 around him, than when acting as the demagogue of a 
 party, and feeding on the husks of popular applause. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 The Parsonage ! what a sweet, lovely spot it was ! 
 Parsonages almost always are lovely. They are selected 
 with a view to the sacred character of the inmate, far 
 from the noise and bustle of the working-day world, 
 with a smooth, green lawn stretching out in front, a pro- 
 fusion of shade trees sheltering that green lawn from 
 the bronzing sunbeams, and a pure white paling running 
 all round it. Such was the dwelling-place of Parson 
 Ellery, as he was called by the country people, and if 
 goodness and piety could consecrate a spot, it was indeed 
 holy ground. But though the good country people 
 called him parson, he owned a loftier title, which the 
 villagers preferred — Doctor Ellery, he having been ho- 
 noured with a D. D., by the faculty of a neighbouring 
 university. Though now a somewhat aged man, he had 
 never married, a circumstance which continued to excite 
 wonder in those who knew him best. He had come 
 among them, a stranger, in the meridian of his days, 
 and no one knew the history of his youthful life. He 
 was what may emphatically be styled a man of God, 
 
 (123) 
 
124 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 devoting himself to His service with apostolic simplicity 
 and evangelical devotion, dividing his time between the 
 seclusion of the study, the homes of the poor, and the 
 chambers of the sick and the dying. He was also a 
 man of peace, and grieved when any jarring elements 
 were set in motion in the heart of the community. He 
 did all he could to counteract the blind fanaticism which 
 Mr. Hastings had kindled and continued to fan with his 
 fiery breathings ; and in so doing, he had excited in the 
 latter feelings of personal animosity, the more bitter, 
 because policy induced him to conceal them. He did 
 not wish to appear at variance with a man so popular 
 and universally beloved; therefore he smiled blandly 
 upon him, was a constant attendant on public worship, 
 and a respectful observer of all the ordinances of religion. 
 Still, the minister knew that Mr. Hastings disliked and 
 distrusted him, feared his influence, and did all he could, 
 in secret, to weaken and undermine it. 
 
 Though unmarried, as a most excellent and respecta- 
 ble housekeeper presided over his establishment, he 
 was visited by all the matrons and maidens of the parish. 
 Among these none was so welcome or beloved as Eulalia. 
 Hastings. She had grown up under his eye, from a 
 lovely young child into a still lovelier young woman, 
 and, forgetting the lapse of time, she was still to him 
 the innocent and confiding child, who always seemed to 
 him, sweet as the rose of Sharon and fair as the lily of 
 the valley. She it was, who brought him the first 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 125 
 
 flowers of spring, the first strawberries of summer, and 
 the first fruits of autumn. He had accustomed all the 
 children to call him father, and Eulalia still addressed 
 him by that endearing name. 
 
 He was now seated in his study, in a large arm-chair, 
 with a slab, covered with green baize in front, which 
 served as a table, and on which paper, pen, and ink 
 were laid. But though the paraphernalia of writing 
 was before him, the pen lay idly by the pure blank pa- 
 per, and his hand supported on its palm, his drooping 
 head. He seemed lost in sad and profound meditation, 
 ivhen a low, sweet voice, breathing his name at the open 
 ioor, roused him from his deep revery. 
 
 "Eulalia, my child, come in." 
 
 "Do I intrude, father?" It was thus that, from 
 childhood, she had addressed him, and never did her 
 spirit cling with more yearning fondness and sacred 
 trust to all that name implies, than at the present mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He answered by rising, taking her kindly by both 
 hands, leading her to a seat near the window, and taking 
 another near her. She looked so pale and sad, so fair, 
 so delicate, he felt as if he must place her as he would 
 a -wilting flower, where the summer breeze could fan her. 
 She sat awhile in silence, but the quivering of her lip 
 and the tears glittering on her long, dark, drooping 
 lashes showed, more eloquently than words, the sorrow 
 that sighed for consolation. The good man knew all 
 143 
 
126 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 her history. It was that on which he was pondering 
 when she entered. He had been bearing her in the 
 arms of faith and prayer, to the mercy seat of heaven ; 
 and when he told her of this, in gentle, soothing words, 
 she bowed her head, and the tears rained down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Oh ! dear father," she cried, "my soul is oppressed 
 with the burden of its sorrow. I came to you for com- 
 fort and support. The clouds are very dark around me. 
 You have told me that religion would sustain me in life's 
 saddest trials ; but, oh, in vain I pray. I sink lower 
 and lower. Hope, joy, and faith, all — all are leaving 
 me." 
 
 " Ah ! my child, you have basked in sunshine till this 
 hour, while thousands have sat cold and weeping behind 
 the hidings of God's countenance. I fear your religion 
 is indeed built upon the sand, if the first wave of suffer- 
 ing that beats against it shakes it from its foundation. 
 The children of God must all pass through some ordeal 
 to prove their divine affiliation. Some pass through the 
 fire, some the flood, and some are cast into the lion's 
 den of oppression ; yet, strengthened by angels, they 
 faint not, but triumph, and look back upon every trial 
 as a stepping-stone to glory and happiness." 
 
 " I think I could bear any suffering that affected me 
 alone," said Eulalia, raising her tear-dimmed eyes ; " but 
 to be the cause of misery, sickness, and perhaps death 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 127 
 
 to others, — there is something so crushing, so terrible 
 in the thought." 
 
 " Sickness and death are the ministers of God," 
 replied the pastor, " and they always stand ready to 
 do his bidding. The illness of this unfortunate stranger 
 may have been excited by contending passions, but not 
 produced. Change of climate, and a thousand causes 
 unknown to us, may have brought about this result. I 
 learn from his servant, that he has had a similar attack, 
 and that then, as now, his case was considered hopeless. 
 You have no cause of self-reproach, my child ; and, 
 whatever be the issue, you have nothing left but sub- 
 mission." 
 
 " You have seen him to-day, father. Do you indeed 
 give up all hope ?" 
 
 " No ! while an omnipotent God watches over him. 
 To-night, I am told, will be the crisis of his malady. 
 We must pray, — we must wrestle in prayer foi^ his 
 recovery, but always with one reservation, my dear 
 Eulalia, "Not my will, but thine, 0, God! be done." 
 
 " One thing, let me ask, father, — did he speak? — did 
 he know you?" 
 
 "No! my child, — he lies still, pale and unconscious 
 as the unbreathing marble. His faithful slave stands 
 weeping and sobbing by his bedside, an image of the 
 truest and fondest affection I ever witnessed. Friends 
 are waiting round him, ready to administer to his suffer- 
 ings, when awakened to their consciousness. Ba co«i- 
 
128 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 forted, my daughter, — all that man can do has hcen 
 done ; but it is in moments like these, man feels his 
 impotence, and can only prostrate himself in sackcloth 
 and ashes, at the feet of infinite wisdom and mercy." 
 
 "In your presence, I do feel the possibility of sub- 
 mission ; but I dare not tell you all my rebellion and 
 despair, when there is no one near to soothe and sus- 
 tain. How kind, how sympathizing you are ! — you, 
 who never knew the tumult of earthly passions. What 
 gentleness and tenderness you manifest for weaknesses 
 you never felt!" 
 
 The minister raised his mild gray eyes to heaven, 
 then turned them on Eulalia with an unutterable expres- 
 sion. There was a sudden glow, a lighting up in them, 
 that sent a flash over his brow and warmed with transient 
 colour his pallid cheeks. 
 
 " Perhaps the history of passions subdued, of weak- 
 nesses overcome, and sorrows endured and sanctified 
 through grace, may teach you how to subdue and endure 
 your own," said he in a low, agitated voice. Eulalia 
 looked at him with a countenance of the most earnest 
 interest. It glowed with the reflection of his own 
 emotions. 
 
 " Calm and passionless as you see me now," he added, 
 " nature moulded me out of very strong and warring 
 elements. My father was in affluent circumstances, and 
 I, being an only son, was indulged to an extent that I 
 have never seen equalled. Had it not been for the 
 
TETE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 129 
 
 counterpoising influence of a pious, restraining mother, 
 ruy extravagance would have been as boundless as my 
 means were unrestricted. When I became of age my 
 mother died, and it seemed to me that the star of home 
 set for ever behind her death-cloud. I became restless 
 and ambitious. I longed for new scenes of action. I 
 wanted to travel, to see more of the world and mankind. 
 While in college I had become acquainted with several 
 young men from the South, one of whom was the inti- 
 mate friend of my youth." 
 
 Here Eulalia bent forward in an attitude of deeper 
 attention. 
 
 " This young man," continued the minister, "whose 
 name was Livingston, was a Virginian, and he had so 
 often described his home to me, in bright and glowing 
 colours, that I resolved, to visit it, and become familiar 
 by personal observation with those manners and habits, 
 which, I am sorry to say, are so often misrepresented 
 and painted in the darkest and most forbidding colours. 
 My father gave his consent, and I accompanied my 
 friend over the mountains of Virginia to his home, in 
 one of the loveliest valleys of the world. I shall never 
 forget the greeting we received. Had I been a son or 
 brother I could not have been more warmly, cordially 
 welcomed — not only by the white family, from whom I 
 expected hospitality and kindness, but by the household 
 negroes and the plantation slaves, who constituted one 
 large community in themselves. I had heard many a 
 
130 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 tale of the woes and sufferings of this enslaved race ; 
 but I looked in vain for scars and stripes and chains. I 
 saw comfortable cabins erected for their accommodation, 
 comfortable raiment and food provided for therm They 
 went forth to their labour with cheerful faces, and re- 
 turned at night to pastime or rest, often with the song 
 upon their lips. I was not prepared for such a state of 
 things, nor for the kindness and familiarity with which 
 young Livingston treated these dependants, who on their 
 part seemed to adore their young master. With the 
 recollection of these scenes still vivid in my memory, it 
 is not strange that I have mourned deeply over your 
 father's prejudices, and the zeal he manifests in a cause 
 he is only injuring by his vehemence. It is not strange 
 that I should have regretted the recent decision he has 
 made, and sought with all my influence to induce him to 
 change it." 
 
 "And have you done so?" exclaimed Eulalia. "Oh ! 
 I did not know. I feared you might blame my want of 
 filial submission. Oh ! bless you, sir, for this last, this 
 greatest kindness." 
 
 "Far be it from me to lessen your filial reverence," 
 continued Doctor Ellery. " Your father has many vir- 
 tues, and, I doubt not, thinks he is doing God service 
 by the course he is pursuing. I wish I could turn his 
 zeal and talents into a different channel ; but I am 
 placed as a watch-light on the hill of Zion, and must 
 keep myself, as much as possible, aloof from the storms 
 
TIIE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 131 
 
 and strifes of contending parties. Eulalia, that was a 
 happy home to which young Livingston bore me. The 
 father was a warm-hearted, hospitable, genial gentleman, 
 fond of hunting and fishing, a noble equestrian, a Nim- 
 rod in the chase ; a kind, just master, an indulgent 
 father, a tender, affectionate husband. The mother, a 
 dignified, intelligent lady, who looked well to the ways 
 of her household, directing and superintending every- 
 thing with the eye of a mistress, yete never sacrificing 
 one lady-like grace or accomplishment. And the daugh- 
 ter, Emma Livingston, — " here his voice faltered, and 
 he paused. A faint red began to tinge the cheek of 
 Eulalia. A strong sympathy drew her still nearer her 
 evangelical friend. 
 
 " Emma Livingston," he resumed, " I will not attempt 
 to describe. She had the bloom, the beauty, the gayety, 
 and innocence of youth ; but a bloom so soft, a beauty 
 so winning, a gayety so tempered by modesty, and an 
 innocence so exalted by wisdom, that her character pre- 
 sented a rare and lovely combination. Eulalia, you 
 have heard a great deal of the selfishness and hard- 
 heartedness of Southern females ; and so had I. Here 
 was a young girl, an only daughter, brought up in the 
 midst of attendants, to whom her" slightest word wa3 
 law. You, my dear child are not more gentle and self- 
 sacrificing than she was. You do not speak more gently 
 to your little sister than did she to her household slaves. 
 I have seen her lavish the tenderest caresses on their 
 
132 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 little infants. I have seen her hang in anxious watch- 
 fulness over their sick-beds. I have seen her weep over 
 their humble graves. She taught them to read. She 
 read the Bible to them herself, and never seemed happier 
 than when administering to their necessities. Surely 
 it was not wrong to assimilate her to an angel of light, 
 as she glided among these sable beings, twining with the 
 roses of affection, their links of bondage. I could dwell 
 for hours on those days of love and happiness, for I feel 
 as if I had lifted a heavy stone from the fountain of me- 
 mory, and that I cannot stay the gushing waters. For 
 years I have not uttered her name ; and now, — when 
 moved, by a strong and holy impulse for your soul's 
 good, to break the silence that has so long closed over 
 my sorrows, — it seems as if I must breathe it alone, and 
 breathe it for ever. I was then young and impassioned, 
 and all that youth and passion ever breathed of love, I 
 felt for Emma. I was the beloved friend of her bro- 
 ther, the favoured guest of her father, — every circum- 
 stance was propitious to my wishes. Her own heart 
 was mine. The esteem and affection of her kindred 
 were mine. I wrote to my father, who gave his cordial 
 consent to a union which the gifts of fortune as well as 
 nature so liberally blessed. We were to divide our time 
 between the North and the South. In the summer I 
 was to bear my bride to my native North. In the win- 
 ter we were to return to her beloved Virginia. What 
 was wanting, my child, to complete my felicity ? No- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 13o 
 
 thing but the consent of Almighty God ? I did not ask 
 for that. I dreamed not of its being withheld. Why 
 should I dream ? The rose of health blushed on the 
 young cheek of Emma, and its sunbeam sparkled in her 
 clear azure eye. Exercise in the open air gave vigour 
 to her frame and elasticity to her step. She delighted 
 most in riding on horseback, as the daughters of Vir- 
 ginia are wont to do. She had her own favourite horse, 
 black and shining as ebony, which, though fleet and 
 spirited as the deer, seemed gentle as a lamb. She 
 would ride with her brother and myself over mountain 
 and plain, swift and fearless as the eagle. And now, 
 my daughter, I come to that dark era of my life, which 
 I must hurry over, lest reason plunge headlong in the 
 grave of memory. I cannot relate the particulars ; but, 
 once, during those mountain rides, just two weeks before 
 our appointed nuptials, her horse took fright and leaped 
 over a precipice, whose brink — God of heaven ! — was 
 covered with wild roses and flowering vines." 
 
 The minister rose and walked the length of his study, 
 back and forth, and back and forth, with clasped hands, 
 and eyes darkened by the memory of despair. Eulalia 
 could not speak." She was gazing, in imagination, on 
 the mangled body of Emma, at the foot of that awful 
 precipice, — on the horse and the rider, both quivering 
 and bleeding in the agonies of death, — on the anguish 
 of surviving friends ; she was dwelling on the appalling 
 uncertainty of every earthly blessing, — the terrible 
 
134 the planter's northern eride. 
 
 penalty love is doomed to pay for its short dream of 
 joy, — on the sad, sad doom of mortality ; she wept as 
 if her heart would break, — wept for herself, wept for 
 her minister, and for all the sons and daughters of hu- 
 manity. 
 
 The sound of her suppressed sobs roused the minister 
 from his own paroxysm of grief. He resumed his seat, 
 and wiped the cold moisture that had gathered on his 
 brow. 
 
 "I can never tell you," he added, "the anguish that 
 succeeded the first tempest of sorrow, — the despair that 
 brooded over my mind. For a long time, I thought I 
 should die. I prayed but to die, to throw off the cold, 
 heavy burthen of life. I prayed to die, not because I 
 sighed for the joys of heaven, but that I was weai-y of 
 the gloom of earth. I thought not so much of meeting 
 the spirit of my Emma above, as losing the remembrance 
 of her awful fate below. Had I then died, dark indeed 
 would have been my doom ; but I lived for repentance, 
 for faith, and hope. One of those blessed servants of 
 God, who are anointed for a peculiar mission, found me, 
 and dragged me up out of the depths of the abyss of 
 blackness in which my soul was plunged ; he poured oil 
 and balm into my wounds, bound them in the swaddling 
 bands which wrapped the babe of the manger, and left 
 me not till he had laid me a weeping penitent at the 
 foot of the cross. Then a divine warmth penetrated my 
 heart. I looked upon this world only as the dim vesti- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 135 
 
 bule of a great and glorious temple, and I said, ' I had 
 rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to 
 dwell in the tents of wickedness.' I looked upon it as 
 a frail bridge over the river of time : and I said, ' Let 
 me guide my fellow-pilgrims over the tottering planks 
 to the beautiful shores of the promised land, — that land 
 whose celestial beauties my eyes have been opened to 
 behold.' I said, ' 0, my God ! I dedicate myself to thee, 
 body and soul, in life and death, for time and eternity.' 
 Eulalia, I have been true, as far as poor frail humanity 
 can be, to the solemn vows of my great consecration. 
 I see now why I was led through such a thorny path. 
 My soul was so wedded to earth, nothing but a mighty 
 wrench could have torn it from my grasp. It was all 
 right. 'Be still, and know that I am God.' We must 
 sooner or later obey this mandate ; if not in the sorrows 
 and tribulation of time, mid the thunders and lightnings 
 of eternal judgment." 
 
 Eulalia sat pale with awe, listening to the solemn 
 accents of the minister, and gazing on his countenance, 
 now flashing with a sublime fire. She felt humbled by 
 the selfishness of her grief, the rebelliousness of her 
 will, the conviction she had brought with her, that 
 " there was no sorrow like unto her sorrow." 
 
 " My father," at length she said, "I will try to profit 
 by this sad lesson ; but pray for me, for I am very 
 weak." 
 
 A short time after, she rose to depart; but, after she 
 
138 tiie planter's northern bkide. 
 
 had bidden adieu, she lingered on the threshold, as if 
 something still remained unuttered. 
 
 "Whatever be the event of this night," she said, 
 in a faltering voice, " remember, father, that he is a 
 * Christian." 
 
 " To the Christian's God let us commend him, in 
 faith and hope, and, above all, in entire submission ; 
 and should our prayers be heard, my daughter, as some- 
 thing whispers that they will, I believe Providence has 
 a mission for you to perform, the way of which will be 
 made smooth beneath your feet. You will be a golden 
 link of union between the divided interests of humanity, 
 and inherit the peculiar blessing reserved for those who 
 shall be called the children of God." 
 
 Those prophetic words remained with Eulalia and 
 strengthened her through that long, long, sleepless 
 night. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Poor Albert ! with what faithful affection, what un- 
 wearied devotion and unutterable sorrow did he watch 
 night and day by his sick and apparently dying 
 master ! He would not leave him, though every kind- 
 ness and attention was lavished upon the stranger, 
 so far from home and friends, that compassion could 
 dictate or sympathy impart. Though others watched, 
 he could not, would not sleep. The only times he would 
 leave the room, was when his grief was wrought up to a 
 paroxysm that was perfectly uncontrollable, and he 
 feared to disturb the patient by his bitter cries. Then, 
 he would rush out doors, throw himself upon the ground, 
 and give vent to the most heart-rending lamentations. 
 The idea of his master's dying, and leaving him alone 
 in that strange land, filled him with the wildest terror 
 as well as the deepest anguish. He shrunk with horror 
 from the sight of Mr. Hastings, whom he believed his 
 master's enemy ; though whenever he entered the cham- 
 ber he watched him with the keenness of the basilisk. 
 
 (137) 
 
1S8 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 He could not bear to see him look at his master, and 
 could he have done so, he would have interposed a 
 screen before his pallid face, to save it from the influ- 
 ence of what he fully believed to be an evil eye. In the 
 architect, Mr. Brooks, who devoted every moment he 
 could spare from professional labours to the sick-bed of 
 .his friend, he had the most affectionate confidence, and 
 he loved the good minister, who was now his daily visiter. 
 He would watch their countenances with the most 
 intense eagerness, as if he could read in those solemn 
 tablets the secret of his master's fate. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the interest manifested by the 
 whole neighbourhood in the sick stranger, whose hu- 
 manity and courtesy had softened many a bitter preju- 
 dice, and inspired feelings of warm personal regard. 
 The charm of romance, which even the most matter-of- 
 fact beings appreciate, gave an attraction to the sufferer, 
 that deepened the sympathy he awakened. The story 
 of his love for Eulalia Hastings, of his rejection by her 
 father, of Eulalia's own love and sorrow, were known 
 far and near. Perhaps Betsy's garrulous tongue had 
 told the secret; but through whatever channel it 
 came, it had been circulated from house to house, till it 
 was the theme of every tongue. Various were the com- 
 mentaries it called forth. Some condemned the stern 
 fanaticism of the father ; others praised him as a glo- 
 rious martyr to truth and humanity. Eulalia was too 
 much beloved to be envied, save by a jealous few, and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 109 
 
 even envy was transformed to pity in the contemplation 
 of her blighted hopes. 
 
 Quite an affecting incident occurred the very evening 
 that Eulalia visited the minister. Nancy, who had heard 
 vith great sorrow of the illness of her benefactor, and 
 who had for days been confined to her bed, felt one of 
 those sudden revivals of strength peculiar to the victims 
 of consumption. She heard that morning that the 
 Southern stranger must surely die, and she resolved to 
 see his face again, before it was hidden by the clods of 
 the valley. In vain her poor old mother told her she 
 was too weak, too ill to go. She dragged her feeble 
 footsteps to her former home, stopping every now and 
 then to rest by the wayside, and stooping to pick up the 
 wild flowers that grew in her path, thinking they might 
 gladden the sick man's fading sight. When she pre- 
 sented herself before the landlady, she started as if a 
 spectral illusion were bewildering her senses. 
 
 "Why, Nancy — where in the world did you come 
 from?" exclaimed Mrs. Grimby, giving her a chair as 
 she spoke, into which the wearied creature sank breath- 
 less and exhausted. 
 
 " How is the sick gentleman? Is he really going to 
 die?" was Nancy's first interrogation. 
 
 "So the Doctor says," replied Mrs. Grimby, "and 
 he knows best. Poor man ! I feel so sorry for him. It 
 is so hard to be taken away, when none of his kin can 
 be near him. He's such a kind 5i pleasant gentleman, 
 
140 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE, 
 
 one couldn't help liking him. Albert, too, that poor 
 yellow boy, takes on so desperately, it is enough to make 
 one's heart ache to hear him. I never "would have 
 believed it if I hadn't seen it — never in this world. It 
 sometimes seems as if he would go raving distracted." 
 
 " May I see him ?" asked Nancy, while a tear dropped 
 upon the wild flowers she held in her poor emaciated 
 hand. 
 
 " Lord bless you ! — they won't let anybody but the 
 Doctor and the minister and Mr. Brooks go into the 
 room now. They say it's the criticallest time of his 
 whole sickness. He don't take no notice of anybody or 
 anything ; but looks just like a piece of white marble. 
 No, Nancy, I wouldn't dare to let you in, to save my 
 life." 
 
 " I'll just look at him and come out, without saying 
 one word," pleaded the invalid. "If he's going now I 
 shall follow soon — and I want to see him only once. I 
 got out of my bed to come, though mother tried hard to 
 keep me from it. You don't know how good he has been 
 to us. He gave us money, and what is more, the kind- 
 est words and the most pitying looks. He doesn't 
 despise the poor." 
 
 "Yes — he's been kind to me," said Mrs. Grimby, and 
 her voice choked. 
 
 Nancy hailed this symptom of sensibility as propitious 
 to her prayer — and she pleaded so earnestly, with her 
 large hollow eyes fixed so mournfully on her, with that 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 141 
 
 burning hectic spot on either cheek, that Mrs. Grimby 
 consented, on condition that she should walk on tiptoe, 
 stay but one moment, and not open her lips while she 
 remained. The affectionate, grateful heart of the sick 
 girl swelled almost to bursting as she gazed on the in- 
 animate and altered countenance of her friend. Where 
 was the kind and sunny smile, the darkly-beaming 
 glance, the glow of life and health, which had so lately 
 lighted up their humble cottage and left their bright 
 reflection on its gloom ? And Albert, too, who stood at 
 the bed-head mute as a statue — how dim and ashy 
 looked his golden skin — how dull and melancholy his 
 bright black eye ! 
 
 "Come," whispered Mrs. Grimby, seeing Nancy's 
 bosom heave, and fearing the commencement of one of 
 her racking coughs. "Come, you must not stay any 
 longer." 
 
 Nancy slid softly down on one knee and laid her 
 flowers on the pillow, as reverently as one scatters them 
 over the shrouded dead ; then, rising and putting her 
 handkerchief to her face, left the apartment. 
 
 " Stop, and let me give you a glass of wine before you 
 go, Nancy," said the landlady, "and bite a piece of 
 cracker with it. You mustn't take on so. It's thd 
 Lord's doing, and we must all die at last." 
 
 Mrs. Grimby felt very sorry for the poor girl, who 
 had entered her service a strong, blooming maiden. 
 She remembered how faithfully she had laboured, even 
 144 
 
142 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 after the clutch of the destroyer was on her. She feared 
 she had let her work too hard, that she had not been as 
 kind and considerate as she ought to have been. She 
 feared she had sometimes spoken quickly and harshly 
 to her, and though she had never spared herself, she 
 thought she ought to have spared her more. 
 
 "I wish I could send you home, Nancy," said she, 
 following her to the door. "I do hate to see you walk." 
 
 " Thank you. I don't mind walking. I won't forget 
 how kind you've been, Mrs. Grimby. I hope the Lord 
 will bless you for it." 
 
 She did not mean the wine and the bread, which had 
 really strengthened her exhausted frame, but the tran- 
 sient glimpse she had given her of the pale face and 
 scarcely breathing form she never more expected to 
 behold. 
 
 And what did the morning bring to the anxious 
 watchers round that still couch, over which the shadows 
 of death seemed slowly, darkly gathering ? What did 
 it bring to the throbbing heart, which had counted the 
 weary moments by its own wild beatings ? It brought 
 hope — hope born from the bosom of despair ; and the 
 tidings was like a resurrection from the dead. As the 
 ninister had said, there is hope, as long as there is an 
 omnipotent God to watch over us. 
 
 The convalescence of the invalid was slow, but cheered 
 by so many acts of kindness, he could not murmur at 
 his imprisonment. As soon as he was able to be moved, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 14? 
 
 Doctor Ellery insisted upon taking him to the Parson- 
 age, where, in perfect quietude, he could wait his com 
 plete restoration. Albert, whose joy was as demonstra- 
 tive as his grief had been, was enraptured at the change, 
 for he could not hear a slamming door or a resounding 
 step in the house, without trembling for his master's 
 weakened nerves. The change was indeed a grateful 
 one from the bustle of an inn, to the deep tranquillity 
 of that pastoral home. The minister treated him with 
 even parental tenderness ; and the good housekeeper 
 made for him the nicest panada, the most delicious wine 
 whey, and every delicacy medical wisdom permitted the 
 invalid to taste. And Dora, sweet little Dora, came 
 every day to see him, laden with flowers, with which she 
 decorated his room, and sometimes playfully adorned 
 the folds of his dressing-gown. She told him how sad 
 and sorry they all were, when he was so sick, and that 
 even now, sister Eula never smiled. 
 
 " Do you know," said she, in a low, confiding tone, 
 " that I heard mamma talking to papa about sister Eula, 
 and she said she was afraid she would fall into a con- 
 sumption. Oh ! wouldn't that be dreadful ? Poor Nancy 
 Brown has got it, and don't she look bad?" 
 
 Moreland felt icy-cold shivers run through his frame. 
 
 "And what did your papa say?" he asked. 
 
 " He didn't say nothing ; but put his hands behind 
 him, so, and walked up and down, and up and down, 
 just as he always does when anything pesters him. 
 
144 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Then mamma said, if Eula was only in the South, there 
 wouldn't be any danger." 
 
 "Did your mother say that? God bless her!" ex- 
 claimed Moreland, drawing the little chatterer closer in 
 his arms ; " and what did your papa say then ?" 
 
 " He kept saying, ' God knows, God knows,' and 
 went right out of the room. Then I saw mamma was 
 crying, and I went and kissed away her tears." 
 
 While Moreland listened to the artless prattle of the 
 child, a new and powerful motive of action was born 
 within him. The proud spirit which had told him never 
 to hazard a second rejection should be subdued. What 
 were the hazard of a thousand rejections to Eulalia's 
 danger ? He would snatch her from a clime where the 
 damps of death are so often mingled with the soft dews 
 of night, — he would save her from a doom, the very 
 thought of which froze his veins with horror, — if there 
 was power in man or help in Heaven, he would do it. 
 The energy of his purpose gave him strength. He 
 rose and sought the minister ; he told him all his past 
 history, his present intentions, his future hopes. He 
 besought his influence and co-operation, his counsels 
 and his prayers. All these were promised, and they 
 were all given. 
 
 No one knew what passed between the minister and 
 Mr. Hastings ; but every day the former was seen to 
 visit the latter, and after long private interviews they 
 would separate, with the impress of deep thought on 
 
V 
 
 Y .JS 'Af 
 
TIIE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 145 
 
 their brows. They also took long walks together in 
 sequestered by-paths, and sometimes they wandered to 
 the graveyard, and, leaning on some old gray tomb- 
 stone, would converse earnestly and gravely with each 
 other. The villagers, who were well aware of the want 
 of harmony in the sentiments of the two parties, won- 
 dered at this unwonted communion, though many were 
 shrewd enough to divine the cause ; and they shook 
 their heads, and said that the good minister might talk 
 till every hair of his head turned to silver, and he never 
 would make such an obstinate man as Squire Hastings 
 change his purpose. 
 
 As soon as he was able to walk abroad, Moreland 
 called at Mr. Hastings's. Dora flew to the gate to meet 
 him, almost wild with joy, and ushered him into the 
 sitting-room, with delighted eagerness. 
 
 " Mamma, sister Eula — here's Mr. Moreland come 
 again. Ain't you glad ?" 
 
 Mrs. Hastings came forward and extended her hand, 
 with a most heartfelt expression of pleasure. Eulalia, 
 too, while a bright rosy cloud swept over her lovely face, 
 suffered her hand to linger in the greeting pressure of 
 his, and her eye, so soft, yet thrilling, mingled for a 
 moment its glad rays with the languid but now kindling 
 fires of his own. In vain he assured them that he dis- 
 claimed all the privileges of an invalid. The easy chair 
 was brought forward ; a glass of sangaree, rich with the 
 aroma of the nutmeg, prepared for his refreshment P^e 
 
146 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 was even threatened with a pillow, for the repose of his 
 head, but this he strenuously refused. He was forced, 
 however, to acknowledge that he was weary from his 
 walk, and that there was much comfort in the soft depths 
 of that "old arm-chair." He looked very pale and 
 interesting ; and there was a grace in his languor, more 
 attractive than the vigour of health. 
 
 He had no reason to be displeased with his reception. 
 Mr. Hastings came in rubbing his hands, with his " very 
 happy to see you" air. Reuben shook his hand most 
 vehemently, and Betsy's honest face shone upon him 
 through the half-opened door. 
 
 "You look a little the worse for the wear," said Mr. 
 Hastings. " I am sorry to see it. I fear you will carry 
 away with you unfavourable impressions of our climate." 
 
 "I had a similar attack at home," replied Moreland; 
 "so I must think my malady independent of the lati- 
 tude where I dwell. I sometimes think," he added with 
 a smile, " that I might have escaped this last infliction 
 had not the alarmed affection of my boy placed me in 
 the hands of the doctor." 
 
 " I believe you are free from the scourge of our cli- 
 mate — consumption," observed Mr. Hastings. " Your 
 mild, uniform temperature is favourable to the lungs." 
 
 "Yes," replied Moreland, looking at Eulalia, from 
 whose transparent complexion the rosy hue had faded, 
 leaving it of waxen delicacy. " The frail and delicate 
 from other regions are safe when they breathe our genial 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 147 
 
 atmosphere. The consumptive sometimes finds a grave 
 beneath our flowers ; but it is when they come too late 
 for restoration." 
 
 Here a slight cough from Eulalia made Moreland 
 start. He gazed long and anxiously upon her. She 
 was thinner than when he first saw her — and so exqui- 
 sitely, so delicately fair ! The faint blue meandering 
 of her temple veins was visible through her alabaster 
 skin. Then her eyes of such velvet softness, such lan- 
 guishing brightness — had they not the fatal beauty which 
 marks the victims of consumption? Those long, pen- 
 sive, dark lashes — did they not seem to weep over the 
 radiance doomed to an early fading? Eulalia looked 
 up, and meeting his earnest gaze, understood its meaning. 
 
 "If you were as familiar with colds," she said, with 
 a sweet, assuring smile, "as we are here, you would 
 think a cough of very little consequence." 
 
 "Did you ever read the story in the 'Diary of a Phy- 
 sician,' called A Slight Cold?" asked Moreland. "It is 
 made of some consequence there." 
 
 "If you are not too much fatigued," said Mr. Hast- 
 ings, rising with considerable embarrassment of manner, 
 "I would like you to walk into my study with me a few 
 moments, Mr. Moreland. You will find an arm-chair 
 there also, for my wife has an eye to my comfort as well 
 as that of her guests." 
 
 Moreland rose with alacrity, and obeyed the move- 
 ment of the Philanthropist. As he passed out of the 
 
148 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 doorway, lie saw Eulalia cast a look at her father so 
 tender and beseeching, he thought he must be made of 
 stone to resist the mute appeal. When they reached 
 the study, Mr. Hastings went through every possible 
 preliminary, to retard the conversation he had sought. 
 He moved the chairs, the books and papers on the table, 
 opened the windows, wiped his face with his handker- 
 chief, and dusted the knees of his pantaloons. 
 
 "Mr. Moreland," said he, at length seating himself, 
 drawing a heavy volume towards him, and poising it 
 over the table, "circumstances have arisen since our last 
 conversation, which have somewhat modified the views 
 I then expressed. My principles are unchanged, my 
 views of your Southern institutions are unchanged, but 
 I am led to believe that the will of God demands of me 
 a sacrifice, and to that will I am constrained to bow. 
 Do not interrupt me. I wish to explain myself, so that 
 you may understand I am not acting in an inconsistent 
 manner. I did not know, when I conversed with you 
 last, the strength of your attachment to my daughter. 
 I did not know that her happiness was involved in this 
 union. I find that your hearts are drawn towards each 
 other in a very strong and peculiar manner ; and I be- 
 gin to see the dealings of Providence in this dispensation. 
 Eulalia is a delicate child. I have brought her up in 
 fear and trembling. In short, she is a tropic flower, 
 born to be nurtured beneath milder skies than ours. To 
 preserve her health, to prolong her life, T am willing to 
 
TITE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 149 
 
 hazard the high social position I at present occupy. 
 Sir, I shall falsify myself to save my daughter. I have 
 said in public and in private, that I would never suffer 
 wife or child of mine to live at the South, even if I could 
 add ten years to their existence ; and I meant what I 
 said — but we are all weak and fallible. I thought I had 
 more firmness ; but so many counter influences have 
 been acting upon me ! Your dangerous illness immedi- 
 ately following my rejection ; my daughter's fading 
 health ; the prayers of my wife ; the counsels of our 
 minister ; the opinions of my best friends, all have ac- 
 tuated me to revoke the decision I had made. There is 
 another motive. You said you looked upon yourself as 
 a missionary, appointed by heaven for the good of a be- 
 nighted race. That remark has had great weight with 
 me. More than all else, it has induced me to sacrifice 
 my daughter." 
 
 " Call it not a sacrifice !" exclaimed Moreland, who 
 had waited with glowing impatience for the conclusion 
 of this long harangue, " call it a gift, the most precious 
 gift of Heaven, and I bless you for the bestowal. Be- 
 lieve me, sir, you never will repent this yielding of your 
 will to the pleadings of affection, the urgings of reason. 
 Eulalia, I will watch over and cherish her, as never yet 
 was woman loved and cherished. She will be adored by 
 the affectionate community over which she will preside. 
 Yes ! I feel that her lot will be a happy one. As for 
 vouy son, consider me from this moment as his elder 
 
150 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 brother, the joint guardian of his best interests. And 
 should your darling Dora ever need a father's care, that 
 sacred care be mine. Oh ! sir, you have made me a 
 very happy man ; I thank you, I bless you for it. I 
 feel new life, new health, flowing into my veins. Let 
 me go. I am but half blest till Eulalia shares my joy." 
 
 "No, no! — I will send her to you," replied the 
 father, clearing his throat of a strange huskiness. lie 
 was softened by the outgushings of that warm, generous 
 heart ; he was pleased with himself, for the great sacri- 
 fice he thought he had made — he was exalted in his own 
 estimation. And now he had actually passed the Rubi- • 
 con of his prejudices, he could not help contemplating 
 the worldly advantages of the union. It would be a 
 fine thing for Reuben to have a rich, influential brother- 
 in-law ; it would be well, if himself and Mrs. Hastings 
 should be called away, to have a fair and opulent home 
 for the orphan Dora. Eulalia, cradled in the lap of 
 wealth and fanned by the fragrant breezes of the South, 
 would bloom like its wild-wood blossoms. Then, she 
 would go forth as a missionary, to bind up the bleeding 
 wounds and smarting stripes of the poor slaves (for he 
 had dwelt so long on the picture his imagination had 
 drawn, it was an indelible reality to him), — she would 
 teach their darkened minds the way of salvation, and 
 draw them out of their bondage and chains, into the 
 glorious liberty of the children of God. 
 
 These thoughts comforted him, and gave a benignant 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 151 
 
 expression to his countenance, as he sought Eulalia, 
 which was beautiful to her as the sunshine of heaven. 
 She knew that all her earthly happiness hung on the 
 issue of that hour. She had waited in trembling appre- 
 hension its close, hoping, fearing, doubting; and now 
 when her father opened the door and beckoned her to 
 him, with a smile, she felt sick and giddy with the excess 
 of her emotion. She rose to meet him, but seated her- 
 self again, for the room darkened around her. 
 
 " Come, my daughter," said he, approaching her, and 
 putting one arm around her, — " come into the fresh air ; 
 it will revive you." 
 
 He led her through the garden path to the door of the 
 study. He was silent, preparing a speech for the occasion, 
 which would be a striking display of philanthropy and 
 parental tenderness combined ; but when he placed her 
 hand in that of Moreland, his voice choked, his pompous 
 declamation utterly failed, and he turned abruptly and 
 left the room. Though privileged to remain, we will 
 follow his example. 
 
 Joy is the best physician, after all. From this hour 
 Moreland gained strength and elasticity. Eulalia's 
 cheek recovered its soft oval outline, and the pale 
 virgin rose once more blushed under its transparent 
 surface. 
 
 The rumour of the approaching wedding circulated 
 through the village, and there was more than the usual 
 amount of admiration and interest. Mr. Hastings found 
 
152 the planter's northern bribe. 
 
 himself a perfect lion, and was of course pleased, in 
 spite of his great sacrifice. 
 
 " Well, Squire, I hear you're going to give jour 
 daughter to a Southerner, after all. How are you going 
 to reconcile it to your principles V* 
 
 " I am only yielding to a higher power. Man pro- 
 poses, but God disposes. The life of both was at stake, 
 and had I persisted in my first decision I might be 
 arraigned hereafter for the crime of murder. Besides, 
 I send my daughter forth as a missionary, just as much 
 as if she were bound for Burmah or Hindostan. I trust 
 my friends will not accuse me of inconsistency." 
 
 Thus his neighbours addressed him, and thus he 
 answered. He was establishing the reputation of a 
 martyr. The fiery locks that wreathed his brow were 
 assuming the character of a flaming crown of glory. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Morelakd sat in the same seat lie had occupied many 
 Sabbaths before. The same majestic anthem rolled 
 round the walls of the church, consecrating it for the 
 approach of the minister. It was the last Sunday he 
 expected to worship there ; the last Sunday the angel 
 voice of Eulalia would mingle with her sister choristers 
 in hymns of praise and hosannas of adoration. In the 
 midst of the closing strains, when in clear, sweet, as- 
 cending, and sublime accents, she repeated the burden 
 of the anthem, 
 
 " When rolling years shall cease to move," 
 
 there was a sudden trembling and faltering, then a pause, 
 and a silence, as if the song of the morning stars were 
 instantaneously hushed. Moreland listened breathlessly. 
 He thought he heard a faint sob behind that green cur- 
 tain — and his own bosom heaved. He began to realize 
 all that Eulalia was resigning for him ; the strength of 
 the ties she was severing ; the dear and holy associations 
 she was rending asunder. Could he make up to her all 
 
 (153) 
 
154 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 that she relinquished ? Father, mother, brother, sister, 
 pastor, idolizing friends, the scenes of her happy child- 
 hood, her sheltered, peaceful youth ? Yes ! his love, 
 passing as it did the love of man, should indemnify her 
 for all. And in that heaven-dedicated place, he made a 
 vow before God, that her happiness should be the first 
 aim of his existence. 
 
 Eulalia sat behind the curtain, her face bowed on her 
 hands, which covered her falling tears. Her companions 
 respected her emotions, and, even after the minister com- 
 menced the solemn rites of the day, they suffered the 
 green screen to remain, that concealed her from the 
 gaze of the congregation. Their own eyes glistened, 
 when they thought that, on another Sabbath, that fair 
 form and sweet face and celestial voice would be wanting 
 in the village choir. 
 
 Eulalia sat behind the curtain, oppressed with the 
 solemnities of the place, and borne down by the weight 
 of her own feelings. Her thoughts wandered from the 
 past to the future, forgetful of the purposes of the pre- 
 sent hour. The minister seemed to be repeating in her 
 ear the tragic story of his early love, instead of the 
 mysteries and glories of revelation. The sighing boughs 
 of the elms, as they whispered through the windows of 
 the gallery, told her sweet histories of her youth, and 
 breathed a sad and lingering farewell. She was going 
 to a land of strangers, to be surrounded by a girdle of 
 darkness, from which there was no escape, — where, she 
 
the planter's northern bride. 155 
 
 had learned to believe, the fires of insurrection were for 
 ever smouldering. But she was going with Moreland, 
 and the companionship of such a being would make 
 a Paradise of even the frozen regions of Nova Zembla, 
 — how much more of the beautiful and flower-enamelled 
 South ! How unworthy was she, the humble village 
 maiden, of the love of one so gifted and so noble ! Was 
 she indeed to become his wife, the mother of his child ? 
 She, the young and inexperienced ? Like the handmaid 
 of the Lord, she pondered on all these things, while the 
 deep-toned voice of the minister fell in grave and solemn 
 music on her ear. Forgive her wandering thoughts, for 
 she is passing the great crisis of her being. She tries 
 to bring them home to God, but in vain. She feels, in 
 imagination, the child's soft arms clinging round her 
 neck, its fair head cradled on her breast. She is breath- 
 ing up to Heaven prayers for its helpless innocency, — 
 prayers for wisdom to guide, for strength to guard, for 
 power to go before it, in the purity and light of a 
 Christian example. She sees its tender, appealing eyes 
 lifted lovingly to her own. Are they the eyes of More- 
 land, or of the unhappy Claudia ? She cannot bear the 
 suggestion. That name always comes chillingly over 
 her glowing heart. It is not jealousy, but dread. She 
 dreads to think of one, who, once blessed with the heart 
 of Moreland, could cast away such a gem. 
 
 As they w T alked home from church, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hastings arm and arm, Moreland by the side of Eulaiia, 
 
156 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 with Dora's hand clinging to his ; not a word was spoken 
 by either, till Dora, as usual, broke the silence. 
 
 " What's the reason you didn't sing, sister Eula — ? 
 and what's the reason you don't talk any now ? 'Tisn't 
 a sin to talk going home from church, is it ?" 
 
 "No, my child," said her father, turning round; 
 "many things are lawful, which are not expedient under 
 particular circumstances." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean !" cried Dora. 
 
 "I mean that your sister feels more like thinking 
 than talking just now, and so we all do. Supposing you 
 try to think of what good Doctor Ellery said, till we 
 reach home." 
 
 "I love to think loud," replied the child. "What 
 good does it do to think, if we don't tell anybody of 
 it?" 
 
 " She is right," said Mor eland, in a low voice to 
 Eulalia ; " it is not good to brood too long over our own 
 solitary thoughts. I think I understand your feelings; 
 but if you have one unexpressed regret, if you have one 
 wish concealed, breathe it now, assured it shall be grati- 
 fied, if it be in the power of man to do it." 
 
 " I have wept over the blessings I am about to resign," 
 replied Eulalia ; " for they magnify like the sun, when 
 his parting rays shine upon us. But at this moment I 
 regret, most of all, my unworthiness of the blessings 
 for which I exchange them." 
 
 Had Eulalia been a fashionable belle, she never would 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 157 
 
 have made this meek, depreciating speech ; hut she was 
 truth, simplicity, guilelessness, and purity — and More- 
 land loved her all the more for these unworldly attri- 
 butes. If he did not reconcile her to herself, it was 
 because the heart has no rhetoric, language no inspi- 
 ration. 
 
 The wedding was to be very simple. It was to take 
 place on the morning of their departure, without any 
 display, waiters or attendants. But though no bridal 
 pomp accompanied her nuptials, Eulalia was not suffered 
 to depart without the most abundant tokens of affection 
 and appreciation. Gifts were showered upon her — not 
 costly ones, such as diamonds and precious stones, but 
 heart-tokens far more precious in her estimation. The 
 Sabbath-school children whom she had taught so faith- 
 fully and lovingly, brought her bouquets of flowers and 
 trifles of their own manufacture. Even the poor, whom 
 her bounty, restricted as it was obliged to be, had so 
 often relieved ; and whom her sympathy and cares, which 
 were ever unlimited, had so often blessed, crowded round 
 her with their blessings and their homely offerings. One 
 poor woman, whose hands were half paralyzed, gave her 
 an ironing-holder, which she had made of patchwork 
 and quilted ; another, near eighty years of age, pre- 
 sented her with a comb-case, framed of pasteboard and 
 covered with calico, manufactured by her own aged and 
 tremulous fingers. Very homely as were these gifts, 
 
 145 
 
158 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Eulalia received them with a tear and a smile, and pro- 
 mised to keep them as long as she lived. 
 
 " What shall I do," said a feeble octogenarian, wiping 
 the tears from her silver lashes — " what shall I do, when 
 you are gone ? Who will read me God's blessed word, 
 and talk to me so sweetly of a Saviour's love and the 
 joys laid up for the righteous in Heaven ?" 
 
 " Dora shall take my place. She can read now as 
 well as I can, and in a few years she can talk to you of 
 all these things, and you will teach her lessons of meek- 
 ness and piety, even as you have done to me." 
 
 "What shall I do," exclaimed a poor sick mother, 
 reclining on a couch of pain, by which Eulalia had oft- 
 times knelt and prayed — "when you are gone so far 
 away ? Who will love and care for my orphan children 
 as you have done ? Who will teach them to be good 
 and keep them out of bad company as you have done?" 
 
 *' My mother will still be your friend, and as Dora 
 grows older she will do all that I have done, and I trust 
 far more. I am going to leave her a precious legacy, 
 which, young as she is, she will consider sacred." 
 
 "It is so hard to give you up," said another. "It 
 seems as if I could be willing, Miss Euly, if you weren't 
 going among such awful people. But I am so afraid 
 you'll repent on't. You are going to have a fine hus- 
 band, to be sure, and you'll ride in a fine carriage and 
 live in a grand house, and you'll never be obliged to wet 
 your fingers' ends ; but the riches that don't come right- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 159 
 
 eously won't bless a body. I wouldn't use money that 
 was got by selling a human being, any more than I would 
 take up live coals out of the chimney and eat 'em." 
 
 " You need not fear for me," said Eulalia, gently. " I 
 do not expect such trials as that." 
 
 The evening before her marriage she accompanied 
 Moreland to Dame Brown's cottage, for Nancy could 
 not come to her. The walk she took to visit the appa- 
 rently dying Moreland had accelerated the progress of 
 her fatal malady, and she was now confined to the house, 
 and most of the time to her bed. Albert had told him 
 of that visit, and he never recalled it without the deep- 
 est emotion. Albert, with a delicacy of feeling seldom 
 found in the uneducated, had picked up the wilted flow- 
 ers she left upon his pillow, after they had fallen under 
 the feet, and preserved them in water till his master's 
 brightening vision could rest upon the gift. 
 
 " This is very good of you to come and see me, 
 when you have so many friends to take leave of," said 
 Nancy, leaning forward with eagerness to greet her. 
 " And you too, sir," she added, holding out to Moreland 
 her wasted and burning hand. " I never expected to 
 see you in this poor cabin again — never; but it's won- 
 derful what the Lord can do !" 
 
 " She looks dreadful bad, don't she ?" asked Dame 
 Brown, who sat in an old arm-chair by the side of 
 Nancy's bed. "She can't hold out much longer. She 
 
1G0 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 coughs all night long, and you can hear her breathe 
 e'enamost out of doors." 
 
 " I feel easier now, mother," said she. "Don't worry 
 them by talking about what can't be helped. Every 
 pain helps me on my journey home ! I shall soon be 
 there ! Oh, yes ! I shall soon be there !" 
 
 She lifted up her large, intensely bright eyes, with a 
 smile that gleamed wildly on her sunken features. 
 
 "You are willing to die, Nancy?" cried Moreland, 
 seeing that Eulalia was too much affected to speak, and 
 on whose face she now turned an eager, wistful gaze. 
 " You are not afraid of the sting of death ? You look 
 upon Heaven as your everlasting home?" 
 
 "Oh! sir," she replied, solemnly, "my Saviour has 
 taken away the sting of death, and given me victory 
 over the grave. Why should I fear to die ? why should 
 I wish to live ? I've struggled with poverty all my life, 
 and it has been a bitter warfare. When I was strong 
 and could labour for my poor mother, I was willing to 
 work the livelong day, though it seemed ever so long. 
 But I havn't had much pleasure in life, even at the best, 
 for the life of the poor and toiling has many a thorn 
 and but few roses. Oh! sir," she cried, suddenly raising 
 herself in the bed and clasping her thin hands over her 
 knees, " I am so glad you are going to take her away 
 from here ! She might get the consumption, for she's one 
 of the fair and beautiful ones that are sure to be sin fried 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 161 
 
 out. I used to have round, blooming cheeks, and the 
 people of the tavern praised me for my looks." 
 
 One sigh to the memory of her departed beauty con- 
 vulsed the breast of the dying girl. 
 
 "Yes!" said her mother, "they used to call her 
 pretty Nancy. Her cheeks were as rosy as you ever 
 saw, and she had pretty holes in them, when she 
 laughed ; and now, they are so hollow, and such an 
 awful round red spot right in the middle. Oh ! Lord a 
 marcy, what will become of me when she's gone, and 
 you not by to comfort me, Miss Euly?" 
 
 " God will take care of you. God will comfort you," 
 said Eulalia; "you will never want for friends." 
 
 " Only to think," said the old woman, following the 
 lead of her rambling thoughts, as she looked from Eu- 
 lalia to Moreland, and forgetting, for the moment, her 
 own sorrow, — " only to think of the Squire's letting you 
 go off with a furrener, after making such an ado about 
 the way they carry on. I don't see how he can get over 
 his speeches and writings, and the awful things he's told 
 the people about the South folks. Well, well, I am 
 glad for one account, — Miss Euly's going to have a 
 kind, handsome husband, if there ever was one, and a 
 rich one ; and she'll do a power of good with her money. 
 I know you can't be cruel to anybody, sir ; and if she 
 sees folks happy about you and her, she'd better not 
 fret and worry about other folks. Do all the good you 
 can, and leave the rest to Providence. I'm nothing but 
 
162 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 a poor old creature now, and havn't any business to talk 
 and advise my betters ; but I was reckoned smart in my 
 day, and sometimes it seems as if I could see through a 
 kind of loophole, brighter than I ever did before. I've 
 been thinking a mighty deal about these affairs since 
 you've come among us, and have been so good to us, and 
 your yellow boy has brought us so many nice things, and 
 Miss Euly is going off with you ; and I know there's 
 been wrong said and done. Your boy told us how 
 kindly you treated 'em all, and how they all loved you, 
 and how everybody round you was good, and didn't 
 practise the iniquities they tell us of. Lord a marcy, — 
 how monstrous difficult it is to get at the truth!" 
 
 The good woman fairly paused for breath, and Nancy 
 repeated, as she had often done before, 
 
 " She don't mean any harm, any more than a child." 
 
 When Eulalia rose to depart, Nancy drew her down 
 and whispered to her to open the upper bureau drawer 
 and bring her a breast-pin, fastened to a little round 
 pincushion. — It was a low, old-fashioned bureau, and 
 the breast-pin was also old-fashioned, being in the form 
 of a heart, set round with pearl. It had a glass in the 
 centre, beneath which hair was intended to be set. Eu- 
 lalia brought it to the bedside, well divining her pur- 
 pose. 
 
 "And now," said Nancy, "please take the scissors 
 hanging by the window, and cut off a lock of my hair 
 and have it put under that glass when I am dead and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 163 
 
 gone, to remember me by. The one that gave me that 
 breast-pin is dead, so there's no harm in my giving it 
 away." 
 
 Moreland and Eulalia exchanged a quick flashing 
 glance of intelligence. A history of love and fidelity 
 was contained in those few words. The form of the 
 heart was emblematical ; even the pearls were significant 
 of the tears of sorrow, which had probably bedewed this 
 simple pledge. It was henceforth sacred in Eulalia's 
 eyes. She took the scissors, and Nancy, bending for- 
 ward, shook down the matted tresses of her long black 
 hair, once so smooth and shining. Eulalia separated 
 one from the rest, and attempted to sever it from the 
 head it once adorned, but her eyes were blinded by 
 tears, and her fingers had no strength. Moreland took 
 the scissors gently from her hand, and cut two locks 
 from the heavy mass that shaded the pillow. 
 
 "One for her, Nancy, and one for myself." — "Oh! 
 sir I" exclaimed Nancy, bursting into tears. Not another 
 word was spoken before they left the cottage, for the 
 hearts of all were full. They knew that, in all human 
 probability, they would not meet again, till they met in 
 the light of eternity. 
 
 Moreland left with Mrs. Hastings a sum for the sup- 
 port of Nancy. If it lasted longer than her life, it was 
 to be given to the poor and aged mother. Every token 
 of love to Eulalia was also paid with usury. The patch- 
 
164 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 work holder was transmuted into gold, and the calico 
 comb-case went through the same chemical process. 
 
 That night, when Moreland bade adieu to the family 
 and turned his steps to the parsonage, Mr. Hastings 
 accompanied him. 
 
 "I know how it will be in the morning," said he. 
 "There will be no time for talking in the midst of 
 sad leave-takings ; and I feel as if I had much to say. 
 As far as you are concerned, I have confidence to be- 
 lieve that you will make my daughter happy ; but, when 
 I think of the entire change in her mode of living, and 
 the peculiar sensitiveness of her character, I have many 
 misgivings. I think she has a remarkable antipathy to 
 negroes. I have tried to conquer it in every possible 
 way, but it, nevertheless, still exists." 
 
 "Indeed !" cried Moreland, in a tone of surprise and 
 regret. "How has she manifested this unusual repug- 
 nance ? She sees so few of the race here, I can hardly 
 conceive how this antipathy could develop itself." 
 
 "About a year ago," continued Mr. Hastings, " I met 
 in my travels a poor runaway negro — half-clothed, half- 
 starved, the victim of an inhuman master, who, like the 
 persecuted Son of Man, had not literally where to lay 
 his head. Sir, I had compassion on him. I looked 
 upon him as a man and as a brother. I took him into 
 my carriage, brought him to my home, welcomed him to 
 my board and my best household cheer. He told me 
 the story of his sufferings and wrongs, and they were 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 165 
 
 enough to move the very stones to cry out for vengeance. 
 He remained with me for weeks, and during all that 
 time Eulalia manifested a loathing so unnatural that it 
 distressed me beyond expression. She could not eat 
 seated at his side ; she actually languished and sick- 
 ened, and did not revive till he left me." 
 
 " I have heard the history of your hospitality to that 
 vagabond," cried Moreland — and he could not help 
 speaking in an excited and indignant voice — " and I 
 have traced him from the beginning of his infamous 
 career. He is a vile scoundrel, who, having first robbed 
 and then attempted to murder his master, fled and hid 
 himself from pursuit in the Dismal Swamp of his native 
 state. His whole story was a lie. I am sorry your 
 compassion was called forth by so unworthy an object. 
 I am sorry your hospitality was degraded so low. I do 
 not wonder that Eulalia shrunk with horror from the 
 approach of such a wretch ; that her intuitive delicacy 
 and purity felt the contamination and withered under its 
 influence. Why, I am told you were obliged to turn him 
 out of doors for his insolence." 
 
 " Granting that I was deceived in him, it does not 
 follow that the principle upon which I acted was wrong. 
 I should do the same thing, under the same circum- 
 stances. My fellow men shall never call upon me in 
 vain for redress or protection." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you utter that sentiment," ex- 
 claimed Moreland ; " and on its faith and strength I call 
 
li>(5 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 upon you, in the name of my Southern brethren, for 
 redress and protection. Believe not all the tales of the 
 vagrants, who are mostly fugitives from justice, not 
 oppression. In your zeal for one portion of humanity 
 forget not the interests of another, to which you are 
 more closely allied. And one thing let me tell you, sir ; 
 if Eulalia's happiness and life are dear to your soul, if 
 you would not arm the hand of the assassin, and kindle 
 the brand of the incendiary, suspend your fiery efforts 
 in the cause of emancipation. You are blowing the 
 flames of insurrection, and no language can convey the 
 faintest conception of the horrors that may ensue. You 
 know not what you are doing. The time will come when 
 waves of blood may roll over the land — and where will 
 Eulalia be ? Can my single arm hold her up above the 
 crimson billows, my single breast shield her from the 
 unimaginable horrors of servile warfare ?" 
 
 They had reached the grove of the Parsonage — and 
 they both stopped involuntarily and gazed upon each 
 other. The moon at that moment came out from behind 
 a cloud, and the dark eyes of Moreland flashed back its 
 resplendent lustre. Mr. Hastings looked very pale in 
 the silver light — 
 
 " 1 cannot expose my daughter to the possibility of 
 such a fate," he cried. " Thank God, it is not too 
 late !" 
 
 "Your word is pledged, and, as a man of honour 
 you cannot retract," exclaimed Moreland, startled into 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 1G7 
 
 a consciousness of his imprudence. " I was only lift- 
 ing a warning voice. I was endeavouring to arrest a 
 course of action which must inevitably result in ruin. I 
 did not intend to express myself so strongly. Indeed, 
 so firm is my reliance on the fidelity and affection of my 
 own negroes, I believe, if an insurrection really took 
 place, they would die in my defence." 
 
 " So every one thinks of their own," was the caustic 
 reply. " Self-love, — nothing but self-love, Mr. Moreland. 
 This is a serious view of the subject, — a very serious 
 view. I must take time for reflection. The wedding 
 cannot be consummated on the morrow." 
 
 " Good Heavens!" cried Moreland, "I never will sub- 
 mit to this wanton trifling with my hopes and affections. 
 Why, it is worse than the tortures of the Inquisition!" 
 
 At this critical moment, when angry passions were 
 swelling in the bosoms of each, the slender but majestic 
 form of the minister came gliding, in his student's robe 
 of flowing black silk, under the boughs of the trees, now 
 involved in thick shadows, now illuminated by the white 
 moonbeams, and stood before them, with his serene, 
 thoughtful brow, and religious-beaming eyes. He had 
 heard their excited tones, and he came to soothe and to 
 reconcile. And there he stood, talking with them long 
 and earnestly, regardless of the night-chill to which he 
 so seldom exposed himself. He spoke with the benig- 
 nity of the Christian, blended with the authority that 
 invests his divine office. He would not suffer them to 
 
1G8 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 separate till harmony was restored, promises renewed, 
 and the hopes of the morrow born anew. 
 
 Eulalia, in the mean time, unconscious of the agitating 
 interview between her father and her lover, was sitting 
 a her chamber window, with no light but that of the 
 moonbeams which streamed in through the casement. 
 She had extinguished the candle, lest it should bear 
 witness to her tears ; but she could not extinguish the 
 greater glory of the heavens. It gushed in through the 
 muslin curtains, and flowed round her as she sat in her 
 loose white robes, making her look like an angel of light. 
 It flooded one side of the bed, where little Dora lay 
 sleeping, as tranquilly as if there were no such thing as 
 parting in the world. Mrs. Hastings had just left the 
 apartment, and Eulalia had been breathing out all her 
 filial love, gratitude, and sorrow on her breast. Who 
 can wonder that she wept the last night she was to sleep 
 under that dear, paternal roof she might never again 
 behold ! Who can wonder that she trembled in the 
 prospect of that long, long journey, when she had never 
 travelled more than twenty miles from home before ! 
 
 How she wished she could live over again her youth- 
 ful years ; that she might show more love and devotion 
 and tenderness to her parents, more affection to her bro- 
 ther and sister, more consideration for all around her ! 
 How much more she might have done for others, how 
 much less for herself ! 
 
 "How selfish I have been !" thought she ; "howab- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 169 
 
 sorbed in my own thoughts and feelings ! I might have 
 saved my dear mother so many weary steps, if I had 
 only thought of it. Poor Betsy, too ! How hard she 
 has been working for me ! I ought not to have permit- 
 ted it. I wish father could afford to hire another wo- 
 man, to lighten her labours. And I — I shall have more 
 servants than I know what to do with. Surely toil 
 divided among so many cannot be so wearing as it is 
 here." 
 
 The door slowly opened, and Betsy stole in, shutting 
 it very softly behind her. She came near the window 
 where Eulalia was sitting, and sunk wearily on a trunk, 
 all packed and strapped for travelling. 
 
 " Poor Betsy ! how tired you must be !" said Eulalia, 
 and her voice, always sweet and gentle, never sounded 
 so sweet and gentle before to Betsy's weary ears. 
 
 "Yes, that I am, Miss Euly; but I thought I must 
 creep in and see you a few moments to-night. There'll 
 be such a bustle in the morning, I couldn't get in a word 
 edgeways, I know. I'm dreadful sorry to lose you, but 
 I hope our loss will be your gain. I guess you'll be 
 well off — a powerful sight better off than the rest of us. 
 Your pa has to scuffle mightily to get along, and if your 
 ma was not the best manager in the world, he couldn't 
 make the eends of the year meet. I save all I can, 
 gracious knows, tho' I tries to have everything in a gen- 
 teel style. I thinks more of the appearance of the house 
 than Miss Hastings does herself." 
 
170 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 "Yes, Betsy, I know how faithful and economical 
 you are, how industrious and good. I shall feel happy 
 in thinking my mother has such a helpmate and friend. 
 Promise me, Betsy, for my sake, that you will not leave 
 her. I know she never could supply your place. I only 
 wish she could afford to keep more help, so that you 
 would not have to work so hard. But you will have 
 less to do when I am gone, Betsy." 
 
 "No, that I sha'n't, for you're always helping me 
 about my little chores. Besides, it dont seem work, 
 what I do for you. Your washing is as easy as nothing. 
 When folks is sweet-tempered, like you, their clothes 
 just go in and out of the water, and they're as nice as 
 a snow-ball. As for leaving your mother, I ain't think- 
 ing on it. She's a good woman, and I guess I'm as 
 well off here as anywhere else, as long as I have to 
 work — and that I shall have to do as long as I live. 
 Some helps is always dissatisfied, grumbling, and chang- 
 ing about ; but I'm not of that sort. Some wants to sit 
 down at the first table, and primp up and make believe 
 they are ladies ; but I'm not of that sort, either. You 
 don't know, Miss Euly, what a discontented set most 
 helps is. They never know when they're well off, and 
 think everybody that employs 'em is beholden to 'em." 
 
 " They are not all so, Betsy, I am sure. You and 
 Nancy are exceptions — and many others besides. And 
 now, Betsy, let me thank you for all your kindness to 
 me, and forgive me, if I have ever exacted too much of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE.. 171 
 
 you. I have been thoughtless, I know, but never inten- 
 tionally unkind." 
 
 Betsy, whose heart was brimful, just ready to run 
 over, could not stand this appeal. She bowed her head 
 lown into her checked apron and wept aloud. 
 
 " Don't, Betsy !" cried Eulalia, putting her arm over 
 her neck, thus prostrated in grief. " You'll break my 
 heart if you go on in this way. Don't!" 
 
 " You've allers been just as good as you could be, and 
 as innocent of harm as a baby in the cradle. You 
 mustn't talk in that way to me, Miss Euly. It makes 
 me feel too cheap. I come to tell you what Mr. More- 
 land done, and I got to talking so it clean went out of 
 my head for the time. I declare, if he ain't the most 
 significant man that ever was seen in this part of the 
 world. To-night, when I was milking, under the great 
 big appletree the cows love to stand under, he come 
 along and stopped, and spoke to me as chirp as a bird, 
 'Betsy,' says he, 'here's a trifle, if you will accept of 
 it. You sat up with me when I was sick. Not that 
 money could pay such a service ; but it may do you some 
 good, and help you to take care of your lame brother.' 
 How in the world did he hear about that ? He slipped 
 this piece of silver in my hand and went off, 'fore I 
 had time to thank him. How much is it, Miss Euly ? 
 A quarter, ain't it ? It was kinder dark when I took it, 
 and I've been too busy to look at it since." 
 
 Eulalia took it, well knowing that Moreland would not 
 
172 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 give so small a boon, and as the moonlight gleamed upon 
 it, it gave back a bright, golden gleam. 
 
 " This is an eagle, Betsy. It is worth ten dollars. 
 You might know Mr. Moreland would give you more 
 than a quarter, if he gave you anything." 
 
 " Well ! did you ever ? you don't say so ? I declare 
 it seems like robbery to take so much — most equal to 
 ten weeks' wages. Really, it don't seem right to keep 
 it. Ain't he a gentleman ? I was thankful for a little, 
 but so much as this makes me feel really queer." 
 
 "Keep it; he is rich, and can well afford it. It 
 makes him happier to give than you to receive. And 
 now, Betsy, you are tired and ought to go to bed. 
 You will have to rise early, and so will I. We must all 
 be cheecful in the morning — remember that, Betsy. 1 
 would not sow in tears, though I trust to reap in joy." 
 
 Betsy retired, gazing fondly through her tears at the 
 golden eagle, almost believing it an optical illusion — and 
 Eulalia laid herself down by the sleeping Dora, and 
 pressed her cheek against the warm and glowing cheek 
 pillowed so sweetly there. 
 
 Albert was quite mortified that his master's wedding 
 should be such a plain and matter-of-fact business. He 
 remembered the splendour of his former marriage, — the 
 festal pomp, the crowding guests, the wreathing gar- 
 lands, the illuminated halls, and the exhilarating dance, 
 lie remembered the jubilee among the negroes; the 
 cake and lemonade distributed among them, the music 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 173 
 
 of the banjo, the muffled thunders of the tambourine. 
 He was not at all pleased with the idea of his master's 
 marrying a poor Yankee girl, especially a daughter of 
 Mr. Hastings, for whom he had conceived a supreme 
 dislike. Then, to be married in the morning, and start 
 right off on a journey. Albert could not " see one bit 
 of fun in that." He did not express his dissatisfaction: 
 but he comforted himself by expatiating to Betsy on 
 the splendid style in which they had such things got up 
 at home, — how many barbacued pigs they had, stuffed 
 hams and roasted turkeys, to say nothing of cakes, con- 
 fectionaries, and wines. 
 
 " I'm sure," said Betsy, jealous of the family dignity, 
 " there can't be any nicer cake than that, if I did make 
 it, with Miss Hastings's help, myself; that in the middle 
 of the waiter is made of loaf sugar, and it's as light as 
 a feather, and as white as the driven snow. There 
 never was nicer cake in this world, I guess." 
 
 Betsy pointed to a waiter, which rejoiced in the bur- 
 den of various kinds of cake, in the centre of which 
 rose one, in the form of a pyramid, covered with a daz- 
 zlingly white coat of icing, and crowned with a cluster 
 of white rosebuds. This was Betsy's pride and glory, — • 
 the bride-cake, the dream-cake, the cake of all other 1 
 cakes. She looked at Albert, expecting a burst of 
 admiration. 
 
 "Is that all the cake you're going to have?" he 
 p.s~ xl, with a supercilious smile. " Why, we give more 
 146 
 
174 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 than that to the niggers. We've had more than a dozen 
 cakes baked at once, a heap bigger than that." 
 
 " Well, you must be the extravagantest, wastefullest 
 folks that ever lived," cried Betsy, her brown face red- 
 dening with mortification, " that's all I can say. What's 
 the use, I want to know, of having such a sight of 
 things, when there's no company and people ; going 
 right off, too, — after breakfast, besides, when folks have 
 eat all they want to. Let alone," jerking the napkin 
 from his hand. "You needn't help me. You're too 
 smart." 
 
 Albert laughed, excessively amused at Betsy's anger. 
 Having succeeded in impressing her with an exalted 
 idea of his aristocratic mode of living, he condescended 
 to say, that the cake looked very nice, what there was 
 of it. 
 . " Talk about the black folks at the South having 
 j such a dreadful time!" muttered Betsy, half to herself 
 | and half to him. " I want to know who has an easier 
 . time than this fellow ? If I hadn't more to do, I should 
 get so lazy I'd want somebody to laugh for me. I'm. 
 • ten times more of a slave, this minute, than you are, 
 land have been all my life." 
 
 " That's the truth, Miss Betsy. You'd better come 
 and live with Mars. Russell. 'Spose you do." 
 
 "I wish I could go with Miss Euly," she answered, 
 with a sigh ; "but there's no use in pining. The Lord 
 knows best." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 175 
 
 Brief, yet solemn, was the marriage rite. The car- 
 riage stood at the door, which was to bear them on their 
 first day's journey to meet the railroad, the trunks were 
 strapped on, everything was ready for their departure, 
 before Doctor Ellery pronounced the thrilling words, 
 " that what God had joined together let no man put 
 asunder." Eulalia, in a simple travelling dress, and 
 pale from suppressed emotion, bore little resemblance 
 to the brilliant and magnificently decorated being who 
 had once before clasped. Moreland's plighted hand in 
 hers ; but the vows she pledged were pure and holy, to 
 be broken only by death — second only to the covenant 
 that bound her to her God. She had taken her real 
 farewell of her own family the night before, and resolved, 
 if possible, to spare her parents the anguish of seeing 
 her weep at parting ; but when her minister came, and, 
 taking her trembling hand, blessed her and committed her 
 to the keeping of her Heavenly Father, with so much ten- 
 derness and affection and solemnity ; borne down by an 
 irresistible, reverential emotion, she knelt before him 
 and bowed her head on his hand. Inexpressibly affect- 
 ed, he bent down, imprinted a kiss on her fair, drooping 
 brow, and left the room. 
 
 Albert, notwithstanding his objections to the marriage, 
 had too chivalrous a sense of politeness, not to seize the 
 fitting moment to come forward and congratulate his 
 master. 
 
 "Albert," said Moreland, "I introduce you to your 
 
176 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 new mistress. You will henceforth devote yourself to 
 her service, with all zeal and fidelity, even as you have 
 done to mine." 
 
 Eulalia held out her hand, with a countenance of such 
 angelic sweetness, lifting, at the same time, such a 
 grateful, confiding look to Moreland's face, that Albert's 
 prejudices were quite melted away. He was insensibly 
 won by the divine charm of goodness, exalted by loveli- 
 ness, and forgot that she was nothing but a poor Yan- 
 kee girl. 
 
 Dora was so excited and mystified by all around her, 
 so pleased and astonished at being dressed in her best 
 white frock, and having cake to eat so early in the 
 morning, that she looked on in wondering silence. Then, 
 she was to ride with Reuben, in a one-horse carriage, 
 behind the big carriage, as far as the next town, a great 
 event in her young life. She got into the vehicle before 
 the horse was fastened to it, she was so afraid it would 
 start without her. She did not know yet, poor child, 
 what it was to miss such a sister as Eula. 
 
 When Eulalia took leave of her parents, her face was 
 as white as marble, one moment, the next, it was flushed 
 and burning. She found herself in the carriage without 
 knowing how she was placed there — her husband at her 
 side ; she felt the motion of the revolving wheels, she 
 saw the sycamore boughs wave towards her, then vanish, 
 the scarlet berries of the mountain ash flash a moment, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 177 
 
 and then vanish. She realized that the home of her 
 youth was forsaken for the stranger's hearth. 
 
 "Do not hold back your tears, my Eulalia," said a 
 gentle voice, while the arm which was henceforth to be 
 her shield and support, fondly encircled her. "You 
 have wrestled nobly with your sorrow. But think me 
 not so selfish as to be jealous of a daughter's tenderness, 
 gratitude, and devotion. I feel the sacrifice you are 
 making. Accept in return the consecration of my life." 
 
 The tears thus sanctioned, hallowed by an embrace so 
 tender, by soothings so kind and words so endearing, 
 flowed in a gentle, relieving shower. The tension of her 
 nerves relaxed, the girdle that pressed upon hei heart 
 loosened, and the morning twilight of joy stole od the 
 shadows of grief. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 It is not our intention to describe with minuteness the 
 journey of our Northern heroine to her Southern home ; 
 but some of the impressions of so artless and inexperi- 
 enced a traveller have a novelty and freshness that can- 
 not fail to inspire interest. She had never seen a car, 
 and when she first saw a train rushing towards the 
 depot, with the iron monster at its head, belching fire 
 and smoke and screeching like a tortured demon, she 
 started as if a fiend from the infernal regions was ap- 
 proaching her. But when she found herself borne along 
 with such supernatural velocity ; when she felt herself 
 winged over hill and dale with equal speed ; when trees, 
 rocks, and buildings went racing by. at a rate that 
 mocked her credulity, she was exhilarated, excited — she 
 felt the joy of motion. And, though the thundering 
 sound of the machinery drowned the accents she most 
 loved to hear, she was seated at her husband's side — his 
 hand was clasped in hers — his eye ever answered, with 
 assuring love, the timid glance of hers. She now dwelt 
 
 (178) 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 179 
 
 far less on the memories of the past than the hopes of 
 the future. 
 
 She had never been on board a steamboat. She had 
 never even seen those eagles of the river, with beaks of 
 fire and breath of smoke, skimming the foaming waters. 
 Born in a little inland town, whose winding stream bore 
 no heavier vessel than the school-boy's light canoe, and 
 confined by circumstances to one peculiar spot, it is not 
 strange she knew so little of the world beyond. The 
 first time she entered a boat it was in the night — and it 
 was in the dark night. The river looked of inky black- 
 ness, in contrast with the blazing light proceeding from 
 the fiery bowels of the machinery. The black smoke 
 rolled above-in long, serpentine convolutions, spangled 
 with glittering red, while the imprisoned steam howled 
 in its iron tubes. As Eulalia walked the narrow plank 
 that bridged the water between the boat and the shore, 
 and which vibrated at every step of her light foot, she 
 clung impulsively to the hand of her husband, and dared 
 not cast her eye down to the cold abyss below. 
 
 "You are but a young traveller," said Moreland, 
 smiling at her childlike apprehensions, " but by and by 
 you will mind it no more than rambling by moonligh ■ 
 on your own green lawn." 
 
 As they stepped upon the deck, there seemed a com- 
 motion and a crowd that impeded their progress. A 
 man, bearing a torch, walked by the side of half a dozen 
 
180 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 others, who seemed bending under the weight of a heavy 
 burthen. 
 
 "Move one side," said one of them, "don't you see 
 there's a lady coming ?" 
 
 "Who is this?" asked Moreland, seeing that it was 
 the body of a man they were bearing, and moving so as 
 to intercept Eulalia's view of it. 
 
 "It is a negro," answered one, "who fell into the 
 river just now. The mate jumped in and got him out, 
 but I expect the poor fellow is drowned. He is a run- 
 away, and somebody told him his master was behind. 
 In running over the plank his foot slipped, and in he 
 went." 
 
 " He may be resuscitated," exclaimed Moreland. "I 
 once restored a man to life, myself. Carry him on, and 
 I will follow immediately." 
 
 Eulalia, as her husband almost carried her by, caught 
 one glimpse of the face, on which the torchlight threw 
 a strong, red gleam, and recognised the features of the 
 gigantic negro whom her father had once made his 
 guest. 
 
 "Good heavens !" she cried, "it is Nat, The Giant !" 
 (By this name he had announced himself, and the villa- 
 gers always added the apposition of Nat.) 
 
 Sick and faint, she turned from the dripping form, 
 and leaned on her husband's shoulder for support. 
 
 "I must leave you now," said he, when they reached 
 the ladies' cabin. " If we succeed in resuscitating the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 181 
 
 poor fellow, I will return and tell you. I grieve for the 
 shock you have received ; but let it not, I entreat you, 
 depress your spirits. Retire to your berth, and you 
 will sleep as gently as if rocked in a cradle bed." 
 
 " Oh, no, I shall not sleep to-night — but do not think 
 of me. Do what you can for the drowned man. Poor 
 fellow ! I am not afraid of him now." 
 
 Eulalia lingered at the door, listening to the music of 
 Moreland's retreating footsteps, for it was music to the 
 dreary blank of her feelings — then entered the cabin 
 with a sinking heart. Could she only have sat up on 
 deck with him, with nothing but the starless night 
 around them, she would have been happy ; but she felt 
 so strange, so very strange, so unaccustomed to the scene 
 in which she found herself, she hardly knew what to do. 
 The berths were all occupied but one — an upper one, 
 which the chambermaid directed her to occupy. She 
 did not like to commit herself to this very smart and 
 independent-looking girl ; but the idea of mounting so 
 lofty a couch was quite terrific to her. She expected to 
 see some steps or ladder for her accommodation ; but 
 she discovered she must do without, unless the angels 
 came down and made her one, as they did in Jacob's 
 dream. 
 
 Most of the passengers were unawakened by the 
 bustle on deck ; but one old lady had risen and was 
 seated in a rocking-chair, which seesawed one way, 
 while the boat rocked another, in the strong gust of the 
 
182 THE PLANTER'S NORTIIERN BRIDE. 
 
 swelling 'wind. She presented a very extraordinary 
 figure, and had not Eulalia's mind been saddened by the 
 dreadful accident which had just occurred, she would 
 have found it difficult to suppress her smiles. A loose 
 wrapper enveloped her person, and over this a large 
 blanket shawl was pinned, so that the folds rose above 
 the ears, making her appear as if her head were sinking 
 out of sight. A broad strip of flannel passed over the 
 top of her head and was pinned under her chin. As 
 her face was very pale and long and meagre, this band 
 gave her a most shocking and corpselike appearance. 
 Eulalia, disposed as she was to view everything in its 
 fairest light, thought she saw the Nightmare embodied 
 before her ; and not knowing the lady's name, she iden- 
 tified her by that in her mind. She did not like to look 
 at her, though she perceived that she was an object of 
 intense scrutiny herself. Unwilling to retire till she had 
 heard the tidings her husband had promised to bring 
 her, she took a seat at a respectful distance from the 
 formidable lady, and taking off her bonnet, began to 
 arrange her beautiful but somewhat disordered hair. 
 
 " This is going to be a stormy night," said the Night- 
 mare. " There isn't a star to be seen, and the clouds 
 are as black as charcoal. Don't you see how the boat 
 rocks ?" 
 
 "Does it rock more than usual?" asked the ignorant 
 Eulalia. 
 
 "Why, can't you tell, yourself?" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 183 
 
 " It is the first time I was ever in a steamboat. I 
 thought they always rocked in this manner." 
 
 "No, indeed. You ain't much of a traveller, then." 
 
 "This is my first journey, madam." 
 
 " Indeed ! Where did you start from ?" 
 
 "I came from Massachusetts, and" — anticipating the 
 next question — "from the town of ." 
 
 " How far are you going to travel ?" 
 
 "As far as Georgia." 
 
 "Ah! you are going South, are you? Well, I am 
 sorry for you ; for a meaner country there never was on 
 the face of the whole earth. Are you going to teach 
 school there?" 
 
 "No, madam." 
 
 "A governess in a private family, perhaps?" 
 
 "No, madam," answered Eulalia, a mischievous smile 
 playing on her lip. 
 
 "You are not travelling alone, are you?" 
 
 "No, madam." 
 
 "You look too young to be married !" 
 
 Eulalia was silent. 
 
 " May I ask what you are going to the South for ?" 
 
 "For a home." 
 
 " Ah, poor thing ! you are an orphan, I suppose. 
 Take my advice, and try to get a living where you are. 
 They are the proudest folks there that ever lived, and 
 they look upon poor people as no better than white 
 negroes. I lived a year there myself, and know what 1 
 
184 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 am saying. I have a daughter married in North Caro 
 lina, and I went on to make her a visit. Her husband 
 is not a Southern man himself. He was born in Ver- 
 mont ; but, when he was quite young, he went to the 
 South and taught school. He made a good deal of 
 money that way (it is a good place to make money, 
 tnere's no denying that), — bought a farm and some 
 negroes, and then came home and married my daughter. 
 They had been engaged three years. Nothing would 
 do, but I must come on and see them, and I was fool 
 enough to go." 
 
 "'What did you dislike so much?" asked Eulalia, 
 early impressions crowding on her mind. 
 
 "Oh! everything, — the country, the people, their 
 way of living, their style of building, and, worse than 
 all, the lazy, dirty, good-for-nothing negroes ! They did 
 not do as much work in one week as a white servant will 
 accomplish in one day ; you have to look after them all 
 the time, and keep everything under lock and key." 
 
 " They were not unkindly treated, then," said Eula- 
 lia, " or they would have worked harder, I suppose ?" 
 
 " They were treated a great deal too well, I think. 1 
 went there, expecting to see a great deal of cruelty ; but 
 it was not so, excepting now and then I would hear of 
 such a thing, but I never saw it. My son-in-law used to 
 bluster and threaten a great deal, but his threats were 
 never put in execution ; and my daughter was a timid, 
 inexperienced thing, ten times more afraid of them than 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 185 
 
 they of her. I tried to set matters right, while I stayed, 
 but they only grew worse. I could not put up with the 
 saucyness of the negroes. They would not call me any- 
 thing but old mistress, and my daughter Miss Lucy, as 
 if she was not a married woman." 
 
 " Did your daughter seem very unhappy ?" 
 
 " No ! It provoked me to see her so contented, buried 
 in the pine-woods, living in a log cabin, no neighbour 
 within a mile's distance, no visiters, except those who 
 came to stay all day or all night. To be sure, she had 
 everything that was comfortable and plentiful ; her hus- 
 band is very kind, and she thinks there is nobody like 
 him. She even seems attached to the negroes, and says 
 she takes pleasure in providing for their wants." 
 
 "I thought you said she was afraid of them. 1 
 should think that would make her very uncomfortable." 
 
 " She will not acknowledge it, though I know she is, 
 by the soft tone in which she always speaks to them. 
 Who is that?" 
 
 A tap at the door made Eulalia spring from her 
 seat, for she was sure it was her husband. And so it 
 was. His thoughtful, serious countenance suggested 
 what his lips confirmed, their efforts were unavailing. 
 Nat the Giant had indeed finished his wanderings, and 
 was destined for a gloomier home than the Dismal 
 Swamp of Virginia. 
 
 "I fear you may be sea-sick," he added; "for the 
 night is very tempestuous. I have told Albert to bring 
 
186 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 you a glass of brandy, which is said to be a sovereiga 
 remedy." 
 
 Eulalia shook her head and smiled ; but she, never- 
 theless, took the glass from Albert's hand, because 
 Moreland had prescribed it, and she would not seem 
 ungrateful for his soothing attentions. She was certain 
 she would not need it herself, but perhaps her friend the 
 Nightmare might, who was listening eagerly behind the 
 half-open door. 
 
 "Who is that gentleman?" asked she, when Eulalia 
 returned into the cabin. 
 
 "My husband, madam." 
 
 " Why, I thought you said you were not married." 
 
 "I did not deny the fact." 
 
 " You did not say anything, which was the same 
 thing. Who was that with him ?" 
 
 "Albert, his servant." 
 
 "His slave, you had better say." 
 
 " His slave, then," replied the weary young bride, 
 placing the glass on the table, for the boat rocked so, 
 the dark, amber fluid threatened to overflow. 
 
 " What's that in that tumbler ?" continued the perse- 
 vering inquisitor, though fully aware of its generous 
 contents. 
 
 " A remedy for sea-sickness, my husband says. Are 
 you troubled with it ?" 
 
 1 Yes, dreadfully ! I have been sick ever since the 
 wind began to blow, but I never make any complaint. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 187 
 
 That is the reason I left my berth, I thought I should 
 feel better sitting up. Oh ! mercy, how the boat pitches, 
 I am as sick as death." 
 
 Her lower jaw fell down so frightfully, her eyes rolling 
 upwards at the same time, that Eulalia was alarmed, and 
 hastened to offer her the brandy. She swallowed a 
 copious draught, which seemed to revive her. 
 
 "I ought to have diluted this with water," said 
 Eulalia. " You must pardon me, I did not think of it. 
 It must have burned your throat very badly." 
 
 "It has more effect that way," answered the old lady ; 
 " and I can bear anything better than this awful sick- 
 ness. Your husband is a thoughtful man." 
 
 Eulalia devoutly hoped the anodyne would compose 
 her new friend to sleep, for her own eyelids began to 
 be heavy from fatigue. While preparing for rest, she 
 cast many a glance at her airy bed, wondering how she 
 was to attain so undesirable an elevation; but the diffi- 
 culty, like most others, vanished in the act of overcoming 
 it. A light spring was all that was needed, and she 
 looked down in triumph on the flannel-girdled head, 
 sinking in its dark recess. As she lay perfectly still, 
 she supposed the old lady imagined her asleep, for, be- 
 fore she deposited herself in her own berth, she stole to 
 the table and took another portion of the sovereign re- 
 medy. It was probably caused by a sudden tilt of the 
 boat, but the last drop went down her throat, and an 
 empty glass was left upon the table. 
 
188 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Do you feel worse?" asked Eulalia, thinking her 
 throat must be a chimney, to bear such a fiery draught, 
 and willing to let her know that she observed the appro- 
 priation of the fluid. 
 
 " Oh, yes, a great deal worse. I don't think I could 
 have lived till morning, if it had not been for this me- 
 dicine. Your husband is a good man — a thoughtful, 
 kind-hearted man. I am grateful for his goodness. 
 Oh ! mercy ! how my head aches ! I have the rheuma- 
 tism in my head terribly. I must have caught it in 
 North Carolina, for I never had it before I went there." 
 
 The old lady continued to talk, till her voice seemed 
 to mingle with the wail of the night-gust, the murmur 
 of the waters, and the heavy plunging sound of the en- 
 gine, so monotonous and dreary. Eulalia could not 
 sleep. That large, black, dripping form, with glazed, 
 half-opened eyes, and mouth through which the ghastly 
 ivory gleamed, seemed lying before her, huge, cold, and 
 still. Was it not an evil omen, that it should thus meet 
 her on the very first step of her watery way ? More- 
 land had told her the history of his crimes, but the last 
 victim is the one most deeply pitied. She tried to rid 
 herself of the hideous image that haunted her couch. 
 There it lay — a black, gigantic barrier between her and 
 the fair, flowery land to which her bridegroom's hand 
 was leading her. The excitement of her imagination 
 was owing, in a great measure, to the close, oppressive 
 air of the cabin, which was made still more oppressive 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 189 
 
 by the odour of the burning oil. Could she have seen 
 the waters dashing round the paddle wheels, and roaring 
 behind the boat ; could she have seen the trees rustling 
 and bowing in the wind, as they went hurrying and 
 thundering by, the sense of sublimity would have ab- 
 sorbed that of terror; but her inexperience magnified 
 the rushing sound of the river, into the wrath of whiten- 
 ing billows, and the moan of the stormy night-gust into 
 the wail of the wrecking tempest. At length, a misti- 
 ness stole over her mind, and it seemed as if she heard 
 low, soft, sweet strains rising on the rising blast, 
 
 "Softening the raven down of darkness 
 Till it smiled." 
 
 The melody, at first indistinct as a mist, condensed 
 into a rich cloud of music, and then came down in a 
 shower of divine words — words such as often ascended 
 from her own household shrine, breathed by her mo- 
 ther's gentle voice and Dora's cherub lips. She fancied 
 she could hear them gliding in that close, stifling cabin, 
 bringing messages of earthly and heavenly love — 
 
 " Through all the changing scenes of life, 
 In trouble and in joy, 
 The praises of my God shall still 
 My heart and tongue employ." 
 
 "Oh! how sweet! Oh! how comforting!" thought 
 Eulalia. " Bless thee, gentle mother — thou art follow- 
 ing in spirit thy wandering daughter. Bless thee, too, 
 
 147 
 
190 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 sweet sister-child ! I feel thy little arms entwining 
 my neck — thy loving head nestling in my bosom. And, 
 oh! I feel too that a lore stronger even than thine, my 
 mother, or thine, my darling sister, is near to protect 
 and bless me. And God over all — the God of my 
 fathers — the God of my home. Let me sleep when such 
 blessings make a golden guard around me." 
 
 And sweetly, soundly did the young traveller sleep, 
 till the awakening day. 
 
 "What a change did the morning sunshine bring ! 
 Eulalia, with the elastic feelings of a child, rebounded 
 from despondency to rapture. Leaving all her compa- 
 nions still asleep in their berths, her voluble friend, the 
 old lady, fortunately passive under the influence of the 
 "sovereign remedy" — she stole on deck and joined her 
 husband in a morning promenade, delightful and exhi- 
 larating beyond expression. The stormy wind was lulled 
 into a gentle breeze that curled the face of the river into 
 ten thousand dimples, and in every dimple a silver sun- 
 beam sparkled. Not a solitary cloud, not even a white 
 one as large as the wing of a dove, flecked the blue of 
 the heavens. Bright, clear, resplendent they bent their 
 eternal arch above ; — bright, trembling, sparkling, they 
 looked up from the sunlit depths below. All the time 
 the boat went gliding onward with a motion graceful and 
 uniform as the bird's, whose pinions were cleaving the 
 azure sky, and the green shores smiled and the tall treea 
 bowed as they passed. Eulalia, leaning on the arm of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 191 
 
 Moreland, and borne on without any will of her own, 
 through the most enchanting scenery she had ever wit- 
 nessed, felt the happiest of human beings. The love- 
 light kindled in her eye, and coloured with a brighter 
 tint the pale rose of her cheek. That grand, that beau- 
 tiful river, how it swelled in comparison with her own 
 native stream, she had once thought so broad and afflu- 
 ent ! How the world enlarged upon her vision ! How 
 her spirit amplified within her ! 
 
 The bell which summoned them to the breakfast table 
 opened upon her a new and less attractive scene. 
 Glancing along the line of strange faces that margined 
 the board, she recognised her old friend, who nodded 
 very familiarly, and pushed forward to a seat nearly 
 opposite. Instead of the swathing band of flannel, she 
 wore a black silk kerchief over her head, the ends of 
 which were fastened under her chin by a large glass 
 breast-pin. The white border of a cap peered from 
 under this gloomy head-gear, and contrasted as strongly 
 with the sallow hue of her complexion as it did with the 
 sable folds that so nearly shrouded it. Near her, but 
 evidently having no connexion with her, was a young 
 and blooming girl, whose bright, ingenuous eyes rested 
 on the bridal pair with such undisguised admiration, 
 they could not but forgive the scrutiny, for the sake of 
 the sentiment which inspired it. Eulalia's heart felt 
 drawn towards her by a congenial charm, and, by the 
 magnetic telegraph which passes from soul to soul, they 
 
192 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 understood each other's thoughts and emotions. There 
 was a gentleman on her right, "whose thoughts she could 
 also read, and they were not an agreeable study. He 
 had a coarse, vulgar look, self-satisfied and pompous 
 withal ; satisfied with himself but at variance with the 
 rest of the world. There were two perpendicular wrin- 
 kles between his brows, and the strong lines round his 
 mouth and at the corners of his eyes denoted habitual 
 discontent. He was well dressed, but that air of unmis- 
 takeable refinement which marks the gentleman was 
 wanting. In the course of the breakfast, Albert came 
 in, and, standing behind his master, said something to 
 him in a very low, respectful tone. The eyes of the 
 bourgeois gleamed with a peculiar expression. They 
 fastened upon Moreland, and perused his lineaments with 
 an insatiable stare. They devoured the features and 
 figure of the mulatto, with a kind of malicious curiosity 
 mingled with triumph. Moreland did not notice this 
 rude and prolonged gaze, being engaged in earnest con- 
 versation with a gentleman whom he had met in Boston, 
 and whose intelligence, liberality, and courtesy had then 
 made a deep impression on him ; but Eulalia did, and 
 she was sure Moreland had an enemy in this scowling 
 stranger, though he knew it not. She wanted to put 
 him on his guard, but sought in vain for the opportunity. 
 The old lady, whose name was Haskell, fastened herself 
 upon her like the old man of the sea, in the cabin, on 
 the deck, wherever she went. She talked to her till her 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 193 
 
 ears grew dizzy with the continuous buzzing. For- 
 tunately the effect of her proximity was somewhat neu- 
 tralized by the companionship of the bright-eyed, bloom- 
 ing girl, who beautified, with the garlands of her youth, 
 the hoar ruins of age. 
 
 In the mean time, Moreland found himself drawn into 
 a vortex which he vainly endeavoured to shun. He dis- 
 liked coming in collision with the rough and ignorant, 
 and for this reason avoided, as far as was compatible 
 with politeness, his frowning neighbour of the breakfast 
 table. But he would not be avoided ; he forced himself 
 into his path, followed him into the social hall, and 
 dragged him into the depths of disputation. Nor was 
 this all. It was only preliminary to a direct personal 
 attack, which the high-spirited Southerner, driven to 
 the defensive, indignantly repelled. 
 
 " Sir," said the man, who bore the name of Horsely, 
 " I believe you are from the South ?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " There are a great many Southerners travelling North 
 now-a-days." 
 
 Moreland was silent. 
 
 " I should not think they would like coming into this 
 part of the country so well. They must meet with a 
 great many things that are not agreeable to them." 
 
 " They do," was the emphatic reply. 
 
 "I wonder they ever think of bringing their slaves 
 with them. It seems to me downright madness. Sir, 
 
194 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 there are men 'who think it their duty to enlighten these 
 poor, degraded beings, and let them know what their 
 real condition is. Sir, I am one of that class ; I am no 
 hypocrite ; I do nothing in the dark. I give you fair 
 warning. I would tell your mulatto to his face, if he 
 were present, that he was a free man, — as free as I am, 
 as free as you are yourself, sir, and that you have no 
 right to hold him in bondage." 
 
 " Tell him so," replied Moreland haughtily. " I am 
 not intimidated by such a threat. He has been told so 
 a hundred times already. He has been told so in the 
 city and the country, in the bar-room and the street, — it 
 has been rung in his ears with trumpet-tongues. He 
 has heard all that you can tell him, yet you may repeat 
 it a thousand times more, if you will. He will not leave 
 me. 
 
 " It seems that all your slaves are not as faithful," 
 replied Horsely, w T ith a sneer. " The poor fellow who 
 was drowned last night, preferred, it would appear, the 
 river's bed to the tender mercies of the master from 
 whose pursuit he was fleeing, and whose approach drove 
 him to desperation." 
 
 " Do you imply that I had any interest in that wretch, 
 beyond what humanity inspires ?" 
 
 " A master's interest, as far as that goes. At least, I 
 have been told so." 
 
 Moreland's face reddened, but he preserved his calm- 
 ness of tone. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 195 
 
 " You are mistaken, sir. I know the master of that 
 man, — a kind, just, humane man. This negro, whose 
 herculean strength was only equalled by his dark, strong 
 passions, was a very dangerous individual. For the 
 robbery and attempted murder of his master, he fled, 
 and has long imposed upon the credulity of the public, 
 by his false, demoniac tales. He, who deserved the 
 hangman's rope, has been exalted to the honours of 
 martyrdom, and all the opprobrium of his crimes trans- 
 ferred to their innocent victim." 
 
 " This may be so," cried Horsely, with an incredulous 
 shrug of the shoulders ; " but you cannot deny that 
 many and many a poor fugitive slave has escaped from 
 cruelty and oppression, to our free and sheltering institu- 
 tions. These are facts that stare you in the face. You 
 cannot shut them out. The eyes of the North are 
 opened to the wrongs of the slave, and as sure as there 
 is a God of justice and mercy, those wrongs will yet be 
 redressed. Why, I have heard stories told by some of 
 these poor starving fugitives myself, that almost turned 
 me to stone. You do not pretend to say they are all 
 lies ?" 
 
 " I grant that some of these tales of cruelty are true ; 
 for, that man is sometimes a deadly tyrant, the annals 
 of history too darkly prove. But, generally speaking, 
 they are nothing but gross fabrications, invented to 
 enlist the sympathies of credulous fanatics. Why, if we 
 opened our homes and our hearts to all the criminals and 
 
196 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 vagrants of the North ; if we enticed them by hopes of 
 gain, and bribed them by promises of reward, our beau- 
 tiful South would soon become a Botany Bay, and its 
 orange bowers peopled with the vilest convicts. I'll tell 
 you what I saw, not many weeks since, in passing 
 Charles's river bridge— not in the darkness of night, but 
 the blaze of day. There was a rushing sound of tram- 
 pling feet ; a dark cloud of men gathering and hurrying 
 on in the eagerness of pursuit. A fugitive was borne 
 on before that cloud, as if on the wings of a mighty 
 wind. He was a white man. The cry of "murder" 
 rose from the mob and rung over tho river. One mo- 
 ment and the fugitive would have been arrested; but he 
 vaulted over the railing, plunged into the water, and was 
 drowned, even like the gigantic felon, the responsibility 
 of whose fate you have been endeavouring to roll on me. 
 Bid I condemn the Bostonians as a cruel, bloodthirsty 
 people, because the cry of blood for blood, which rung 
 in the ears of the first murderer, went up in their midst ? 
 Did I attribute this crime to their institutions, or to the 
 strength of man's unlicensed passions, which, whether 
 at the North or the South, scatter ruin and death in 
 their path ? I heard of worse things than this — of men 
 in the high walks of life, butchered like the beasts of 
 the stall, mangled and cut up and burned, till every 
 trace of the human form was extinct ; and I did not 
 impute it to the social system to which they belonged, 
 but to that spirit of man, which, when divorced from 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN ERIDE. 197 
 
 God, is given up to the dominion of demons and the 
 powers of darkness. One w ould suppose, to hear you 
 talk, that the North was one wide garden of the Lord, 
 where nothing but the peaceable fruits of righteousness 
 grow — and the South a howling wilderness of sin and 
 crime and pollution." 
 
 '•You draw your own conclusions," said Horsely, 
 knitting his brows with vexation. " I said no such 
 thing. I do say, however, that the North is a peaceable 
 country — the best country in the world. Here, every 
 man attends to his own business — " 
 
 "Pardon me," interrupted Moreland; "there cer- 
 tainly are some exceptions." 
 
 Some of the auditors who had gathered near to listen 
 to the conversation laughed aloud at liorsely's discon- 
 certed and angry countenance. Looking fiercely at the 
 offenders, he withdrew, resolved to whet his weapons for 
 a new conflict. ^Meeting with Albert, he gave vent to 
 his exasperated feelings, lashing the master over the 
 slave's back~T7 He told him that he was a fool to stay in 
 a state of bondage, when freedom was in his reach ; that 
 he had only to claim his birthright, and he would find 
 himself surrounded by a body-guard of friends and sup- 
 porters. Albert laughed, and said that he was as free 
 as any one whom he saw — that he would not change 
 places with anybody. He had money enough and lei- 
 sure enough, and the best master that ever lived. 
 
 "Can't catch this boy with chaff, master," said the 
 
108 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 mulatto, turning on his heel and showing his white and 
 glittering teeth. 
 
 Shall we follow our travellers wave by wave, till the 
 boat is exchanged for the thundering car, the car again 
 for one of the floating palaces of the river ? $hall we 
 describe Eulalia's parting with the garrulous old lady 
 and the rose-cheeked maiden, whose faces she never ex- 
 pected to behold again, but which would long remain in 
 the picture-gallery of memory ? Or shall we pass over 
 these varying yet monotonous scenes, and arrive at the 
 moment when the planter welcomed his Northern bride 
 to his home in the dew-dropping South ? One more 
 scene on a boat, by way of contrast. A night of moon- 
 light gentleness and peace, when drawing nearer ana 
 nearer the wished-for haven ; the soft, bland atmo- 
 sphere of a Southern clime smoothed and uncurled the 
 wrinkled surface of the water, as soon as the vessel had 
 ploughed its liquid face. They were on the sea — the 
 deep, deep sea, and though gliding comparatively near 
 the coast, it was invisible to the eye, and the view had 
 all the boundlessness and grandeur of the ocean's midst. 
 Eulalia sat on deck, by her husband's side, with glory 
 above her and glory below, and both the downward and 
 the upward glory were reflected on her soul, making an 
 intense inward glory, which was again reflected resplen- 
 dently from her face. Gently rocked on the undulating 
 waters, cradled on the arm of Moreland — that arm which 
 seemed to her as the wing of an angel, protecting and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 199 
 
 sheltering her — bathed in that calm, celestial light, that 
 deep, tranquil, silver ocean, whose horizon was another 
 silver ocean, distinguishable only by a kind of quiver- 
 ing splendour, fanned by a pure and inspiriting breeze, 
 Eulalia approached nearer a state of beatitude than she 
 had ever dreamed of attaining. Oh ! to be borne on 
 for ever over those rippling diamonds, thus companioned, 
 soul linked to soul, heart bound to heart — looking up to 
 heaven, seeing nothing but heaven, earth only a memoiy, 
 something far off and separate — could there be a Para- 
 dise more holy and blissful ? 
 
 " There is but one thing wanting to complete the ma- 
 gic of the scene," said Moreland, in a low voice, after 
 they had gazed long and silently "on the moonlight 
 flood," "and that is music. Sing one song or hymn, 
 my Eulalia, such as I have heard you sing, where the 
 shadow of the sycamore leaves played upon your brow." 
 
 Eulalia looked up and smiled, while the moisture 
 gathered in her eyes. She was carried back to her 
 native home ; she was in the folding of a mother's arms ; 
 the fair locks of Dora fluttered against her cheek. She 
 sang one of the sweet and simple songs of her New Eng- 
 land village, and her nightingale voice floated over the 
 waters and echoed from the vine-wreathed bluffs by 
 which they were gliding. The passengers left the cabin 
 and drew softly near to listen. The pilot leaned over 
 the green railing to drink in a melody, liquid as the 
 waves over which it flowed. Albert came and stood be- 
 
200 the planter's northern eride. 
 
 hind his master, his bright though clingy face lighted up 
 with a rapturous expression, for the spirit of the negro 
 is tuned to harmony, and is strung with chords which 
 vibrate to the breath of music. 
 
 " "Well, I never heard anything that could beat that," 
 cried he, making a long and audible inhalation, after the 
 songstress paused, blushing at the notice she had at- 
 tracted. "Netty sings mighty sweet, but she can't 
 come up to that, no way she can fix it !" 
 
 " And who is Netty ?" asked Eulalia, not insensible 
 to this tribute of admiration, however humble. 
 
 " It's a yellow girl, that waits in the house, mistress," 
 replied Albert, with an air of consciousness, which 
 brought a smile to his master's face. " She goes sing- 
 ing about her work like a bird, and we can all work 
 better to hear her — and she, herself, too." 
 
 " You must know," said Moreland, " that Netty is the 
 object of Albert's especial admiration. To pay her for 
 her singing, he serenades her on the banjo, and some- 
 times puts in a flourish of the tambourine. I should not 
 wonder if we had a wedding one of these days, and 
 then you will see how finely we get up these things at 
 the South." 
 
 "Now, Mars. Russell," exclaimed Albert, putting 
 his red silk handkerchief to his face, "you knoAV you 
 say what you please. Miss Eulaly see for herself, 
 bimeby." 
 
 " I shall be glad to see Netty and all the servants," 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 201 
 
 said Eulalia, a shade of thought passing over her brow. 
 Then turning to Moreland, she added — " I fear I shall 
 make a poor, inefficient mistress. I shall look to you 
 for instruction and guidance. Though timid and inex- 
 perienced, you will find me, I trust, teachable and will- 
 ing to be instructed." 
 
 Albert, obeying his master's glance, retired, and was 
 soon stretched on the hurricane deck, looking up stead- 
 fastly at the moon, and wondering if Netty were not 
 looking at the same object. 
 
 " I have no misgivings for them," answered More- 
 land ; " they will adore you as a mistress, and rejoice 
 under your firm, yet gentle sway. You have every 
 attribute to win their admiration, as well as their love. 
 The negro has an intense appreciation of beauty and' 
 grace, and feels the influence of mental superiority. I 
 know you better than you know yourself, my too self- 
 distrusting bride. There is a greal deal of latent energy 
 reposing under those downy flakes of gentleness, and 
 should occasion require, it will wake and astonish your- 
 self by its power. I fear but one thing." 
 
 "And what is that?" asked Eulalia. 
 
 " Your own repugnance to the African race. You 
 must struggle with this from the first, and it will surely 
 be overcome. It is of unnatural birth — born of preju- 
 dice and circumstance. The few specimens you have 
 seen of the negroes have been of the most repulsive 
 kind. It is certainly a strong argument in favour of 
 
202 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 their condition at the South, that the free negro is gen- 
 erally far more degraded, more low in the scale of being, 
 than the slave. The air of freedom, which gives luxu- 
 riant growth to his vices, does not foster his peculiar 
 virtues. His social character degenerates. The philan- 
 thropists who interest themselves so much in his destiny 
 at home, leave him to his own resources when brought 
 within the sphere of their assistance. They will not 
 hold social communion with one on whom God has 
 affixed the seal of a darker dispensation. At a distance, 
 they stretch out their arms, and call him brother, and 
 exclaim, ' Are we not the children of the same Father V 
 but when near, they forget the ties of consanguinity, 
 and stand back with a holier than thou written on their 
 brows." 
 
 "My father doth not so," said Eulalia, with earnest- 
 ness ; " he took one of these wandering Parias by the 
 hand, and, making no distinction of colour, treated him 
 as a companion and friend. I tried to imitate his ex- 
 ample, for I believed it my duty ; but I cannot express 
 the abhorrence I felt, the struggle of principle with 
 inclination." 
 
 '•And how was your father's kindness repaid?" 
 
 " I am sorry to say, "with insolence and ingratitude. 
 When we ascertained his true character, I was glad to 
 believe that it was an instinctive horror of vice which I 
 felt, instead of a loathing for his kind." 
 
 " My dear Eulalia, God never intended that you and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 203 
 
 I should live on equal terms with the African. He has 
 created a harrier between his race and ours, which no 
 one can pass over without incurring the ban of societ}-. 
 The white woman who marries a negro, makes herself 
 ' n outcast, a scorn, and a byword. The white man 
 i ho marries a negress forfeits his position as a gentle- 
 man, and is excluded from the social privileges of his 
 brethren. This is the result of an inherent principle 
 of the human breast, entwined, like conscience, with our 
 vitality, and inseparable from it. The most ultra North- 
 ern philanthropist dare not contradict this truth. Ho 
 may advocate amalgamation with his lips, but in his 
 heart, he recoils from it with horror. He would sooner 
 see a son or daughter perish beneath the stroke of the 
 assassin than wedded to the African, whom he professes 
 to look upon as his equal and his friend. Nature has 
 marked a dividing line, as distinct as that which sepa- 
 rates the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and 
 the fishes of the sea. And why should any one wish to 
 violate this great law of nature, — this principle of homo- 
 geneousness ? The negro feels the attraction of his 
 kind, and forms, like ourselves, congenial ties." 
 
 "But, alas!" exclaimed Eulalia, "how often are 
 those ties broken by the rude hand of violence and 
 oppression. How many heart-strings are bruised and 
 torn by the stroke of the auctioneer's hammer. This is 
 an evil which, kind and feeling as you are, you must 
 deplore." 
 
204 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "I do ; and it is one which good masters avert, in 
 every possible manner. It is an evil which has never 
 yet approached my plantation or household, and never 
 shall, unless necessity lay3 its iron hand upon me." 
 
 " Ah ! if all masters were like you, slavery would be 
 robbed of its terrors and its gloom." 
 
 "I am no better than the majority, perhaps not as 
 good. I know of some bad masters, and, what is still 
 worse, bad mistresses ; but public opinion brands them 
 with its curse. Their character is considered as unna- 
 tural and execrable as the cruel and tyrannical parent 
 of the North. There is no such thing as irresponsible 
 power at the South. We are made responsible to man 
 as well as to God, as our tribunals of justice can prove 
 by abundant facts. But, my dear Eulalia, you will 
 soon judge for yourself. You will see the negro, not as 
 he is at the North, an isolated, degraded being, without 
 caste or respectability, — a single black line running 
 through a web of whiteness, — but surrounded with the 
 socialities of life, and, though doomed to labour, yet 
 free from the cares and anxieties that rest so heavily on 
 us. You will compare the reality of their condition 
 with the pictures drawn on your imagination, and make 
 your own commentaries. And now let us change the 
 subject, and think of the household joys that await us; 
 let us talk of the home that is to be gladdened by 
 your presence, and illumined by your love. Eulalia, I 
 feel that I owe you a sacred debt, one that my whole 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 205 
 
 life can never cancel. You have loved me in the face 
 of opposition, prejudice, and reproach. You have given 
 Hie a virgin's heart, and accepted in return one wounded 
 and betrayed. You have confided in my power to make 
 you happy, though so dark a cloud has rested on my 
 home. You have assumed the cares of maternity, 
 young and inexperienced as you are, under circum- 
 stances more painful than death creates. Let me go 
 on, Eulalia, and enumerate your claims on my honour, 
 devotion, and love, for you dream not of their existence, 
 in the lowliness of your self-estimation." 
 
 "No, no — let us talk of your child. You know not 
 how my heart yearns towards it ; how I long to fulfil 
 towards it a mother's duties !" 
 
 "I fear," said Moreland, and his eyes flashed up, 
 then darkened, under his suddenly contracted brows, — 
 "I fear you will find a father's as well as a mother's 
 duties devolving on you. Think me not a wretch, Eu- 
 lalia, but I cannot love my child. Though beautiful as 
 a cherub, I shun its sight, and shrink involuntarily from 
 its innocent caresses. I do not wonder you look at me 
 .so reproachfully, but it is in vain to endeavour to conceal 
 what you will so soon discover. It has never lacked for 
 tenderness, however, for my sister loves it as she doea 
 her own soul, and its black nurse feels for it more than 
 love — worship and adoration." 
 
 "And you too shall love it," said Eulalia, her face 
 lighted up with the holy expression of the Virgin Mo- 
 148 
 
206 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 ther. "You shall love it for my sake, if not for its 
 own. I shall make it a condition of my happiness and 
 affection. This little cherub will be to me a younger, 
 lovelier Dora, and I shall still retain my character of 
 ister-mother." 
 
 "I believe you to be the most irresistible," replied 
 Moreland, the dark expression passing from his counte- 
 nance, and the smile of the bridegroom returning, "as I 
 know you to be the most loveable of human beings. 
 Yes, for your sake I would promise to love the whole 
 universe. I would bind the North as well as the South 
 in one common embrace. You have already been to me 
 an angel of conciliation, softening the bitterness of my 
 feelings when made to drink the wormwood and the 
 gall distilled from the lips of rancorous prejudice. Oh ! 
 Eulalia ! you and Ildegerte will love one another. You 
 will find in her a dear and noble sister." 
 
 "Ildegerte !" repeated Eulalia, her voice lingering on 
 the name — "that is a Scandinavian name. It has a 
 peculiar sound." 
 
 " There is a noble romance in it, that suits well my 
 sister's high-toned character. My mother found it, I 
 believe, in some Runic legend, associated with the charm 
 of poetry and love. But see, the silver mist curling 
 along the shore. The river breeze wafts it in wreaths 
 around us. I cannot trust you any longer in this moon- 
 light, lovely as it is." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 207 
 
 Eulalia felt as if she were in a different world, when 
 immured once more in the close walls of the cabin ; but 
 her thoughts wandered to the world beyond — the Ultima 
 Thule of her hopes and wishes — her beautiful Southern 
 home. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The residence of Mr. Moreland to which he first bore 
 
 his Northern bride, was situated in the town of , 
 
 and about two days' journey from his plantation. It 
 was a large and handsome building, stuccoed and 
 painted in imitation of marble, surrounded by a piazza, 
 supported by massy pillars, which were covered with the 
 same artificial porphyry. A wide passage ran through 
 the centre of the house, opening into the garden through 
 doors of green lattice-work, and making a channel 
 through which waves of fresh air were constantly flowing. 
 The yard in front was laid out in terraces, and semi- 
 circular hedges of roses and cape jessamines enclosed 
 two airy and vine-mantled summer-houses, on either side 
 of the avenue. Two lofty oaks, whose gray trunks 
 were twined with the dark green ivy, stood as sentinels 
 over these domes of flowers, and gave an air of dignity 
 to the tasteful elegance of the scene. A hedge of cedars, 
 shaven on the top into a kind of table-land, on which 
 the gossamer spread its silvery wed, margined the yard, 
 and relieved by its deep, rich verdure, the white paling 
 
 (208) 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 209 
 
 that surrounded it. As this dwelling faced the east, the 
 cool evening shadows rested on the piazza, and made it 
 a pleasant gathering place in the after part of the day. 
 
 It might be supposed, that dwelling in a more sultry 
 clime, and warmed by the beams of a more burning sun, 
 the children of a Southern latitude would sink in a las- 
 situde and languor unknown at the North. But it is 
 not so. It is true, during the noonday heat, when the 
 very flowers bow their heads before the intensity of 
 meridian glory, they yield to the pervading influence ; 
 but when the heat begins to assume a mellow, golden 
 tint, they come out in the open air, that revels in their 
 ample piazzas or airy verandahs, and their spirits acquire 
 the freshness, elasticity, and buoyancy of the breeze 
 that fans them. 
 
 At such an hour as this, we will introduce the mem- 
 bers of the household, over which our Northern bride 
 now presides. 
 
 Do you see that lady, seated by one of the pillars, 
 with the vine-leaves which entwine it, resting like a 
 chaplet on her black and shining hair ? Her eyes, of 
 the same colour as her hair, have the softness and rich- 
 ness of satin, though a spark in the centre, of quick, 
 flashing light, shows that there is fire beneath that 
 gentle brilliancy. Her figure is slender and pliant, and 
 her hand, which plays with the green leaves that crown 
 her, is dazzlingly fair. It is Ildegerte, the sister of More- 
 land ; and that very pale, delicate, fair-haired, blue- 
 
210 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 eyed young man, seated near her, is her husband. A 
 more striking contrast in personal appearance could 
 scarcely be presented. She, radiant in blooming health, 
 — he, pallid, drooping, languid, the victim of a consti- 
 tutional malady. Of Northern birth, Richard Laurens 
 brought to the South the germs of hereditary consump- 
 tion, too deeply seated to admit of remedy or cure. 
 Since his marriage, they have developed themselves 
 with fatal rapidity, and every one but his young wife 
 reads the doom that is written on his emaciated and 
 altered features. She will not see it. The cough that 
 racks his frame is the result of a cold, — nothing but a 
 cold ; his debility, the effect of the summer heat ; his 
 variable and fastidious appetite, caused by want of 
 exercise and change of air. There is a well-spring of 
 hope in her heart, inexhaustible as her love, and by 
 both these unfailing fountains the wilting blossoms of 
 her husband's life derive their chief renovation. He is 
 a physician, and has commenced the practice of his pro- 
 fession under the most favourable auspices ; but arrested 
 by disease, he is obliged to turn himself to the healing 
 art by which he had hoped to relieve the sufferings of 
 humanity. Poor fellow ! it is hard, with such brilliant 
 prospects before him, with so much to endear and enrich 
 life, — such a happy home, and, more than all, such a 
 beautiful and loving wife, — it is hard to think of dying. 
 He will not do it, — he cannot. He cannot give up 
 existence with such strong ties to bind him to it. They 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 211 
 
 are cable cords, and cannot be broken. On the morrow, 
 accompanied by his "wife, he is to commence a journey 
 to the West. The physician with whom he studied 
 resides in the Queen City of Ohio, — a man as highly 
 distinguished for genius and virtue as professional skil 1 . 
 He is sure of finding restoration with him. Miracles, 
 almost divine, might be expected from his touch. His 
 only regret is, that he has not sought his saving influ- 
 ence sooner. 
 
 You recognise Eulalia. There needs no new descrip- 
 tion of her peculiar and spiritual loveliness. She looks 
 at home in the midst of the refinements and elegancies 
 which wealth only can command. Her new household 
 dignity sits gracefully upon her. She is already familiar 
 with her duties, and no longer blushes when addressed 
 by the unwonted title of mistress. Even the name of 
 mamma, lisped by the little fairy frolicking round her, 
 has become a sweet and familiar sound to her ear. You 
 have never seen that three-year-old child — the child of 
 the misguided Claudia. The child whom the injured 
 Moreland did not, could not love ; because its mother's 
 spirit flashed from its eyes of gipsy hue and brightness. 
 But Eulalia says it has its father's smile, and that is 
 
 "All to love and her." 
 
 In the infantine face of little Effie, the features of 
 both parents are singularly combined, giving her a two- 
 fold and varying expression. Sometimes she looks at 
 
212 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 you with a bold, mischievous, ■wicked glance, as if she 
 mocked the very thought of restraint ; then again, an 
 exquisite softness will steal over her countenance, and 
 a gentle, winning smile beam with hereditary sweetness. 
 She is the spoiled child of indulgence, for Ildegerte 
 never could attempt to discipline the little deserted 
 orphan, and Aunt Kizzie, its black nurse and mammy, 
 would as soon have thought of cutting off her head, as 
 refuse to gratify its most unreasonable wishes. She is 
 an elf, a sprite, a fairy, a cherub, a tricksy, wayward, 
 fascinating little creature, that already gives its young 
 stepmother a world of anxiety. She makes a charming- 
 picture, does she not, at this moment ? She has been 
 running about the yard, pulling off the most beautiful 
 flowers (for hers are privileged fingers, and if the moon 
 and stars were reachable, they would have been plucked 
 long since for her gratification), and now, with her little 
 white apron full and overflowing with blossoms, she has 
 toiled up the steps and seated herself at the feet of Eu- 
 lalia, her cheeks glowing with exercise and her jetty 
 hair tossed back from her moistened brow. She stoops 
 down and sticks the flowers in the binding of Eulalia's 
 slippers ; she throws them sportively in her face, then, 
 clapping her hands, bursts into wild laughter, and, jump- 
 ing up, scatters the broken and remnant leaves in a 
 shower on the floor. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Effie ! you so bad," cries Aunt Kizzie, 
 waddling up behind her, her ebony face shining like the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 213 
 
 sun, and her thick African lips flattened in the broad 
 smile that parts them; "you make such a litter you 
 keep a body trotting arter you all day long. It mighty 
 hard work to be picking up trash, tho' it ben't much to 
 peak of." 
 
 Kizzie's audible grunt, as she stoops to gather up the 
 trash, is an emphatic commentary on her words. 
 
 "Never mind, Aunt Kizzie," says Eulalia, "let her 
 amuse herself. Netty can brush away the leaves." 
 
 "Bless your pretty face, mistress," exclaims the 
 nurse, straightening herself with another demonstration. 
 "You's got a heap of consideration. If it wer'n't for 
 the 'flammatory rheumatiz that took me last winter, I 
 wouldn't want Netty's help, no manner of way. But 
 praise the Lord, I'm up and living, and able to see arter 
 this blessed child. It never would let nobody do nothing 
 for't but Aunt Kizzie. Would it, honey?" 
 
 Effie crooked her dimpled elbow, and raising it above 
 her head, peeped at Kizzie through the triangular open- 
 ing with a cunning, mischievous expression, as much as 
 to say — " I make you do just what I please." 
 
 "Here, you Netty," said Kizzie, pointing with an air 
 cf authority to the floor, "wait on little missy." 
 
 Netty, a nice, trim-looking mulatto girl, with a yellow 
 handkerchief twisted coquettishly round her crisped yet 
 shining hair, was tripping across the passage, and imme- 
 diately obeyed the mandate of her sub-mistress ; for 
 
214 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 nurse is a person of great dignity, and speaks as one 
 having authority over the other servants. 
 
 "Move, little missy — just a leetle bit," cried Netty, 
 in a pleasant, coaxing voice, taking hold of her gently 
 ■with her left hand, while she held in her right a large, 
 mottled turkey wing. 
 
 "I won't," said Effie, pouting her red lips, and look- 
 ing defiantly at the mulatto. 
 
 " Can't you let her be ?" said Kizzie, reprovingly. 
 " What need of pestering her ?" 
 
 "But Effie, my darling," cried Eulalia, bending down 
 and speaking in a low, gentle voice, "it is very wrong 
 to say 'I won't.' If you do not like to do anything, 
 you must say 'I had rather not.' Will you not repeat 
 it after me ?" 
 
 "I won't," exclaimed the child, still more emphati- 
 cally, peering at her stepmother through her long black 
 lashes, with her elfish, glittering eyes. 
 
 "Do you expect to make that little witch mind you?" 
 exclaimed Ildegerte, bursting into a gay laugh. "I 
 should not think of teaching children obedience before 
 they were five years old." 
 
 " I should never expect it afterwards, if I had not 
 required it before," replied Eulalia gravely. "As soon 
 as a strong will is manifested, the discipline of the tem- 
 per should commence." 
 
 " One would think, to hear you talk, that you were a 
 grandmother Lois, if they did not look in your youthful 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE, 215 
 
 face," cried Ildegerte, laughing still more heartily. 
 " But pray make her say ' I had rather not.' It will be 
 the most amusing scene in the world. Here comes bro- 
 ther to witness it." 
 
 Moreland, entering at the back door, came forward in 
 a hunting dress of "Lincoln green," a rifle in his hand, 
 an Indian pouch swinging over his shoulder, from the 
 mouth of which protruded the brown heads of many a 
 partridge, hanging from limber and rumpled necks ; a 
 beautiful white pointer, spotted with bright bistre colour, 
 following his steps, with joyous bounds and a counte- 
 nance sparkling with human intelligence. 
 
 " Down, Fido, down !" he exclaimed, as the dog leaped 
 up and laid one of his quivering paws on his shoulder. 
 " I only allowed you to come in and pay your respects 
 to your mistress. Here, Eulalia, I lay my trophies at 
 your feet." 
 
 "Really, I am very weary," added he, throwing him- 
 self carelessly on the upper step and casting his pouch 
 at her feet; "but home seems doubly sweet, after 
 roughing it awhile in the woods. What has given you 
 such a beautiful colour, Eulalia?" 
 
 Eulalia was conscious of a bright glow on her cheeks, 
 in consequence of Ildegerte's playful but satirical re- 
 marks. She did not wish them repeated to Moreland, 
 knowing that he, too, believed a child of that age too 
 young to be disciplined into obedience — and that he 
 would naturally express that opinion in the hearing of 
 
216 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Eme, whose uncommon intelligence took in meanings 
 they imagined above her comprehension. 
 
 "Your -wife has been trying to make Effie obey her," 
 said Ildegerte. " Don't you think she has a task before 
 her?" 
 
 Moreland laughed, as Eulalia expected he would. 
 
 " Oh ! you must leave all that to Kizzie for the pre- 
 sent," said he. "Time enough, by and by, for you to 
 trouble yourself with her waywardness. But, tell me, 
 little despot," he cried to the child, who had been look- 
 ing earnestly in Eulalia's face the last minute, "what 
 have you been doing, to displease this gentle lady?" 
 
 "I — I — had rather not," cried Effie, a sweet, roguish 
 smile dimpling her round cheeks; "I had rather not." 
 
 "A miracle!" exclaimed Ildegerte, clapping her 
 hands. "Eulalia has triumphed. She must have the 
 gift of mao'ic." 
 
 "The Lord hear her!" cried Aunt Kizzie, who had 
 retired into the background at the coming of her master. 
 "Who'd a thought it, the little, knowing cherrup !" 
 
 While Ildegerte related, with sportive grace, to her 
 brother, the scene we have described, Eulalia lifted the 
 child in her arms, and covered her smiling face with 
 kisses. She was equally astonished and enchanted at 
 her docility, after witnessing so many instances of her 
 waywardness and obstinacy to others. Of all things, 
 1 sue had a horror of a spoiled child — that tyrant of a 
 household, more despotic than Nero, more formidable 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 217 
 
 than an army with banners. That Moreland did not 
 love the indulged and imperious little pet, whom Kizzie 
 declared to be "the living military of its mother," she 
 could not so much wonder ; but she wanted to make him 
 love her, to mould her into such moral loveliness that he 
 would be constrained to love her. She hailed this inci- 
 dent as an omen of success, as a proof of her own influ- 
 ence and the child's attraction towards her ; and again 
 caressing her, she told her she was a dear, good, sweet 
 child, and every one would love her better than they 
 had done before. 
 
 "I had rather not," whispered Effie in her ear, appa- 
 rently charmed with her new lesson, and repeating it 
 like a little parrot. 
 
 Moreland watched them both, till the exceeding ten- 
 derness he felt for Eulalia diffused itself over the child 
 she thus folded to her young and loving bosom. It 
 seemed to lose its painful resemblance to its mother, and 
 assimilate itself to her, who now filled that mother's 
 forfeited place. He longed to clasp them both in his 
 arms, and tell Eulalia the feelings with which his heart 
 was swelling. He could not help rising and bending 
 over the back of her chair, and saying, in those low 
 tones she had so often heard under the sycamore 
 boughs, 
 
 " Make her like yourself, Eulalia, all that is lovely 
 and good, and I will forget she ever had another 
 mother." 
 
218 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Eulalia bowed her head still lower over Effie's bloom- 
 ing face, to hide the tears that gushed into her eyes. 
 She wondered she had ever thought herself happy 
 before, so full was her content, so deep her gratitude. 
 In the brief moment of silence that followed, she lived 
 an age of thought. She travelled back to New England, 
 and blessed her mother for her inculcations of wisdom 
 and love. She travelled into the future, and saw her- 
 self surrounded by blessings that multiplied as she 
 gazed. She looked up into eternity, and prayed that 
 she might be true to the past and worthy of the future. 
 
 "What a sweet, lovely creature she is !" whispered 
 Ildegerte to her husband. " Who would believe that 
 the North gave birth to such an angel ?" 
 
 "You forget that I was born at the North," replied 
 her invalid husband, with a languid smile. 
 
 "Poor Richard !" said his wife, passing her hand 
 caressingly over his fair, waving locks, the only 
 youthful beauty which sickness had not dimmed and 
 impaired. " You will be yourself again when Dr. 
 Darley can prescribe for you. To-morrow, Richard, 
 you know we start to-morrow. I wish we had gone 
 ?ong ago." 
 
 " I wish so too, Ildegerte. Heaven grant that it may 
 not be too late. I sometimes think it is selfish in me 
 to take you with me, and expose you to all the incon- 
 veniences of travelling with a sick husband, — you, who 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 219 
 
 never knew what care or privation is. But, if I should 
 die, all I pray is, that it may be in your ams." 
 
 " Don't talk so, Richard. You will not die. You 
 will soon be as well as ever. You are so young, and 
 naturally so healthy. Even now, what a fine rosy 
 colour you have ! We shall enjoy so much travelling 
 together, and then the West is such a grand, magnifi- 
 cent region ! You forget that Crissy is to go with me, 
 the most faithful and attached creature in the world." 
 
 "We are going to a sad place to carry slaves," said 
 Laurens, dejectedly. " They will leave no means un- 
 tried to lure her from you. What a dreadful situation 
 you would be in, if I should die, and you be left alone 
 among strangers, many of whom are hostile to your best 
 interests." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, don't talk so, Richard. I don't 
 know what is the matter with you to-night. I never 
 saw you so desponding before. Did not brother take 
 Albert with him as far as Massachusetts ? was he not 
 beset by abolitionists on every side, and had one the 
 power to shake his loyalty and attachment ? I am sure 
 that Crissy loves me, better even than Albert loves his 
 master. She has a husband and children, too, whom 
 she will leave behind, and to whom she will be anxious 
 to return. I should as soon think of doubting your 
 affection as hers, Richard." 
 
 After supper, instead of returning to the piazza as 
 usual, they busied themselves in preparations for th6 
 
220 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 morrow. Moreland looked forward to the journey with 
 many hopes and many fears. He had heard so much 
 of Dr. Darley, that, like Laurens, he sometimes thought 
 he had omnipotent skill, and was invested, like the pri- 
 mitive disciples, with the healing touch. Under other 
 circumstances, he would gladly have accompanied his 
 sister ; but he could not leave his Northern bride — a 
 stranger in a strange land. Ildegerte did not ask or 
 wish such a sacrifice. She was so full of health and 
 hope and love, she saw no difficulties to deter them, no 
 obstacles to impede the holy pilgrimage for which she 
 was girding herself. 
 
 The trunks were packed, the little medicine chest 
 carefully attended to, and all things placed in the pass- 
 age, preparatory for the morning journey. Then a 
 feeling of blankness and oppression, succeeding unusual 
 bustle and excitement, settled coldly on the heart of Il- 
 degerte. Her hopefulness seemed suddenly extinguished, 
 and the future looked dark and threatening. All at 
 once, she realized the precarious tenure of her husband's 
 lease of life. If he should die in a land of strangers, 
 what would become of her ? Sitting down on her trunk, 
 "and leaning her head upon her hand, tears, which gushed 
 before she was aware, rained upon her lap. She could 
 hear his dry, continuous cough through the closed door 
 of her room, and never had it sounded so dismal, so 
 Knell-like before. Poor Ildegerte ! you should not have 
 seated yourself on that trunk, all locked and strapped 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 221 
 
 and labelled. It is a mournful seat, suggestive of 
 separation, uncertainty, and unknown trials. "Dr. R. 
 Laurens, Cincinnati, Ohio," written in large, black let- 
 ters on the lid of the other trunk, looks very much like 
 an inscription on a coffin. She tried to turn away from 
 it, but her eyes would be drawn back to the obituary 
 emblem. 
 
 "What is that, Crissy ?" she asked, as a negro woman 
 eame in, with something dark swinging from her arm, 
 something whose heavy flapping reminded her of a pall. 
 
 "Nothing but Mars. Richard's cloak, Miss Ilda. I 
 'fraid he miss it in the morning. Is that all, missus?" 
 
 "Yes. You had better go to bed, so as to wake bright 
 and early. But stop a moment, Crissy. What makes 
 you look so sober ? Do you feel badly about going 
 awaj ?" 
 
 "I hates to leave my old man and the little children, 
 just at the last pinch ; but I ain't going to make a fuss, 
 no how. You've got trouble enough of your own, mis- 
 sus, let alone being bothered with tother folks." 
 
 "I am sorry to take you from your family, Crissy, 
 but we shall not be gone very long ; and you know, 
 Mammy will take as good care of your children as if 
 they were her own. But I don't want you to go at all, 
 Crissy, if you are not willing. I can take Netty, who 
 has no husband nor children, and you can do her work 
 in the house, if Mrs. Moreland will consent. I pre- 
 ferred you, because t know what a good, kind nurse 
 140 
 
222 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 you are, and you have always been used to waiting on 
 me." 
 
 "Don't talk, Miss Ilda. Don't say nothing. It 
 hurts me mighty bad to hear you talk 'bout Netty's 
 going. She ain't fit for nothing but sweep house and 
 "^ing her fol-de-rols, jist as if we're all ear, no hands, no 
 feet, no nothing. No, no, Miss Ilda, I not gwine to 
 give up to no 'rangement of that sort. I hain't waited 
 on you this long to give my place to nobody — and you 
 sich a 'dulgent missus. You go, I go ; Mars. Richard 
 sick, I nuss him ; take care of you. Never mind Jim 
 and the children. Leave 'em to Lord Almighty. He 
 knows what's best." 
 
 " But, suppose they try to get you away from me, 
 Crissy, as they did Albert from brother ? Can I trust 
 you ? "Will you promise to be faithful to me, whatever 
 may betide ? I cannot say, as brother did to Albert, 
 'go, if you will,' for I shall have nobody to depend 
 upon but you." 
 
 Never before had Ildegerte acknowledged her de- 
 pendence on a menial. She had always been kind and 
 indulgent ; but there was a certain loftiness and self- 
 reliance about her that made her seem sufficient in her- 
 self for all things. But now, the strange oppression 
 of her feelings made her lowly, and she leaned uncon- 
 sciously on the sympathy and affection of the negro, 
 whose faithful attachment was coeval with her existence. 
 Crissy had not the young, bright, smart-looking appear- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 223 
 
 ance of Netty. She had a quiet, subdued air, and a 
 pale, grayish tinge dimmed the blackness of her skin. 
 She was thin, and had a slight cavity in her cheeks, 
 which gave her somewhat of a melancholy cast of coun- 
 tenance. Unlike the negroes in general, she exhibited 
 no fondness for gay colours, preferring drab to scarlet ; 
 her greatest finery consisting of a white apron and gold 
 ear-rings. The fine dresses and ornaments which Ilde- 
 gerte lavished upon her she loved to hoard, and every 
 , Sunday she had a grand review of her treasures, which 
 had an hebdomadal increase. The negro is generally 
 prodigal, having no need of forethought or care for the 
 supply of the morrow's wants. If he has money (and , 
 [be always does have money), he spends it; if fine | 
 clothes are given to him, he wears them, certain of a 
 future supply. But Crissy was an exception to the 
 
 h 
 
 general rule. She did love to hoard, and her chest, 
 \ always carefully locked, and covered with a spread of 
 white dimity, fringed with tasselled netting, was sacred 
 to her as the ark of the covenant to the children of 
 Israel. Netty — the gay, coquettish, warbling Netty — 
 called her a "stingy old thing," and teased her about 
 her clothes mouldering to pieces, stuck away in a musty 
 chest. She declared everything Crissy wore had a 
 mouldy smell and a moth-eaten look, and that her 
 money was gangrened, it had been put away so long. 
 In consequence of this hoarding propensity, which is 
 always linked with selfishness, Crissy was not a favourite 
 
 ft 
 
224 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 with the other servants ; but she was invaluable in the 
 household, for her neatness, industry, and fidelity. She 
 was endeared to Ildegerte by long habit, and her ex- 
 treme kindness in sickness. She was associated with 
 all the comforts of her childhood and the enjoyments of 
 her youth. She had another quality, remarkable in one 
 of her colour, wakefulness. The negro's sleep is deep 
 and sound as a magnetic slumber. He can sleep any- 
 where and everywhere, — reclining, sitting, standing, even 
 walking. He can sleep, we verily believe, on the ridge- 
 pole of a house, or the apex of a church-dome ; but 
 Crissy seemed a stranger to this soporific influence. 
 She was never caught napping or nodding in the day- 
 time, and the lowest sound of Ildegerte's voice awakened 
 her at night. This was probably owing to her unusual 
 prudence and forethought, anxious watchers by the bed 
 of the white man, but strangers to the couch of the 
 African. 
 
 Ildegerte inhaled the inspiration of hope with the 
 morning breeze. Richard had had such a quiet night, 
 such refreshing slumbers, was so brightened and encou- 
 raged himself, that she was quite ashamed of the 
 despondency of the preceding evening. They were to 
 travel the first day's journey in their own carriage, 
 Moreland accompanying them on horseback, so it seemed 
 more like an excursion of pleasure than the commence- 
 ment of a long and weary pilgrimage. 
 
 The travellers were seated in the carriage, Moreland 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. ZlO 
 
 mounted ready to escort them, Eulalia standing by one 
 of the lofty gate-posts, in the shade of a coral honey- 
 suckle, that climbing to its summit tossed its glowing 
 wreaths to the gale, so near him that her hand could 
 play with the horse's shining mane ; Kizzie, in all her 
 well-fed rotundity and consequential dignity, on the other 
 side, holding little Effie in her arms, who frisked from 
 shoulder to shoulder, not forgetting an occasional vault 
 to the top of her head, in her wild, elfish pranks ; and 
 a row of household negroes, gathered in a body-guard 
 round the carriage. But where was Crissy ? Every- 
 thing was ready but Crissy. A messenger was des- 
 patched to hasten her movements, when she appeared 
 with a large bundle on her head, while Jim toiled on 
 after her with a tremendous box on Ms head, so large 
 and heavy it seemed to flatten it on the top into a pan- 
 cake form. 
 
 "What are you going to do with that box, Jim?" 
 inquired his master. 
 
 " Don't know, massa. It's Crissy's plunder. She 
 tell me to tote it to the carriage." 
 
 " That box ! that big, heavy, clumsy thing !" ex- 
 claimed Ildegerte, impatiently. " Why, Crissy, you 
 must be crazy, to think we could carry that. It can 
 never go in the world. And here you have kept us 
 waiting half an hour already." 
 
 " I'm obleeged to take my clothes, missus. Hain't 
 got nothing else to put 'em in." 
 
226 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 " You miglit have had that small trunk in my dressing 
 closet. Why didn't you tell me before?" cried Ilde- 
 gerte, laughing in spite of herself at Crissy's rueful 
 countenance. "Go, this minute, and put what you 
 need in that. Make haste. We ought to have been 
 gone an hour ago." 
 
 "Ain't you 'shamed to entertain your missus in this 
 way?" said Kizzie, removing Effie's foot from her 
 mouth, who was now frolicking all round her head. 
 " Go 'long. What you want to carry them duds to look 
 over every Sunday for ? Nobody wants to steal 'em. 
 Hi — smell too musty for me." 
 
 " Come 'long, Jim," said Crissy, giving a jerk to the 
 arm of her obedient Benedick, who went toiling back, 
 receiving as he went innumerable directions about taking 
 care of her property during her absence, and keeping 
 the moths from her woollen things. 
 
 " You had better go in, Eulalia," said Moreland, dis- 
 mounting, and coming to her side. "You will be weary 
 standing here. This is a specimen of the way our 
 servants entertain us, as Aunt Kizzie says. Now, I 
 think, in spite of the dreadful stories they tell of us, we 
 are a marvellously patient people." 
 
 "I think so too," cried Ildegerte, leaning from the 
 carriage-window, and pushing back the thick, shining 
 black tresses that fell over her forehead (for her bonnet 
 lay carelessly in her lap). " Tell me, my dear, sweet 
 Northern sister, do your servants at home take greater 
 
TIIE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 227 
 
 liberties than ours ? Are your Northern masters and 
 mistresses more enduring than this brother of mine, or 
 his very meek and forbearing sister ? Did you not 
 expect to see him spring from his horse and make Jim 
 and Crissy dance a gallopade through the yard to the 
 music of his whip ?" 
 
 "No, indeed," answered Eulalia, smiling, though 
 blushing at the recollection of what she would have 
 expected a few months ago. "I expected no such 
 thing. Neither did I expect to see you bear the delay 
 with so much grace and good-humour." 
 
 " Ilussell says I am the most impatient creature in 
 the world ; but don't believe him, sweet Eulalia. I 
 want you to think most kindly and lovingly of me while 
 I am gone, and imagine me all that is gentle and lovely 
 and of good report. As you have robbed me of the 
 first place in my brother's heart," she added, smiling 
 through the tears that gathered into her brilliant eyes, 
 "it is no more than just that you should indemnify me, 
 in some way." 
 
 " The place she occupies was never given to another," 
 replied Moreland, looking from Ildegerte to Eulalia, with 
 the tenderness of the brother and the love of the husband 
 beaming in his eyes. " It is one set apart, and holy 
 for an angel's residence." 
 
 " That's the way Richard used to talk," said she. 
 turning to the pale, fair-haired young man at her side : 
 " but he knows now that a woman is a better nurse than 
 
228 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 an angel would be. They can't make jellies and cus- 
 tards as well as we can, though they may be smarter in 
 other respects." 
 
 The reappearance of Jim and Crissy checked the 
 conversation. Jim looked as if he had sadly dwindled 
 with his diminished head-piece, and Crissy, as if she 
 had parted with her last friend, in the capacious box. 
 
 "Good by, Jim," said she, to her anxious spouse, who 
 was drawing his left hand briskly under his nose, while 
 he shook hands with her with his right ; " mind what I 
 tell you, and the children too." 
 
 "Now, Crissy, you 'member, you not to run away," 
 cried Jim, in a meek, snivelling voice; "if you do, you 
 'pent in saccloth and ashes." 
 
 "No danger !" exclaimed Albert, laughing; "she'll 
 be glad enough to come back, you see if she ain't. 
 May be they set her scrubbing too hard," continued 
 Albert, rubbing his elbows and knees, with a comica] 
 expression. " Give my respects to Mistress Grimby, 
 Crissy, may be you see her." 
 
 As the carriage-wheels rolled down the green slope 
 which led up to the house, Eulalia's tearful glance 
 followed their evolutions. Alas ! how much she feared 
 that those fair locks would lie low beneath the green- 
 sward of the West, and the sparkling light of Ildegerte's 
 eyes be quenched in the tears of widowhood. But her 
 last gaze was fixed upon the horseman, who ever and 
 anon turned and bowed his head and kissed his hand in 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 229 
 
 token of farewell. A sudden winding in the road took 
 them from her sight. It was the first time she had been 
 parted from Moreland, and it seemed to her a cloud 
 rested on the landscape. He was to return on the 
 morrow ; but what a long, long day was before her ! 
 She stood, for a moment, leaning against the gate-post, 
 drawing a wreath of the honeysuckle before her eyes, 
 as a veil to her emotion, thinking of the possibility of 
 her having to endure such a trial as Ildegerte seemed 
 doomed to bear. Could she bear it, and live ? Could 
 she see the pale shadows of the grave slowly, slowly 
 stealing over that countenance, whose light was now 
 the glory of her soul, as well as the warmth, — the 
 vitality of her heart, — and live ? Oh ! no. Why does 
 she call up a vision so dark and sad ? God in mercy 
 spare her such a blow ! 
 
 "You've got a mighty tender heart, missus," said 
 Aunt Kizzie, in the same soothing, affectionate tone in 
 which a mother would address a child. She would speak 
 in a domineering manner to the servants, but her lan- 
 guage and manner were gentle as a lamb's to Eulalia 
 and Effie. She adored her master ; and, when he intro- 
 duced his Northern bride to the assembled household, 
 in all her beauty, sweetness, and timidity, distinguishing 
 her as a faithful friend of the family and the kind nurse 
 of his child, she was so proud, so happy, so full of ad- 
 miration and delight, she could scarcely restrain from 
 hugging them both in her ample arms. She had dis- 
 
230 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 liked, nay, even hated Claudia^ who had either j ffipt. h gr 
 at a haughty distance, very unusual in a Southern mis- 
 tress, or tyrannized over her with the most capricious- 
 despotism, and whom, with a true perception of charac^ 
 ter, she believed unworthy of the love of her noble young 
 master. 
 
 "You've got a might tender heart, honey," repeated 
 she, setting down the restless Effie, who, scampering off, 
 lighted like a butterfly among the roses ; " the Lord 
 keep it from rough handling. And you've got a good 
 husband, if there ever was one. He's a gentleman, a 
 raal gentleman. 'Tain't no sham, nuther. It's sound, 
 clean through. Black folks knows it as well as white 
 folks. There ain't a nigger a hundred miles round but 
 
 CO 
 
 what'll take off his hat as soon as Mars. Russell come 
 in sight. Bless a Lord for good massa. Bless a Lord 
 for good missus, too. Oh ! you get along, Kizzie ; you 
 nothing but big baby, no how." 
 
 The tears were fairly dropping down her black shiny 
 cheeks, as she concluded her hosannas, and Eulalia's 
 heart felt drawn towards her with strong and tender 
 chords. The praises of Moreland were music to her 
 ears. How she wished her father could hear them from 
 the lips of the Africans themselves, with all those de- 
 monstrations of sensibility which proved their sincerity 
 and truth. How grieved and indignant she felt at the 
 recollection of the injustice and wrong her husband had 
 suffered, in consequence of the prejudices and miscon- 
 
the planter's northern bride. 231 
 
 struction he encountered from her father's partisans at 
 the North ! How she honoured him for his Christian 
 forbearance ; and how deep was her gratitude for the 
 love which, overlooking all this, had chosen her from 
 all others, made her the presiding Queen of his princely 
 home, and was crowning her with daily blessings ! Gra 
 titude ! who would not smile at the idea of her feeling 
 gratitude for the love of any one ? Of her, who was 
 the incarnation of all that is pure and good and lovely 
 in woman ? But nothing is so lowly and self-depreciat- 
 ing as true love. In proportion a3 it exalts another it 
 humbles itself. It places its idol on a throne high as 
 the heavens, and bows, a trembling worshipper, below. 
 
 Eulalia could not help feeling slightly embarrassed at 
 finding herself alone, for the first time, saving the little 
 Effie, with the negro members of the household. It was 
 a mystery to her how they could all find employment in 
 so small a family, yet it was astonishing how much they 
 found to do. There was the cook, who had an under 
 vassal to pick up chips, tote water from the spring, &c. ; 
 the washwomen, who had nothing to do but wash and 
 iron and scrub floors ; Aunt Kizzie, the nurse and plain 
 seamstress — that is, she cut and made the other negroes' 
 clothes, hemmed tea-towels, sheets, &c. ; Netty, the 
 chambermaid and fine seamstress, the maker of her 
 master's shirts and Effie's wardrobe ; Albert, the valet 
 de chambre and gentleman at large ; the coachman, who 
 was also the gardener ; and Jim, who did a little of 
 
Zol TIIE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 everything and not much of anything, pottering about 
 the grounds, mending a broken paling, sawing off a dried 
 branch, making the kitchen fires, and airing Crissy's 
 clothes. Then, there was Kizzie's mother, an infirm old 
 Voman, who had a nice little cabin of her own, where 
 he sat with a white handkerchief pinned under her 
 chin, not much whiter than her wool, knitting or patch- 
 ing, or holding the baby, if there happened to be one in 
 the establishment. She was a kind of elect lady, to 
 whom all paid respect and reverence. She was a sim- 
 ple-hearted, pious old soul, who had been favoured with 
 marvellous revelations from the other world, and thus 
 acquired the influence of a prophetess among her peo- 
 ple. She had seen three white doves sitting one moon- 
 light night at the head of her old mistress's grave ; she 
 had heard a voice from heaven, telling her " that her 
 sins were forgiven ;" and once, when she wa3 praying 
 and asked the Lord to give her a token that her prayer 
 was heard, a piece of white paper flew into the window, 
 and rested right on the top of her head. It w,ould have 
 been cruel to have wrested from old Dicey her unques- 
 tioning faith in these miracles, it made her so happy. 
 The horse-shoe suspended over her door did no harm to 
 others, and a great deal of fancied good to herself. The 
 vial filled with a decoction of bitter herbs, which was 
 deposited under the threshold, hurt nobody, and was a 
 charm of great power in her estimation. If any one 
 could find any poor, old, infirm woman at the North, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 233 
 
 happier than Dicey, more kindly treated, more amply 
 provided for, living in a more nicely furnished cabin, 
 and more comfortably clothed, we should like to see them 
 and congratulate them on their favoured destiny. Did 
 you ever see a "whiter counterpane than that spread as 
 smooth as glass over Dicey's bed ? Look at her pillow- 
 slips, all luxuriating in broad, flaunting ruffles. Sleep 
 must come down in state when such royal accommoda- 
 tions await it. But that counterpane, and those pillow- 
 slips, were not intended for the dark unseeing night. 
 They w r ere taken off when bedtime arrived, and more 
 plebeian ones substituted. There is nothing in which 
 the negress prides herself so much as a nice bed. She 
 saves all the feathers she can get held of, till they form 
 a mass larae enough to be diffused with generous thick- 
 ness over the given surface, and then makes a bed which 
 she is for ever sunning and adorning. It is true they 
 can roll themselves in a blanket and sleep as soundly on 
 the bare floor, but they must have the bed to look at and 
 admire. We have been more particular in describing 
 this little cabin, because an old Aunt Dicey is found in 
 almost every large household establishment at the South. 
 The old family nurse, often the tutelary genius of three 
 generations, the faithful servant, who has devoted the 
 vigour of her youth and the energies of her womanhood 
 to her master's interests, and to his children's service, 
 and dandling his children's children on her aged knees, 
 looks upon them with worshipping tenderness, and 
 
234 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 dreams that the babes of Paradise are cradled in her 
 dusky arms. Dicey had been the nurse of Moreland's 
 mother, she had been his own nurse, and now in gratitude 
 and affection he drew around the evening twilight of her 
 existence the curtain of repose, that she might wait in 
 quietude and peace the dawning of an eternal morning. 
 It may be said that this is a remarkable instance, but 
 it is not so. Cruel indeed is the master or mistress who 
 imposes a hard task on an aged slave, or leaves them to 
 neglect and suffering ; and the ban of society rests upon 
 them. We have seen a whole family drowned in tears 
 by the death-bed of a slave : the head of the strong 
 man bowed on his breast in wordless sorrow, while wo- 
 man's softer soul 
 
 "in woe dissolved aloud." ♦ 
 
 We will pause a moment in our story, to relate an 
 incident which occurred when we were a guest of the 
 household, and eye and ear-witness of its truth. Per- 
 haps it may add force to the illustration, if we say that 
 our hero belonged to the governor of the state, whose 
 body-servant and coachman he had been for many years. 
 
 It was a bright, clear, winter's morning, when Lem 
 harnessed his master's fine black horses — a span very 
 precious to the governor's heart — to the wagon, and 
 drove them into the woods for a load of pine. In felling 
 a tree, the trunk fell upon his own body and one of the 
 noble horses, which was killed instantaneously by the 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. l.dO 
 
 crash. A young son or nephew of the governor, who 
 was riding about the woods on horseback, witnessed the 
 accident, heard the groans of Lem, who lay mangled 
 and bruised under the gray, old, crushing trunk, and, 
 flying homeward in grief and terror, told the story of 
 his danger and sufferings. His mistress wept unre- 
 strainedly ; the children burst forth into audible demon- 
 strations of sorrow. 
 
 "Father !" said the boy who brought the tidings, "it 
 is your best horse that is killed, your blackest and 
 strongest." 
 
 "I don't care," exclaimed the governor, wringing his 
 hands, " if both horses are killed, if poor Lem is spared. 
 Give me that horse directly. Take another, and go 
 after Dr. H*****. Ride like a streak of lightning, and 
 tell him to meet me in the woods. Wife, have a bed sent 
 to spread in the bottom of the wagon." 
 
 It was a sad and touching scene when Lem was 
 brought home, half-fainting from excessive agony. Yet 
 amidst the sadness one could hardly forbear smiling at 
 the strange manner in which his wife expressed her 
 grief. She was one of the pillars of the African church ; 
 but her husband, though faithful, honest, temperate, 
 industrious, and of irreproachable morality, had never 
 made a profession of religion. 
 
 " Oh, marcy ! Lord a marcy !" she cried in piteous 
 and bewailing accents ; " I wouldn't mind it so much, 
 'cause the Lord a mighty done it ; but Lem is sicli a 
 
236 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sinner, sich an awful sinner. He ain't fit to die. Oh ! 
 oh ! how awful I'll feel way up in heaven, singing the 
 praises of the kingdom, when I see Lem way down in 
 the great black pit. Lord have marcy, and make him 
 'pent of his 'niquity." 
 
 " Hush," said the eldest boy, in indignant tones ; " if 
 Lem don't get to heaven you won't, nor any of the rest 
 of us." 
 
 "We must have a light elastic mattress," cried the 
 Doctor, "to lay him on. This is too hard." 
 
 " Take mine," exclaimed his mistress ; " it is the best 
 in the house." 
 
 Immediately, with her own hands, she bared her bed 
 of its covering, and sent her new, unsoiled mattress to 
 be placed under the negro's bleeding limbs. She sent 
 him two sheets of soft, fine linen, that he might have 
 every appliance that luxury could furnish to soothe his 
 sufferings. His thigh-bone was broken, his limbs man- 
 gled and torn, and it was thought he had received some 
 internal injury that might prove fatal. Never have we 
 seen a sick person more carefully, tenderly watched. 
 
 "If I was the Gubenor hisself," said he, tears of 
 gratitude streaming from his eyes, " I couldn't hab no 
 more done for me. I most willing to die, eberybody so 
 good to poor Lem." 
 
 After months of anxious and unwearied care and 
 watching, he recovered the use of his limbs, and then 
 gradually his strength returned ; and to the inexpress- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 231 
 
 ible joy of his better half professed the religion whose 
 influences had long been acting on his heart. In a 
 letter written by his mistress, some time after, she thus 
 affectingly alludes to the death of his wife : — 
 
 "We are all in deep affliction for the loss of Charity, 
 our old and faithfully attached servant and friend. She 
 belonged to my mother, and loved me, and my children 
 after me, as if we were her own children. She was so 
 much beloved by us all, that it seems as if the void 
 made in our household can never be filled. I have been 
 dreading this event, but it is hard to be reconciled to it." 
 
 Why cannot those who speak and write bitter 
 things of the South, record such incidents as these, 
 when they are far, far more frequent than the dark 
 scenes which they seem to take a strange delight in 
 depicting in the blackest, most revolting colours ? Why 
 do they pass over everything that is fair and pleasant 
 to the moral sense, and gather every shadow, which, 
 darkening under their touch, rolls into a mass of gloom 
 and horror, oppressive and sickening to the soul ? Why 
 are they ready to believe the most awful tales of the 
 abuse of the slave which imagination can conceive and 
 calumny invent, and turn a deaf ear to the history of 
 the master's kindness, humanity, and benevolence i 
 Why, with frantic zeal, do they light the brand of dis- 
 cord, and throw it blazing into the already burning heart 
 of a community, when the stars of the Union may be 
 
 150 
 
238 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 quenched in the smoking, and the American eagle flap 
 its wings in blood ? 
 
 Would it not be well to pause and think of the con- 
 sequences of all this ? Can you sever the interests of 
 the North and the South without lifting a fratricidal 
 hand ? Sir, perhaps you have a son, who, finding no 
 outlet for his energies, no field of enterprise in a New 
 England clime, has come an adventurer to the South, 
 and made a fortune from its rich resources. He has 
 married one of its dark-eyed daughters, and the blood 
 of the North and the South mingles in the veins of 
 their children. Woman ! it may be that you have a 
 daughter or a sister wedded to one of the sons of the 
 South, whose interests and affections are so closely 
 entwined with his, that the stroke aimed at one must 
 cut the life-chords of the other. Man ! you have a 
 friend, the friend and brother of your youth, whom you 
 once loved as your own soul, whose path of life diverg- 
 ing from your own has led him to seek a home beneath 
 a Southern sky. Here he lives prosperous and happy, 
 and the fragrant gale that fans his brow whispers to 
 him sweet memories of his early days, and the friends 
 who then made the sunshine of his life. It whispers to 
 iim of you, whom he left on your native granite hills, 
 and his heart throbs over the reminiscences of child- 
 hood. 
 
 Sir, if through your instrumentality the fires of insur- 
 rection are kindled in the land, and the knife sharpened 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE %\li 
 
 in the hand of the assassin, the blood of vu^r son may 
 cry to you from the ground; your daughter, clasping 
 her innocent babes to her' bosom, may lift her dying 
 eyes to heaven, feeling the conviction, keener than her 
 last death-pang, that a father's hand guided the blow 
 of which she is the victim. Your sister, your brother, 
 your friend may rise up in juclgm / " -A against you, when 
 their accusing spirits meet yoir s at the bar of God ! 
 Have you not said, have you not written, that it was the 
 duty of the slave to plunge the steel in the bosom of his 
 master, rather than submit the vassal of his will ? — that 
 it would be right to roll a fiery wave of insurgency over 
 his sleeping dwelling, and Lave only the "blackness of 
 ashes to mark where it stood !" 
 
 England, too, lifts her coroneted brow, and stretches 
 out her jewelled hands over the waters to loosen the 
 fetters of the African, and pour the vials of avenging 
 wrath on the tyrants who enthral him. 
 
 Thou ! on whose magnificent empire the sun never 
 casts its setting ray, turn thy glorious eye to the slaves 
 whose life-blood thou art draining at the threshold of 
 thy own doors. See that pale and ghastly and multitu- 
 dinous band of females imprisoned within close and 
 narrow walls, most of them in the springtime of life ; 
 but, oh ! what a cold, blighted, barren spring ! 
 
 "With fingers weary and worn, 
 With eyelids heavy and red, 
 These women sit, in unwomanly rags, 
 Plying their uccdlc and thread," 
 
240 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 And it is "stitch, stitch, stitch" from the chill gray 
 morning twilight, to the dim gray evening twilight, and 
 then, by the light of a dripping candle, they " stitch, 
 stitch, stitch, 7 ' till the long, long midnight hour; nay, 
 more, till one, two, three o'clock of another day, then, 
 crawling into some miserable, crowded, airless hole, lie 
 down to a few feverish, restless, unrefreshing dreams. 
 And so it goes on for weeks, months, and years, till the 
 needle drops from their poor wasted fingers, and they 
 lie in a deeper, colder, but scarcely darker bed. You 
 may say that this mode of existence is voluntary on their 
 part ; that they are free, and freedom is sufficient of 
 itself to enrich the most abject and miserable of human 
 beings. It is false. They are not free. Poverty, with 
 a scourge of iron and a scorpion lash, stands behind 
 them and urges on the life-consuming task. Starvation, 
 with grim, skeleton features, and wild, hollow eyes, stares 
 them in the face, and shame and dishonour stand on 
 either side, weaving a winding sheet for their souls. 
 They have no choice left. They must work or starve ; 
 work or die ; work or sell themselves to the demon of 
 temptation. Freedom ! God of the white man, as well 
 as the black, if this is freedom, give us bondage and 
 chains instead. Where, in all the broad lands of the 
 South, is a negro doomed to work for eighteen or twenty 
 hours out of the twenty-four, in silence and hopelessness 
 and anguish that passeth show ? Do songs ever gush 
 from those bloodless, pallid lips ? Do those weary feet 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 241 
 
 ever spring in the light and joyous dance? Alas ! no ! 
 The breath of life comes struggling from the weak and 
 wasting lungs, and every step is impeded by the dull, 
 heavy, leaden weight of despair. 
 
 Imperial England ! Island-queen of the ocean ! 
 There are thousands of these pallid slaves, whose bleed- 
 ing hearts are bound in iron chains to the chariot wheels 
 of thy wealth and power ; whose suiferings the African 
 may well pity, rejoicing in his happier lot. And yet 
 one gem from your royal diadem would scatter plenty 
 mid these starving throngs. Bring forth your mountain 
 of light, whose focal splendours illuminated the crystal 
 walls that enclosed a congregated world — bring it forth, 
 fuse it (perchance the chemic miracle may be performed) 
 in the flaming forge of human suffering, and pour it in 
 dazzling streams through the dry, deep channels of 
 poverty and want Bring forth your glittering dia- 
 monds, your costly pearls, your jewels and precious 
 stones, for the relief of your famishing vassals, and then 
 talk of philanthropy, and justice, and compassion. In 
 the great day of revelation, when the earth and the 
 ocean shall give up their dead, and the different races 
 of men stand before the judgment ba,r of God, think 
 you no cry for vengeance on the oppressed will be heard, 
 save from the dusky lips of the African ? that no scars 
 of suffering will be seen on any soul but his ? Methinks, 
 on that day, when the motives of every act, the spring 
 of every thought will be visible in the full blaze of 
 
242 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 eternity, the judgments of God will be found very dif- 
 ferent from those of man, and many a spirit on whom 
 the curse of public opinion has fallen with withering 
 power, will be exalted to the right hand of glory, and 
 crowned with immortal honours. There will be many a 
 grateful Lem, whose tears of gratitude have been pre- 
 served in the vials of the saints ; many a good old Di- 
 cey, who will bless the humane master, who made her 
 declining years serene as an autumn sunset. 
 
 And hark ! a voice as of many meeting waters, comes 
 from the excellent glory — 
 
 " I will say to the North, give up, and to the South, 
 keep not back : bring my sons from far, and my daugh- 
 ters from the ends of the earth. 
 
 "Even every one that is called by my name, for I 
 have created him for' my glory. I have formed him. 
 Yea, I have made him. 
 
 " Bring forth the blind that have eyes, and the deaf 
 that have ears. 
 
 "Let all the nations be gathered together, and let the 
 people be assembled. Who among them can declare 
 this, and shew us former things ? Let them bring forth 
 their witnesses, that they may be justified ; or let them 
 hear, and say — It is truth."* 
 
 * Benjamin Walker, Esq., of Jamaica, writing to his brother in 
 Charleston, S. C, uses the subjoined language. He is an English- 
 man, who has resided in the island for many years, and, after a per- 
 sonal investigation of the abolition operations of his own government, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 243 
 
 says — " I hope and trust you will never be imbued with anti-slavery 
 doctrines : and if many could witness the ruin of interest, both moral 
 and material, the misery of families, and the desolation of all which 
 I now see around me, occasioned by the emancipation of the negroes, 
 there would be less agitation in your country on that much-vexed 
 question. I hope the people of the South 'will hold their own. 
 Emancipation means confiscation and misery to both races. Let 
 people come to Jamaica and judge for themselves, and witness the 
 white race driven from their hearth and home by the destructive 
 policy of the mother country. An Exodus of the white race has 
 already commenced, and I am preparing to join in the stream, and 
 abandon a worthless and ruined country." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 We break, for the first time, the unity of our story, to 
 follow Ildegerte and her invalid husband to the Western 
 city. We leave Eulalia, for a while, happy beyond the 
 charter of her sex, receiving new and bright impressions, 
 and transmitting them with added brightness to her 
 Northern kindred. There is scarcely a ripple now on 
 the smooth wave on which she is borne, — no cloud on 
 the blue heaven that bends over her, in sunny or in 
 starry love ; but, by and by, there may be darkness 
 for brightness, and angry billows for smoothness, and 
 the storm-gale of the North sweep cold and blighting 
 over her Southern bower. Rejoice, in thy happiness, 
 sweet Eulalia ! gather up the manna that falls in a 
 honey-shower upon thy path, but forget not to garner 
 a portion for the day when none may fall. 
 
 Richard Laurens appeared to acquire new life and 
 vigour as the distance widened between him and his 
 Southern home, and, just in proportion, the spirits of 
 Ildegerte sparkled and bounded in their original bril- 
 
 (244) 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 245 
 
 liancy and elasticity. Crissy remained taciturn and 
 rather sullen for some time, brooding over the remem- 
 brance of the goods and chattels she was compelled to 
 leave behind ; but gradually her gloom dispersed before 
 he generous promises of Ildegerte, who pledged herself 
 *o reward her a hundredfold for every sacrifice she had 
 required. Everything was novel and therefore exciting 
 to the young and ardent Southerner. She had never 
 before left the boundaries of her native state, having 
 been educated at a Southern college, and she carried 
 the freshness, brightness, and impulsiveness of a child 
 into scenes where she was to learn some of the bitterest 
 experiences of the life of woman. 
 
 When borne upon the Mississippi's deep, majestic 
 stream, margined by such grandeur and luxuriancy, she 
 was filled with the most enthusiastic admiration ; and 
 when gliding on the silver bosom of its gentler tributary, 
 Ohio, she was equally enchanted. 
 
 The weather was delightful, having the mild, uniform 
 temperature of departing summer. Everything seemed 
 to favour the travellers, and Ildegerte declared her 
 determination to travel every year in the warm season. 
 
 " Next summer, Richard, we will go to Saratoga and 
 Niagara ; the summer after, to Europe. Russell and 
 Eulalia will go too — and what a charming family party 
 we shall make ! There is so much to see and admire in 
 the world, it is a shame to stay in one place all the time, 
 looking at the same things." 
 
246 TIIE planter's northern bride. 
 
 " If I live, Ildegerte." 
 
 "But you are so much better, Richard. You get 
 better every day. Indeed, you are almost well. I 
 thought it was only a long protracted cold that had 
 weakened your lungs. I will not hear that cold and 
 doubting if. Is he not a thousand times better, Crissy, 
 than when we left home ?" 
 
 " I think Mars. Richard does look a heap better 
 than he did. I 'spect he go back right fat and peart." 
 
 Ildegerte and Richard both laughed at his prospective 
 obesity, for in his most robust days he had more of the 
 slender grace of the stripling than the vigorous propor- 
 tions of the man. 
 
 " There is room for improvement in you too, Crissy," 
 said she, playfully touching the sink- holes in her gray- 
 ish-black cheeks. "You are something of Pharaoh's 
 lean kine order. I am afraid the people will think we 
 don't use you well. You must tell them you get a 
 plenty to eat and drink — and wear too, if I have doomed 
 you to a small trunk in travelling. You must look 
 smart and bright, Crissy, and put off that doiun way of 
 yours." 
 
 "I wants to see Jim and the children, missus." 
 
 "And the big chest, Crissy. Nevermind. You will 
 see them all soon. Don't /want to see my brother, and 
 his sweet wife, and that dear little witch of an Effie ? 
 And don't I wan't to see old Dicey, and Aunt Kizzie, 
 and all the precious darkies?" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 247 
 
 " You have got him by you, you loves best of all, 
 missus. 'Spose he way off — 'spose you never see him 
 no more — 'spect you wouldn't feel funny, missus, like 
 you do now?" 
 
 "And do you really love Jim so much, Crissy? 
 had an idea that you thought him inferior to you ; that 
 you didn't think him very smart or genteel. I am glad 
 you are such an affectionate wife." 
 
 There was a merry sparkle in Ildegerte's eye, that 
 illumined the meaning of her words. 
 
 " I knows Jim ain't none of the smartest," said Crissy, 
 with a conscious expression ; " but he's the willingest 
 creatur and the best conditioned that ever was. It 
 'pears now like I never sot as much by him as I 
 oughter." 
 
 "We never appreciate the blessings within our reach," 
 said Ildegerte ; "but oh! Richard," — turning to her 
 husband, who was listening to the voice of the dashing 
 wavelets — " when you are restored to perfect health I 
 will always prize the blessing, and be the most contented 
 and grateful of human beings." 
 
 " For your sake, more than my own, I pray for 
 returning health," he replied, gratefully pressing the 
 beautiful white hand that was laid gently on his arm. 
 " I sometimes think I have been very selfish in taking 
 you with me, when you may be left alone in a land of 
 strangers. I blame myself, too, for not taking Albert, 
 whom your brother pressed so earnestly upon me ; but I 
 
248 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 thought it would be an admission of weakness and help- 
 lessness on my part, which I shrunk from acknowledging. 
 It seemed so unnecessary, such a superfluous expense. 
 You will have Crissy, however, whatever may happen, 
 on whose attachment and fidelity you can rely with im- 
 plicit confidence." 
 
 The white hand was pressed upon his lips, while she 
 called his attention to the flowering vines that hung 
 trailing from tree to tree, and festooned the shore with 
 rich and gaudy wreaths. She would not allow him to 
 give utterance to one gloomy thought, one sad misgiving. 
 If every cloud has a silver lining, that which hung over 
 them was fringed by her with a golden edging too. 
 
 As they approached the city to which they were 
 bound, which rose like a Queen above the stream that 
 rolled in majesty at its feet, they gazed with rapture at 
 the beautiful panorama presented to the view. Crown- 
 ing the gradually ascending shore, Cincinnati looked 
 down in its loftiness, across the severing river, on the 
 green plains of Kentucky, that stretched out before it. 
 Its spires and domes were defined on a misty blue back- 
 ground of swelling hills. These beautiful hills were 
 enriched by cultivation ; and many a lordly mansion 
 and elegant cottage seemed climbing their verdant 
 heights, or reigned enthroned on their brows. They 
 arrived at an appropriate hour ; for all the pomp of 
 closing day was gathering in the West to gild and beau- 
 tify its Queen. The blue, misty hills put on a drapery 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 249 
 
 of golden purple ; golden arrows, tipped with fire, shot 
 up from the roofs and turrets and fanes ; the dark blue 
 river changed to glowing saffron and rippling crimson ; 
 and the emerald fields of Kentucky sparkled with the 
 gleam of the topaz. The dark eyes of Ildegerte re- 
 flected the radiance, and even the pale blue orbs of 
 Richard were lighted up with their wonted lustre. 
 
 " Beautiful ? beautiful !" exclaimed Ildegerte. "Is not 
 this glorious sun-burst an omen of joy, Richard? I hail 
 it as such." 
 
 "And I too, am catching the inspiration of your hopes," 
 cried Richard, a bright colour kindling in his face. 
 "This city of refuge," continued he, quoting the lan- 
 guage of Scripture, " let me reach it, and my soul shall 
 live !" 
 
 " Beautiful !" repeated Ildegerte. " Is it not, Crissy ?" 
 
 She pitied the lonely Crissy — without any companion 
 of her own colour — and was constantly encouraging her 
 to express her thoughts and feelings to her. 
 
 "La, missus, it goes up like a big corn-hill. Is this 
 where the niggers is all free?" 
 
 "YeSjjQrissy, but I don't believe one of them is half 
 as well off as you are. Do you?" 
 
 "Don't know, missus ; don't know nothing 'bout them. 
 I'm mighty well satisfied ; got nothing to complain of. 
 Don't see what a body want more." 
 
 Crissy never was demonstrative, like Kizzie. Their 
 manner differed as much as the warm, shining black 
 
250 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 skin of the one, from the cold, grayish darkness of tho 
 other. 
 
 "I don't "want to see none of 'em, while I stay," she 
 added, after looking up earnestly into the streets of the 
 city, and turning up her nose with an expression of con- 
 tempt. "I 'spise the free niggers as much as I do poor 
 white folks." 
 
 "But you should not despise poverty, Crissy, nor ne- 
 groes, either, because they are free. If I die before 
 you, I am going to set you free. Would not you like 
 that?" 
 
 "Don't want to be free, Miss Ilda; heap rather live 
 with you and Mars. Richard. Don't know how to take 
 care of myself, no how. Jim 'most a fool. What'll I 
 do with the childen ? Lord bless you, missus ! don't 
 say nothing more 'bout that. Wish I was at home 
 agin. 'Pears like I been gone a year." 
 
 With such sentiments as these, Crissy followed her 
 mistress to the hotel, which was to be her temporary 
 home, wondering what it was that made people free 
 there more than in any other place. She had heard so 
 much talk about the free States, she expected to see an 
 entirely different aspect of nature. She expected to 
 breathe a different atmosphere, and to see a set of peo- 
 ple looking very different from any she had seen before. 
 She glanced from one side to the other, with a vague 
 dread of being pounced upon and carried off, where she 
 would never see her mistress, or Jim, or her hoarded 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 251 
 
 possessions any more. She watched the servants at the 
 hotel very narrowly, and thought they did not look any 
 happier than her fellow-labourers at home, nay, not 
 half as happy, and she was sure they had to work a 
 great deal harder. 
 
 Richard, who had despatched a note to Dr. Darley soon 
 after his arrival, waited his coming with mingled hope 
 and fear. He thought he could ascertain, from one 
 glance of his penetrating and truth-beaming eye, the 
 reality of his condition. When the servant announced 
 that he was below, he turned excessively pale, and sunk 
 back in his chair, trembling with agitation. 
 
 "I will go and meet him," exclaimed Ildegerte, "and 
 bring him here. In the mean time, pray get composed, 
 Richard. He will think you a great deal more sick 
 than you really are, and then you will be discouraged." 
 
 Ildegerte hastened to meet the doctor, in the confi- 
 dence of finding a friend as well as physician ; one on 
 whose kindness and sympathy she could trustingly rely, 
 on whose wisdom she could lean for counsel and guid- 
 ance, whose skill, she had been led to believe, was almost 
 supernatural. She had strong reasons of her own for 
 wishing to see him first ; and, without hesitation or em- 
 barrassment, she introduced herself as Mrs. Laurens, 
 the wife of his former student. The doctor rose at her 
 entrance, and, making at first a very deep and rather 
 fonnalbow, advanced with extended hand and smiling eye 
 to greet her. 
 
252 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Is this Dr. Darley?" was Ildegerte's first thought. 
 "I expected to have seen a much older-looking man." 
 
 And this was the expectation of almost every one, 
 who, being familiar with his wide-spread reputation, 
 associated his image with the venerable characteristics 
 of age. He was past the meridian of his days, but youth 
 lingered in the short, crisped curls of his brown hair, 
 undimmed by a single touch of frostiness ; youth 
 sparkled in the bright, intense, smiling glance of his 
 grayish eye, and the earnest, animated expression of his 
 whole countenance. Intellect, in all its youthful fresh- 
 ness and vigour, beamed upon his features, and, what to 
 Ildegerte was far more attractive, a generous, noble 
 heart, in all its young warmth of feeling, unchilled by 
 contact with a cold and selfish world, imparted fervour 
 and interest to his whole face. 
 
 The doctor, who had a keen perception and pure love 
 of the beautiful, gazed with affectionate admiration on 
 the young and handsome woman, who seemed to his 
 poetic imagination a rich tropic flower, transplanted to 
 a colder clime. Excitement had given the brilliant 
 bloom of the brunette to her cheeks and lips, and her 
 eyes had that velvet blackness so seldom seen, but so 
 inexpressibly bewitching. 
 
 "Is your husband very ill?" he asked, in a tone 
 which struck her as grave and solemn, in contrast with 
 his smiling eye. 
 
 "No, sir. I think he is convalescent now. He has 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 253 
 
 been much more sick, and all our friends feared that he 
 was in danger of consumption. I believe, now, that his 
 cough is the result of a severe cold. He has such un- 
 bounded confidence in you, he feels sure that if he has 
 any serious malady, you can heal it. I wanted to see 
 you first, doctor, to tell you that you cannot judge to- 
 night how he really is. He is weary, excited, and agi- 
 tated. Do not let him think he is ill. Do not discou- 
 rage him — he will be so much better to-morrow." 
 
 " Is he easily discouraged ? is he prone to despon- 
 dency?" inquired the doctor. 
 
 " No, not much, — that is, not often ; but he is not 
 near as hopeful as I am." 
 
 " Are you alone with him ? Did no friends accom- 
 pany you?" 
 
 " No one but a faithful black woman. She is a host 
 in herself. We need no other assistance." 
 
 " This is a very dangerous place to bring a slave," 
 said the doctor. "I wish you had brought a white sei- 
 vant instead. Living, as we do, on the very borders of 
 slavery, our city is the resort of runaway negroes ; and, 
 what is still worse, those who are making every effort to 
 swell their number. I advise you to keep your woman 
 as constantly with you as possible." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, I have no fears for Crissy. No temptation, 
 
 I am assured, would induce her to leave us. She is 
 
 fidelity itself, and is very strongly attached to out 
 
 family. No, no, I feel very easy on that subject. But 
 
 151 
 
254 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Richard, I know, feels very impatient to see you, and 
 will think I am encroaching on his rights." 
 
 Leading the way, with a light step, to the upper 
 apartment, appropriated to them, she ushered in the 
 loctor, watching his countenance, as he addressed her 
 husband, as if her own life depended upon its expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Why, Laurens," cried he, giving his dry and feverish 
 hand a long and affectionate pressure, " is this the way 
 you commence your professional career ? I taught you 
 to heal others, not to be sick yourself." 
 
 "I have come to you for invigoration, doctor," replied 
 the young man, with a languid smile. " I already feel 
 the inspiration of your presence. I feel so much better 
 than I did when I left home, I fear you will think me 
 foolish, to come. Yet I can never regret meeting you 
 again, and feeling once more the kindly pressure of your 
 guiding hand." 
 
 He looked earnestly, thrillingly in his face as he 
 spoke, while the fever-spot burned brightly on his own. 
 The hand which had pressed his so affectionately, now 
 lingered on his wrist, and he knew that its quick pulsa- 
 tions were being counted with professional accuracy. 
 Agitated by this consciousness, he began to cough. It 
 was a short, dry, hacking cough. It always made 
 Ildegerte gasp for breath, and press her hand on her 
 heart, when she heard it. It was an involuntary motion, 
 but her heart literally ached, and she could not help 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 255 
 
 pressing it. Yet she would not acknowledge that it was 
 an alarming cough, — it was only an obstinate one, and 
 so she told the doctor. As he suffered the pale hand 
 which he had been holding to slide gently from his, 
 she caught his quick and quickly receding glance. It 
 seemed to her that the bright, merry spark that burned 
 there, was quenched in moisture. There was an expres- 
 sion of unutterable sympathy, compassion, and tender- 
 ness, transient as lightning, but as intense too. Ilde- 
 gerte, who stood a little behind Richard's chair, turned 
 pale, and cold and sick. She felt as if his death-war- 
 rant had been pronounced, and that hope had indeed 
 bidden the world farewell. 
 
 "Come," said the doctor, in a cheerful tone, "what 
 you need to-night is rest. Your nerves are excited. 
 Your pulse quickened at my touch like a love-sick girl's. 
 We must cultivate more composure. Recline on this 
 sofa and put yourself perfectly at ease, while I make 
 myself acquainted with Mrs. Laurens." 
 
 Ildegerte's freezing veins thawed in the kindly warmth 
 of his manner. She must have mistaken his glance. 
 How foolish, how childish she was ! What a baby he 
 would think her ! She would show herself more worthy 
 of his respect ! She soon found that no effort was 
 necessary to feel interested in the conversation he com- 
 menced with her, while Richard, obedient to his counsel, 
 assumed a recumbent position, and was soon folded in 
 tranquil slumbers. There was something so fresh, so 
 
256 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sparkling, so original in his ideas, it seemed as if every 
 word he uttered was sprinkled with morning dew. There 
 was a vein of poetry and romance, too, pervading his 
 mind, like golden ore imbedded in the solid rock. He 
 told her something of his own early history ; of the death 
 of his wife, whom he had lost in the bloom and beauty 
 of her womanhood ; of his belief in the constancy, the 
 eternity of love ; that it was only its germ that was 
 planted on earth ; that it was reserved for the gales of 
 Paradise to fan it into blossom. 
 
 "I do not feel separated from my wife," he said, his 
 countenance kindling into rapturous emotion. " She is 
 still associated with all my hopes and my joys. I never 
 read the works of genius and sensibility without feeling 
 the participation of her sympathy. I never listen to 
 the sweet strains of music without being conscious of the 
 presence of her listening spirit. So positive to me is 
 this intimate and divine communion, that I should no 
 more think of wedding another than if she were living 
 and breathing at my side. I am called an enthusiast. 
 Perhaps I am one ; but I would not relinquish this abid- 
 ing, inextinguishable sense of her continuing love, for 
 all else the world can offer. Death does not really 
 divorce us from the object of our affection. It only 
 destroys the material tie — the spiritual, the immortal 
 still remains." 
 
 "But it takes from us the form we love," said Ikle- 
 gevte, shivering; "it lays it in the cold grave. Every- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 257 
 
 thing else seems so shadowy, so unreal. For my part, 
 I would have no wish to survive the friend I loved best 
 on earth. One coffin, one grave, would be my soul's 
 prayer." 
 
 "We should pray rather for faith to sustain, for 
 patience to endure, and for submission and resignation. 
 The silver chords which bind earthly hearts together 
 must be broken. If they writhe and struggle under the 
 loosening hand, they may bleed and suffer in every vein 
 and fibre, but they will nevertheless be torn asunder. 
 It is better to lie still and be gently parted." 
 
 "We are not to be parted, are we?" asked she, in a 
 very low voice, impelled by an irresistible impulse, as 
 her eye rested on the reclining figure of Richard, who 
 lay with one cheek supported by his hand and his fair 
 locks partly shading the other. There was a boyish 
 grace in his attitude, which combined with the hectic 
 bloom of his complexion to throw the illusion of health 
 around him. 
 
 " God alone can answer that question," he answered, 
 with gentle solemnity. " The issues of life and death 
 are with Him. I trust, my dear young lady, you have 
 learned to look to him as a Father, as well as a God." 
 
 Ildegerte bowed her head, but the tears she could not 
 suppress glittered in the lamplight. Yes ! he was pre- 
 paring her — she knew it, she felt it — for the coming 
 blow. Once more her elastic spirits sunk, and a cold 
 shadow flitted over her. 
 
258 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "You "will come early in the morning, doctor," she 
 said, when he rose to take leave, "will you not?" 
 
 " Certainly; 'Richard will be himself then, I hope." 
 Strange, what magic there may be in a few little 
 words! This old, old quotation, — she had heard it 
 repeated a hundred times, and yet how reviving it 
 sounded ! Poor Ilclegerte ! — to what an alternation of 
 hope and fear was she doomed, as day followed day, 
 without fulfilling her constant, unwearied prophecy, 
 " He will be better to-morrow." As for him, he had 
 read his doom in Dr. Darley's undeceiving eye. He 
 knew that he must die ; and, with that pliancy with 
 which the finite will bows to. the Infinite, when the 
 inevitable fiat is gone forth, he yielded, without a mur- 
 mur. But he could not tell Ilclegerte the terrible truth, 
 — he could not rend all hope from her bosom. Often 
 and often, had Dr. Darley resolved to inform her of the 
 hopelessness of his condition ; but she had a strange, 
 elusive power that baffled his intentions. Since the first 
 night, when the question " We are not to be parted?" 
 was forced irresistibly from her lips, she had never 
 asked him his opinion of his patient ; and when he 
 began to express it, unasked, she would turn the conver- 
 sation at once into a different channel, find an excuse 
 for leaving the room, or for being occupied with some- 
 thing present. 
 
 In the mean time, Crissy was forming new acquaint- 
 ances and acquiring new ideas. Ildegerte had her 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 259 
 
 meals brought to her own room, and saw nothing of the 
 other boarders ; while Crissy ate hers in the kitchen 
 with the servants, and as she was a stranger, and a 
 slave, she was an object of peculiar attention to them. 
 By attention, we do not mean respect, but observation, 
 curiosity. They evidently thought her far beneath 
 them in position ; and Crissy as evidently demeaned 
 herself as a being of superior order. If they turned 
 up their noses at her, she turned up hers at them, 
 till there was a kind of nasal warfare between them. 
 There was one free black woman, who occupied the 
 place of an underling, whose freedom consisted in doing 
 the greatest part of the drudgery of the kitchen, and 
 in the privilege of being called " a good-for-nothing 
 nigger" by the high-life-below-stairs Irish gentry. Her 
 name was Judy, an unpardonable offence to one of the 
 Irish women, whose name was also Judy, and who 
 henceforth denominated herself Julia. Judy must have 
 had a lower extraction than Crissy, for she did not 
 express herself with half the elegance, saying " dis 
 and dat," and "gwine," and "high and ki," and all 
 those phrases which characterize the corn-field negro. 
 Crissy pretended she had never heard such gibberish, 
 and the Irish brogue, which was much less familiar to 
 her ears, she pronounced a horrible jargon. There were 
 three distinct classes in the kitchen. The Irish and 
 German servants constituted one class ; Judy, the free 
 negress, a second : and Crissy, the slave, a third. So 
 
260 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 many incongruous elements could not fail at times to 
 produce a discord, particularly as the first class were 
 constantly changing their forms, — the black-haired cook 
 of one day being a red-haired one the next. That is, 
 there was a constant ebbing and flowing in the white 
 population. For the slightest cause of dissatisfaction 
 they would relinquish their office, leaving the vacancy 
 to be supplied by other servants till another supplied 
 the place. As it was a large establishment, they were 
 frequently obliged to employ raw, unpractised hands, 
 whose ignorance was the cause of blunders equally pro- 
 voking and amusing. 
 
 One day one of the raw material was cooking her 
 first dinner. She had recommended herself as a " supa- 
 rior cook," who understood all the mysteries of the culi- 
 nary department, but Crissy watched her movements 
 with contemptuous wonder. 
 
 "Why don't you pluck out them are pin feathers?" 
 cried Crissy, "and you ain't going to put 'em in the 
 oven with their legs sprawling and kicking every which 
 way !" 
 
 "I'm going to do just as I plase, you impertinent 
 cratur," answered indignant Erin. "I should like you 
 to show me a pin in the feathers. And don't the legs 
 look gracefuller loose, than tethered like a slave, as you 
 ba yourself?" 
 
 With that, she gave the oven a tremendous ding, 
 right in the midst of a blazing fire, hot as that in which 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 2G1 
 
 Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were cast, where the 
 devoted twins scorched and blackened and shrivelled, 
 till they appeared the most wretched, spindle-shanked 
 pair that ever were seen side by side. 
 
 "Why don't you drudge and baste them chickens?" 
 exclaimed Crissy, quite scandalized at her ignorance and 
 self-conceit. "Who ever seen potry clone dry afore, and 
 burnt all to cinders besides ?" 
 
 " Do you call me a drudge and a baste, you mane, 
 black, woolly-headed thing?" cried cook, her face in as 
 great a blaze as the fire; "say it again, and I'll bate 
 you across the back with this poker. What are you but 
 a slave, I want to know ? Can't you demane yourself 
 better to your supariors ?" 
 
 " I don't see as I'm more a slave than the rest on 
 ye," said Crissy, shrugging her shoulders till they 
 touched the tip of her ears. "You all have to work a 
 heap harder than I do, and don't get much thanks, 
 nuther." 
 
 "But we get wages for our work, and I'd like you to 
 show me the blessed copper you ever got for yourn." 
 
 "I wouldn't touch a copper, leave 'em to poor folks," 
 said Crissy. " I got a heap of money at home — all in 
 silver, — more than you'll ever lay by, I 'spect. We 
 don't have no coppers where we come from. We 'spises 
 em. 
 
 "A hape of silver! Och ! I'd like to spake to it, 
 
262 ^the planter's northern bride. 
 
 and ask who it belonged to. And you've got any num- 
 ber of silks and satins, hav'n't you?" 
 
 "I've got more fine dresses than you know how to 
 count — or any other buckra. I don't wear 'em tho', 
 'cept 'mong quality folks." 
 
 " Oh ! you spake up for the quality, do you ? "Won't 
 the craturs lie still ?" 
 
 She was trying to compose the burnt and sprawling 
 limbs of the chicken on an elliptical dish, but their feet 
 would kick up in the air, in the second and fifth position. 
 
 " I never saw such an unaven dish," she muttered. 
 "I like to have the convaniences where I cook. What 
 you got in this stewpan ?" 
 
 "It's Mars. Richard's broth. He won't taste of a 
 drop but what I makes for him." 
 
 " Mars. Richard ! Och ! before I'd call a man or wo- 
 man my master, I'd ate my tongue betwane my teeth." 
 
 Just then an exclamation of horror was heard behind 
 them, so sudden and piercing that Erin jumped at least 
 two feet in the air, in her consternation and affright. 
 The mistress of the hotel, finding the dinner hour ar- 
 rived, without the warning bell, had entered the premi- 
 ses, and, beholding the specimens of cookery surrounding 
 the fire, a shriek of astonishment burst forth from her 
 lips. 
 
 "Is tnat your cooking?" she cried, pointing to the 
 fire. 
 
 " To be shure it's mine." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 263 
 
 " Didn't you tell me that you understood all kinds of 
 cooking, that you were an experienced, first-rate hand?" 
 
 "Well, indade, ain't I exparienced, I should like to 
 know?" said Erin, flaring up like a candle in the wind. 
 ' May I be spacheless if I didn't cook for Miss Wallis a 
 vrake and sixteen days over. And didn't she tell me to 
 roast the bafe brown and crisp?" pointing to a stately 
 sirloin, covered with a dry, black crust, that looked more 
 like a chunk of charcoal wood than meat. 
 
 "And here's my dinner spoiled — not one thing fit to 
 eat, and the boarders pouring in as fast as they can ! 
 It is enough to provoke a saint. If there was such a 
 thing as keeping a steady cook — but as soon as one has 
 a good one, they take a miff at nothing at all, and off 
 they go. I have had three different cooks in the last 
 three weeks, and I shall have another to-morrow ! Take 
 your things and march, miss ; and never let me see your 
 face again in this part of the world. Cook, indeed ! 
 Why I should think you had just taken a shovel of coals 
 and dashed over the dishes." 
 
 The lady was not a scolding lady, but certainly her 
 patience was put to a severe test. Erin was not the only 
 one who had spoiled a dinner, and made the most awful 
 and ridiculous mistakes. An incident which had occurred 
 a few weeks before, rose fresh in her memory. 
 
 A girl, whom she had hired to wait in the dining- 
 room, and who professed to be au fait in her line, waa 
 told to put seasoning in the castors. 
 
204 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "What sasoning, if you plaso, ma'am?" 
 
 " Why, pepper, and vinegar, and mustard, and catsup, 
 to be sure." 
 
 The girl did not know what castors were, but, ashamed 
 F*jf her ignorance, she would not acknowledge it. But 
 tearing some one tell the servant, who was rolling a 
 table back against the wall, not to let the castors catch 
 in the carpet, indicating the little brass wheels with his 
 index, she exulted in having acquired the desired infor- 
 mation without exposing herself to ridicule, though what 
 good in the world sasoning would do to them, she could 
 not tell. Nevertheless, faithful to her instructions, she 
 got down on her knees under the table, and plastered 
 them with mustard, sprinkled them with pepper, and 
 bathed them with vinegar. Not knowing what was 
 meant by catsup, she ventured to omit that ingredient, 
 much to the benefit of the carpet, already saturated with 
 vinegar. These occasional misfortunes were caused by 
 the necessity of employing emigrants, fresh from, some 
 mud-walled cabin or chimneyless roof. They may serve 
 as sources of amusement in the retrospect, but in the 
 moment of endurance require a Spartan spirit to bear. 
 
 " I wonder what that is, if it ain't having a missus," 
 thought Crissy, as Erin, gathering up bundle, bonnet, and 
 shawl, marched towards the door with the air of one. who 
 owned the whole establishment. " She needn't brag over 
 me, the Lord knows." 
 
 "You'd better take her for a cook," exclaimed Erin, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 265 
 
 in a scornful tone, as she closed the door. " Interfacing 
 with me all the time, and nothing but a born slave." 
 
 "Do you know how to cook, girl?" asked the lady, 
 when the wrathful figure of the Irish woman disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " I b'lieve I does, missus ; tho' it ain't my rig'lar 
 business." 
 
 " I have a great mind to hire you and try you for a 
 while." 
 
 " La, missus ! I couldn't hire my time to nobody. I 
 belongs to Miss Ilda, and couldn't leave her no way." 
 
 " That's all nonsense," replied the lady. "You are 
 as free as she is, if you only knew it. She has no more 
 right to your services than I have, and you are a fool to 
 work for nothing, when you might be getting good 
 wages. I would not stay with her another day if I was 
 in your place." 
 
 "When Mars. Richard so sick and she feel so bad, 
 way off from all her kinfolk ! Oh ! missus, I couldn't 
 do that. Somethin' here keep me from it. She bin 
 mighty good to me, and it would be ugly to turn my 
 back on her, when she in trouble. 'Sides, I don't see 
 freedom what it's cracked up to be. It does mighty 
 well for rich folks : but poor, working folks can't be free 
 any way. Long as I got to work I'll work for my own 
 master and missus, 'cause they cares for me." 
 
 " Poor, foolish, ignorant creature !" said the lady, in 
 a tone of mingled compassion and contempt. " Look 
 
26G the planter's northern bride 
 
 at Judy here — how much better off she is. She has all 
 she earns, and does what she pleases with it." 
 
 "I'd a heap ruther be in my place than Judy's," said 
 Crissy, locking down at her own neat, genteel apparel, 
 and then casting a furtive glance at Judy's coarse and 
 slovenly dress. "If I don't get reg'lar wages, I gets 
 everything I needs without the 'sponsibility. I'm will- 
 ing to help you when I've time, missus, for nothing, but 
 don't say nothing more 'bout my leaving Miss Ilda, for 
 I ain't a going do it." 
 
 That night after supper, when the servants had a 
 respite from their labours, Judy was sitting on the 
 threshold of the back kitchen door, her elbows resting 
 on her knees, and her head resting on her hands. 
 
 "Let me go by," said Crissy. "You needn't get up, 
 only don't spread yourself out like a fodder stack." 
 
 "You jist sit down, one minnit, Crissy, and let me 
 say someting ben on my mind dis long time. 'Spose 
 you ask your massa to buy me ?" She uttered this in a 
 low voice in Crissy's ear, who had seated herself at her 
 request, pressing her clothes close to herself, to avoid 
 the contact of Judy's soiled garments. 
 
 "You!" cried Crissy in astonishment; "I thought 
 you free !" 
 
 " So I be — dat is, dey call me so ; but dat don't make 
 me so. I run way from old massa, 'cause he treat me 
 bad. He live way over de river, in old Kentuck. I 
 thought if I got among free folks I'd be de fine lady, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 267 
 
 equal to de white folks ; but I'm noting but a nigger, 
 arter all — noting but poor Judy. That ain't my name 
 tho'. They call me Judy for short, but the Lord named 
 me Julia. What o' dat ? — no matter. You got good 
 riassa and missus — wish Thad — den I'd have somebody 
 to take care of me. Don't know how to take care of 
 myself — folks 'pose on me. White folks call us niggers 
 brudders and sisters way off; but when dey close to us 
 dey find out we noting but niggers. Please ask your 
 massa to buy me, and say noting 'bout it." 
 
 " He's no use for you ; he's got plenty now," said 
 Crissy; "and Mars. Russell don't approve of buy- 
 ing or selling. He jist keeps what he's born to, and 
 won't have nothing to do with speculators. You'd 
 better staid at home, and not run away. Tne last 
 words Jim ses to me, 'Crissy,' ses he, 'don't you run 
 off. You'll 'pent of it, long as you live.' " 
 
 " I tell you what, Crissy, when de nigger have good 
 massa and good missis, dey well off. When dey have 
 bad massa and missis, cley bad off. Talk 'bout us being 
 on a 'quality with white folks, no such ting. De Lord 
 never made us look like dem. We mustn't be angry 
 wid de Lord, for all dat ; lie knows best, I 'spose. 
 Look a' me, black as de chimney back, — dey, white as 
 snow ; what great, big, thick, ugly lips I got, — dere's 
 look jist like roses. Den dis black sheep head, what 
 de Lord make dat for ? Dey got putey, soft, long hair, 
 jist like de silk ribbons. Now look at dat big, long 
 
2GS the planter's northern bride. 
 
 heel, will you?" added Judy, putting out her bare foot 
 m the moonshine, giggling and shaking ; " who ever saw 
 de white lady with sich a heel as clat ? I do wonder 
 what the Lord made us nigger for ? I 'spect de white 
 dust gin out, and he had to take de black."* 
 
 "I wouldn't talk 'bout myself in that way," said 
 Crissy, whose personal pride was quite wounded by the 
 association ; " all the coloured people ain't black. I 
 ain't black myself." 
 
 " I'd heap sooner see 'em black, dan gray or yellow. 
 It's more 'spectable. La sus ! how my bones does ache. 
 I've scrubbed de house from top to de bottom. Dat 
 my Saturday work. Bless a Lord ! I rest some to-mor- 
 r jw." 
 
 All that occurred in the kitchen department only 
 made Crissy more contented with her own lot, and 
 rather confirmed than shook her fidelity and loyalty. 
 But she was assailed by a more dangerous influence, 
 which, gradually winding round her, found where she 
 was most vulnerable, and fastened on the weak spot. 
 
 There was a gentleman and lady boarding at the 
 hotel, bearing the somewhat peculiar name of Softly. 
 Their appearance and manner corresponded so well 
 with their name, it seemed to have been made on pur- 
 pose for them. Mrs. Softly had the softest voice in the 
 world, and the softest step. She seemed shod with 
 
 * The very description a negress gave of herself, in our own family, 
 In comparing the negro race with the white. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 2C9 
 
 velvet, like a cat, and stole along the passages, leaving 
 no echo of her footfalls, giving no warning of her ap- 
 proach. She had very light hair, and very light eyes, 
 almost "white, with no perceptible eyebrows or eyelashes, 
 and having altogether a most crude and unfinished look, 
 Her husband was the softened image of herself, having, 
 if possible, still lighter hair and eyes, — and, if possible, 
 still more indefinite brows. Like her, he had a soft, 
 doughy, sodden appearance ; and they both dressed with 
 Quaker-like precision and neatness. Mrs. Softly had 
 called on Ildegerte, and Ildegerte had returned the 
 call ; but she did not seek to conceal the feeling of 
 repulsion she experienced in her presence. She was 
 too impulsive for policy, too careless of the opinion of 
 others, to affect an interest which she did not feel. Her 
 coldness and indifference probably gave offence to Mrs. 
 Softly, for she discontinued her visits, and spoke of her 
 as very proud and haughty. 
 
 Crissy had to pass her room in going up and down 
 stairs. The door was often left open, and Mrs. Softly 
 generally had a soft, pleasant word for Crissy, and some- 
 times she asked her to come in and take a seat. Crissy 
 v/as not insensible to this kindness and attention, an' 1 
 thought her one of the nicest and best ladies she ha . 
 ever seen. Mr. Softly, too, always reflected his wife's 
 courtesies, and talked to Crissy in a condescending, 
 patronizing way,, that was quite irresistible. By and 
 by, it seemed to be a matter of course to drop in as she 
 152 
 
270 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 passed, and before she knew it she had related every- 
 thing concerning the family of Moreland, going back to 
 the first generation. Sometimes she heard them talking 
 about her, for their soft voices would glide into the pas- 
 age in a marvellous manner. 
 
 "Poor thing!" Mrs. Softly would say, "how I pitji 
 her ! How melancholy and subdued she looks ! No 
 spirit left in her. How hollow her cheeks are ! Such 
 a nice, lady-like person,' too !" 
 
 "Yes," responded Mr. Softly, "if she were only free, 
 what a respectable member of society she would make ! 
 We must exert our influence upon her, and not suffer hei 
 to remain in bondage and degradation." 
 
 At first Crissy resisted with respectful firmness all the. 
 arguments which her new friends urged upon her under- 
 standing ; but there was one temptation held out, which 
 became gradually stronger and stronger. She could 
 make a great fortune, all her own. She could do it in 
 a hundred ways, with her smartness and industry. 
 Then she could buy her husband and children, and they 
 could all live together in a fine house, and hold up their 
 heads as high as anybody. Moreover, she was living in 
 «in and shame and misery and degradation, and when, 
 he means of deliverance were held out to her she would 1 
 never be forgiven by the Almighty if she refused to! 
 accept them. 
 
 Crissy 's weak point was a love of money — a love of 
 gain. It was on this the incision was made, which 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 271 
 
 readied at length to the heart's core. The fine house, 
 fine furniture, and fine ladyism loomed up in her imagi- 
 nation, like the spires and domes of a distant city. She 
 began to think that if she had been happy and con- 
 tented before, it was only because she didn't know any 
 better. She began to think that she had been abused 
 without knowing it, and that her master and mistress, 
 whom she had been silly enough to believe kind and 
 liberal, were cruel and tyrannical, and the worst enemies 
 she had in the world. 
 
 " If Massa Richard wan't sick," she said, " I wouldn't 
 mind it." 
 
 " Can't she hire as many servants and nurses as she 
 likes ?" asked Mrs. Softly. " Is not she rich and inde- 
 pendent ? She can fill your place in a moment ; but 
 you, if you let this opportunity slip, will never have 
 another." 
 
 "Never," echoed Mr. Softly. 
 
 " But where shall I go ?" exclaimed Crissy, bewildered 
 and agitated, as the crisis of her destiny approached. 
 
 " We will direct you. Leave everything to us. There 
 is a nice place, where you can conceal yourself a while, 
 and where you will be treated like a lady, not a slave." 
 
 Thus beset, day after day, poor Crissy grew weak and 
 impotent, till she became a passive tool in their soft, 
 insinuating hands. She stayed now as little time as 
 possible in the room of her mistress, whose confiding 
 trust in her fidelity and attachment was a dagger to her 
 
2/2 THE PLANTERS NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 faithless and alienated heart. Ildegerte unconsciously 
 favoured the designs of her enemies, by allowing her to 
 be away from her more than she had been accustomed 
 to be. Dr. Barley, who was a real philanthropist, con- 
 versed a great deal on the sectional difficulties of the 
 country, and she thought it best that Crissy should not 
 hear all that was said. He was pained and distressed 
 by the fierce and bitter feelings, the fiery fanaticism, 
 the frantic zeal, which, reckless of all consequences, was 
 spreading through the land. His far-reaching mind 
 beheld the inevitable consequences of these, and he 
 lifted up his voice in public as well as private, endea- 
 vouring to arrest the burning tide of prejudice and 
 intolerance. His piercing intellect, and large, generous 
 heart, took in the whole, instead of a part of the social 
 system, the interests and rights of the white race as 
 well as the black. He believed that both would be 
 injured and destroyed by coercive measures, unsanc- 
 tioned by law, and unauthorized, above all things, by 
 the great golden law written on the tablet of every 
 human heart. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 "And must he die?" she exclaimed, clasping her 
 hands passionately together, and looking -wildly upward. 
 " Oh ! Dr. Darley, must he die ? Is there, indeed, no 
 hope?" 
 
 " Has no voice told you this before ?" asked he, in 
 grave and solemn tenderness. " Has not its whisper 
 come to you lately with every rising sun ? have you 
 not heard it as you watched its setting beam ? He 
 asked me to tell you, but you knew it all before." 
 
 " I feared, doctor, but still I hoped. Take not hope 
 away from me, or my heart will break. Why did he 
 bring me here, if you cannot save him ? Why have 
 you stopped the remedies from which we hoped so 
 much ?" 
 
 She spoke wildly, and knew not that her language 
 was upbraiding. 
 
 " Because all medicines are unavailing," he replied, 
 with gentleness ; " we can only smooth his passage to 
 the grave. The arm of an archangel could not snatch 
 him from it now, how much less my bounded skill, or 
 
 (273) 
 
274 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 your human love ! My clear Mrs. Laurens," added he, 
 unclasping her clenched hands, and pressing them kindly 
 in his own, " by the great love you bear him, — by your 
 belief in the sovereignty of God, — and by your faith in 
 a crucified Redeemer, I entreat you to submit, with 
 meekness and resignation, to a doom common to all the 
 sons and daughters of Adam. Wrestle not, in impa- 
 tient despair, with the mighty hand of God ! I pity 
 you, from my soul, I pity you ; but what can I do for 
 him or you that has not been done already?" 
 
 "You have been kind, more than kind — heaven bless 
 you for all your goodness ! but oh, doctor, it is so hard 
 — you do not know what it is !" 
 
 "I know what it is to see the flower of one's life lan- 
 guish and fade away, leaving nothing but a waste and 
 howling wilderness. I know what it is to watch the 
 glimmering spark one would gladly feed with their own 
 vitality, go out, leaving nothing but the blackness of 
 darkness. I have travelled the same thorny path you 
 are now treading, with bleeding feet and sinking frame. 
 I know what it is. I found no hope, no comfort, no 
 support, but in God. Neither will you. There is but 
 one refuge from the life-storms which, sooner or later, 
 sweep over every human heart, and that is, the cleft 
 Rock of Ages." 
 
 The wild despair of Ildegerte's countenance yielded 
 to a softer expression, as the Christian physician thus 
 solemnly and affectionately addressed her. Bending 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIBE. 275 
 
 her head till the loosened darkness of her hair wove 
 itself into a veil for her sorrow and her tears, she wept 
 and sobbed like a gentle, heart-broken child. The doc- 
 tor did not attempt to check these gushing tears ; he 
 knew they would have a relieving influence. He wa3 
 going away from the city, to be absent days, perhaps 
 weeks, on professional business that could not be de- 
 ferred. He regretted this circumstance, for though his 
 skill in this instance was impotent to save, his sympathy 
 and friendship were powerful to sustain. 
 
 "You are going to leave us, doctor," she said, as, 
 with slow steps, they turned towards the chamber of the 
 invalid, " and we have no friend but you." 
 
 "You are wrong there. You are surrounded by 
 friends whose kind offices would be proffered the mo- 
 ment you required them. Then your black woman is 
 the best nurse in the world. You must not forget her." 
 
 " Poor Crissy ! yes, I am ungrateful. She is a faith- 
 ful friend, who never will forsake me. What could I 
 do without her ? But, oh ! Richard — " 
 
 Another burst of grief; another struggle for com- 
 posure ; a mighty effort to keep back the welling waters, 
 and to roll the stone against the door of the fountain. 
 Poor Ildegerte ! she thought her cup of bitterness was 
 brimming ; but there was another drop of gall to bo 
 infused into it, of which she little dreamed. 
 
 That night, after the doctor had bidden them farewell, 
 with a cheerful voice, but moistened and averted eye, 
 
276 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 promising to return at the earliest possible moment. 
 Ildegerte sat in silence by her husband's couch, on 
 which the pale and solemn moonlight fell m silvery 
 glory. There was no other light in the room, the lamp 
 having been removed to the passsage ; and it seemed as 
 if every lunar beam clustered round that pale and fading 
 form, leaving the remainder of the apartment in deep 
 shadow. As the light of life grew dim in Richard's 
 eye, he loved more and more the benignant and holy 
 lustre of the moon. He would have his couch wheeled 
 to the window, through which it looked in all its calm 
 and heavenly beauty, and there he would lie in silence, 
 gazing upward into the deep, deep dome, where that 
 glorious chandelier was hung. His lungs were so weak,, 
 his breath came so quick and short, and then that terri- 
 ble racking cough, ready to seize him on the slightest 
 exertion, that he seldom talked now. He was gentle, 
 quiet, patient, and childlike, repaying every tender care 
 with a glance of unutterable gratitude and love. " Dear, 
 dear Ildegerte !" he would say, — then followed the up- 
 ward, prayful look, and she knew he was commending 
 her to the mercy of Him in whose presence he was 
 shortly to be. 
 
 The deep silence of the hour was interrupted by the 
 entrance of Crissy, who came in softly and stood beside 
 her mistress. She stood silentlv gazing on her master's 
 pallid and illuminated face, — on the burning flame-spot 
 on either cheek, — on the paly gold locks that fell life- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 277 
 
 lesslj on the pillow, — till something rose swelling and 
 choking in her throat, and she turned to her mistress as 
 if to avoid a sight too harrowing. But Ildegerte's dark, 
 melancholy eyes met hers with such a wistful, desolate 
 expression, — her face looked so pale and sorrowful, with 
 her Mack hair all loose and dishevelled, making such a 
 thick, mournful drapery, — she could not bear to see it. 
 The choking in her throat grew worse. 
 
 "Is Mars. Richard worse to-night?" she at length 
 asked. 
 
 Ildegerte shook her head, she could not speak. 
 Richard did seem better, more quiet and composed 
 than he had for many nights. 
 
 " I'll go out a little while, if missus don't want me 
 just now," said the negro, trying to clear her swelling 
 throat. 
 
 Ildegerte merely bowed her head in token of assent, 
 then making a painful effort, for a dull lethargy was 
 succeeding her late stormy emotions, she said, — 
 
 " Don't stay long, Crissy. What makes you look at 
 me so hard, Crissy ? — how strange you look ! What is 
 the matter ?" 
 
 " Nothing, missus ; I was just thinking of you and 
 Mars. Richard." 
 
 Richard held out his feeble hand, as Crissy turned to 
 the door, and taking her dusky palm in his, said, in a 
 low, husky voice, 
 
278 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 " God bless you, Crissy ! be faithful to her when I 
 am gone." 
 
 " God bless you, Mars. Richard ! — oh ! master, God 
 bless you and missus too !" cried Crissy, bursting into a 
 passion of tears, and sinking on her knees by the couch. 
 " Oh ! master, I poor, sinful creatur ; pray forgive poor 
 Crissy !" 
 
 " Don't, Crissy, don't !" said Ildegerte, trying to 
 raise her from the ground, where she lay actually 
 •writhing. " You hurt him ; you'll make him cough. 
 Pray go, quick !" 
 
 Crissy partly raised herself, but not before she had 
 kissed again and again the hem of Ildegerte's dress, 
 and then she kissed the white hand extended to lift her, 
 and wet it with her tears. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss Ilda, God bless you and make master 
 well! I feel like I could die for you and Mars. 
 Richard." 
 
 Overcome by her own feelings and Crissy's impas- 
 sioned sympathy, the more affecting for being in con- 
 trast with her usual calmness, Ildegerte threw her arms 
 round her dark neck, and weeping on her bosom, ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 "Oh, Crissy! Crissy! I shall soon have no friend 
 left but you. You will never forsake me, — no, no !" she 
 repeated, "you will never forsake me!" 
 
 "I can't stand that, missis! — oh, Lord! I can't 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 279 
 
 breathe ! I 'most dead ! I wish I was dead, — I wish I 
 dead this minnit !" 
 
 "Go, Crissy!" said a faint voice from the couch. 
 "I would sleep, if it were quiet." 
 
 Crissy gave a quick, spasmodic spring, and vanished 
 Tossing her hands above her head, and flying through 
 the long passage, she rushed into Mrs. Softly's room, 
 more like a maniac than a sane person. 
 
 " I can't go to-night. I can't never go. I can't 
 leave Miss Ilda. I can't leave master, I love 'em too 
 much. I'll die fust. Wish I could die this minnit." 
 
 Mrs. Softly looked at Mr. Softly and Mr. Softly 
 looked at Mrs. Softly as if they were in extremity, 
 straining their white invisible eyebrows as they looked. 
 
 This was the night selected for Crissy's exodus. They 
 had arranged everything themselves, very nicely and 
 carefully. She was not to have any trouble in the 
 world. Mr. Softly was to take her to a particular friend 
 of his, whose house, situated about ten miles below the 
 city, near the banks of the river, was a kind of negro 
 caravansary. He was to take her in a boat, and they 
 were to have a charming sail in the depths of the moon- 
 light night. She was to remain there awhile, till the 
 excitement of her flight was over, and then return to 
 the city and commence making the fortune that was to 
 elevate her so high in the scale of being. And after all 
 these preparations, so benevolent and disinterested on 
 the part of her new friends, the weak, foolish, ungrateful 
 
280 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 creature comes weeping and wringing her hands, de- 
 claring she will die rather than leave her master and 
 mistress ! 
 
 It is no wonder that they were astonished and indig- 
 . :nant, that they upbraided her for her perfidy and ingra- 
 titude, that they placed before her in the strongest 
 colours, the enormity of her offences, and the conse- 
 quences of her transgressions. It is no wonder that the 
 poor bewildered creature again yielded herself to theii 
 influence, and promised to be guided passively by their 
 will. 
 
 Why did this man and woman, who had enrolled them- 
 selves under the banner whose angel-inscribed motto is 
 "peace and good will to all men," thus labour and tra- 
 vail to rend asunder the bonds of affection and gratitude 
 which united this faithful heart to the master and mis- 
 tress she so fondly loved? They saw her contented, 
 perfectly unconscious that servitude was a burden, with- 
 out one wish to exchange situations with the hirelings, 
 who had the liberty of going from place to place and 
 serving many masters instead of one. "Why were they 
 not willing to leave her so ? What had that sad young 
 wife done to them, that they thus toiled to deprive her 
 of her chief comfort and stay in the night-time of her 
 sorrow and despair ? Had they no compassion for that 
 pale, patient, gentle, dying stranger, that they thus 
 stole from him his attendant and nurse, at the very mo- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 281 
 
 tnent when the death-dew is falling beneath the silver 
 moon? 
 
 What motive, we ask, in the name of all that is kind, 
 and Christian, and holy, could have actuated them in^? 
 the present instance? What, but the carrying out of^ 
 a fixed, inflexible purpose, at any cost, at any sacrifice ; 
 the triumph of an indomitable will ; the gratification of 
 prejudice and intolerance ? No matter what flowers are 
 in the pathway, trample them down, though they be 
 sweet as the blossoms of Paradise. You have marked 
 out your course, and must not turn to the right or to the 
 left. No matter if hearts lie palpitating and bleeding 
 below, let the chariot wheels roll on, crushing and 
 mangling them. You have mounted your car — you 
 have sworn to rush on, with a sword in one hand and a 
 torch in the other ; and, though blood and flame may 
 gurgle and crackle around you, your purpose must be 
 accomplished, your mission fulfilled. 
 
 That night the midnight moon looked down on the 
 bosom of the Ohio, as a small batteau glided swiftly 
 over its glittering surface. A stout black man sat at 
 one end, propelling it over the water; a white man 
 occupied the centre, folded carefully in a cloak, for the 
 river-damp might be dangerous at such ah hour ; while 
 a negro woman crouched at the other end, with her head 
 bowed on her knees, and dull and heavy in her ears was 
 the sound of the dipping oar. She had no outei cover- 
 ing to shield her from the night-damps, — her guardian 
 
282 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 and protector had not thought of that ; why should he ? 
 and, in her trepidation, remorse, and anguish, she had 
 forgotten to "wrap her shawl round her. After a while, 
 she lifted her head and looked about her, with a wild, 
 frightened countenance. She looked at the banks, with 
 their dark fringe-work of swaying boughs, and shud- 
 dered, — it seemed so like the sweeping of Ildegerte's 
 long black hair. She looked down into the river, — the 
 deep, rippling, shining river, — and looking right up to 
 her, through the quivering brightness ; she could see 
 her master's large, languishing blue eyes, and his long 
 fair hair curling in the water. She looked up, and right 
 over her head, distinctly seen in the dark-blue of the sky, 
 she could still see those languishing eyes fixed mourn- 
 fully and reproachfully on her. 
 
 She heard voices, too, calling to her from the dark 
 places on shore. Sometimes it was the voice of Jim, 
 saying, " Crissy, Crissy, I told you neber to run away. 
 You'll neber see poor Jim no more !" Sometimes they 
 were the voices of little children, crying, " Mammy, 
 mammy, ain't you neber coming agin ?" She could see 
 their little black faces and woolly heads peeping at her 
 through the thick, rustling foliage. Sometimes she saw 
 something long and whitish in the distance, — it was the 
 large wooden chest, the ark of her wealth, the garner 
 of her gifts and treasures ; and then, all at once, 
 they all vanished, and she could see nothing but th. 
 figure seated directly in front, — stiff and perpeodiculai 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 282 
 
 with its cold, doughy, indefinite face, and lank white 
 hair. Splash went the oar ! — on went the boat ! — more 
 and more chill blew the river breeze ! Where were 
 they bearing her to ? She did not know. What was 
 she going to do? She did not know. She only knew 
 that she had left all she loved behind, and that a cold, 
 dark, uncertain future was before her. 
 
 The midnight moon looked down on another scene. 
 Ah, midnight is a solemn and mysterious hour ! It was 
 at midnight that the destroying angel flapped its raven 
 wings over the Assyrian camp, and the dead lay in 
 thousands beneath its folds. It was at midnight that 
 the same commissioned angel passed over the thresholds 
 of Egypt, and slew the first-born of Pharaoh that sat 
 upon the throne, and the first-born of the maid-servant 
 that was behind the mill. It is the hour when the cry of 
 new-born life is oftenest heard in the household, — when 
 the wail over the dying is borne on the still and dewy air. 
 
 Ildegerte sat by the couch of her husband, who, soon 
 after the departure of Crissy, had fallen into a deep and 
 tranquil sleep. She watched for a while his unusually 
 gentle breathing, then, exhausted by weeping, her own 
 eyes closed, and she too slept, with her head reclining 
 on the arm of her chair and one hand clasping Rich- 
 ard's. She had seen nothing in the unwonted agitation 
 of Crissy but deep sympathy and affection, and the last 
 feeling of which she was conscious before falling asleep 
 was gratitude for the possession of this humble and 
 
284 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 faithful friend. She was awakened, she scarcely knew 
 how, but starting from her chair she uttered a piercing 
 shriek. Richard's head was slightly raised on his left 
 hand. There was a gurgling sound in his throat, and a 
 red stream flowing from his mouth on the pillow, the 
 sheet, and her own white dress. The moon was still 
 shining, though it was higher in the heavens and did not 
 gleam directly on the couch. She could see it all 
 though — the drooping head, the flowing blood, the white, 
 white face, where the hectic fine was all extinguished ; 
 and in agony and terror that baffles description she 
 looked wildly round for Crissy — for Crissy at that mo- 
 ment gliding away on the shining river. She flew to 
 the door and shrieked her name ; — no answer. Her 
 own voice echoed mournfully in the winding passage. 
 
 " Oh ! Richard !" she cried, coming back and throw- 
 ing herself on her knees by his side, " speak to me, look 
 at me, tell me that you will not die and leave me here 
 alone !" 
 
 He opened his eyes and gave her such a hole — but he 
 spoke not, and the red stream still kept flowing on, till 
 the folds of her dress were all dabbled and stained. 
 
 " Oh ! God !" she cried, " he is dying, and I am alone ! 
 What shall I do ! Oh ! brother, brother, would to God 
 you were near ! I must find somebody ! He must not 
 perish so !" 
 
 The wire which communicated with the bell in her 
 room was broken, so that she could not ring it. The 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 28 5 
 
 only way was to go for help herself, and leave him 
 bleeding, dying there. Rushing through the passage, 
 she knocked vehemently at Mrs. Softly's door, under 
 which a light was glimmering, and opened it without 
 waiting for admission. The lady had not retired to bed, 
 having sacrificed sleep on the altar of benevolence and 
 mercy. She was just about to say her prayers, with a 
 feeling of unusual self-complacency, when the loud 
 knocking came thunderingly to her door, it was burst 
 open, and Ildegerte stood before her, pale as a corpse, 
 her black hair sweeping wildly back from her brow, and 
 her white dress crimsoned with blood. 
 
 "Mercy! mercy!" screamed Mrs. Softly, recoiling 
 as from an avenging spirit, and spreading both hands 
 before her face. 
 
 "For God's sake, come and help me!" cried Ilde- 
 gerte, seizing her frantically by the arm and dragging 
 her towards the door. " Richard is dying — bleeding to 
 death ! I can't find Crissy ! Have you seen her ? Do 
 you know where she is ? I must have her with me ! I 
 can't do without her ! Dr. Darley is gone ! I am all 
 alone ! Oh ! my God ! is there nobody to help him ?" 
 
 Thus wildly ejaculating, she kept her hold on the 
 frightened, shrinking woman, dragging her along with 
 her into the room where Richard lay, all ghastly in his 
 blood. 
 
 Ildegerte snatched up the lamp from the passage 
 floor and held it over the couch. As she held it, her 
 153 
 
286 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 trembling hand grew steady, as if clenched with iron 
 fingers. She realized at once that she was in the pre- 
 sence of that mighty power whose coming she had so long 
 dreaded, and a sudden, instantaneous, awful calmness 
 ettled on the wild tossings of her soul. She felt as one 
 might, who, borne on the rushing wings of a whirlwind 
 to the mountain top, looks down upon a waveless, bound- 
 less sea of glass. Her spirit was preternaturally illu- 
 minated ; and, above the darkness and stillness and 
 fearfulness, there appeared to her a glory like the body 
 of heaven in its clearness. 
 
 "Richard! Richard!" she cried, stretching her arms 
 upwards as if he were already ascending. " The Lord 
 is coming. He is coming to bear thee away." 
 
 The eyes which she had thought for ever closed, opened 
 for one moment and looked steadfastly upon her. 
 Through the glaze and mistiness of death, a ray of hea- 
 venly joy and love flashed, quivered, and was gone. 
 Every nerve of Ildegerte's frame thrilled, as if un- 
 sheathed, beneath that last intense, burning ray of life. 
 Her own soul seemed leaving her body and mingling 
 with his. 
 
 "Yes," she said faintly, "oh, yes!" and falling for- 
 ward, she lay as cold and insensible as the form her fail- 
 ing arms vainly attempted to enfold. 
 
 When consciousness returned, the whole scene waa 
 changed. She was in another room, lying on a strange 
 bed, and faces that looked strange and dim were looking 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 287 
 
 at her through the curtains. There was a strong odour 
 of camphor and hartshorn, and when she put up her 
 hand to shade back the hair from her brow, she found 
 it heavy and wet. 
 
 "Oh! it is blood!" she murmurred. "I remember 
 it now." 
 
 Rising on her elbow, she sent her glance piercingly 
 round the room, in search of an object which she could 
 not find. 
 
 "What have you done with him?" she shrieked, try- 
 ing to spring from the bed. "I will not be separated 
 from him ! Take me back — Crissy will take me ! 
 Where is she? Why does she stay away so long?" 
 
 Mrs. Softly, in whose bed she was laid, shrunk from 
 the keen questioning of those wild, dark eyes. More 
 than once during the night had her self-complacency 
 been disturbed ; and Ildegerte's imploring cry for Crissy 
 sounded like anything but music in her ears. 
 
 "What have you done with Crissy?" repeated Ilde- 
 gerte, with delirious earnestness. "Tell me, have you 
 sent her away?" 
 
 "Mercy on me!" cried Mrs. Softly, with a kind of 
 hysterical spasm. "What have I to do with Crissy? 
 How should I know ? I am sure I am not her mistress." 
 
 Ildegerte lay still a moment, then suddenly ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 "Where is Mr. Softly? Is he gone too?" 
 
 This abrupt and startling question entirely destroyed 
 
288 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 the equilibrium of Mrs. Softly. Blushing and stammer- 
 ing, her fringeless eyes, incapable of hiding themselves, 
 rolled from side to side as if in search of escape. Her 
 embarrassment and evasion, the strange absence of 
 Crissy, the absence of Mr. Softly, also, a thousand little 
 circumstances, unnoticed before, but rising up with 
 vividness and distinctness now, all told the story of 
 desertion and wrong. Husband, servant, friend — all 
 taken, and she left desolate and alone. Were God and 
 man leagued against her ? Gone was the supernatural 
 illumination ; gone the glory-vision that gilded the solemn 
 death-hour. Gone, too, the crushing sense that followed 
 the brief apocalypse of being under the awful pressure 
 of God's almighty hand. It was man with whom she 
 had now to contend — man in his littleness and spite, 
 and all the scorn and indignation of her soul flashed up 
 and mingled with the fast-kindling fires of delirium that 
 gleamed in her eyes. 
 
 "You, you have done me this foul wrong !" she cried t, 
 " and may God avenge me in his own good time ! When 
 Richard and I stand with you before the judgment-seat 
 of Christ, oh ! may He remember the bitter anguish of 
 this hour !" 
 
 Another fainting fit followed this paroxysm of agony, 
 and thus the night waned away. The morning star — 
 one of that glorious company that sang for joy at the 
 birth of creation — shone in between the parted curtains, 
 through which the moonbeams lately stole. But its 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 289 
 
 voice of music was now hushed. It looked in sadness 
 on a cold, still, shrouded form, with folded arms and 
 moveless feet, and divinely placid brow. The lips, from 
 which the life-stream was so lately flowing, were com- 
 posed with an angelic smile, and all the charm and 
 tenderness of youth, which disease and suffering had 
 impaired and partially obliterated, were restored to the 
 calm, reposing features. 
 
 Shine on, thou beauteous star ! type of the bright and 
 morning star, that rose upon a sin-darkened world. Star 
 of the manger ! — star of the cross ! shine upon the night- 
 shades of sorrow and death, and usher in the day-spring 
 from on high ! 
 
 Ildegerte lay for weeks on a sick-bed. Though her 
 own nurse had been decoyed from her, she did not want 
 for kindness and sympathy. Dr. Darley, who had 
 returned, took her under his parental care, and every 
 one lavished upon her the tenderest attention. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Softly had left the house, suddenly discovering a 
 deficiency in their accommodations which they had not 
 noticed before, — and every one seemed rejoiced at their 
 departure. 
 
 As no proof existed, but the coincident absence of 
 Mr. Softly, that he or his wife had any agency in the 
 flight of Crissy, nothing could be done to convict them. 
 Indeed, the circumstance of negroes being bribed to 
 leave their masters, was too common to excite more 
 than a passing remark. 
 
290 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Ildegerte, on whose bruised and wounded heart the 
 gentle courtesies of strangers fell softly and balmily, 
 silent, patient, and mournful, came slowly back to life and 
 health. Dr. Darley had written to her brother imme- 
 diately on his return. He had seen the body of Richard 
 deposited in the stranger's vault, ready to be removed 
 where it could mingle with Southern dust. He had 
 ministered to the young and sorely stricken widow, as 
 physician, friend, comforter, and father. 
 
 She had another devoted friend, of whose sympathy 
 she for some time took little heed ; but, as her percep- 
 tions quickened, she was conscious that a dark form 
 often lingered in her apartment at night, and sometimes 
 when she awakened it was shading her pillow. At first, 
 she would start, and utter the name of Crissy, but she 
 soon learned to distinguish its lineaments from hers. 
 They were very ugly, but there was a redeeming expres- 
 sion of honesty and sincerity, which prevented them 
 from being altogether repulsive. It was nobody but 
 Judy, who, after having accomplished her daily work, 
 would put on her cleanest clothes, and steal up into the 
 room where Crissy's young mistress lay, and watch by 
 her, as if she were a little child. 
 
 "You are very good," said Ildegerte, one night, when 
 she was left alone with Judy ; and, forgetting that she 
 was in a free state, she added, " To whom do you be- 
 long?" 
 
 " I belongs to a mighty mean missus, just now, honey 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 291 
 
 — dat's my own ugly, black self. I'm tired of being my 
 own missus, dat I am. Wish you'd take me, missus — 
 won't ask you one copper — only let me live wid you. I 
 tells Crissy to beg you — tells her a heap of times how 
 miserable I was — but she done run off herself, like do 
 aggravatinest fool that ever was born." 
 
 "Poor Crissy!" said Ildegerte, gently. "I am not 
 aDgry with her." 
 
 " Lord bless you, missus ; if you ain't an angel, there 
 ain't none in de kingdom come. Crissy was great big 
 fool, dat she was ; but dem white-eyed, no-account peo- 
 ple — dey wan't no quality folks, missus — sorter be- 
 witched her and made her uneasy and uncontented. She 
 neber run away of her own cospiracy. Hunded times 
 she say to me — ' Judy,' ses she, ' I've got the best mis- 
 sus and massa in de whole universe. Dey neber gin me 
 one single stripe, scarce eber speak de cross word or gin 
 de cross look.' ' Crissy,' ses I, ' tank de Lord for his 
 goodness. Good massa de great blessing. If de Lord 
 had gin 'em me I neber run away in de life.' " 
 
 " And did you run away, poor creature, from a cruel 
 master?" asked Ildegerte, compassionately. 
 
 "Yes, honey. He mighty bad man. Eberybody 
 'spise him, black and white. He treated his wife aw 
 fully. I do b'lieve she done dead of de broken heart. 
 He got drunk and beat her, and left de black Satan 
 mark on her bosom. No wonder he whip and beat de 
 niggers, when he neber spare good missy. She neber 
 
292 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 'buse us — she treat us mighty kind, but hi ! didn't he 
 make up for't, raring and taring and swearing like old 
 Sam heself ? Well, he kept on aggravating me, worse 
 and worse, when one night he sent me tramping in de 
 cornfield arter someting I neber left dere. I kept tink- 
 ing 'bout de big riber and de free folks over de riber, 
 and I come down to it jist as de boat gwine to cross, jist 
 as de smoke go puff, puff in de air. Heap of folks 
 gwine to cross. I steals in behind dem. Dat's de way 
 I run off; but bless de heart, missus, I've seen sights 
 since dat time. I go to white folks — ask for de work — 
 dey say dey no use for de cornfield nigger like me. 
 When I get work dey make me do all de drungery of de 
 bus'ness. Den I get sick — nobody care — pay de doc- 
 tor bill, pay de board. Wonder how much got left?" 
 
 Judy paused for breath, and drew the sleeve of her 
 left arm across her face. Ildegerte felt very weary, and 
 would gladly have been left to her own sad thoughts ; 
 but she pitied the poor, forlorn being, who knew so little 
 how to appropriate the freedom she had won. She 
 thought of Crissy and sighed — Crissy, who had been so 
 tenderly cared for, now perhaps friendless and home- 
 less. 
 
 " Won't missus let poor July wait on her ? I'd go 
 down, crawling all de way on he hands and knees, if you 
 only let me go back to de South when you go." 
 
 At the mention of her Southern home, the vision of 
 its sweet acacia groves, flowering vines, and bowers of 
 
TIIE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 29o 
 
 roses, associated with the remembrances of her early 
 love, rose bloomingly before her, — then she recollected 
 her desolate widowhood, and burst into an agony of 
 tears. To go back a widowed wife, a forsaken mistress ! 
 Oh ! how sad ! 
 
 "The Lord forgib me for dis !" cried Judy. "I no 
 business to talk and make her cry — bless her tender 
 little heart." 
 
 "Don't talk any more now," said Ildegerte, when sho 
 had subdued her emotion, "I will not forget you, and 
 if I live to return, you shall go with me in place of poor, 
 faithless Crissy." 
 
 It were vain to attempt a description of Judy's joy 
 and gratitude. She laughed and cried at the same mo- 
 ment, then ran out of the room, that she could give 
 more noisy vent to her feelings ; then coming back im- 
 mediately, rocked herself backwards and forwards, 
 pressing the palms of her hands together and whispering 
 "glory." Poor Judy had never known what real kind- 
 ness and sympathy was, before. Under the dominion 
 of a harsh and brutal man, the discipline of her life had 
 developed but two traits — sullen endurance of wrong at 
 one time, and a bitter, galling sense of them at another. 
 Her master was cruel to her, cruel to all his negroes, 
 but more cruel to his wife and children, because their 
 hearts felt the wounds of his unkindness more keenly. 
 But he was not irresponsible for all this. He "was 
 looked upon with the same detestation that the criminal 
 
294 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 is, who violates the immutable laws of God and man. 
 Good men shunned his fellowship, and the social ban 
 was on his brow. 
 
 After having gained her freedom, Judy knew not how 
 to enjoy it. She always spoke of herself in such a de- 
 preciatory manner that people, judging her by her own 
 estimate, thought her a "good-for-nothing nigger," and 
 refused to employ her. When fortunate enough to ob- 
 tain employment, the white servants looked upon her 
 as an underling, and imposed upon her the most labo- 
 rious and servile tasks. Crissy's description of her 
 Southern home, of the contentment and comfort that 
 reigned there, of the kindness of her mistress and mas- 
 ter, and the many privileges she enjoyed, had excited 
 an intense desire to belong to the same household. All 
 the latent sensibilities of her nature were called forth 
 by the sufferings of the beautiful young creature left so 
 desolate, so lone ; and she was perfectly sincere when 
 she said that she was willing to crawl on her hands and 
 knees, if she were only permitted to follow her, all the 
 days of her life. 
 
 We would not depreciate the value of freedom. It is 
 a glorious possession, but its glory depends upon the 
 character of the nation or individual that owns it. Has 
 it yet reflected glory or honour on the negro race ? Let 
 the voice of history answer. Turn to the islands where 
 the emancipated slave revels in unmolested freedom. 
 Turn to St. Domingo, where, more than sixty years 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 295 
 
 since, it placed upon its brow a sable crown, and took 
 into its hands an ebon sceptre, and abjured the dominion 
 of the white man. Under the most propitious influences 
 it commenced the exercise of its regal power. What 
 aspect does its government and society now present? 
 Lawlessness, rapine, and murder defy, with furious 
 license, the laws of the first, and idleness, licentiousness, 
 and blasphemy are the distinguishing features of the 
 last. Too indolent to labour, too reckless to provide 
 for future want, with scarcely energy enough to pluck 
 the delicious productions of their rich tropic clime, the 
 lords of this beautiful isle live like the brutes that pe- 
 rish ; indulging in vices as exuberant as their vegetation, 
 and fierce and desolating as the storms of the equinox. 
 
 Do the British West India Isles exhibit a nobler ad- 
 ministration, a purer morality? Emancipation there 
 has been the work of a later day, and yet the same dark 
 scenes of violence and rapine destroy the brightness of 
 these gems of the ocean, and change to the hue of blood 
 their emerald dye. Unlicensed liberty riots amid the 
 ruins of industry, order, and peace. Even the most 
 awful visitations of heaven, to which these glowing re- 
 gions are subject, have no power to check their crimes 
 or to chasten their unhallowed spirits. Amid the con- 
 vulsions of nature, the throes of the earthquake, the 
 shrieks of the tempest, they indulge in the wildest ex- 
 cesses of sin, and commit the most fearful outrages. 
 Has liberty proved a blessing to this lawless and de- 
 
296 tiie planter's northern eriee. 
 
 generate people ? Can the ark of freedom float secure 
 over these turbid and billowy waves of passion, strife, 
 and crime ? 
 
 Could Great Britain have anticipated the result, when 
 " she lavished her hundred millions for the emancipation 
 of these islands, so glorious in their beauty, so wondrous 
 in their fertility, now in moral ruin and decay, would 
 she not have appropriated it to the relief of her own 
 starving children, of her nominally free, but literally 
 and practically enslaved poor ? 
 
 For thousands of years past, the Africans have existed 
 in their own country as a separate people, free, as they 
 came from the hands of God; yet what one solitary 
 step have they taken in the great march of civilization, 
 beneath whose majestic tramp the universe is resound- 
 ing ? While other nations, all around and about it, 
 have been advancing with mighty strides, Africa has 
 remained, as a nation, in the same low, degraded con- 
 dition in which it pleased the Great Creator to place 
 her. Surrounded by the gorgeous beauty and luxuriance 
 of a tropic clime, with such magnificent materials ready 
 for its use, can agriculture show one improvement made 
 by its slothful hands? Do the mechanic arts owe it 
 one invention ? Does the music of manufacture echo 
 over its rolling streams ? No ; in the depth and dark- 
 ness of the ignorance, slothfulness, sensuality, and 
 heathenism in which it was sunk nearly four thousand 
 years ago, it still exists, and God has not laid bare his 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 297 
 
 omnipotent arm to exalt it in the scale of being. As it 
 was in the beginning, so it is now. 
 
 Why not arraign the Almighty with injustice and 
 partiality, in creating one nation for glory and honour, 
 and another for dishonour and degradation ? Why not 
 arraign Him, in whose sight all the nations of the earth 
 are but as grasshoppers, and as a drop of water in the 
 boundless ocean of infinitude ? Him, who in the mighty 
 work of creation, has exhibited a gradually widening 
 and ascending glory, through all the vast range of in- 
 animate and animated nature. — from the worm that 
 writhes in the dust, 
 
 " To the rapt seraph that adores and burns." 
 
 Have you ever stood at the foot of the ladder, and 
 then mounted, yea, from the lowest abyss of earth ? 
 The steps are at first muddy and slimy and loathsome, 
 but as you go upward and upward they become golden 
 rounds, and by and by, you can see the angels of God 
 ascending and descending, as in the dream of the pa- 
 triarch. Why this great graduated scale ? Son of man, 
 answer ! — why ? 
 
 But is Africa free, as a nation ? Its negro population 
 is estimated at sixty millions, and of this number, pro 
 bably forty thousand are slaves, — slaves under a bond- 
 age of iron, a yoke of thorns.* The African master 
 
 * An African slave-trader had eight thousand of his countrymen in 
 captivity, whom he was about to sell to the Portuguese and Spanish, 
 
298 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 is indeed irresponsible ; he has the power of life and 
 death over his vassals ; and when the infirmities of age 
 throw them helpless and therefore useless on his hands, 
 he crushes them as regardlessly as you would the reptile 
 crawling in the dust. On the death of a king or a 
 chief, whole hecatombs of slaves are slaughtered to bear 
 him company in the grave, and bow to his sovereignty 
 in the spirit-land, — thus extending their idea of servi- 
 tude beyond the dividing line of time and eternity ! 
 Nor is this all ; when once the thirst of blood is kindled 
 by the sacrificial knife, they ofttimes keep the sword 
 of massacre unsheathed till whole towns are bathed in 
 the crimson tide ! And most of these direful deeds are 
 perpetrated in the name of religion, showing how dim 
 and dark and awful are their ideas of God and futurity ! 
 how thick, how impenetrable the blackness that shrouds 
 their moral and spiritual vision ! 
 
 That Africa is not a fallen nation, degraded from its 
 original position, is proved by abundant testimony. In 
 no part of the continent, where the native negro exists, 
 are there any remains of antiquity, any ruins or hiero- 
 glyphics, to prove a state of past civilization and refine- 
 ment. He has left no more monuments than the beasts 
 
 whose slavers were then in port ; but two English frigates, cruising 
 along the coast, month after month, with unrelaxing vigilance, baffled 
 his design. At length, in a fit of desperation and rage, he set fire to 
 the building in which they were imprisoned, and all of the eight thou- 
 sand human beings were burned to ashes. Not one escaped. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 299 
 
 of the field, or the fowls of the air. Nature reigns 
 there in all the grandeur and beauty of its virgin prime ; 
 but man has left no records of his plastic and improving 
 hand. It is not so in other lands. Look at Asia, — 
 .0 matter how low and degraded some of its regions 
 may be, you will find the traces of ancient art and 
 civilization. You will see the ruined temple, the de- 
 serted shrine, the dilapidated dwelling, telling of a 
 once cultivated if now degenerate race. Even statuary 
 and painting, the two most glorious handmaids of art, 
 have left the print of their gilding footsteps, amid the 
 desolation and gloom. 
 
 Look at our own continent. The Aborigines of 
 America, with a few exceptions, were in as dark and 
 savage condition as the native African. Yet, here were 
 found similar ruins and evidences of ancient art. In- 
 deed, wherever the white man and the bronze and red 
 man exist, there is the indubitable stamp of present or 
 ancient civilization ; but no lingering ray of former 
 genius or art, streaming on her night of darkness, tells 
 that poor degraded Africa ever enjoyed a more exalted 
 destiny. 
 
 At home, she is involved in shadows whose blackness, 
 intense as the hue of her skin, is unrelieved by the 
 brightness of the day-star of hope. In our own South- 
 ern land, amid lowliness and slavery, she has learned to 
 lift up her hands unto God. Of her three million chil- 
 dren dwelling in servitude here, more than six hundred 
 
800 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 thousand are the professed followers of Jesus Christ, 
 and have enrolled their names with the sacramental host 
 of God's elect. 
 
 Rejoice, benighted Africa ! Is not He, who led the 
 children of Israel through bondage and chains to the 
 green borders of the promised land, leading thee also, 
 in His own appointed way, to the glorious liberty of the 
 children of God ? 
 
 "I am the Lord and there is none else, there is no 
 God besides me. I girded thee though thou hast not 
 known me. 
 
 " That they may know from the rising of the sun, 
 and from the west, that there is none beside me. I am 
 the Lord, and there is none else. 
 
 " I form the light and create darkness ; I make peace 
 and create evil. I the Lord do all these things." 
 
 " "Woe unto him that striveth with his Maker. Let 
 the potsherd strive with the potsherds of the earth. 
 Shall the clay say to him that fashioned it, What makest 
 thou ? or thy work, He hath no hands ?" 
 
CHAPTEK XII 
 
 " Will you go to the plantation with me to-morrow, 
 Ei.Ialia?" asked Moreland of his wife, a few days after 
 the departure of Ildegerte. 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she answered with eagerness; "there is 
 nothing I desire so much." 
 
 " As the season has advanced with uncommon rapid- 
 ity," said he, "they have already commenced the picking 
 of cotton, which will be something of a novelty to you. 
 The fields are whitening for the harvest, and the labour- 
 ers are gathering it in. But oh ! my sweet Northern 
 wife!" he added with a smile, "what a trial it will be 
 of your love, to see your husband in the full exercise of 
 his despotic power ! You have only seen me in the 
 household, and have thought me, perhaps, tolerably 
 gentle. But what will you say when you see me driving 
 lf>4 301 
 
302 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the poor creatures through the cotton rows with ai 
 knotted lash, and making the white bolls red with their 
 dripping blood ? Can you love me still, and plead the 
 force of custom in my behalf?" 
 
 " You speak mockingly. I fear no such test of the 
 strength of my affection. You allude to what I once 
 believed, to what so many of my Northern friends still 
 believe ; and I cannot wonder so much at the scornful 
 smile that curls your lip. I know you too well now to 
 credit such enormities. How I wish father were here, 
 even for a little while ! Cannot we induce him to 
 come ?" 
 
 " I hope so. I hope to see all your family, my Eu- 
 lalia, gathered round your Southern home. Reuben is 
 to be a lawyer. The professions are all crowded at the 
 North ; here he will have a wider scope and more abund- 
 ant materials to work upon. Plenty of litigation here. 
 I promised Dora to build her a bower of roses, and peo- 
 ple it with canaries and mocking birds, expressly for 
 her accommodation. Mark my prophecy, Eulalia. You 
 
 will have all your family here, true-hearted Southerners, 
 by and by." 
 
 "And Betsy with them?" said Eulalia, smiling. 
 
 : ' Oh, yes ! I plighted my vows to Betsy, before our 
 marriage, and I must not falsify them. She is an ho» 
 nest, industrious creature, worth a dozen of our pam 
 pered negroes. You must have perceived, even now, 
 how much heavier the burthen of servitude is at the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 303 
 
 North than here, where the labour is divided among so 
 many." 
 
 "Yes ! in the town ; but I suppose on the plantations 
 they must work very hard indeed, even when they have 
 humane masters and overseers." 
 
 "You shall judge for yourself. They have their ap 
 pointed tasks, and then, if they choose, they labour for 
 themselves. There is one trait in the negro character 
 of which you may not be conscious. You cannot make 
 them work habitually beyond their strength. You can 
 get a certain amount of labour out of them, and beyond 
 that they will not go. Masters and overseers, having 
 learned this fact from experience, seldom attempt to 
 push them over this boundary. If they do, they meet 
 with an obstinate resistance which coercion never can 
 overcome. ' This peculiarity is one of the negro's great- 
 est safeguards from the requirements of selfish power. 
 The self-interest of his employer is enlisted on his side, 
 and we all know what a powerful principle it is. A 
 certain amount of labour is a blessing to every human 
 being. That God willed it to be so, is proved by the 
 withering curse of ennui, resting on the idler. You 
 think, perhaps, it must be a curse to work under the 
 burning sun of our sultry clime. It would be for me ; 
 it would be for the white man ; but the negro, native 
 of a tropic zone, and constitutionally adapted to its 
 beat, luxuriates in the beams which would parch us with 
 fever. I have studied him physiologically as well as 
 
SOi THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 mentally and morally, and I find some remarkable cha- 
 racteristics, perhaps unknown to you. In the first place, 
 his skull has a hardness and thickness far greater than 
 our own, which defy the arrowy sunbeams of the South. 
 Then his skin, upon minute examination, is very different 
 from ours, in other respects as well as colour. It se- 
 cretes a far greater quantity of moisture, which, like 
 dew, throws back the heat absorbed by us. I could 
 mention many more peculiarities which prove his adapt- 
 fcdness to the situation he occupies, but I fear I weary 
 you, Eulalia." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I have heard the subject discussed since 
 my earliest recollection, yet I acknowledge my profound 
 ignorance. Every circumstance you mention is new to 
 me." 
 
 "No man living," added Moreland, with a counte- 
 nance of deep and earnest thought, " regards the negro 
 with more kindness and sympathy than myself. I would 
 sooner give my right hand to the flames than make it 
 the instrument of cruelty and oppression to them. They 
 are entwined with my affections as well as my interests. 
 I was born and brought up in their midst, and they are 
 as much incorporated with my being as the trees which 
 have shaded my infancy and childhood, and the streams 
 on whose banks I have been accustomed to wander. I 
 never dreamed, when a boy, that it was possible to sepa- 
 rate my existence from theirs, any more than I could 
 flee from the shadows of night. How little do the peo- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 305 
 
 pie of the North reflect upon all this ! How little do 
 they understand the almost indissoluble ties that bind 
 us to each other ! And yet," he cried, excited to 
 greater warmth as he proceeded, " strong as are these 
 ties, and dear as are these interests, I can never lock 
 upon the negro as my equal in the scale of being. He 
 has a heart as kind and affectionate as my own, a soul 
 as immortal, and so far I claim him as my brother ; but 
 he is not my equal physically or mentally, and I do not 
 degrade him or exalt myself by this admission. When 
 Africa, as a nation, stands side by side with the other 
 nations of the world in the arts and sciences, in litera- 
 ture and genius, by its own inherent energies and 
 powers, then I will subscribe to this equality, but not 
 till then. God has not made all men equal, though men 
 wiser than God would have it so. Inequality is one of 
 Nature's laws. The mountains and the valleys proclaim 
 it. It is written on the firmament of heaven. It is 
 felt in the social system, and always will be felt, in spite 
 of the dreams of the enthusiast or the efforts of the 
 reformer." 
 
 Moreland paused. The shadow of a great thought 
 rested on his brow. Eulalia looked anxiously towards 
 him. lie smiled. 
 
 "You must not mind me when I fall into revery. It 
 is my habit. But come, my Eulalia," — there was inex- 
 pressible grace and tenderness in the manner in which 
 he thus expressed his ownership — never had her name 
 
306 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sounded so sweet, never had the possessive pronoun 
 seemed so significant or appropriate — " sing me one of 
 your own charming songs. I have heard a great deal 
 of music, but never anything that thrilled my heart like 
 the voice of the village chorister." 
 
 Eulalia looked at the superb piano that stood near, 
 silent beneath its crimson cover, at the guitar swathed 
 in green, leaning against the wall, instruments which 
 the fingers of Claudia had once swept, and a blush rose 
 to her cheeks. Moreland interpreted the glance and 
 blush. 
 
 "Will my wife become a pupil, for my sake?" asked 
 he, drawing her towards him. " Will she learn the use 
 of those now silent keys and loosened chords ?" 
 
 "Gladly, most gladly," she answered. "I have 
 always sighed for such advantages, but I never expressed 
 the wish. I knew my father toiled to supply us with 
 the comforts of life. How could I be selfish enough to 
 beg for its luxuries ?" 
 
 " Well, as soon as we return from the plantation we 
 will arrange our plans. You shall have the best of 
 music masters, and I know you will make a marvellous 
 pupil. But after all there is no instrument comparable 
 to the God-taned human voice !" 
 
 As soon as Eulalia began to sing, the little EflSe came 
 flying in, and nestling in her arms, listened, as if an 
 angel were singing. She sat with her head thrown 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. 307 
 
 slightly back, her red lips parted, and her wildly bril- 
 liant eyes suffused with a glistening moisture. 
 
 "More!" she cried, when Eulalia paused. "Effie 
 good girl, when mamma sing." 
 
 "She will make a musician," said Eulalia, turning 'o 
 her husband, while she fondly caressed the child. " 1 
 never saw so young a child exhibit such a passionate 
 love of music. Several times, when she has stubbornly 
 resisted my authority, I have subdued her into the gen- 
 tlest obedience, by singing a few simple strains." 
 
 "I do not wonder at it," said Moreland, gazing with 
 passionate tenderness on the lovely young stepmother, 
 cradling in her arms the brilliant little sprite, whom she 
 was teaching him to love. "I am sure if I were in the 
 wildest paroxysm of anger, your voice would soothe me 
 into peace." 
 
 "But you never have such paroxysms," said she, with 
 a smile ; " so I shall have no opportunity of proving my 
 power on you." 
 
 " You do not know me, my Eulalia. My bosom is the 
 couchant lion's lair." 
 
 " I have never seen you angry. I think the lion 
 must be very tame. I do not fear it." 
 
 "You need not," said he, looking fixedly upon ne 
 sweet, confiding, angelic countenance; "you could bind 
 it with a silken thread. I remember, when a boy, 
 reading about a holy virgin going on a pilgrimage 
 through the wilderness, and the wild beasts hushed their 
 
308 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 bowlings, and crouched submissively at her feet. The 
 serpent that came hissing from the crevices of the rocks, 
 curled in loving folds innnoxious in her path ; and the 
 birds flew down and nestled in her bosom. You have 
 taught me the meaning of that allegory, my gentle 
 wife." 
 
 He stooped down, kissed her, and left the room. He 
 seemed moved, agitated. There was a world of sensi- 
 bility in the darkening lustre of his eyes. She knew he 
 had been thinking of Claudia, whose name had never 
 been breathed between them since she had taken her 
 place as the mistress of his home. A thousand times 
 had it hovered on her lips, yet she had never dared to 
 utter it; and the past seemed a sealed book to him. 
 The servants had evidently been instructed not to talk 
 of their former mistress ; and Eulalia had too much 
 delicacy to question them on a forbidden theme. Some- 
 times Kizzie would say, looking at Effie, 
 
 " Just see, ain't she the living military of her mother ? 
 — them black eyes, and that red, saucy mouth of hers. 
 Dless your soul, Kizzie!" clapping her hand over her 
 own broad lips, "what that you talking 'bout? What 
 your Mars. Russell tell you ? Poor master ! he had a 
 heap of trouble ! — all over now, tho', bless a Lord !" 
 
 Eulalia well knew that Kizzie longed to relate all that 
 she knew ; and, had she questioned her, she would have 
 considered herself bound to obey her mistress, even in 
 opposition to her master's commands, for had he not 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 309 
 
 told her himself, to obey her in all things ? But Eula- 
 lia's respect for her husband equalled her love, and she 
 considered his domestic misfortunes too sacred for curi- 
 osity. Yet the image of Claudia was for ever flitting 
 before her. She would have given anything for one 
 glimpse of the face, the haunting face, her imagination 
 had drawn. It was not jealousy she felt, for she was 
 sure of her husband's undivided love; but he had loved 
 and wedded another, and death had not broken the nup- 
 tial bond. She lived ! — where, how near, she knew not. 
 She had a conviction that they must one day meet, and 
 a thrill of indescribable emotion penetrated her, at the 
 thought. She knew that, whatever were the circum- 
 stances of the separation, Moreland was not the offend- 
 ing party ; but she also knew, by the dark expression 
 that sometimes swept over his countenance, how much 
 and deeply he must have suffered. 
 
 "Oh, never, never may he suffer through me!" was 
 her soul's most fervent prayer; "let sorrow, danger, 
 death come, if God will, but let our hearts still be one. 
 Welcome any thing, every thing but estrangement from 
 him !" 
 
 The next morning, at an early hour, they commenced 
 their journey to the plantation. It was a two days' 
 ride, and Kizzie made sumptuous preparations for their 
 comfort. She packed up the greatest quantity of cake, 
 biscuits, cold ham, and tongue, for their wayside lun- 
 
310 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 cheons, not forgetting the generous cordial and the 
 sparkling wine. 
 
 "You must think, Kizzie, that your mistress and my- 
 self are blest with fine appetites," said Moreland, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Ain't I going too, Mars. Russell, and ain't Miss 
 Effie to be provided for ? Besides, one likes to give a 
 bit to the driver, you know, master." 
 
 "Is it your wish to take the child?" asked he, in 
 some surprise, turning to Eulalia. 
 
 " Certainly — that is, if you have no objection." 
 
 " Oh, no ! but will she not trouble you?" 
 
 "Even if she did, I would not like to leave her be- 
 hind." 
 
 "Then I will go on horseback, as your escort. Kiz- 
 zie will occupy a very comfortable space in the carriage, 
 and Effie frisks about like a little monkey, wherever 
 she is." 
 
 "Let us leave her by all means, then," said Eulalia. 
 "I did not think of its depriving you of a seat. How 
 inconsiderate I am !' 
 
 "Effie, my darling," added she, taking her up in her 
 arms, "I am sorry we cannot take you; but Aunt Kiz- 
 zie will be very good to you while we are gone. And 
 you will be very good, will you not ?'* 
 
 "No! I won't be good! I'll go too!" cried the 
 child, struggling and kicking like an angry kitten. " I 
 won't stay ! Kizzie sha'n't stay !" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHMEN BRIDE. 311 
 
 The little creature's eyes actually blazed on her step- 
 mother. 
 
 "Take her away, Kizzie," said her father; "she is a 
 perfect little tigress. It is no wonder," muttered he, in 
 a low voice, and with a reddening face. 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Eulalia, entreatingly ; "you 
 know you said I could tame the beasts of the field." 
 
 Then whispering in Effie's ear a few words which 
 seemed to have the effect of magic, while she bent upon 
 her her soft, serene, dark eyes ; the child remained per- 
 fectly still a moment, while the angry crimson faded 
 from its cheek, then, looking up with the gentleness of 
 a lamb, lisped — 
 
 " I had rather not, mamma !" 
 
 "Well! you are certainly a female Van Amburg," 
 said Moreland, wondering at the sudden transformation 
 from passion to gentleness ; " let her go, Eulalia. Keep 
 her with you, by all means. I really prefer going on 
 horseback ; I do not feel half a man pent up in a car- 
 riage. Nothing but your company could reconcile me 
 to it, and that I can enjoy through the open windows." 
 
 Effie, wild with delight, was perched upon the seat 
 before the others were half ready, swinging her little 
 gipsy straw hat by one string, till it looked like a 
 twisted cord. It took a long time for Aunt Kizzie to 
 deposit her "goodies," as she called them, to her own 
 satisfaction, in the carriage-pockets and by-places; and it 
 took her a long time to go up and down the steps of the 
 
312 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 carriage, as she had a good deal to carry besides her 
 bundles and bottles. Albert, who stood near, holding his 
 master's high-mettled and prancing steed, laughed at the 
 audible grunt, by which she relieved her fatigue, every 
 time she stooped. He laughed, too, to see little Effie 
 punch her with her feet, as she tucked away the packages ; 
 but he laughed still more, when Kizzie sailed majestically 
 by him, pretending to be angry and consequential, her 
 face beaming with good-nature the whole time. 
 
 When Eulalia was about to take her place at Effie's 
 side, she was astonished at seeing two nice pillows on the 
 seat. 
 
 "Why are these here?" she asked. "I am no in- 
 valid, Aunt Kizzie, to require propping. Please take 
 them out." 
 
 "Wait a little, missus, while I tells you the raal 
 reason. When we stops at night, you won't find a 
 pillow-slip fit to scrape your feet on, let alone your 
 honey-sweet face. There ain't no quality folks at the 
 stopping-places, and the piny-woods people have mighty 
 curous ways of doing things, I tell you, missus." 
 
 " You had better let Kizzie arrange everything ; you 
 can rely on her judgment and experience, ' said More- 
 land, mounting the beautiful horse, whose caracoling 
 and prancing made Eulalia tremble for the fearless 
 rider. " You are not familiar with the phases of back- 
 woods life, Eulalia. They will at least have the fresh- 
 ness of novelty." 
 
the planter's northern bride. 813 
 
 While the inspiring breeze of morn was blowing, and 
 the dew yet glittered on the grass of the wayside, their 
 ride was delightful and exhilarating. The bright-green 
 tassels of the silver pine showered odours as they waved 
 above them ; the sturdy blackjack, the graceful willow 
 oak, the shining-leaved magnolia, alternately shaded 
 them from the sunshine, and thrust, here and there, a 
 projecting bough into the carriage window as they passed. 
 Eulalia's spirits were so elastic, she could have bounded, 
 like Effie, to catch the festoons of hoary moss that hung 
 in gray loops from the branches ; and when the noon- 
 day-heat made the sandy road burn under the horses' 
 fetlocks, and flecks of foam whiten the rich, mahogany- 
 coloured skin, and they all stopped near a beautiful 
 spring, that gushed right out of a rock, and sat down 
 on the mossy ground, while Kizzie fumbled after the 
 goodies, and spread them out on a broad, flat stone, 
 close to the spring, and put the bottles in the bubbling 
 water to cool, Eulalia's rapture burst forth in joyous 
 ejaculations. Moreland was charmed with her child- 
 like enthusiasm, and dipping the silver cup, which the 
 aristocratic Kizzie had not failed to bring, in the heart 
 of the fountain, he drank sportively to the health of his 
 Northern bride. 
 
 "Stay a moment," he said, tossing the silver cup on 
 the grass. "I must teach you how to drink from a 
 greenwood goblet." 
 
 Then gathering some large, fresh, glabrous oak leaves, 
 
314 
 
 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 he wove them together in a mysterious manner, so as to 
 form a rural cup. Eulalia declared she had never tasted 
 a draught so delicious or food so refreshing ; while Kiz- 
 zie looked on with a comfortable, motherly, liberal ex- 
 pression of countenance, as if she had not only provided 
 the feast, but the spring, the greenwood, and the cover- 
 ing heavens themselves, for their accommodation. An 
 air of serene repose was diffused over every object, and 
 every sound breathed of tranquillity. The water mur- 
 mured and gurgled as sweetly and softly as if it feared 
 to disturb the shadows that played upon its bosom. The 
 trees dipped lightly their long, swaying branches in the 
 fountain, and the low, musical buzz of insect life gave 
 one the idea of an all-pervading, void-filling, infinite ex- 
 istence. The horses stood quietly feeding in the shade, 
 wrinkling their glossy sides and napping their tails, as 
 the flies lit upon their moist hides ; the driver reclined 
 lazily near them, trailing his whip in the water with an 
 occasional glance at the sun to see how late it was get- 
 ting ; and, fast asleep on the shady grass, with her little 
 gipsy hat lying by her side, her cheek flushed with heat 
 and moist with perspiration, Effie presented the anoma- 
 lous picture of a noonday fairy. Moreland and Eulalia 
 sat side by side, feeling that exquisite sense of heart- 
 communion which silence only can express. They sat 
 so still, so near, they could hear the beating of each 
 other's hearts, and there was no need of any other lan- 
 guage. Eulalia remembered the hour when she thus sat 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 315- 
 
 ori the deck of the steamboat, in the hush of the moon- 
 light, wishing she could glide on for ever over the shin- 
 ing river. Even so she wished she could sit for ever, 
 indulging in that quiet dream of happiness in the midst 
 of the languishing brightness of noon ; but the journey 
 was before them, and after a little bustle and consider- 
 able Aunt Kzzzieism, they again started. After travel- 
 ling a few miles they began to ascend a long, sandy, 
 winding hill, and so slow was their progress, the wheels 
 sometimes appeared to stand still. Moreland rode close 
 to the carriage, keeping up a gay conversation with Eu- 
 lalia, in which Aunt Kizzie occasionally joined with 
 the freedom of a privileged member of the family, when 
 they caught a glimpse of a carriage slowly descending, 
 and Moreland turned his horse into a side path, to give 
 the two carriages room to pass each other. Eulalia 
 looked out with the interest one feels in meeting stran- 
 gers on a solitary road, where the sight of a log-cabin 
 is an event worth remembering, and even a grave-stone 
 has a social aspect. 
 
 A lady sat lolling indolently on the back seat, with 
 her arms folded in a drapery of black lace. She was 
 young and handsome ; but what chiefly distinguished 
 her was a pair of large, brilliant black eyes, that 
 glanced carelessly and haughtily towards the travellers 
 she was about to meet. The moment Eulalia met that 
 cold, bright, haughty glance, she started as if it had 
 pierced her bosom, and leaned against the window side, 
 
31G the planter's northern bride. 
 
 keeping her own eyes fixed upon the stranger with an 
 intense, magnetic gaze. She saw the brilliant, haughty 
 orbs turn from her to Moreland and suddenly flash up 
 like burning gas, while every feature expressed scorn, 
 hatred and revenge. Never had she seen such an ex- 
 pression on woman's face, and her own turned pale as 
 marble as she gazed. She looked at her husband ; he 
 was lividly pale, and his lips had the rigidness of stone. 
 Again the scorching glance flashed back into the car- 
 riage and riveted itself on Eulalia with withering scru- 
 tiny. Erne, with the eager curiosity of childhood, stood 
 up on tiptoe, and, leaning over Eulalia's lap, exclaimed 
 in a clear, ringing, decided tone, peculiar to herself, 
 
 "Let me see, mamma." 
 
 At sight of the child, at the sound of its voice, an 
 instantaneous change passed over the lady's countenance. 
 The proud, scornful, defying lip quivered with sudden 
 emotion ; tenderness, anguish, and remorse swept in 
 clouds over her haughty features. The arms so disdain- 
 fully, yet gracefully folded, opened as if to clasp her to 
 her breast, — but, with one more revolution of the wheels, 
 it all fled like a vision. "Where the dark, bright, avenging 
 angel or demon, whichever it was, appeared, there was 
 empty space, with the white glare of the sand below. 
 
 When they reached the summit of the hill, the driver 
 stopped the panting horses to give them breath, and 
 Moreland approached the carriage ; the shadow of the 
 thunder-cloud yet lingered on his brow. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 317 
 
 "Eulalia," he exclaimed, startled by her deadly pale- 
 ness, "Are you ill? Are you faint ?" 
 
 She shook her head, but so great was her agitation 
 her lips faded to a pale ashy hue. 
 
 " Give her some wine, Kizzie ! She is faint ! She 
 will faint ! There is no water to be had !" 
 
 Kizzie fumbled in the pocket for the silver cup, 
 declaring in her trepidation, that she believed "her 
 fingers was all thumbs." Moreland, with a gesture of 
 impatience, threw his bridle reins to the driver, and, 
 jumping into the carriage, placed Effie in Kizzie's lap, 
 seated himself by Eulalia and put his arm around her. 
 
 "It is all over now," she said, the cold, benumbing 
 sensation passing away. "I am sorry to have troubled 
 you so." 
 
 "Troubled !" he repeated. "Don't talk in that way, 
 my Eulalia, when you know I would lay down my life 
 at any moment to save you from suffering." 
 
 Yes ! she knew he would — she had not one doubt 
 of his exclusive devotion to herself, — then why the sick 
 ening anguish she had just endured ? Was it jealousv 
 of the past or dread of the future ? or were the mingling 
 shades of both rolling darkly over her soul ? She had 
 been so happy a few moments before. Why had this 
 woman come in her dark, splendid, terrible beauty, be- 
 tween her and hor happiness ? Yet, had she not yearned 
 to behold her with strong, irrepressible desire ? Yes ! 
 but now that desire was fulfilled, she would give any- 
 155 
 
318 THE PLANTER'S NORTIIERN BRIDE. 
 
 thing to shut out the image of that flashing, passionate, 
 haunting countenance. Ashamed of her want of self- 
 possession, she raised her eyes and met those of her 
 husband fixed so earnestly and sadly upon her, that 
 every other feeling was swallowed up in sympathy for 
 him. What untold agony he must have suffered, and 
 yet he cared only for her, foolish, childish, selfish as he 
 must think her ! Sure it was her place to soothe and 
 comfort him, and beguile him of the remembrance of his 
 wrongs. 
 
 "I am better," said she, with a smile; "nay, lam 
 quite well. You must not feel anxious if I do look pale 
 now and then. You shall find that I am a heroine, for 
 all that." 
 
 "I believe you," he replied, his grave, sad counte- 
 nance lighting up in her smile. "Kizzie, supposing you 
 take my seat on horseback and let me lounge in the car- 
 riage a while ?" 
 
 " Oh, master, wouldn't I look funny on that are fine 
 beast? Wouldn't young missus laugh till she done 
 dead?" 
 
 " A merry laugh would do her no hurt ; — but you ride 
 like an Amazon, Kizzie. Come, I am not afraid to trust 
 you!" 
 
 Eulalia thought him in jest, but Kizzie knew that he 
 was in earnest, and prepared to obey with great good- 
 nature. She had no objection to stretch her limbs and 
 carry on a social chat with the driver. She had been 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 819 
 
 brimming with, indignation at the sight of Claudia, whoso 
 evil eye she had no doubt had made her young mistress 
 sick, and she was bursting to have a talk with some 
 body. 
 
 "Let me ride with mammy," exclaimed Effie, spring- 
 ing up with elfish lightness; "I so tired sitting here — I 
 most sick !" 
 
 " Yes, Mars. Russell, let me have little missy right 
 here," said Kizzie, who had mounted the spirited animal 
 from the steps of the carriage with an agility that sur- 
 prised Eulalia, considering her rheumatic affection. The 
 next moment Effie lighted on the pommel of the saddle, 
 like a bright-winged bird, and burst into wild, exulting 
 laughter. Nor did she laugh alone — for Kizzie's figure 
 did form an extraordinary contrast to her young mas 
 ter's. She looked very much like a large ball of Indi^ 
 rubber, with a butterfly sticking to it ; but the ballj 
 though it seemed to roll about, this side and that, and 
 threaten to tumble off, kept its place, as if it knew what 
 it was about. It bounded up and down, when the horse 
 pranced, as he always would when any one first mounted 
 his back, but it settled in the right spot, and in spite of 
 a quivering, jelly-like motion, maintained its equilibrium 
 to the last. 
 
 " Laugh away, young missus," said she, " it does me 
 good to hear you. Mars. Russell put me here purpose 
 to make you laugh. What I going to do with this here 
 
320 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 strap ? Can't get my big foot where master does Lis ! 
 Hi — see how Kizzie's long heel stick out !" 
 
 As she was not encumbered with long, flowing skirts, 
 the form of her feet and ankles were liberally displayed. 
 Eulalia could not help laughing, and the horse, turning 
 his head entirely round and gazing at his new rider, 
 seemed to enter into the spirit of the change, and twink- 
 ling his eyes merrily, jogged on, like a cornfield animal, 
 accommodating itself to circumstances. 
 
 Moreland had accomplished his object. He had 
 diverted the thoughts of Eulalia from the dark channel 
 in which they were flowing, and he was left alone at her 
 side. Then he opened to her his whole heart, and told 
 her all the history of the' past, without any reservation. 
 From the perfect confidence of this hour, " that perfect 
 love which casteth out fear" was born in Eulalia's 
 bosom. She felt as one does, who, after gazing in qua- 
 king terror on the ghost which imagination has created, 
 finds it, on approach, a mass of shadows or a bundle of 
 moonbeams. The interdicted name, the forbidden sub- 
 ject, the deserted dwelling, are always invested with a 
 dread charm, which vanishes with familiarity. While 
 there is one forbidden theme to a husband and wife, it 
 will rise between them a cold, icy barrier, freezing by 
 slow degrees the living warmth of love. It was well 
 that Moreland felt the truth of this in the morning glow 
 of their wedded life, when the dew was on the flower and 
 the freshness on the leaf and the glory in the sky. It 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 321 
 
 kept off the mildew and the cloud. It kept away the 
 tempest and the whirlwind. 
 
 "Is this where we are to rest for the night?" asked 
 Eulalia, as they stopped about twilight at the door of a 
 log-cabin, whose dark and dingy walls were unrelieved 
 by a single pane of glass, the light and air being ad- 
 mitted through wooden shutters. 
 
 "Even so," answered her husband, as he assisted her 
 to alight. "Are you sorry you came ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! it makes me think a little of poor Nancy's 
 cottage, only hers has glass windows." 
 
 "Are you very tired, Kizzie ?" said she, hearing- 
 several expressive grunts, as she descended from the 
 saddle, fearing she had purchased the happinesss of 
 her husband's company at the expense of Kizzie's com- 
 fort. 
 
 "I does feel sorter bruised, missus, but not more 
 than I can bear ; you see I ain't used to master's saddle 
 no how, and it makes me a little oneasy and discom- 
 forted. Never mind, missus ; if you and Mars. Hussell 
 is satisfied, Kizzie won't complain." 
 
 Though it was a warm evening, a bright lightwood 
 fire burned in the large tumble-down looking chimney. 
 It was the lamp that lighted the cabin, and displayed, 
 in its broad illumination, the persons of its occupants. 
 A man, hard-favoured and sun-browned, who had evi- 
 dently been at work in the field, sat in his shirt-sleeves, 
 smoking a long pipe, in the back-door. A woman, 
 
611 TILE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 nearly as brown as himself, dressed in the coarsest home- 
 spun, stood looking out of the front window, while two 
 girls, one about twelve, the other fifteen, with short, 
 thick, coarse brown hair hanging in masses over their 
 eyes, while dark calico sunbonnets covered their heads, 
 were peeping over her shoulders. They all appeared 
 very clean and tidy, though rough and uncouth. Their 
 frocks were of a dark indigo colour, and they all wore 
 dark-blue woollen mitts, with long points reaching over 
 the backs of their hands. Why they were so careful of 
 these members, which were of the hue of mahogany, 
 was a mystery, especially the two girls, whose feet were 
 bare as Eve's were in Paradise. Their costume gave 
 Eulalia such an impression of warmth, that, combined 
 with the bright blaze and long wreaths of blue smoke 
 curling up round the warm, brown face in the back door, 
 made her feel very sultry and uncomfortable. She was 
 sure she would melt and suffocate ; but she was very 
 much amused, notwithstanding, with the rustic greeting 
 that welcomed them. Her husband was received as a 
 known guest, and evidently an honoured one. Aunt 
 Kizzie was also recognised kindly ; but on her, as the 
 Squire's new lady, they bestowed most abundant atten- 
 tion. They came up to her, extending their hands in a 
 straight line, while the long blue tongues on the back 
 of their hands flapped up and down, and gave her the 
 true, hearty, backwood gripe. Then the two girls 
 walked around her, looking at her admiringly through 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 823 
 
 their short, thick hair, and taking an inventory of her 
 dress. The little Effie too received her due share of 
 admiration, and, heing a child, they ventured to approach 
 her, as she sat enthroned on Aunt Kizzie's lap, and even 
 slipped their fingers into her coal black ringlets. But 
 the little lady was tired, sleepy, and consequently cross 
 and inaccessible. Nothing could exceed the haughti- 
 ness with which she repelled their advances. 
 
 " Get away !" she cried, drawing up her right shoul- 
 der and pushing them with her feet ; " you too ugly — 
 you shan't touch me !" 
 
 " Shame, little missy," said Kizzie, gathering the 
 offending feet in her black fingers — " Is that the way 
 quality ladies talk?" 
 
 Eulalia, though shocked at the child's imperious rude- 
 ness, knew it was not the moment to correct it. She 
 thought of the eyes, so full of pride, disdain, and vin- 
 dictiveness — eyes that seemed burning on her still, and 
 trembled to think that those dark passions might have 
 been transmitted to the bosom of her offspring Then 
 she remembered the look of yearning anguish she had 
 cast upon her child, the opening arms, the bending figure, 
 and intense pity quenched her aversion. 
 
 "You had better put Effie to bed, Kizzie," said she, 
 looking round the room, with a vague feeling of anxiety 
 about their accommodations for the night. Moreland 
 was watching her bewildered, half-frightened glance, and 
 could not forbear smiling;. There seemed to be but that 
 
324 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 one room in the whole house, for the rafters overhead 
 indicated that there was no upper story. There were 
 four beds in the room, one in each corner, two of them 
 covered with white counterpanes, having a deep border 
 of netting, and the two others with patchwork quilts. 
 The corners occupied by the white beds were evidently 
 considered the guest-chambers of the establishment, and 
 in one of these Kizzie deposited the now sleeping Effie. 
 
 Eulalia had reason to thank the providing care of 
 Kizzie, in having supplied them so liberally with home 
 dainties, for she could taste nothing at supper but a cup 
 of milk. Tumblers and goblets were unknown luxuries 
 to this family of primitive habits. A large dish of bacon 
 and greens, flanked by tremendous hoe-cakes, was the 
 crowning glory of the table. A remnant of a cold sweet- 
 potato pie, and some gingerbread cakes, as large as 
 cheeses, were extra flourishes of gentility, introduced in 
 honour of the guests. But what chiefly attracted Eula- 
 lia's admiration was the candlestick which dignified the 
 centre of the table — a large gourd, with a tall, majestic 
 handle, truncated to receive a dim compound of beeswax 
 and tallow, stood upright and towering as Cleopatra's 
 Needle, giving an occasional contemptuous sputter, and 
 shooting upwards a long, fierce, fiery wick. 
 
 "Come, squire," said the lord of the feast, "set 
 yourself convenient, and lay to and help yourself. We 
 don't stand for ceremony in the piny woods — not a bit. 
 Your lady there don't eat one mouthful. I 'spose she 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 325 
 
 ain't used to such coarse vittles. She don't look as if 
 she was. I tell you what, squire, you oughter leave her 
 in the woods a while, and let her scuffle about with my 
 gals a while. Then she'd have an appetite. See how 
 brown and strong they look !" 
 
 " I do sometimes envy the labouring man his keen 
 appetite and sound sleep," answered Moreland : "but 
 we indulged in too late a luncheon to do justice to your 
 hospitality." 
 
 " Well, squire, it's the truth," said the farmer, laying 
 down his knife and fork, and using his sleeve for a nap- 
 kin ; "there's nothing like work to make a man con- 
 tented. I wouldn't changes places with nobody — I 
 wouldn't give a snap for a fine house. What's the use, 
 I want to know, of so much paint and white-wash? 
 It just shows the dirt. Who wants to sit on anything 
 better than a good splint-bottomed chair ? Not I. 
 As for eating, I wouldn't give this bacon and greens 
 for all your stuffed nonsense and made up-dishes. It's 
 a great thing, squire, to know what you're eating. 
 Here's my old woman and I hain't had a day's sickness, 
 to speak of, since we was married, and the gals are as 
 tough and healthy as all out doors." 
 
 "Do you never have chills and fevers?" asked More- 
 land. 
 
 " Pho ! what's that ? We don't call that sickness. 
 Shake a little one day, up and smart as a pipestem the 
 next. I mean your right down, regular, doctor-bill 
 sickness, that takes all a man earns to pay for. There's 
 
D26 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 only one thing I want, and that is, to give my gals an 
 eddication. I am going to send them to school next 
 year, if I have a good crop this. Eddication is a beau- 
 tiful thing in a woman ; it don't matter so much in a 
 man, 'cause he's got more natteral smartness ; but it 
 does set a woman off mightily. My old woman, here, 
 is a right good scholar. She can write as good a hand- 
 write as anybody need want to see." 
 
 The good lady really blushed at this compliment from 
 her husband, but was evidently pleased and grateful. 
 Eulalia began to like her new acquaintances, for their 
 homely good sense, contentment, and appreciation of 
 each other. There was one fact that impressed her as 
 very strange. The father spoke as if his daughters had 
 their education yet to begin, though the eldest was fast 
 approaching the years of womanhood. She thought of 
 the superior advantages of the children of New England, 
 where the blessings of education are as diffusive as the 
 sunbeams of heaven, gilding the poor and lowly as well 
 as the rich. 
 
 "Are you very weary?" asked Moreland of his wife, 
 after the supper-table w „s removed and the farmer had 
 smoked another pipe. 
 
 "No! I have been so much interested in studying 
 character," she remarked in a low voice, "that I have 
 quite forgotten my fatigue." 
 
 "Let us walk, then, awhile. The night is mild and 
 starry, and the scenery around wild and picturesque." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 327 
 
 Knowing the early habits of this class of people, he 
 knew they would have an opportunity of retiring during 
 their ramble, to their own peculiar corners, and that 
 poor Eulalia would thus be saved from unspeakable em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 They extended their walk to a spring, whose gushings 
 made soft music in the ear of night. The back-wood 
 farmer always pitches his tent near some welling spring, 
 where his horses and his cattle can be abundantly wa- 
 tered and his own thirst slaked at will. A beautiful 
 grove of willow oaks surrounded it, and a sweet, low, 
 quivering sound went through their branches. 
 
 "What a lonely life this family must lead !" said Eu- 
 lalia ; "no neighbours, no friends, no intercourse with 
 society, save what the passing stranger permits them to 
 enjoy. It seems like living in a wilderness." 
 
 "And so it is ; and yet, you see, this life has its own 
 peculiar enjoyments. You must recollect that it is com- 
 paratively but a few years since the red man was lord 
 of these woods and plains, and the wild beast made its 
 lair in their shades. This man, energetic and intelli- 
 gent, is breaking in, as they say, a new portion of the 
 country, and by and by the wild places will show the 
 beauty of cultivation. He has already made money 
 enough to purchase some negroes, who assist him in the 
 field, he being chief workman, as well as overseer. His 
 children, I doubt not, will be rich, and be associated 
 with the magnates of the land. Our social system is 
 
328 the planter's NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 like the tree now bending over you, Eulalia, — its roots, 
 without grace or beauty, are hidden in the earth, from 
 which they derive strength and support ; its hardy trunk 
 rises, without ornament, brown and substantial ; then 
 rllie branches extend, green with foliage, and the birds 
 of the air make their nests among the leaflets. Hark ! 
 there is a mocking-bird singing now." 
 
 Yes ! the nightingale of the South was just over their 
 heads, and rills of melody, clear, silvery, liquid as the 
 waters of the spring, came flowing down, and bubbled 
 and sparkled around them. It sounded as if a whole 
 orchestra of birds were practising their wild overtures 
 and cavatinas for a great concert, so rich and varied 
 were the notes. Surely such waves of music could not 
 roll from one little, slender, feathered throat ! Ah ! 
 the mocking-bird is the Jenny Lind of the wild-wood, 
 and her single voice has echoed through the world ! 
 
 A very different serenade greeted them when they 
 returned into the cabin. A deep, sonorous bass was 
 rising from under one of the patchwork bed-covers, — 
 showing that the weary were resting from their labours. 
 Every one was wrapped in profound slumber. Kizzie, 
 whose pallet was spread upon the floor by the side of 
 little Effie, was nodding in a chair to some invisible 
 potentate, while waiting for her young mistress to retire. 
 In spite of the novelty of her situation, and the loud, 
 stentorian breathing within the room, Eulalia was soon 
 wandering in the far-off land of dreams. When she 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 329 
 
 awoke, the patchwork quilts were smoothly spread, the 
 workman abroad in the field, his wife busy with her 
 household duties, with the family poke on the top of her 
 head; the girls, in their long-pointed blue mitts and 
 dark calico sun-bonnets, seeming ready for any emer- 
 gency ; and Effie, bright as the morning, frolicking all 
 over Aunt Kizzie. Moreland had gone out to meet the 
 sun, whose coming was heralded by banners of crimson 
 and gold unrolled in the East. Eulalia's toilet was soon 
 completed, but when she looked round in perplexity for 
 a ewer, that she might wash her face and hands, Kizzie 
 made mysterious signs for her to come to the door. 
 
 "You see, missus," she whispered, "these is nobody 
 but Georgia crackers ; they just lives any which way ; 
 the way they washes, they pours water out of the gourd 
 on their hands, and then scrubs their faces. I brought 
 some towels, and if you'll just step down to the spring 
 I'll bring 'em, and little missy, too, — there's where 
 massa washed hisself." 
 
 Eulalia was quite delighted with Aunt Kizzie's arrange- 
 ment, and felt the joy of childhood glowing in her heart, 
 as she bathed her face in the cool, gurgling fountain, and 
 moistened the soft waves of her dark-brown hair. It 
 brought a pale but beautiful bloom to her cheek, which 
 the master of the house complimented, by telling her 
 she looked 'most as well as his gals did. 
 
 " You going to put me horseback to-day, Mars. Rus- 
 
330 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 sell?" asked Kizzie, putting on a rueful look, when the 
 horses and carriage were at the door. 
 
 "No, Kizzie. I think that would be too great a 
 task." 
 
 "Lordy, master, I didn't mean that. I mean you 
 going to ride in the carriage this time ?" 
 
 "I believe I will ride in the open air this morning," 
 ne replied, to the great joy of Kizzie, who had an im- 
 pression that she did not appear to particular advantage 
 as an equestrian, and who was not partial to the exercise 
 in general. 
 
 The parting benediction of the family was a cordial 
 " wish you well" and " be sure and come agin ;" and it 
 probably had more heart in it than the graceful adieus 
 and au revoirs of the fashionable world. 
 
 It was just before sunset when they arrived at the 
 plantation, and Moreland welcomed Eulalia to her coun- 
 try home. , 
 
 And now for the first time she realized that she was 
 the wife of a Southern planter. 
 
 All around, far as the eye could reach, rich, rolling 
 fields of cotton, bearing the downy wealth of the South, 
 stretched out a boundless ocean of green, spotted with 
 white, like the foam of the wave. Long rows of white- 
 washed cabins, extending back of the central building, 
 whose superior style of architecture distinguished it as 
 the master's mansion, exhibited some black sign at every 
 doj>r, to show the colour of the occupants. Though it 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN ERIDE. S31 
 
 wanted something of the usual time, as Moreland wished 
 Eulalia to witness a true plantation scene before the 
 duskiness of twilight, he ordered the bugle blast to sound 
 which called the labourers home, and its echoes rolled 
 '. ver the whitened plains with clear and sweet reverbera- 
 tions. Soon, returning in grand march from the fields, 
 came the negroes, poising on their heads immense bas- 
 kets, brimming with the light and flaky cotton. Little 
 children, looking very much like walking semicolons, 
 toddled along, balancing their baskets also, with an air 
 of self-importance and pride. Eulalia gazed with a 
 kind of fascination on the dark procession, as one after 
 another, men, women, and children, passed along to the 
 gin house to deposit their burdens. It seemed as if she 
 were watching the progress of a great eclipse, and that 
 soon she would be enveloped in total darkness. She was 
 a mere speck of light, in the midst of shadows. How 
 easy it would be to extinguish her ! She recollected all 
 the horrible stories she had heard of negro insurrections, 
 and thought what an awful thing it was to be at the 
 mercy of so many slaves, on that lonely plantation. 
 When she saw her husband going out among them, and 
 they all closed round, shutting him in as with a thick 
 cloud, she asked herself if he were really safe. Safe ! 
 Napoleon, in the noonday of his glory, surrounded by 
 the national guard, was not more safe — more honoured 
 or adored. They gathered round him, eager to get 
 within reach of his hand, the sound of his voice, the 
 
oil THE PLANTER S NORTHERN ERIDE. 
 
 glance of his kind, protecting, yet commanding ej T e. 
 More like a father welcomed by his children than a king 
 greeted by his subjects, he stood, the centre of that 
 sable ring. Eulalia thought she had never seen him 
 look so handsome, so noble, so good. She had never 
 felt so proud of being his wife. An impression of his » 
 power, gently used, but still manifest, produced in her 
 that feeling of awe, softened by tenderness, so delicious 
 to the loving, trusting heart of woman. He appeared 
 to her in a new character. She had known him as the 
 fond, devoted bridegroom ; now he was invested with 
 the authority and responsibility of a master. And she 
 must share that responsibility, assist him in his duties, 
 and make the welfare, comfort, and happiness of these 
 dependent beings the great object of her life. He had 
 twined round her the roses of love, but she was not born 
 to sit idly in a bower and do nothing for those who were 
 toiling for her. He had adorned her with the gems of 
 wealth, but she must not live in selfish indulgence while 
 the wants of immortal souls were pressing upon her, 
 while the solemn warning " Thou must give an account 
 of thy stewardship" was ringing in her soul. 
 
 Never before had she made an elaborate comparison 
 between the white and the black man. She had so 
 often heard her father say that they were born equal — 
 equal in mind, body, and soul, having only the accidental 
 difference of colour to mark them — that she had believed 
 it, and loathed herself for the feeling of superiority over 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 333 
 
 them which she could not crush. But as she looked at 
 her husband, standing in their midst, the representative 
 of the fair sons of Japheth, wearing on his brow the sig- 
 net of a loftier, nobler destiny, every lineament and 
 feature expressive of intellect and power, and then at 
 each of that dark, lowly throng, she felt a conviction 
 that freedom, in its broadest latitude, education, with its 
 most exalted privileges, could never make them equal 
 to him. 
 
 Gradually they dispersed to their several cabins, and 
 Moreland rejoined his wife. 
 
 "To-morrow, I will take you to their cabins," he said. 
 "They are all anxious to see their young mistress." 
 
 "Why not now?" 
 
 "You are too weary." 
 
 "No, I am not. I have been watching their recep- 
 tion of you with such interest ! Oh ! my husband ! I 
 never dreamed that slavery could present an aspect so 
 tender and affectionate ! What a kind, indulgent master 
 you must be, to inspire such warm attachment ! Ah ! 
 I fear there are not many such !" 
 
 " Sceptic in all goodness but mine ! That is not right, 
 my Eulalia. I must not be complimented at the e:» 
 pense of my brethren. I am no better, perhaps not sA 
 good as the majority of masters, as you will find out, 
 after having dwelt longer at the South. The cruel ones 
 you will not see, as we have no fellowship with them. 
 I would far sooner make the negro my social companion 
 156 
 
334 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 than the man who abuses him. Are not those cotton 
 fields beautiful ? Do you see the white blossoms bloom- 
 ing on the surface, some of them shaded with a pale 
 golden tinge, others with rose colour, while the snow- 
 white tufts are bursting from the bolls below? Did 
 you ever see a Northern flower-garden half as beautiful ? 
 Do you say you are not tired ? Let us go then to some 
 of the cabins. I acknowledge I am impatient to intro- 
 duce to them my sweet Northern bride." 
 
 We will not attempt to describe all the Aunt Dilsys 
 and Dinahs and Venuses, the Patsys and Pollys, the 
 Uncle Bills and Dicks and Jupiters and Vulcans — to 
 whom Moreland presented his bashful, blushing wife. 
 She really felt more trepidation in passing this ordeal 
 than she would in attending one of the President's 
 levees. 
 
 He carried her first to Aunt Dilsy's cabin, she being 
 the most ancient and honourable matron of the establish- 
 ment. There Miss Effie was sitting on a little piece of 
 carpet, tossing up a large, scarlet pomegranate, with her 
 lap full of all kind of goodies. Dilsy was not as old 
 as Dicey, but her wool was profusely sprinkled with 
 the ashes of age, and time had made many a groove on 
 Iier face, where its shadows gathered. The locks of the 
 white man grow gray as life wears on, but the negro's 
 black skin, as well as his wool, assumes a dim and hoary 
 aspect, as the dawn of a brighter day approaches. 
 
 "Bless you, for a sweet angel, as you be!" cried 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 335 
 
 Dilsy, "whose salutation was a sample of the others, and 
 whose dialect Eulalia at once observed differed from the 
 household slaves ; — " bless you, young missis, and make 
 you de name and de praise of many generations, dat 
 luv de Lord Jesus Christ. I didn't 'spec to see young 
 missus 'fore I die ; but, praise de Lord, she come, — and 
 young massa look so happy. Well ! he desarves it, 
 de Lord knows. I've had him a baby in dese arms, 
 and his moder before him. I've been praying my 
 Hebenly Massa to send him good wife, good crishen 
 wife, to be his 'zilary in 'nevolence and piety. Now 
 poor Dilsy willing to lay down and neber wake up no 
 more." 
 
 " I will try to deserve your blessing, and be a kind 
 and faithful mistress," answered Eulalia, with unaffected 
 humility, the tears trembling in her soft dark eyes, while 
 she pressed the dry and wrinkled hand of the aged negro. 
 Dilsy wept like a child, completely melted by such sweet- 
 ness and condescension, and really believed that the 
 Lord had sent an angel among them. 
 
 CD O 
 
 In one of the cabins, a young, bright-looking negro 
 girl seemed quite beside herself with rapture, at the 
 sight of her master's lovely young bride. She gazed 
 upon her with distended eyes, showing every tooth of 
 dazzling ivory, then threw herself on the floor, and 
 rolled over several times, shaking with convulsive* 
 laughter. 
 
oob THE PLANTERS NORTHERN ; BRIDE 
 
 "What is the matter with her?" asked Eulalia, 
 timidly, fearing she had fallen in a fit. 
 
 "Oh! you're so putty, missus," said the girl, sitting 
 up and rubbing her eyes, — "you're so putty, I can't 
 help it. Oh, Luddy ! I never seed any ting like it, 
 since I ben born. I grate big fool, I know, but I can't 
 help it." 
 
 Here she burst into a fresh peal of laughter, and 
 covered her face with both her hands. Moreland, 
 laughing at this hysterical tribute to his young wife's 
 beauty, drew her away, to receive now testimonies of 
 the personal magnetism, whose drawings he had felt 
 when the choral strains first thrilled his soul, in the 
 village church. 
 
 Eulalia, who had never seen the negro at the North, 
 but as an isolated being, beheld him now in his domestic 
 and social relations, and, it seemed to her, that he must 
 be a great deal happier thus situated, bearing the name 
 of a slave, than wandering about a nominal freeman, 
 without the genial influences of home and friends. She 
 had seen the Northern labourer return after a day of 
 toil to the bosom of his family, feeling rest more grate- 
 ful and refreshing because it was enjoyed there. So the 
 negro returned to his cabin and sat down with his wife 
 and children, and smoked his pipe, and ate his supper, 
 and appeared to think himself very comfortable. But 
 there is one difference. The Northern labourer has 
 anxious thoughts for the morrow, fearg that the daily 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 337 
 
 bread for which he is toiling may be withheld, that sick- 
 ness may paralyze his strong arm, and his children feel 
 the pangs of destitution. The slave thinks not of the 
 morrow, lays up nothing for the future, spends his 
 money for the gratification of the present moment, and 
 gives care and trouble to the winds. No matter how 
 hard he has been at work, if it be a moonlight night, he 
 steals off on a 'possum hunt, or a fishing frolic, or if he 
 hears a violin, he is up and dancing the Virginia break- 
 down, or the Georgia rattlesnake. If he be one of the 
 " settled ones," to use one of their favourite expressions, 
 he may be heard singing the songs of Zion, in that 
 plaintive, melodious voice peculiar to his race. 
 
 Do the spirits of the labourers in Northern factories 
 ever rebound more lightly than this, after laying down 
 the burden of toil ? Do the two hundred thousand poor 
 that throng the royal streets of London breathe forth a 
 more gladdening strain, or lie down to rest with more 
 contentment or gratitude ? Do the hundreds and thou- 
 sands buried in the black coal-pits and wretched dens 
 of Great Britain, who have never heard, in their living 
 graves, of the God who created, the Saviour who re- 
 deemed them, pass their sunless lives in greater comfort 
 or fuller enjoyment ? Are Russia's forty millions of 
 slaves more free from care and sorrow ? Can the vic- 
 tims of Austrian and Prussian despotism boast of greater 
 privileges ? Does the groan of oppression, rising above 
 the vine hills of France, speak of joys more dear ? Alasi ! 
 
338 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 all these are forgotten, and the " bolt, red with uncom- 
 mon wrath," is hurled at the devoted South ; as if all 
 the rest of the world were basking in a blaze of freedom, 
 and slavery, condensed into the blackness of darkness, 
 dwelt alone with her. 
 
 " Free ! I wonder who is free ?" exclaimed the North- 
 ern Betsy. We repeat the exclamation. We wonder 
 who is really free in this great prison-house the world. 
 One is bound to the Ixion wheel of habit, and dare not 
 break the fetters that enthral him ; another is the slave 
 of circumstances, and writhes till the iron enters his 
 soul. Bigotry stretches one on its Procrustes bed, 
 dragging out the resisting muscles into torturing length, 
 or mangling and mutilating the godlike proportions the 
 Almighty has made. Fanaticism hurls another into an 
 abyss of flame, and laughs over the burning agonies she 
 has created. Poverty ! most terrible of masters ! We 
 have tried already to depict some of the sufferings of 
 its slaves. Let them pass here. 
 
 Ask that pale, majestic statesman, in whose travailing 
 soul and toiling brain a nation's interests are wrought, 
 who, month after month, is doomed to exchange the 
 sweet atmosphere of home for the feverishness and strife 
 of a political arena, whose sleepless nights are passed 
 in the forge of intense and burning thought, and whose 
 days in gladiatorial combats with warring intellects, — if 
 he is free ! 
 
 Ask him who sits in the White Palace, chief of this 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 339 
 
 great republic, filling the grandest station in the vast 
 globe, — if he is free ! Are you free ? Are we ? No ! 
 There is a long chain, winding round the whole human 
 race, and though its links be sometimes made of silver 
 and gold, nay, even twined with flowers, it is still 
 chain, and if the spirit struggle for liberation, it will 
 feel the galling and the laceratKti, as much as if the 
 fetters were of brass or iron. For six thousand years 
 the cry for freedom has been going up from the goaded 
 heart of humanity — freedom from the bondage and mys- 
 tery and necessity of life — and still it rends the heavens 
 and echoes over the earth. And the answer has been, 
 and now is, and ever will be — "Be still, and know that 
 I am God." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Eulalia was soon initiated in the mysteries of plant- 
 ation life. With ever-increasing interest she studied 
 the scenes around her, and the character of the commu- 
 nity of whose dark circumference she was made the 
 central light. Though possessing little skill or experi- 
 ence as a rider, she accompanied her husband to the 
 bounds of his dominions, through cotton and cornfields, 
 all along the beautiful hedges of Cherokee roses, that, 
 instead of fences, divided the land. At first she only 
 ventured to go on a gentle little pony ; but soon, embold- 
 ened by practice, she was not afraid to mount the most 
 spirited and high-mettled horse. She visited the saw- 
 mill and grist-mill, built on the margin of a roaring 
 stream ; the blacksmith's shop, that, isolated from the 
 other buildings, looked as if it were cooling its fiery 
 forge in the fresh green expanse that surrounded it, and 
 where the stalwart artisan, begrimed by nature, heeded 
 not the black soot that settled on his dusky skin ; the 
 carpenter's shop, where all the furniture necessary for 
 *he negroes was made, even to " a right sharp bedstead 
 
 340 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 841 
 
 or bureau," as the workman told her. She went to the 
 weaving and spinning rooms, where cotton and woollen 
 webs were manufactured for negro clothing, and counter- 
 panes of curious devices. Everything necessary for 
 comfort and use was of home-work, and everything was 
 done with a neatness, order, and despatch that surprised 
 the young mistress of the plantation. The cabins of 
 the negroes, each with their own well-cultivated plot of 
 ground, poultry yard, and melon patch, she loved to 
 visit, for wherever she turned her eye she saw abundant 
 proof of Moreland's considerate kindness and liberality. 
 The watchful guardian providence of the whole estab- 
 lishment, he seemed to see and command everything at 
 a single glance. The overseer was required to give an 
 account of every transaction that occurred during his 
 absence, and his presence was a signal for justice to 
 ascend its throne, ready to weigh in its impartial balance 
 every wrong or dubious act — while mercy knelt at its 
 footstool pleading for the delinquent or offender, and 
 softening its stern decree. 
 
 Eulalia admired the systematic arrangement of every- 
 thing. The hours of labour were all regulated — the 
 tasks for those hours appointed. For all labour beyond 
 those tasks the negroes were paid an adequate remune- 
 ration. Their master purchased of them all the pro- 
 duce, the cotton and corn they had the privilege of rais- 
 ing for themselves, giving them the uttermost farthing. 
 Thus they had an ample supply of spending money — 
 
342 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 not being obliged to use one cent of it for the neces- 
 saries of life. One evening one of the men came in 
 and asked his master to take care of his purse till 
 Christmas, when he wanted to buy something fine for 
 his wife. It was nothing but an old woollen mitten, but 
 the contents were quite respectable, being fifty-five 
 dollars. 
 
 "Have you earned all this, Cato?" asked his master. 
 " Sartain, massa, sartain — ebery cent. Hope massa 
 don't think I steal it !" 
 
 " Oh, no, Cato ! I know you are as honest as you 
 are faithful and industrious. I must treat you as the 
 Lord in Scripture did his servant, who brought him his 
 five talents, to which he had added five talents more. 
 I must give you your own with usury." 
 
 Taking out his own purse, he emptied the contents 
 into Eulalia's hand, reserving a half-eagle which he left 
 in the bottom. Then pouring the money from the old 
 mitten into it, he tossed the fragment to the smiling 
 negro. 
 
 " There, Cato, you deserve a better purse than that. 
 You may make a present of it to your wife." 
 
 "Massa, you too good! Thank you, massa, twenty 
 times over ! May you and beautiful young missus live 
 a tousand years, and a tousand arter, besides !" 
 
 "Pray, don't make wandering Jews of us, Cato, or at 
 least save us from eternal old age." 
 
 Cato .aughed and chuckled, as if he thought it an ex- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 343 
 
 cellent joke which he did not quite understand, and went 
 away with a jubilant spirit. 
 
 "What shall I do with this?" said Eulalia, blush- 
 in gly clasping her fingers over the dripping money. 
 
 "Simple-hearted child ! buy sugarplums or candy. 
 How can you ask me how to dispose of such a trifle ?" 
 
 " Trifle ! I think it a great deal ! At least, it is 
 more than I ever had the disposal of before !" 
 
 Moreland smiled at her simplicity, and, clasping 
 the hand which contained the money in his own, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 "All that I have, and all that I am, is thine, my 
 sweet Eulalia. Had I millions on millions, they should 
 be at your command. Do with me and my fortune all 
 that your pure and generous heart dictates. Have you 
 no wish, my wife, that wealth can gratify, no friend 
 whom your bounty can bless ? Are there no poor in 
 your native village, whose wants were forgotten when 
 you left them ? Would you not like to send some kind 
 memento home?" 
 
 " I would like them to know how blest, how happy I 
 am; how good, how noble you are!" cried Eulalia, for 
 the first time throwing her timid arms round his neck ; 
 then, blushing at her boldness, would have withdrawn 
 them, but he imprisoned them in his own, and retained 
 her in willing bondage. 
 
 " There is a poor family," she said, falteringly, still 
 feeling that it was presumptuous in her to suggest to 
 
344 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 him objects of charity, "whom my mother mentioned in 
 her last letter, as having suffered much from protracted 
 sickness. I thought, when I read of their distresses, 
 how sweet it would he to relieve them. I intend d to 
 tell you of their wants, but you gave so much to the 
 poor of our village, I was ashamed to ask for more." 
 
 " Foolish, foolish Eulalia ! your only fault is too great 
 timidity, too much self-distrust. You must trust me, 
 or I shall not think you love me. You must feel that I 
 live for your happiness ; that your slightest wish has 
 the authority of a command — an authority second only 
 to the canons of God. So perfect is my confidence in 
 your purity and rectitude of principle, that I would 
 hesitate as soon to execute the commission of an angel 
 as I would yours. I have once been deceived, and I 
 thought all confidence was wrenched from my bosom, 
 but it is not so. My trust in you is as firm as that 
 which rests upon the Rock of Ages." 
 
 " If I ever prove unworthy of that trust, may I for- 
 feit the favour of my God !" cried Eulalia, awed by the 
 deep tenderness of his voice and manner, and lifting 
 her eyes of holy innocence to heaven. 
 
 "My confidence is based on your piety and truth, 
 Eulalia," said he, after a pause, in which his mind went 
 back to the past. " Your unhappy predecessor was 
 destitute of this restraining influence, 'and became the 
 slave of her own wild passions. Born of an Italian 
 mother, and inheriting from her a warmth and vehe- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 845 
 
 mence of character that nothing but religion could 
 control — but why do I speak of her now ! — why recall 
 her at this moment, sacred to joy and love !" 
 
 " There is one favour I would ask," said Eulalia, 
 when the tone of their conversation was a little lowered ; 
 she was growing startlingly bold, it seems, in consequence 
 of his excessive indulgence. " I want you to call me 
 Eula. It was my name of endearment at home. It 
 used to sound so sweet from the lips of Dora. I love it 
 so much better than Eulalia." 
 
 "Eula, Eula !" repeated he; "well, henceforth and 
 evermore be it Eula. I remember the first time I heard 
 that name breathed by Dora's sweet lips, as I was fol- 
 lowing you out of church. I wanted to catch her up in 
 my arms and kiss her, for teaching my heart the name 
 it was throbbing to learn. But what will you call me ? 
 I don't believe you have ever addressed me by name 
 yet?" 
 
 Eula, as she resolved to be called, blushed and smiled. 
 She had often been perplexed how to address him, and 
 was glad he had introduced the subject. 
 
 " Call me Russell, as Ildegerte does. It makes me 
 feel like a boy to be called by my Christian name, — the 
 name I received at the baptismal font." 
 
 " That would sound too familiar for me. I feel too 
 much reverence to admit of it. I never could get 
 accustomed to it." 
 
 " Anything then, but Mr. Moreland. I cannot consent 
 
346 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 to that. What a pity I have not the dignity of a title ; 
 but, rife as they are in this country, I am neither colo- 
 nel, major, or general: only a plain, unhonourecl man." 
 
 "Moreland, then!" she repeated, in a low voice, — 
 " that name is music to my ears." 
 
 This was a very trifling matter to arrange, and yet 
 Eulalia (we will try to get into the habit of calling her 
 Eula, thinking with her, it has a more home-endearing 
 sound,) felt a little happier for it. It was one more 
 link in the golden chain of love and confidence, wreathed 
 round her heart. 
 
 She became so much pleased with plantation life, 
 that, whenever her husband spoke of returning to town, 
 she entreated him to remain, saying, she could do so 
 much more good where she was. The injunction of her 
 father, to be a missionary to the poor benighted slaves, 
 often recurred to her ; but she found the heralds of the 
 gospel had preceded her, and that the ground on which 
 she stood was consecrated by the footsteps of Christi- 
 anity. Moreland had erected a chapel in the heart of 
 the plantation, and though, like the cabins, it was con- 
 structed of logs, and the seats were only rustic benches, 
 it was hallowed by as sincere devotion and childlike 
 faith as ever filled with incense the heaven-dedicated 
 dome. No proud, intellectual self-sufficiency, — no cold, 
 questioning philosophy, — no God-defying strength of 
 reason impeded, in their simple minds, the reception of 
 evangelical truths. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 347 
 
 Moreland paid a regular salary to an itinerant 
 preacher for supplying this rustic pulpit on the Sab- 
 bath, and there was a black preacher besides, who, if he 
 had not the learning, emulated the zeal of St. Paul. 
 Eulalia was astonished at his knowledge of Scripture, 
 and the occasional inspiration of his language. His 
 name was Paul, and he was looked up to with as much 
 veneration by the coloured people as if he were the 
 great Apostle of the Gentiles. During the week they 
 had prayer meetings at night, and their choral voices 
 uniting in hymns of praise often rose in the stillness of 
 the midnight hour. In the exercises of these meetings 
 Aunt Dilsy took a conspicuous part. She was regarded 
 as another daughter of Phanuel, who, by holy fastings 
 and prayers, had become completely sanctified, and her 
 exhortations were received as the oracles of truth and 
 wisdom. She was a great singer ; and though her once 
 musical voice was untuned by age, no one was thought 
 to sing with the sperrit as Aunt Dilsy did, or to shout 
 hosannas of glory with such thrilling devotion. 
 
 Eulalia loved to witness their simple religious rites. 
 Ofttimes, when she and her husband were walking out 
 in the coolness of evening, in the path that led by the 
 chapel, they heard their names as good massa and 
 missus borne on the wings of prayer above the silent, 
 listening stars ; and they felt as if blessings came down 
 upon them with the stilly dews. Sometimes they went in 
 and united in spirit with the dark worshippers. ; and beau- 
 
848 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 tiful was the contrast of Eulalia's fair, ethereal face, 
 with the black visages and coarse features of the Afri- 
 cans. And sometimes, moved by an irresistible impulse, 
 she suffered her seraphic voice to mingle with theirs, 
 and it had a tone of more than mortal sweetness. 
 
 One night she missed the old prophetess Dilsy in the 
 evening assembly. This was such an unusual occurrence, 
 she begged Moreland to accompany her to her cabin and 
 see if she were ill. As they approached the door they 
 heard low, monotonous, ejaculatory sounds issuing from 
 within. They recognised the accents of prayer, and 
 entered reverently. By a lamp glimmering on the 
 hearth they distinguished the figure of Aunt Dilsy on 
 the outside of the bed, looking so shrivelled and drawn 
 up, it seemed to have lost half of its usual dimensions. 
 
 " Oh, massa ! oh, missus !" she cried, in answer to 
 their anxious inquiries — " I struck with death I know ! 
 Such a misery in my breast ! 'Pears like a knife in 
 dare ! Poor old creetur ! — time to go ; ben long time 
 cumberer of de ground ! Thank de Lord, I'm willing 
 to mind his blessed summons ! I'm ready, 'cause he 
 gin me de white wedding garment to put on, arter he 
 wash it all over clean in his 'toning blood I" 
 
 Here a violent paroxysm of pain interrupted her 
 utterance, and she lay panting and groaning, and her 
 sunken eyes rolled upward with such an expression of 
 mortal agony that Eulalia believed her soul was imme- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 349 
 
 diately departing. Her physical sufferings were relieved 
 by some specific which Moreland applied, so that she was 
 able to speak once more ; but it was evident that the 
 hour of her departure was arrived, and that the Son of 
 Man was come. She wanted the negroes to be called 
 in to receive her last farewell, and they were summoned. 
 They stood in dark circles, one behind the other, gazing 
 with unspeakable awe on the dying prophetess. Drawn 
 by the mysterious and awful fascination of death, they 
 pressed nearer and nearer, till Moreland was compelled 
 to wave them back, lest every breath of air should be 
 excluded from the expiring woman. 
 
 "Let 'em come, massa," she said, with a beckoning 
 motion. " Can't hurt me now. Oh ! brudders and sis- 
 ters in de Lord Jesus ! I most got home. I see de 
 golden streets way up yonder. I see de grate house 
 not made by hands, wid de door wide open, ready to let 
 poor ole sinner in. Somebody, all shining like de sun, 
 stand right in de door and say : — ' Come in, Dilsy ! 
 Set down at de right hand of de Lord.' " 
 
 The most ecstatic expression it is possible to conceive 
 lighted up her poor withered features. It seemed that 
 a vision of glory, such as is never vouchsafed to any but 
 the dying, was sweeping down upon her, wrapping her 
 soul in folding sheets of splendour and bliss. Inexpres- 
 sibly awed, Eulalia knelt by her bedside, clasping the 
 
 hand of her husband, who stood reverently gazing on 
 157 
 
350 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the aged negress, who, through nearly three generations, 
 had been the faithful servant and humble friend of his 
 family. Her children and her children's children were 
 gathered round her ; but as the vision gradually faded 
 away, and her clouding eye turned wistfully to earthly 
 objects, it was on the face of her master she gazed, with 
 such an expression of affection, gratitude, and humility 
 combined, that his answering glance was dimmed with 
 tears. 
 
 " Good by, massa !" she cried, fumbling with the bed- 
 cover, thinking it was his hand she was grasping. Per- 
 ceiving her motion, he took hers in his. It was damp 
 and cold as ice. 
 
 " Good by, massa ! my Hebenly Massa has bought 
 me wid his own precious blood, and he say I must leave 
 you. You ben good, kind massa. I'll tell the Lord 
 when I git home to glory, all you've done for de soul 
 and body of poor nigger. Oh ! massa ! 'spose you don't 
 know poor Dilsy when you git to heben, 'cause she'll be 
 beautiful, white angel den ; but you jist look hard at de 
 hebenly throng, and de one dat lub you best of all, wid 
 her new eyes — dat will be me." 
 
 "Dilsy," said her master, in a voice husky from emo- 
 tion, "you have been a good and faithful friend to me 
 and mine. You are going to receive the reward of 
 your fidelity. You will hear the voice of God pronounce 
 the glad sentence : ' Come, thou good and faithful ser- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE 351 
 
 vant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' If I am 
 ever admitted into the kingdom of heaven, I expect to 
 meet and recognise you as an angel of light." 
 
 Amid the loud sobs that burst forth from the circling 
 negroes, there went up a shout of "glory ;" and several 
 voices echoed it till the hosannas seemed too swelling 
 for that little cabin. The sinking faculties of life 
 gathered new energy from the jubilant sounds. 
 
 "Yes ! brudders and sisters !" she cried, clapping 
 her cold, feeble hands, "rejoice that ye eber hearn of 
 de Lord Jesus and de blessed herarter. If we'd all 
 staid in de heathen land, where all de black folks come 
 from, we'd neber known noting 'bout heben, noting 'bout 
 de hebenly 'deemer or de golden streets of de new Jeru- 
 salem. Tink of dat, if Satin eber tempt you to leave 
 good massa and missus." 
 
 Looking at the weeping Eulalia, she said — 
 
 "Please, young missus, sing one of de songs of Zion. 
 'Pears like I'll go to glory on it. Someting 'bout Je- 
 sus and de Lamb." 
 
 Eulalia felt as if she had little voice to sing, but she 
 could not refuse the last request of the departing Chris- 
 tian. Low and trembling she began, but the notes 
 grew clearer and sweeter as she continued ; sometimes 
 low and soft, as if they came murmuring from the depths 
 of ocean, then swelling in volume, they seemed to be 
 rolling from the bosom of a cloud. 
 
O0l2 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 These were the words she sang, — 
 
 "Jesus! lover of my soul 
 
 Let me to thy bosom fly, 
 While the nearer waters roll, — 
 
 While the tempest still is high. 
 Hide me, oh! my Saviour, hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past, 
 Safe into the haven guide, 
 
 Oh ! receive my soul at last." 
 
 She paused, but the half-closed eyes opened, and the 
 gasping breath whispered "More, dear missus, more !" 
 Again she sang, — 
 
 " Other refuge have I none ; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on thee ; 
 Leave, oh ! leave me not alone 
 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 All my trust in thee is staid, — 
 
 All my help from thee I bring ; 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow of thy wing." 
 
 As the last lines died on the ear, the shadow of the 
 mighty wing of the death-angel visibly darkened the 
 brow of the departing negress. There was an awful 
 hush, for a few moments, and then an eager pressing 
 forward, as if the eye could behold, in the rifted clay, 
 where the struggling soul had rent its passage to eternity. 
 Moreland drew Eulalia from the cabin, assuring her that 
 every respect would be paid to the remains of the now 
 enfranchised Dilsy. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 353 
 
 All night the negroes watched by her body, singing, 
 in choral strains, of the triumph of redeeming love. 
 They even added another verse to the immemorial 
 hymn of good old Daniel, enrolling Dilsy among the 
 immortal worthies who have entered the promised 
 land, — 
 
 "Where now is good old Dilsy ? 
 Where now is good old Dilsy ? 
 Where now is good old Dilsy ? 
 Safely in de promised land. 
 She went up from de bed o'er yonder, 
 She went up from de bed o'er yonder, 
 She went up from de bed o'er yonder, 
 Safely in de promised land. 
 
 The next day, a little before sunset, Dilsy was laid in 
 the green enclosure where some of her children already 
 slept. It was the burying-ground of the plantation, sur- 
 rounded by a neat, whitewashed paling, and shaded by 
 evergreens and shrubbery. On some graves, flowers were 
 growing, showing that the taste which loves to beautify 
 the places of death is sometimes found in the bosom of 
 the African. A long procession followed the body of 
 the ancient matron, headed by the master whom she 
 had loved in life, and blessed in death. He walked 
 before them all, with folded arms and measured tread — 
 stood, with uncovered head, while they lowered the coffin 
 into the deep, dark, narrow cavity scooped to receive it; 
 threw the first shovelful of earth on the hollow-sounding 
 
354 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 lid, and waited till the cold abyss was filled, and the 
 damp clay heaved above it. 
 
 "Oh, God!" he silently ejaculated, lifting his eyes 
 heavenward, " I have tried to do my duty to this poor- 
 dust committed to my care. I received it, as a part of 
 my inheritance, as a trust for which I shall be respon- 
 sible to thee, and thee alone. If I have failed, thou 
 great Searcher of all human hearts, forgive me ! and 
 show me wherein my error lies. Here, by this solemn 
 new-made grave, I renew the dedication of my soul to 
 thy service, and the good of my fellow-beings." 
 
 Then, turning to the negroes who stood leaning on 
 their shovels, looking down mournfully on the hillock 
 they had made, he said — 
 
 " You heard the words of the dying Dilsy. You heard 
 what she said to you and to me. She told you to be 
 grateful that you were brought away from a land of 
 darkness and the shadow of death, to regions where the 
 light of the gospel shines upon your souls, where you 
 are taught that the grave is a passage to glory and hap- 
 piness, where you are prepared to meet, in faith and 
 hope, the dark hour through which she has just safely 
 passed. Did you believe her words ? Do you think she 
 would deceive you, when her gasping breath was about 
 leaving her body ?" 
 
 "No, massa !" answered Paul, the preacher; "sar- 
 tain she wouldn't ! We know she spoke the truth." 
 
 "Then you would not think freedom without a God, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 355 
 
 freedom without a Saviour, without hope of a hereafter, 
 without the promises of eternal life, a blessing?" 
 
 "No, massa ! not a bit, not a bit." 
 
 " Would you think freedom a blessing, if I should 
 scatter you all at this moment to the four winds of hea- 
 ven, give up all care and guardianship of you and your 
 children, suffer you to go where you please, leaving you 
 to provide for the necessities of the morrow and all 
 future wants ?"* 
 
 "No, massa, no!" burst forth simultaneously from 
 the funeral band. 
 
 "You heard," added Moreland, with solemnity, "her 
 dying blessing upon your master. You heard what she 
 said she would repeat before God and his angels. Do 
 you believe her words were true ? Have I been kind 
 and just to all ? Or do you look on me as a tyrant, 
 from whose dominion you long to be free ?" 
 
 Here the denial was still more earnest and emphatic. 
 Te^vs were streaming down the cheeks of those around 
 >he grave, and sobs were heard in the back-ground. 
 
 "Then," said Moreland, "let us make a new covenant 
 together, and let this grave be a witness between us all, 
 
 * A free negro, who resides at St. Andrew's Bay, had amasse 
 money enough to build him a comfortable house. He supporte 
 himself and family by boat-building. In one of those storms which 
 often desolate the coast, his house was swept away. He came to 
 many gentlemen, entreating them to purchase himself and family. 
 Baying he was tired of the responsibility of their support. He had 
 known what slavery and freedom were, and he preferred the first. 
 
356 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 that we do it in sincerity and truth. I call upon you 
 all to renew your promises of fidelity and obedience. 
 I pledge myself anew to watch over your best interests 
 for time and eternity. If I ever forget my vow, if I 
 ever become unjust, unkind, or tyrannical, you may lead 
 me to this clay-cold bed and remind me of my broken 
 faith. And now, Paul," turning to the weeping 
 preacher, whose sensibilities were all melting and flowing 
 from his eyes, "let us all kneel together, while you con- 
 secrate this burial spot by the breath of prayer." 
 
 Just as the last words of Paul's devout and eloquent 
 prayer, the ascription of praise and thanksgiving, was 
 uttered, the setting sun, which had been curtained by a 
 cloud parallel with the horizon, so that all thought the 
 twilight was begun, suddenly gleamed forth, sending out 
 innumerable radii of crimson and gold, from its red and 
 glowing disk. It gilded the pale and earnest counte- 
 nance of Moreland with a kind of supernatural radiance, 
 bronzed the crisped wool and black glossy skin of the 
 negroes, and gave a tinge of ruddiness to the cedar's 
 dark green foliage. Was it a token from heaven ? Was 
 it fire from above descending on the altar of the heart, 
 showing that the sacrifice was accepted ? So thought 
 Paul, the preacher. So thought all the Africans ; and 
 they were as sure, ever afterwards, that Dilsy was in 
 glory, as if they had seen her with victorious palms in 
 her right hand and a golden lyre in her left. 
 
 It was not till several weeks afterwards that her 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIBE. 357 
 
 "funeral was preached," as the negroes say, and then 
 the slaves from adjoining plantations came to do honour 
 to the memory of this sable mother in Israel. It was 
 some time before the solemnity caused by her death 
 passed away. No music was heard at night but choral 
 hymns ; and the step of the dancer was still. But the 
 banjo's monotonous thrumming at length was heard, 
 rather faintly at first, then giving out a bolder strain, 
 and then the violin's melodious scraping called out the 
 little darkies from their nooks and crannies to jump 
 Greorgia motion with their India-rubber toes. 
 
 It was with reluctance that Eulalia left the planta- 
 tion. All her fears and repugnance of the black race 
 were gone, leaving, in their stead, the sincerest attach- 
 ment and the deepest interest. She wrote to her 
 parents the most enthusiastic description of the life she 
 had witnessed ; and, while she made her mother the 
 almoner of her husband's bounty to the poor, dwelt 
 upon all his excellent and noble qualities with fond and 
 eloquent diffuseness. " Happy ! — do you ask if I am 
 happy?" she added. "I tremble at the excess of my 
 felicity, knowing that it cannot be always thus. On 
 the blue and cloudless firmament I watch for the rising 
 cloud." 
 
 Poor Eulalia ! — the cloud was near at hand. A letter 
 from Dr. Darley was awaiting their return, involving 
 the necessity of Moreland's immediate departure. It 
 was written after the death of Richard, and the abduc- 
 
S58 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 tion of Crissy, while Ildegerte was languishing on a 
 sick-bed. The moment the letter was given into his 
 hands, Eulalia knew that it was the messenger of sad 
 tidings, for she caught a glimpse of the black seal ; but 
 she did not anticipate the extent of Ildegerte's sorrow. 
 She watched her husband's countenance as he read. At 
 first it was sad, very mournful, but gently so. The 
 grief that shaded it was of that nature which sympathy 
 might soothe, and she drew near, that he might feel her 
 readiness to participate in all his sorrows, and laid her 
 hand, with soft, unobtrusive motion, on his shoulder ; 
 when suddenly starting up, shaking it unconsciously 
 from his arm, he knit his brows fiercely, while angry 
 lightning flashed from his eyes. 
 
 "Mean, cowardly, cruel!" he exclaimed, clenching 
 the letter with such force that he shivered and rent it in 
 his grasp. " When God afflicts, it is easy to submit ; 
 but when the blow comes from man, — comes in the dark, 
 with the cruelty of an assassin, and the baseness of a 
 robber, — by Heaven, it is hard to bear !" 
 
 Eulalia trembled and turned pale. She had never 
 before seen her husband angry, and there was some- 
 thing terrible in the wrath of that usually serene and 
 beaming countenance. She dared not question him, 
 save with her beseeching eyes. Crushing, as it were, 
 his vehement emotion as suddenly as he had done the 
 letter, he said, in a more subdued but still indignant 
 tone, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. S59 
 
 " Forgive my violence ; I did not mean to alarm you. 
 Richard is dead ! — God took him, — it is well. Crissy is 
 gone ! — lured from her mistress, in the hour of her bit- 
 terest agony, — miserable dupe that she is ! Let her go, 
 ■ — let her go! But Ildegerte lies on a sick-bed, — no 
 friend but Dr. Darley by her. Eulalia, — Eula, I must 
 go to her. I must leave you for a while. You would 
 not wish me to stay." 
 
 "Oh, no!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears, "she 
 needs you more than I. Alone among strangers ; with 
 a broken heart ! — how sad ! How could Crissy leave 
 her, when she seemed to love her so dearly, and pro- 
 mised so faithfully to abide by her !" 
 
 "Blame not her," said Moreland; "poor, ignorant, 
 deluded creature ! She was probably assailed by arts 
 which her simplicity was powerless to baffle. I feel only 
 pity for her. But for those who inflicted this wrong on 
 my unoffending sister, whose situation should have 
 inspired the deepest sympathy and commiseration, I 
 have no words to express my indignation. Give me the 
 foe that braves me face to face in the blaze of noonday ; 
 but shame on the coward who skulks in ambush, with 
 the smiling lip and the assassin hand ! Had they broken 
 into Ildegerte's room, rifled her of her gold and her rai- 
 ment, the act would have been less unprincipled, for her 
 heart would not have suffered. They have stolen from 
 her a friend, in the hour of her extremest need, and 
 added dreariness and anguish to the desolation of widow- 
 
?>m 
 
 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 hood! Great God! what will the end of these things 
 be ! What will he the end of unprovoked attack, injus- 
 tice, and aggression on one side, and exasperated feeling, 
 wounded honour, and disregarded brotherhood on the 
 t oilier ! Oh ! my wife ! nry dear wife ! if it were not for 
 thee, I would rather rend asunder, with one mighty 
 effort, the ties which bind the South and the North, than 
 live with this burning under-current accumulating 
 strength from a thousand sources, and undermining our 
 institutions, our prosperity and happiness ! Perish the 
 body, if the spirit be wanting there ! Madness to talk 
 of union, with bitterness and rancour and every evil 
 passion rankling in the heart's core !" 
 
 Moreland was excited beyond the power of self-con- 
 trol. "What could Eulalia say ? Was not her own father 
 a leader in the party whose influence he deprecated with 
 such indignant vehemence ? But every thought was 
 soon swallowed in the idea of approaching separation. 
 He was to leave her on the morrow, to be gone she knew 
 not how long ; he was going on a sad errand — to bring 
 back a widowed sister, accompanied by the lifeless body 
 of her husband. In the contemplation of Ildegerte's 
 sorrows she tried to forget her own ; but she felt that 
 absence was the shadow of death, and it hung dark and 
 chill over her soul. 
 
 Moreland was anxious that she should invite some 
 female companion to cheer her solitude, but she shrunk 
 from the suggestion. She would a thousand times 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 361 
 
 rather be alone, or with no companion but little Effie, 
 who was becoming every hour more dear to her affec- 
 tions. In instructing Effie's heart, and through her 
 heart finding the avenue to her understanding ; in her 
 music lessons, books, letters ; the care of her servants, 
 Yhe superintendence of her household, she would pass 
 the dreary hours of absence and wait his return. 
 
 Early in the morning he took his departure. Eulalia 
 did not stand under the blossoming wreaths of the now 
 fading honeysuckle to witness his going, as she had done 
 once before. Her face was buried in the window cur- 
 tain of her chamber. She had not the courage to look 
 upon his departing figure. Just as he was leaving the 
 gate, poor Jim detained him to repeat once more the 
 injunction not to come back without Crissy. He seemed 
 quite broken-hearted by her desertion, and could not 
 speak of her without tears. There was no place for 
 resentment in his soft, uxorious heart. 
 
 " Tell her, massa, I done forgive her. 'Tain't none 
 of her doings, no how ; but her things will spile sure as 
 she be alive. Tell her I got no heart to air 'em no 
 more. Don't care if they drop to pieces !" 
 
 Notwithstanding this assertion, Jim pored over the 
 contents of the big chest with increasing devotion, and 
 early .on many a bright sunny morning a long line of 
 parti-coloured garments rejoiced in the freshening 
 breeze. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A very unexpected visiter interrupted the monotony 
 of Eulalia's life, during the absence of Moreland. 
 
 She was sitting one morning alone, in the parlour, 
 practising her last music lesson with all the assiduity of 
 a school-girl, wishing to surprise her husband with her 
 proficiency, on his return, when the door opened and a 
 lady entered, unannounced. The music drowned the 
 sound of her entrance, and Eulalia's first consciousness 
 of her presence was so startling that it made her spring 
 from her seat, as if penetrated by an electric shock. 
 She heard no step, and yet, an inexplicable sensation 
 induced her to turn, and close to the instrument she be- 
 held the haughty, yet graceful figure, whose lineaments, 
 once seen, could never be forgotten. There were the 
 large, black, resplendent, yet repelling eyes, that were 
 for ever haunting her, — the red lips of scorn, the pale 
 olive cheek, the bold, yet classic brow — all the features 
 daguerreotyped on her memory. 
 
 They stood for several moments without speaking, 
 gazing at each o^ber, — the repudiated wife and North- 
 
 362 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. dOd 
 
 ern bride of Moreland, — two of the most striking images 
 that womanhood can present, of material beauty and 
 spiritual loveliness. They were both young, both beau- 
 tiful, but evil passions had darkened and marred the 
 brilliant face of the one, while purity, goodness, truth, 
 and love had imparted to the other an almost celestial 
 charm. 
 
 "And you are now mistress here !" exclaimed the 
 lady, sweeping her proud, bright glance round the 
 apartment, her lip curling and quivering with undefinable 
 emotion. 
 
 "I am," replied Eulalia, her self-possession returning 
 as the voice of the stranger broke the spell which seemed 
 thrown around them both. Her tone was cold and un- 
 natural. She paused, as if waiting an explanation of 
 this unexpected and unwelcome visit. Then, her native 
 courtesy and gentleness, mingled with compassion for 
 the unhappy woman before her, induced her to add — 
 
 "Will you be seated, madam?" 
 
 Claudia threw herself on a sofa, in an attitude of 
 careless independence. The crimson velvet of the co- 
 vering brought out, in strong relief, the handsome, but 
 bold outlines of her figure, which swelled through the 
 dark mistiness of a black lace drapery. She sat, wrap- 
 ping this drapery round her exquisitely white hands, all 
 glittering with rings, then, suddenly untying the strings 
 of her bonnet, she tossed it down by her side, and shook 
 her raven black hair back from her brow. Her air of 
 
861 the planter's northern bride, 
 
 proud assurance, the careless home-attitude she assumed, 
 as if she had come to dispossess the sweet young crea- 
 ture before her of the throne she deemed still her right 
 to occupy, roused all the woman in Eulalia's breast. 
 The colour came warm and bright to her cheek and 
 brow. 
 
 " To what am I indebted for a call as unlooked for as 
 andesirecl?" she asked with dignity, without resuming 
 ner seat. 
 
 "To any motive you please," replied the lady, with a 
 deriding smile. "I presume I am not the first lady 
 jvho has called to pay their respects to the new Mrs. 
 Moreland. Is it a Northern custom to ask one's guests 
 the reason of their coming, the very moment of their 
 arrival, too?" 
 
 "At the North, as well as the South," said Eulalia, 
 her mild eyes flashing with unwonted fire, "the woman 
 who has forfeited her position as a wife and mother is 
 excluded from the social privileges she has wantonly 
 abused. She may be an object of charity, pity, kind- 
 ness ; but of friendship and esteem, never !" 
 
 "Do you dare say this to me?" exclaimed Claudia, 
 starting to her feet, with a look that threatened anni- 
 hilation. 
 
 "Yes, madam, and far more!" cried Eulalia, embold- 
 ened to candour by the insolence of her visiter. 
 "Were you m want, I would most willingly relieve 
 you ; were you in suffering, either in body or mind, I 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 365 
 
 would gladly administer succour and consolation ; were 
 you bowed down by remorse and sorrow, I would kneel 
 at your side, praying the Saviour of sinners to have 
 mercy on your soul ! But when you come with haughty 
 defiance, glorying in your shame, to the home you once 
 desecrated, placing yourself on an equality with the 
 virtuous and pure, I am constrained to say, that your 
 presence is unwelcome and intrusive." 
 
 Grave, serene, and holy, in her youthful purity and 
 sanctity, stood Eulalia, before her predecessor, as stood 
 the angel before transgressing Eve. 
 
 "And you believe his story!" exclaimed Claudia, 
 bursting into a scornful laugh. "You believe I am 
 really the vile thing he represents me to be. Yes ! — lie 
 believes it, too. I wanted him to. I would not unde- 
 ceive him. I trampled him in the dust of humiliation, 
 — willing to endure obloquy and disgrace myself, since 
 shame and dishonour rested on him !" 
 
 " Impossible ! — impossible !" cried Eulalia ; " woman 
 never sunk so low !" 
 
 She recoiled from her, as if she were a serpent or a 
 demon. Could it be, that the man whom she so idola- 
 trously loved, had inspired such bitter hatred and re 
 venge ! 
 
 "Yes!" continued Claudia, — walking backwards and 
 
 forwards, with the fierce grace of a leopardess, — " I 
 
 hated him so intensely, that I was willing to destroy 
 
 myself, provided I involved him in ruin. I was fool 
 
 158 
 
366 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 enough to think I loved him when I married. Yes, I 
 was the fool then you are now ! I thought I married 
 a lover ! he turned into my master, my tyrant ! — he 
 wanted me to cringe to his will, like the slaves in the 
 kitchen, and I spurned his authority! — I defied his 
 power ! He expected me to obey him, — me, who never 
 obeyed my own mother ! He refused me the liberty of 
 choosing my own friends, of receiving them in my own 
 house ! He even had the audacity to command me to 
 shut the doors upon my mother's face ! Did he tell you 
 of that? If he did not, I do !" 
 
 She paused for breath, panting from angry excite- 
 ment. Eulalia beheld a faint specimen of that irascible 
 and indomitable temper which, resisting every moral and 
 religious influence, had made its wretched possessor an 
 alien and an outcast. 
 
 "He did tell me. Shall I repeat the cause?" said 
 Eulalia. 
 
 "No! I will not hear it; it is slander, — the vilest 
 slander! Because my mother was a foreigner, they 
 accused her of all that was evil, and forbid me to asso- 
 ciate with her. But, I can tell you, the spirit of the 
 Italian is resilient, and will not be held down. You ! — 
 he daughter of a Northern clime, without impulse or 
 passion, cold as your wintry snows, — may wear the yoke 
 without feeling it, and yield the will without knowing it. 
 You are wondrously happy, are you not ?" 
 
 Eulalia felt a quick, sharp pang at her heart, at the 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE -367 
 
 sudden storm of passion rising and surging within. She 
 knew not before that such powerful elements were slum- 
 bering in her breast. At every scornful and mocking 
 word, dashed, as it were, in her face, answering scorn 
 sent its flash to her eye and its bitter taunt to her lip. 
 But the flash went out, the taunt died away without 
 utterance. The angel of consideration did not forsake 
 her, but she could have wept at the introspective view 
 that moment of passion had given her. Without trust- 
 ing herself to speak, fearing she would say something 
 which she would hereafter regret, she turned away, won- 
 dering how this strange and harrowing scene would 
 terminate. 
 
 Claudia made no movement of departure. She was 
 restless, nervous, constantly looking towards the door, 
 sometimes walking with impatient gesture, then throwing 
 herself back on the sofa, and squeezing the crimson 
 cushion with clenching fingers. Once she sat down at 
 the piano, and running her fingers over the keys, pro- 
 duced a wild, passionate burst of harmony, in which a 
 minor note of wailing softness strangely mingled, then, 
 dashing into a gay, reckless strain, the ivory seemed to 
 sparkle under her touch. 
 
 At this moment the door suddenly opened, and Effie, 
 running in, exclaimed — 
 
 " See, mamma, what a beautiful necklace. Netty made 
 it!" 
 
3G8 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 The child held up a string of wild scarlet berries that 
 encircled her neck and also passed round her waist. 
 
 Claudia sprang towards the child so suddenly, that 
 the little creature, trembling and terrified, ran to Eu- 
 lalia, leaped into her lap, and locked her hands tightly 
 round her neck. 
 
 "Give me the child!" cried Claudia, with a vehe- 
 mence that increased Effie's terror, and made her cling 
 still more closely to Eulalia's throbbing bosom. " She 
 is mine ! I will not give her up ! Has not the mother 
 a right to her own child ? Look at me, Effie ! Speak 
 to me, Effie ! I am your mamma ! Come and go with 
 me !" 
 
 "No, you ain't my mamma!" answered the child, 
 making a repelling motion with her foot, still keeping 
 her arms tightly folded round her stepmother's neck. 
 "This is my mamma — my sweet, pretty mamma! I 
 love her ! I won't leave her ! Go 'way ! I don't want 
 you to look at me so hard !" 
 
 An expression of unutterable anguish passed over the 
 features of Claudia, and she pressed her hand upon her 
 bosom, as if it were closing over a wound. Then E ala- 
 lia pitied her, pitied her from the bottom of her heart. 
 Over the wreck of all womanly charities and graces and 
 sensibilities, maternal love cast a ray of redeeming lus- 
 tre. Like a plume dropped from the wing of a departed 
 angel, it was a token of vanished glory. 
 
 For a moment the young stepmother doubted her 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 869 
 
 right to resist the pleadings of nature. Had not the 
 mother purchased her child by the pains and sorrows of 
 maternity, and could any legal decision annul the great 
 law of God, which makes the child a mother's almost 
 life-bought property ? 
 
 "She isn't my mamma, is she?" whispered Erne, 
 glancing obliquely at Claudia through her long, curling 
 black lashes. "Make her go away — I don't love her !" 
 
 Eulalia clasped the child closer to her bosom, feeling 
 still more intensely for the unhappy mother. What 
 answer could she give to this direct question ? More- 
 land had insisted that Effie should never know of the 
 existence of her own mother ; that her name should 
 never be uttered in her hearing ; that to Eulalia alone 
 her filial thoughts should be directed, her filial obedience 
 paid. Could she, knowing this prohibition in all its 
 length and breadth, say to the child that the woman, 
 from whose large, black, wildly-beaming eyes she was 
 shrinking in terror and repugnance, was indeed her 
 mother ? 
 
 "Is she my mamma?" repeated Effie, impatient at 
 Eulalia's silence. 
 
 "Answer her !" cried Claudia, sternly; "answer her ! 
 Tell her no, at the peril of your soul's salvation !" 
 
 " Why — why have you come hither, to bring confusion 
 and sorrow into a home no longer yours !" answered 
 Eulalia, the purity and strength of her moral principles 
 conquering the softness and tenderness of her nature. 
 
370 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 " This child is mine — committed to my guardianship by 
 the father, who has abjured your maternal right ! The 
 conduct by which you forfeited your position as a wife, 
 made you unworthy to fulfil a mother's duties ! Even 
 if virtually innocent, as you declare yourself to be, and 
 you have allowed disgrace and shame to rest upon you 
 through hatred and revenge, you are guilty of blacker, 
 more deliberate sin, than if you were the victim of pas- 
 sion and temptation ! Go ! — this child is mine ! I 
 never will resign her ! Go ! — your presence makes me 
 very unhappy ! The air is oppressive ! I cannot breathe 
 freely !" 
 
 She looked very pale, and really panted for breath. 
 Little Effie was half-suffocating her with her clinging 
 arms ; and the eyes of Claudia, so dark and sultry, like 
 the lurid dog-star, seemed surrounded by a hot, stifling 
 atmosphere. 
 
 " I will have the child ! By Heaven ! I'll not return 
 without her !" exclaimed Claudia, snatching Effie with 
 frantic violence from her arms and rushing to the door. 
 With a shriek that rung through the house, Eulalia 
 sprang after her, but Claudia had gained the outer door, 
 smothering the cries of Effie by pressing her hand 
 tightly on her mouth. She there met an unexpected 
 impediment in the ample person of Aunt Kizzie ; and 
 right behind her were Albert and Netty, all drawn by 
 that one piercing shriek. Claudia struggled to pass 
 them, commanding them to give way, with the authority 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN ERTDE. 371 
 
 of a queen, and the look of a lioness fighting for her 
 young. 
 
 "What you doing with little missy, I want to know?" 
 cried Kizzie, holding out her strong arms to the child, 
 who was writhing and coiling herself up so that it wa3 
 almost impossible to hold her. " Give her here ! — you 
 got nothing to do with her now ! Putty story to tell 
 master when he come back home ! Don't cry, honey, 
 mammy got you, sure enough ! Folks as wants to carry 
 you off better look sharp — see if Kizzie ain't somewhere 
 'bout! Good morning, missus;" making a mocking 
 curtsy — "won't keep you standing !" 
 
 Claudia, baffled and insulted by the very vassals she 
 once tried to trample under her feet, turned furiously 
 upon Kizzie, and struck at her with frantic rage. Kizzie 
 dodged her head at the exact moment, and Claudia's 
 hand came down upon the door frame with such force that 
 the blood gushed from her fingers. Albert and Netty 
 both laughed. They were revenging themselves for her 
 former haughtiness and insolence. Infuriated by this 
 fresh insult, she again lifted her hand to strike, but the 
 sight of her bleeding fingers suddenly arrested her. 
 Perhaps she realized for the first time the impotence of 
 her passion, the disgrace she was bringing on herself 
 Gathering the rich drapery of lace that was falling from 
 her shoulders, and folding it round her arms with such 
 a quick, passionate gesture, the delicate meshes were 
 rent like a cobweb, she flew down the steps, entered the 
 
372 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 carriage, and was driven rapidly away. Eulalia, who 
 stood faint and trembling in the inner doorway, saw her 
 put her head from the carriage just as it rolled away, 
 and gaze at the house and its surroundings, with a wild, 
 lingering glance, such as was once turned upon the for- 
 feited bowers of Paradise by earth's first tempted and 
 exiled. 
 
 It was long before Eulalia recovered from the shock 
 of this interview. She was afraid to have Effie absent 
 from her sight one moment. She did not feel safe her- 
 self from the violence of this fearful woman. She was 
 numiliated by the knowledge of such deep depravity in 
 one of womankind. It was exquisitely painful to her to 
 think that Moreland had ever loved such a being. It 
 seemed to detract from the purity, the dignity of his 
 love for her. True, it was a boyish passion, oaused by 
 a fascination such as the serpent exercises on its victim, 
 but she would have given worlds if it had never existed. 
 Then she reflected that she knew this before she married, 
 that Moreland had never deceived her, and that what- 
 ever his feelings had once been for Claudia, she herself 
 now reigned sole mistress of his reclaimed affections. 
 It was weak, it was sinful in her to indulge in these 
 morbid regrets. Who was she, that, of all the daughters 
 of humanity, she should gather the roses of joy, and find 
 no thorns beneath, that she should quaff the sparkling 
 wine, and find no lees in the cup ? Had not her hus- 
 band far more to regret than she ? For her sake he 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 878 
 
 had borne with injustice, misconstruction, and prejudice ; 
 he had bowed his pride and subdued his will, and sacri- 
 ficed all personal feeling. 
 
 Her next emotion was unalloyed compassion for the 
 erring Claudia. Had she been good and true, the vil- 
 lage maiden of the North would never have been the 
 Southern planter's bride. 
 
 We said in the beginning of this history, we should 
 say no more of Moreland's past life than "was necessary 
 for a clear understanding of passing events. We will only 
 say a few words here, to vindicate him from the charges 
 brought against him by the unhappy Claudia. She was 
 the daughter of Italian parents, who trained her from 
 childhood for public exhibition in the song and the dance. 
 They themselves were itinerant minstrels, wandering 
 through the American cities, leading a kind of wild, 
 gipsy life, satisfied if the wants of the present moment 
 were supplied. The little Claudia, dressed in fantastic 
 and gaudy attire, attracted the admiration of all by her 
 singular and brilliant beauty, and her wild, elfin graces. 
 It was to her the silver was tossed, which she caught as 
 lightly and gracefully as the wind catches the blossom 
 from the trees, and every act of bounty was acknowledged 
 by a fairy-like curtsy and a kiss wafted by the tiny hand 
 to the delighted donor. 
 
 Once they stopped in front of a stately mansion in a 
 Southern city ; a widow lady of wealth and high stand- 
 ing was the occupant. She had no children of hei 
 
874 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 own ; and, as she looked from her curtained window on 
 the beautiful child, doomed to such a reckless, vagabond 
 life, her heart yearned towards her, and she resolved to 
 rescue her from the degradation in which she would 
 inevitably plunge. She took the child, exacting a pro- 
 mise from the parents to relinquish all claim to and 
 intercourse with her, which they willingly gave, for the 
 sake of the gold she so liberally bestowed upon them. 
 Claudia gave a great deal of trouble to her benefactress, 
 by her wilful, passionate temper, which had never known 
 correction or management ; but she was so beautiful, 
 graceful, and intelligent, — was so much caressed and 
 admired by all her visiters, — that it was an easy task to 
 forgive her childish offences. She grew up with every 
 advantage of education that wealth could impart ; and, 
 as the adopted daughter of Mrs. , took her posi- 
 tion at the head of fashionable life. When Moreland 
 was in the first glow of manhood, he met her in the ball- 
 room, where the airy graces she had cultivated in child- 
 hood hung round her, like gay and flowering festoons, 
 giving a wild charm to her beauty that rendered it irre- 
 sistible. Moreland was young, handsome, and rich. 
 This was all that Claudia asked in a husband. They 
 seemed drawn by a mutual attraction, — nay, it was 
 mutual, for Claudia then felt for Moreland all the love 
 her vain and selfish heart was capable of feeling. Soon 
 after their marriage, her benefactress died. A great 
 restraining influence was thus unfortunately removed; 
 
THE PLANTERS NORTHERN ERIDE. d/O 
 
 and Claudia began to display those violent and pas- 
 sionate traits of character she had cunningly concealed 
 from the lover she had wished to charm. The slightest 
 opposition to her wishes, the mildest admonition or 
 reproof, created such a storm of passion in her, he often 
 turned from her in consternation and dismay, almost 
 believing he had been the victim of an evil spirit, who, 
 assuming the form of a beautiful woman, had ensnared 
 his hfiart, and was seeking the destruction of his soul. 
 Another source of misery and contention was the reap- 
 pearance of her mother, claiming to be received into 
 their household. Her husband was dead; and as the 
 adopted mother of Claudia was no more, she was 
 released from the promise which bound her to her. 
 This was a bitter trial to Moreland, but he could not 
 refuse admittance to the mother of his wife. But when 
 he discovered that she had been leading an abandoned 
 life, — that, even then, she was introducing her unprin- 
 cipled companions into his household during his absence, 
 and making his home a scene of midnight revelry, — he 
 commanded her to depart, promising, at the same time, 
 to provide liberally for her future wants. We will not 
 attempt to describe the frantic violence of Claudia at 
 this just decree. Not that she loved her mother much, 
 but she loved the associations of the wild lawlessness of 
 her early life, awakened by her presence ; and she had 
 more fellowship of feeling with the gay, unprincipled 
 men, who had lately frequented the house, than with 
 
376 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 her noble and highminded husband. She was now a 
 mother, and Moreland dealt very tenderly with her on 
 that account. He endeavoured to win her by gentle- 
 ness and love to a wife's duty, — a mother's holy cares. 
 But with all this tenderness and gentleness, he never 
 forgot his own dignity and self-respect. There was one 
 of her countrymen whom she welcomed as a visiter, 
 whom he knew to be unworthy and unprincipled. lie 
 forbade her to associate with him. She laughed at the 
 prohibition, continued to meet him at every opportunity 
 abroad, and received him clandestinely at home. Ar- 
 rested by detection in her mad career, she justly for- 
 feited her reputation, her position, and her name. The 
 fortune bequeathed to her by her adopted mother was 
 still her own, Moreland had settled it upon her at the 
 time of their marriage ; so, in all the glory of inde- 
 pendence, she launched anew into the world ; but found, 
 by fatal experience, that neither wealth, nor accomplish- 
 ments, nor beauty, can give a passport in society to the 
 woman whose fame is clouded by suspicion, or stained 
 by ignominy. 
 
 It was about two years after his legal emancipation 
 from these unhallowed bonds, that Moreland travelled 
 in New England, and first met Eulalia Hastings in the 
 village church. Was it a mysterious magnetism that 
 drew him towards her, after having abjured the love of 
 woman ? Was it not, rather, the divine sweetness of 
 her voice, the heaveniy serenity of her countenance, the 
 
THE PLANTERS NORTHERN BRIDE. Oil 
 
 simplicity and tranquillity of her manners, presenting so 
 striking a contrast to the stormy electrical splendour of 
 Claudia's beauty, her impassioned gestures, and wild 
 paroxysms of mirth or anger ? 
 
 Is not the truth of God, proclaimed mid the thunders 
 and lightnings of Sinai, and written with the burning 
 linger of Almighty justice there, "that the sins of the 
 fathers should be visited on the children, even unto the 
 third or fourth generation," fearfully shown by instances 
 like these ? Evil qualities, like physical diseases, are 
 often hereditary, and descend, like the leprosy, a cling- 
 ing, withering curse, ineradicable and incurable. The 
 taint was in Claudia's blood. Education, precept, and 
 example kept down, for a while, her natural propensities, 
 but when circumstances favoured their growth, they dis- 
 played a rankness and luxuriance that could proceed 
 only from the strongest vitality. She had transmitted 
 to her child her passionate and wilful temper, but Effie 
 also inherited her father's heart, and heaven gave her 
 into Eulalia's keeping. Happy influences, in her case, 
 neutralized the transmitted curse, or rather, converted 
 it into a blessing. But it is not always so. Let the 
 man who, infatuated by passion, is about to marry a 
 woman taken originally from the dregs of social life, 
 beware, lest he entail upon his offspring the awful judg- 
 ment pronounced by a jealous God. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Does any one wish to know what became of Crissy, 
 whom we left floating on the moonlighted bosom of the 
 Ohio? 
 
 When she awoke the morning after her flight, she 
 looked round her with bewildered gaze. She sat up on 
 her pallet, and rubbing her eyes very hard, endeavoured 
 to realize where she was and how she came there. The 
 room was unplastered, not even lathed, and when she 
 looked up she knew by the slanting rafters overhead 
 that she had been sleeping in a garret. She was con- 
 scious of having overslept herself, for the roof was 
 already radiating upon her the rays of the morning sun. 
 The air was very close and oppressive, there being but 
 two small windows at each end, too high for the venti- 
 lation of anything but the angle of the roof. There 
 was no furniture in the room but old chests and boxes, 
 and large bags, and a pile of feather beds, with the hot 
 down oozing through the worn tick, jammed under the 
 eaves. Crissy felt as sultry and uncomfortable as if one 
 
 378 
 
HE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 379 
 
 of those gushing feather beds were pressed upon her 
 breast. She got up and tried to look out of the window, 
 but it was too high for her reach. Then she was con- 
 scious of a soreness and aching in her limbs, a heaviness 
 and weight upon the brain, that made her want to lean 
 against something for support. The chill damp night- 
 air in which she had been bathed, followed by the 
 stifling heat of the garret, had brought on a malady 
 from which she had sometimes suffered in her Southern 
 home. She began to feel deadly cold. Chill, shivering 
 sensations went creeping up and down her back, while 
 hot water seemed splashing on her face. Her hands 
 were like ice, and the blood settled, in purplish dark- 
 ness, under her nails. Presently her teeth began to 
 chatter like a windmill, and, throwing herself back on 
 the pallet, she delivered herself up to all the horrors of 
 a shaking ague. She had felt them before, but then she 
 had somebody to take care of her. Old Dicey would 
 have her brought to her room, and see that all kinds of 
 warm possets were made for her relief. Jim always 
 fussed and pottered about her, bringing the supreme 
 remedy, red pepper tea ; and if it chanced to be Sun- 
 day, he would stand by her bedside all day, smothering 
 her with blankets when the process of congelation was 
 going on, or fanning her when the fever fit was on her. 
 Ildegerte too — how kind and sympathizing she was in 
 sickness ! How often her soft, white hand, had bathed 
 the negro's aching brow, or swathed her head with 
 
380 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 cloths saturated with camphor and cologne ! Crissy 
 remembered all these things in her lonely garret, "with 
 an acuteness of anguish she had never felt before. 
 Then she began to recollect how she came in that 
 garret ; how Mr. Softly landed her at night at the door 
 of a large, tall, dark-looking house ; how he talked a 
 long time with a large, somewhat rough-looking man, 
 while she stood weary and frightened at a little distance, 
 not knowing what they said, but certain that they were 
 talking about her. Then she recollected that a sullen- 
 looking negro woman came with a light and told her to 
 follow her, and that she went climbing and climbing 
 after her, till she reached her present altitude. Mr. 
 Softly had returned immediately in the boat, so she had 
 no opportunity of appealing to him, as she would gladly 
 have done, for permission to return to her deserted mis- 
 tress. He had taken every precaution to prevent such 
 a contingency. He had brought her by water, so that 
 she could not trace her path backward. He had given 
 particular instructions to the master of the house not to 
 allow her any facilities for departure, advising him to 
 take charge of her money, of which he was assured she 
 had a tolerable supply. 
 
 It was very strange that Mr. Softly should have taken 
 so much trouble about this woman, that he should have 
 carried her off so far, when she could have been secreted 
 so easily in some of the by-lanes and corners of a large 
 city. But no matter how secure was her retreat there, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIBE. 381 
 
 she could at any time wend her way back, if she found 
 her first draught of freedom dashed with bitterness. 
 Mr. Softly had no idea of allowing any such thing. She 
 must be free ! She should be free ! It was Tier duty 
 to be so, whether she desired it or not. It was his duty 
 to make her so, in spite of her resistance and remorseful 
 scruples. If she was such a fool as to wish to remain 
 in bonds because she had a pleasant home and kind mis- 
 tress and security against future want, it did not lessen 
 the responsibility that rested on him. He was a libera- 
 tor, and his system must be carried out, let circum- 
 stances be what they might. Opposition only gave energy 
 to his purpose and fuel to his zeal. The very fact of 
 Crissy's being content with her lot and unwilling to 
 change it, showed the depth of her misery and degrada- 
 tion. It was that morbid insensibility, more frightful 
 than the extremity of suffering. So Mr. Softly said, 
 and Mrs. Softly said, for it was a shocking thing to 
 them, that a person should presume to be happy in a 
 situation in which they had resolved she should be 
 wretched. It was an unpardonable insult to their judg- 
 ment, an insolent defiance of their will. 
 
 Crissy seemed to have risen above the recollection of 
 the inmates of the house, for no one approached her 
 lofty attic, though the morning was rapidly advancing. 
 The cold stage of her disease had passed, and the burn- 
 ing and restlessness of fever commenced. She would 
 have given worlds for a drop of water, but there was 
 159 
 
S32 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 none near. Unable to endure the tortures of this un- 
 quenched thirst, she sat up, dressed herself as well as 
 she could, and fumbled down the narrow stairway to a 
 broad landing place, and there, several diverging paths 
 seemed open to her through various doors, but she was 
 afraid of going wrong, and stood looking on this side 
 and that, trembling and irresolute. At length one of 
 the doors opened, and a pale, interesting, anxious look- 
 ing young woman appeared, poising a baby on her left 
 hip, as if to rest her weary arms. She stopped at the 
 sight of Crissy, and rested herself against the broom- 
 handle which she held in her right hand, while the baby, 
 with four fingers and a thumb buried in its mouth, fixed 
 on the stranger its round, speculating eyes. 
 
 "Please, missus," said Crissy, in a querulous, dis- 
 tressed tone, " please tell me where I can get some wa- 
 ter. I most done dead with fever." 
 
 " Are you the runaway negro who came in the night ?" 
 asked the woman, with so compassionate an expression 
 of countenance that Cris3y felt drawn towards her at 
 once. Yet she resented being called a runaway negro, 
 and answered indignantly, that she was no runaway, 
 "she came in a boat." 
 
 " Well, what did you come here for ?" asked the young 
 woman. 
 
 Crissy stared upon her as if she did not know what 
 she meant, then stammered — 
 
 " Come here for, missus ! To be free, I 'spose. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 383 
 
 Mars. Softly brought me. Don't know nothing about 
 the place." 
 
 "You had better have stayed where you were, I sus- 
 pect. Mr. Softly might be in better business than fill- 
 ing our house with fugitive slaves. What a poor sickly 
 creature you seem ! What in the world do you expect 
 to do?" 
 
 "I ain't sickly !" replied Crissy. "I only cotched a 
 chill by being out on the river at night. I'm smart as 
 anybody when I'm well. I just wants water, missus, 
 to quench the fever." 
 
 "Poor creature !" again repeated the young woman, 
 "how hollow your cheeks are!" adding with a sigh, 
 while she led the way down another flight of stairs, 
 "you must have been dreadfully treated and abused, I 
 know !" 
 
 The baby was transferred to the other side by this 
 time, and had another set of fingers in its mouth, and 
 all the way down stairs it kept throwing its head back 
 and rolling its round eyes up to Crissy, to whose sore 
 and wounded pride even the baby's scrutiny was painful. 
 She had lost all her self-respect, and felt lowered in the 
 scale of being. To be called a runaway, a fugitive 
 slave, a poor, miserable, sickly creature, was an indig- 
 nity she never expected to meet. What made it harder 
 to bear, was, that the young woman spoke compassion- 
 ately, and had no intention of insulting her. Her hoi 
 low cheeks ! just the Avay Mr. and Mrs. Softly talked 
 
S84 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 When she was at home, where everybody was used to 
 her, they never twitted her with her hollow cheeks. She 
 mentally resolved, that, before she started out to make 
 the great fortune which was hers in reversion, she would 
 stuff them with cotton, and take away the reproach of 
 past unkindness on the part of her mistress. 
 
 She was conducted to the kitchen, where the negro 
 woman who had shown her the way to the garret was 
 making a clatter among the pots and kettles, prepara- 
 tory for dinner. Poor Crissy half emptied the water 
 bucket, in her burning thirst, then seated herself by the 
 door, where the air could refresh her aching and feverish 
 frame. 
 
 "Could you hold the baby for me, a few moments?" 
 said the young woman, pressing her hand wearily against 
 her side. " She won't cry or pester you !" 
 
 Crissy held out her arms for the child, who sprang 
 rejoicingly into them, glad to have a position where the 
 balance of gravity could be preserved with less difficulty. 
 Crissy, as the little creature looked up innocently in 
 her face and smiled, thought of her own forsaken chil- 
 dren, and the tears rolled, one after another, in big 
 drops down her dusky cheeks. The cook glanced 
 obliquely upon her from her iron battery, muttering 
 something about the kitchen being no place for lazy 
 folks, whose room was better than their company. 
 
 "She's sick, Holly!" said the young woman; "let 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 385 
 
 her be. You must not speak cross to her. There's 
 enough beside you to do that." 
 
 "Are you tired?" said she to Crissy; "I will come 
 back soon." 
 
 "No, no; I love to hold it. It takes away the lone- 
 someness from my heart," answered Crissy, looking 
 wistfully in the face of the young woman as she left the 
 kitchen, — a face which, though pale and faded, had the 
 traces of beauty and symmetry. It was a face of sickly 
 interest, and told of early disappointment, sorrow, and 
 debility. 
 
 " Is that your missus ?" asked she of the cook. 
 
 " No — that she ain't. I hain't got no mistress. I'm 
 my own mistress. Her daddy hires me — Mr. Springer. 
 That's young Miss Springer — his son's wife. Her hus- 
 band killed a man in a quarrel, and had to run off to 
 Texas. That's what makes her look so down in the 
 mouth." 
 
 Crissy felt a sensation of unspeakable relief in know- 
 ing the name of the people to whom she was transferred. 
 She learned, moreover, that Mr. Springer was an archi- 
 tect, a master builder, who had a great many workmen 
 under him, and that everybody round and about him had 
 to work. There were two women down at the spring 
 washing, but, as Holly said, " they couldn't begin to 
 get through," and Crissy was to help them wash and 
 iron. 
 
 " Mr. Springer gets a heap of work out of runaways,' 
 
386 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 said Holly, with an air of conscious superiority ; " he's 
 willing enough to let 'em come and stay a while, 'cause 
 of the help they be to him. But hi ! — the way they have 
 to work !" 
 
 "He gives 'em wages, sure enough?" cried Crissy, 
 whose heart sank lower and lower with every word of 
 Holly, till it felt heavy as the weight of a clock. 
 
 " That he don't — not to the runaways. He just gives 
 'em a home and their vittles. Now such as me won't 
 work without wages. I ain't going to stay much longer, 
 though. The place is too hard. Heap ruther work for 
 quality folks than mechanics : ain't half as hard to 
 please." 
 
 Crissy, who had been brought up in the house as a 
 waiting-maid, had never known what hard work was. 
 Her constitution was naturally slender, and had never 
 been hardened by labour or exposure. She was a neat 
 seamstress, a nice, handy attendant, and excellent nurse ; 
 but as for cooking, except dainties for the sick, it had 
 never been required of her, and washing and ironing 
 had always been considered too laborious for her. 
 
 "I was never used to hard work," said Crissy, groan- 
 ing at the prospect before her. 
 
 "What did you run away for?" asked Holly. "I 
 'spose they abused you. You look as if you had seen 
 hard times — and you ain't got through, either !" 
 
 " Nobody never had a better massa and missus, in the 
 world," exclaimed Crissy, with a burst of feeling she 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 387 
 
 jould not repress. " They never gin me a cross word, 
 let alone anything worse. No, no: nobody shall say 
 nothing against them !" 
 
 "Well, if you ain't the biggest fool I ever did see !" 
 cried Holly, elevating her tongs in the air, as if she were 
 going to seize her by the nose ; " what in the world did 
 you run off for ?" 
 
 " Mr. Softly made me. He and she both beset me, 
 and said it was an awful sin to live as I did, and that 
 I'd make a great big fortin', and live like a fine lady, and 
 buy Jim and the children ! Oh, Lord ! 'spose I never 
 see 'em no more !" 
 
 Crissy squeezed the baby to her breast, and wept and 
 sobbed outright. Where were her golden castles now ? 
 All melted away, leaving the dross of disappointment, 
 the ashes of remorse. Where was the exulting sense of 
 freedom, that was to bear her up, as on the wings of an 
 eagle, while the chains of bondage dropped clanking 
 below ? A more helpless, forlorn, dispirited creature 
 never existed than Crissy was at this moment ! 
 
 "If you'd had a cruel master and mistress, that 
 threatened to sell you and take away your children, I 
 wouldn't blame you for leaving 'em," said Holly, witl 
 another flourish of her tongs ; " but I could tell you 
 that freedom for poor black folks ain't what it is to the 
 rich white people. Some of us has to scuffle mighty 
 hard to get along, I can tell you. My master set me 
 free when he died ; but I've seen a heap harder times 
 
388 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 since than I ever done afore. I earn enough to git 
 my vittles and clothes, and them was gin me at home." 
 
 Unable to endure any longer the burning restlessness 
 of fever, increased by the agony of her mind, Crissy 
 begged for a place where she could lie down, — any- 
 where but that dreadful, lonely garret. Holly, who 
 seemed to have more kindness than her sullen counte- 
 nance promised, pointed to a little room adjoining the 
 kitchen, where she said she could find a bed. 
 
 Such was Crissy's introduction to the new home 
 which Mr. Softly's philanthropy had procured for her. 
 But this was only the beginning of sorrows. The chill 
 she had caught on the river was the precursor of a 
 bilious fever, which prostrated her for many weeks, 
 making her a burden on the strangers, who had received 
 her for the benefit of her labour. Mr. Springer, a 
 hard-working, industrious man himself, who had every- 
 body up and doing at the dawn of day, and who esti- 
 mated every one according to their capacity for labour, 
 was exceedingly angry at Crissy for being sick, and at 
 Mr. Softly for imposing upon him such a good-for- 
 nothing, no-account creature. He had trial enough 
 already, in a sickly, moping daughter-in-law. Sickness 
 was, with him, an unpardonable sin. He had never 
 known a day's illness in his life, and thought, if every 
 one was as industrious as he was, they would havo the 
 same immunity from suffering. As day after da} , and 
 week after week, Crissy lingered on her sick-bed wj f h- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 389 
 
 out showing symptoms of amendment, he became more 
 and more incensed, and declared that as soon as she 
 was able to walk she should tramp, as he had no idea 
 of having his house turned into a lazar-house. 
 
 Elizabeth Springer, whose own sorrows and waning 
 health had taught her sympathy and compassion, and 
 whose heart was naturally gentle and kind, did all she 
 could to alleviate the sufferings of Crissy, and to shield 
 her from the harshness of her father-in-law. She had a 
 pallet made for her in her own room ; and, when she 
 felt well enough, the baby would sit by her, and play 
 with her woolly locks, or stick its chubby fingers in the 
 cavities of her cheeks. Crissy conceived for Elizabeth 
 a grateful, enthusiastic attachment, second only to what 
 she felt for Ildegerte. As soon as she was able to sit 
 up, she insisted upon taking charge of the baby, and 
 relieving the young mother of a care she was too feeble 
 to sustain. But this was an arrangement Mr. Springer 
 had no thought of sanctioning. If she was able to sit 
 up, she was able to work, — and work she must, or go 
 away from there. Things had come to a pretty pass, 
 if it took two women to take care of one baby. 
 
 " She is too feeble to work, yet," said Elizabeth, in a 
 mild, deprecating tone. 
 
 "Well, let her take her choice, either to put herself 
 to work to-morrow, or to take herself off. She is as 
 well and strong as anybody, if she has a mind to think 
 so." 
 
300 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 Cnssy's only desire was to return to her forsaken 
 mistress, and throw herself upon her forgiving love. 
 Her image, weeping, despairing, hanging over her dying 
 master, was for ever before her, a reproachful, haunting 
 remembrance. She would describe her to Elizabeth 
 again and again, whose countenance expressed the most 
 vivid sympathy with her sorrows. 
 
 "There's something worse than that," said the young 
 woman, sighing ; " something worse than death. If I 
 could weep over the grave of my husband, it seems as 
 if it would take away the dull, leaden feeling from my 
 heart ; but to know that he's alive, and yet dead to me, 
 suffering for other people's sins (for it was to save his 
 own life he took another's), yet talked about as if he 
 were a criminal. Oh ! this is a heavy cross to bear !" 
 
 Elizabeth was one of those sensitive, gentle beings, 
 who, if placed in a genial atmosphere, bloom with the 
 ragrance and delicacy of the lily, but if exposed to un- 
 kindly influences, droop and wither, with an untimely 
 blight. Hers was a sad and dreary home, without sym- 
 pathy or love, without one flower of sentiment or beam 
 of joy. She had no female companion or friend on 
 whom she could lean her weary heart, and to whom she 
 could unburden its bitterness and grief. Perhaps this 
 was best. It reconciled her to the prospect of an early 
 grave. The wilted blossom falls of itself to the earth, 
 it requires not to be wrenched from the stem. 
 
 Elizabeth has been drawn into our story by the stream 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 391 
 
 £jf events, like a twig cast into the water and drifted on 
 its foam. We shall shortly leave her, and of her after- 
 history know nothing ; but no one could look upon her 
 pale, sad, and once beautiful countenance, without feel- 
 ing drawn towards her as Crissy was, pitying her as a 
 wanderer from her proper sphere. 
 
 The next morning Crissy, summoning all the strength 
 and resolution of which she was mistress, went to Mr. 
 Springer, and told him, as she was too weakly to do 
 hard work, she was going back to her mistress, and 
 asked him to please give her the money he had taken 
 care of. 
 
 The money ! had not she spent that, and far more, 
 for her board and medicine ? Had not she been a cost 
 and a trouble, and then to have the impudence to come 
 to him for money ! It is no wonder that he was angry, 
 but Crissy had never thought of herself as a boarder. 
 She had been so accustomed to being taken care of, she 
 forgot she had no claims on a stranger's bounty. No 
 matter ! she could beg her way back to the city. It 
 was only ten miles. Beg ! there would be no need of 
 begging. Elizabeth would give her food enough to last 
 her, and she could inquire from house to house the direc- 
 tion she must take. No one would deny her the privi- 
 lege of resting awhile, when she was too weary to go on. 
 
 So, with her bundle on her head, and a little money, 
 which Elizabeth insisted upon her taking, in her pocket, 
 Crissy, like the returning prodigal, prepared to leave 
 
892 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 the husks she had been chewing, and seek again the 
 wheaten bread she had thrown away. She wept in part- 
 ing from the sad, gentle Elizabeth, and her innocent, 
 smiling baby; even to Holly she felt grateful, and of 
 ' *Ir. Springer's harshness she had no right to complain. 
 Very meek and humble and subdued was poor Crissy, 
 when she started on her backward pilgrimage, convinced, 
 by her own experience, that, however glorious freedom 
 was in itself, it had proved to her the only slavery she 
 had ever known. 
 
 Her trials were far from being ended ; for, enfeebled 
 by long sickness, after walking a few miles, she could 
 hardly drag one weary foot after another. She was 
 obliged to stop and beg permission to rest, — and the 
 rest proved long. She was unable to resume her jour- 
 ney that day ; the next found her too ill to rise ; and 
 though she was fortunately thrown on the kindness of 
 Christian people, who administered to her necessities, 
 she still felt the soreness and loneliness of the stranger's 
 heart ; she still felt the humiliation of being the recipient 
 of favours to which she had no legitimate right. She 
 overheard herself spoken of as a poor runaway ; and, 
 as formerly, her master and mistress had to bear the 
 reproach of her thin, unhappy appearance. 
 
 At last the wanderer reached the city, and crawled 
 towards the hotel wnere she had left her master and 
 mistress. Would she find them both ? Would she find 
 either ? These fearful questions had been pressing upon 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 393 
 
 her, forcibly and painfully, as she came nearer and 
 nearer her journey's end. Ashamed of being seen by 
 the servants in her present altered and forlorn condition, 
 she entered the front door, and was gliding up the stairs 
 to the apartment of her mistress, when her eye was 
 arrested by the figure of Dr. Darley, walking up and 
 down the passage. He saw her, and, calling her by 
 name, approached the place where she stood, clinging to 
 the banisters, a cold dew oozing from her forehead. 
 
 "You need not go up," said he, sternly; "your mis- 
 tress is not there." 
 
 Crissy tried to speak, but she only gasped for breath. 
 The doctor, seeing the agonized expression of her coun- 
 tenance, added, more mildly, 
 
 "You have come back too late. Your master has 
 been dead many weeks. Your mistress has gone back 
 to her home ; her brother came for her. Judy, your 
 fellow-servant, filled your vacant place." 
 
 Crissy felt as if a dart were shot right through her 
 heart. Gone, and she left ! Gone, and Judy with her ! 
 
 Throwing up her hands, with a wild cry of despair, 
 she fell forward with her face on the stairs, perfectly 
 insensible. 
 
 Yes ! Ildegerte was gone, and, faithful to her pro- 
 mise, took with her the ugly and despised Judy. More- 
 land had made every endeavour to find the fugitive, — 
 not with any intention of forcing her to return, but to 
 give her the opportunity, which he had no doubt she by 
 
394 THE PLANTER S N0RTHER1N BRIDE. 
 
 that time desired, of being restored to her mistress, her 
 husband, and her children. Being unsuccessful in his 
 search, he commended her to the kindness of Dr. Dar- 
 ley, should she happen to cross the path of the benevo- 
 lent physician. 
 
 " Tell her," said Ildegerte, — her large, melancholy, 
 but still lustrous eyes suffusing with tears, — " tell her 
 that I forgive her. I have not one bitter feeling towards 
 her. If she has found a happier home than I could 
 give her, I rejoice. I only wish I knew, so that I 
 could tell her husband and children that she is happy. 
 Poor Crissy ! she never could endure much hardship." 
 
 The doctor promised to be faithful to the trust im- 
 parted, and he promised, moreover, that in his profes- 
 sional rides in the vicinity of the city he would bear the 
 fugitive in mind, and endeavour to trace her footsteps. 
 
 "Do not, I pray you, my dear sir," said he to More- 
 land, just before parting — " do not go away believing 
 our city is made up of Mr. and Mrs. Softlys. I assure 
 you we have as high-minded and noble-hearted citizens 
 dwelling in our midst as can be found on the face of the 
 earth." 
 
 "Believe me, doctor," answered Moreland, with ear- 
 nestness and warmth, " one Dr. Darley would outweigh 
 in influence a thousand Softlys. I wish you would come 
 and see us, come and dwell among us, that we might 
 have constant, daily communion. To me it would be a 
 source of immeasurable benefit, as well as happiness." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE., 305 
 
 " Thank you — I do intend to visit you. I am study- 
 ing the diseases indigenous to the South, and my path 
 will lead me through the regions which you inhabit. I 
 have travelled much in the South ; and being a native 
 
 if the North, and a dweller in the West, it may be pre- 
 sumed that I could make fair comparisons and draw 
 rational deductions. The subject of slavery has been 
 only secondary in my mind, and I have constantly com- 
 pared what I have heard with what I have seen. I 
 heard that your slaves slept like cattle, in hovels desti- 
 tute of floors, with nothing but a blanket to protect 
 them from the damp, mouldy earth, being deprived of 
 the comfort of beds. I found them the tenants of as 
 comfortable cabins as our respectable poor occupy, and 
 almost every one adorned with a very ambitious-looking 
 bed. I heard they were half-fed, half-clothed, miserable 
 creatures, in the most abject condition it is possible for 
 imagination to conceive. I saw them fat, sleek, good- 
 natured, well clothed, and above all contented with their 
 lot. I cannot say but that there were some exceptions ; 
 but I speak of the general aspect of things. I do not 
 believe I ever encountered a misanthropist among the 
 negroes. Now, it is my deliberately formed opinion, 
 
 hat those who sow the seeds of discontent and disaffec- 
 tion in their midst; who would deprive them of the 
 comforts which they really enjoy, without offering them 
 an equivalent, are, under the garb of friends, their most 
 dangerous enemies. And the master who, actuated like 
 
89G the planter's northern bride. 
 
 yourself by Christian principles, regards them as mem- 
 bers of his family, dependants on his care, considering 
 himself responsible for their physical and moral "well- 
 being, is their best and truest friend. Forgive me for 
 giving you a long and tedious homily, instead of the 
 friendly farewell that my heart urges me to utter. I 
 have got a habit of lecturing, and I do it unconsciously. 
 God bless you, sir, and you too, dear young lady. May 
 the roses of the South once more bloom upon your 
 cheek ! We have had many, many talks together. I 
 do not expect you will remember them all; but if you 
 have gathered a few grains of wheat, in the midst of 
 much chaff, may they bring forth in memory a golden 
 harvest." 
 
 Dr. Darley would make rather long speeches, but no 
 one thought them too long while listening, and meeting 
 the kind, smiling glance of his intellectual beaming eye. 
 
 Ildegerte did not attempt to speak the gratitude that 
 filled her heart to overflowing. The tears, however, 
 which she abundantly shed, were more eloquent than 
 words. 
 
 We will not describe the homeward journey. It was 
 sad; for they were accompanied by one silent, voiceless 
 traveller, who diffused around him a cold, mournful 
 atmosphere. 
 
 It was the request of Richard Laurens that he might 
 be borne back to the beautiful groves of the South, and 
 buried in their fragrant shades. Then, when his wifo 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 397 
 
 was ready for the last deep, quiet sleep, she could come 
 and lie down at his side, and the same green covering 
 would envelop them both. 
 
 So, in a triple coffin, the body of the young husband 
 was carried to the scenes of his short-lived wedded hap- 
 piness. And all the way the widowed Ildegerte could 
 see with the spirit glance, the marble face, shaded by 
 pale, golden hair, concealed by the dark coffin lid. 
 
 160 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 We come to a new era in our history, and a new cha- 
 racter, whose influence will be felt during the remainder 
 of these pages. 
 
 A stranger, in a very plain, unpretending Jersey wa- 
 gon, stopped at the gate of a noble, pillared mansion. 
 As it was a warm summer evening, the family, as is 
 tisual at the South, were gathered in the portico, which, 
 being elevated by a long flight of granite steps, looked 
 down upon the street, like the gallery of an amphi- 
 theatre. It was a beautiful family group, and might 
 justify the long and earnest gaze of the stranger, while 
 fastening his horse, preparatory to entrance. As the 
 individuals who composed the group were all old friends 
 but one, we will speak of them by name, as, with 
 ningled curiosity and surprise, they waited the approach 
 f tae stranger who had come in so humble an equipage. 
 
 "Does not that remind you of New England, Eula?" 
 asked Moreland, with a smile. 
 
 "The Jersey wagon? Oh, yes!" she answered, the 
 quick colour rising to her cheek. Perhaps he was a 
 
 398 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 339 
 
 messenger from her own home. Did he come the he- 
 rald of joy, or of woe ? The bare thought of the last 
 turned to the whiteness of marble the dawning rose-hue. 
 
 Kizzie, who was walking the portico with a beautiful 
 babe in her arms, while Effie gambolled at her side, 
 glanced contemptuously at the humble vehicle, and mut- 
 tered to herself — " He's no quality people. They don't 
 ride in that style. I 'spect he's a pedlar." 
 
 Ildegerte, pale and statue-like in her black robes of 
 widowhood, manifested not the slightest interest or emo- 
 tion. Her large, pensive black eyes passed beyond the 
 advancing figure, and rested on the golden clouds that 
 lay cradled near the setting sun. They looked as if 
 they might be the throne of angels, and she imagined 
 she could trace, in their dazzling outline, one form >e- 
 clining on a couch of downy gold, whose pale amber hair 
 made a crown of glory on his brow. But there was one, 
 who stood behind Ildegerte, who watched with suspicious 
 glances the meek stranger, who had now reached the 
 lower step, which led up to the portico. Are we mis- 
 taken, or is it indeed our old friend, Crissy, come back, 
 like a wandering sheep, to the fold ? If it is, we verily 
 believe she has stuffed her cheeks with cotton, they look 
 so much fuller and rounder than we have ever seen them 
 before. She must have been feasting on the fatted calf 
 of welcome, and revelling in the joys of restoration. 
 
 Moreland met the stranger at the foot of the steps, 
 and conducted him forward with that courtesy which is 
 
400 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the distinguishing grace of the Southern gentleman. 
 The stranger took a letter from his pocket, and handed 
 it to Moreland with an air of humility and meekness. 
 Holding his hat in his left hand, he smoothed back his 
 long darkish hair behind his ears with his right, while 
 his eyes, riveted upon the floor, seemed to think them- 
 selves unauthorized to gaze on the beautiful women 
 before him, until permitted by the master of the man- 
 sion. 
 
 "You are welcome, sir," said Moreland, after perus- 
 ing the letter. "The Rev. Mr. Brainard, from the 
 North," added he, introducing him to his wife and the 
 other members of the family. A bow of the deepest 
 reverence and humility acknowledged this hospitable 
 greeting. Eula, whose heart warmed towards any one 
 from her own Northern regions, gave him her hand, and 
 expressed her pleasure in meeting one whom she could 
 claim as a countryman. Perhaps he knew her father ? 
 Yes ! he had the pleasure of knowing Mr. Hastings. 
 He had once been his guest since her departure from 
 home, and had heard most affectionate allusions made 
 to the absent daughter and sister. He had seen her 
 excellent mother, her studious, high-spirited brother, 
 and the little chattering Dora. This was sufficient to 
 insure him the reception of a friend, and his clerical 
 profession was, of itself, a passport to respect. 
 
 In a few moments Albert was seen mounted in state 
 in the little wagon, whirling it off to the stable with 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 401 
 
 greater rapidity than it had ever known before. The 
 minister seemed somewhat shocked at the unministerial 
 gait of his horse, and looked anxiously after the animal, 
 when, suddenly starting, he exclaimed — 
 
 " My trunk, if you please, sir ! I would like to have 
 my trunk carried to my room. I have very valuable 
 papers in it — at least to me. To us poor labourers in 
 our Master's vineyard, notes and heads of discourses are 
 more precious than bank bills." 
 
 The voice of the minister was very sweet-toned, and 
 now that he had summoned courage to raise his eyeg 
 and exhibit their colour, they were observed to be of a 
 clear, soft blue. There was something deprecating and 
 appealing in their expression, which excited the kind of 
 interest which woman inspires. Moreland assured him 
 that his trunk should be cared for immediately, and 
 begged him to feel perfectly at home while he remained 
 his guest. 
 
 " Oh ! how grateful to the weary stranger is a wel- 
 come like this !" he exclaimed, lifting his soft, blue eyes 
 with devout gratitude to heaven. " Thanks be to God 
 for his unspeakable goodness ! When I approached 
 this magnificent mansion, I did not expect its princely 
 owners would receive so kindly the wayfarer who 
 entered their gate. I have heard of Southern hospi- 
 tality, but now I begin to experience its soul-cheering 
 warmth." 
 
 Aunt Kizzio, who had an unbounded veneration for 
 
402 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 preaelirvs, no sooner discovered that the stranger be- 
 longed io the sacred order, than her contempt for the 
 Jersey wagon was forgotten. And when he stretched 
 out his arms towards the infant she so proudly carried, 
 and asked Eula, "if that beautiful babe were hers?" he 
 was beginning to storm the citadel of her heart. Yes ! 
 the crowning grace of maternity had humanized the 
 celestial loveliness of Eula. The infant boy, whom the 
 minister now cradled very gently and lovingly in his 
 arms, was her own child, the first male heir in the family 
 of Moreland, the darling of the household, and the espe- 
 cial idol of its father. Though not more than five or 
 six months of age, a finer specimen of baby humanity 
 could rarely be exhibited, than the little Russell More- 
 land, and he possessed one of those serene and lovely 
 temperaments which transform infants into cherubs. 
 With the innocent pride of a young and doting mother, 
 Eula watched her child as it perused with its pure hazel 
 eyes the face of Mr. Brainard, with the intentness of a 
 physiognomist, and twisted its waxen fingers in his 
 ministerial locks. 
 
 "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed be thy 
 offspring !" said he, raising the infant aloft, as if to bring 
 it nearer the heaven he was invoking. Then, giving it 
 back to the exulting Kizzie, he stooped down to the 
 black-haired fairy, seated, for a wonder, quietly on the 
 floor. She seemed engaged, like her little brother, in 
 physiognomical investigations, for her black eyes were 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 403 
 
 sparkling on him through her thick curls, like glow- 
 worms in a thicket. 
 
 "Is this little girl also yours ?" he asked, lifting Effie 
 to his knee, who made herself wondrously heavy, by 
 sinking downward in proportion as he elevated he:. 
 "It is not possible." 
 
 "It is Mr. Moreland's child by a former marriage," 
 replied Eula ; and, in spite of her efforts to prevent it, 
 her whole face crimsoned. 
 
 "Ah !" said Mr. Brainard, "its mother is dead, then ! 
 but it will never know the want of a mother's care." 
 
 Eula looked at her husband, but they both remained 
 silent. 
 
 "I am very fond of children," said he, trying to 
 smooth back her rippling hair, while she shook her 
 head waywardly from side to side ; "you and I must be 
 better acquainted, little lady." 
 
 "I don't want to," cried Effie. "I don't like you." 
 
 " And why, my darling, don't you like me ? I have 
 a little girl at home, who loves me very much." 
 
 "Your chin is too sharp, and your eyes are sleepy," 
 said the child, sliding from his arms, which involuntarily 
 relaxed. " You are not like my papa, and we can't be 
 friends." 
 
 The face of the minister grew very red at the little 
 girl's criticism of his features; but he smiled very 
 pleasantly, and said he liked her candour. Eula was 
 shocked at Erne's rudeness ; but there was an undaunted 
 
404 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 frankness about the child, which she had vainly endea- 
 voured to bring under the discipline of politeness. As 
 Mr. Brainard's profile happened to be in a line with her 
 eye, she was struck with the truth of Effie's remark, for 
 his chin was sharp and projecting, and he had a manner 
 of half-closing his eyes when he talked, which did not 
 please the bright, wide-awake child. 
 
 At supper, when he asked the customary blessing on 
 the board, he included, in an especial manner, all the 
 coloured members of the household, — a circumstance 
 which did not escape the appreciating ears of Aunt 
 Kizzie. He seemed oppressed by the attentions of the 
 servants, received them with an apologetical look, and 
 an air of meek endurance, like one submitting his will to 
 the bondage of custom. 
 
 " Have you become reconciled to the South, Mrs. 
 Moreland?" he asked of Eula, whose fair face at that 
 moment was relieved by the yellow countenances of 
 Albert and Netty, which shone on either side of her. 
 
 " Far more than reconciled, — strongly attached," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Do you prefer it to your native North ?" 
 
 " That is rather a hard question ; but I do prefer the 
 lovely climate, that makes the rigours of a Northern 
 winter seem a cold dream. Then there is so much 
 bloom and beauty around me, — " 
 
 "And wealth and luxury," he added, glancing, with 
 a smile, at the richly furnished apartment, — at the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 405 
 
 table, with its tea-service of the most delicate porcelain, 
 set off by accompaniments of massy, glittering silver ; 
 and then, more expressively still, at the negroes in close 
 attendance. 
 
 "Yes," said Eula, looking gratefully at her husband, 
 I am not insensible to the superior advantages of my 
 present position. In the simplicity of my native home 
 I was content, and I trust I should have remained so ; 
 but I have had many, many sources of enjoyment 
 opened since, of which I never dreamed then. 
 
 The vision of a dark, polished walnut table, set out 
 with old-fashioned china, — of an antique silver urn, — 
 of a mother's mild, dignified countenance, reflected from 
 its mirror, passed before her, and moistened the dark, 
 drooping lashes that shaded her cheek. 
 
 "It is astonishing," said Mr. Brainard, laying down 
 his silver fork with mathematical precision across his 
 plate, " how soon one gets weaned from old habits and 
 associations. One would suppose," he added, turning 
 to Moreland, " that my fair countrywoman here had 
 been born and bred at the South, instead of a simple 
 New England village." 
 
 " She is filling the place for which she was expressly 
 created," cried Moreland, "therefore she falls easily 
 and gracefully in it. She is at home now." 
 
 "I shall visit her parents when I return, and tell 
 them how happy she is." 
 
 " I have told them so a thousand times already, with 
 
406 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 my pen," exclaimed Eula. "I believe I have written 
 volumes ; and I believe, also, I have removed already, 
 prejudices which were once thought insurmountable." 
 
 The minister shook his head. 
 
 "Your father's prejudices," said he, "are too deep- 
 seated to be removed. They are his principles, and 
 their roots strike deep as life." 
 
 Moreland seemed anxious to change the conversation, 
 and started topics of general interest. He did not 
 know yet whether Mr. Brainard was the friend or 
 enemy of the South, by his ambiguous expressions. 
 
 After supper was over, and Eula retired with the 
 children, the gentlemen again took their seats in the 
 piazza, and Moreland drew his guest into an expression 
 of his object in coming among them. 
 
 "I have come," said Mr. Brainard, after a long and 
 confidential interview — " I have come hither as an hum- 
 ble missionary, in the cause of my divine Master. The 
 sphere I have chosen is a lowly one, but I leave the 
 mountain path to the high and mighty. The narrowest 
 by-path of the valley, so that I can trace there the print 
 of my Saviour's feet, is lofty enough for me. I have 
 ever felt the deepest interest in the poor benighted 
 African. When I was a boy, I longed to plunge at 
 once into the wildernesses of Ethiopia and drag out some 
 of the perishing wretches who were doomed to the ray- 
 less darkness of heathenism. I made a vow, that when 
 I grew to manhood I would devote my whole life to 
 
the planter's northern eride. 407 
 
 labours of love for them. As I have told you, it seems 
 to me that I can be most useful by preaching to those 
 who have become civilized and partly Christianized by 
 slavery. It is true you have preachers in your midst, 
 who give them religious instruction ; but it is a secondary 
 object with them. They have white congregations who 
 have the first claims to their labours. If they preach 
 in the morning to their own people, and in the evening 
 to the blacks, they do not carry to them the freshness 
 and earnestness of a first effort. They do not give 
 them the firstling of the flock. Whereas, a man who, 
 like myself, devotes himself exclusively to them, must 
 feel a more burning zeal, a more concentrated desire for 
 their salvation. If he have but one duty to perform, 
 he must do it more faithfully and conscientiously than 
 when his energies are turned into innumerable chan- 
 nels." 
 
 " There is much truth in your assertions, sir," replied 
 Moreland ; " but we Southerners are justified in pre- 
 ferring preachers educated among us to those raised at 
 the North. We do not wish to expose our institutions 
 to the undermining influences which you are well aware 
 are at work against us. We are obliged to be cautious, 
 sir; for the agents of fanaticism are scattered over the 
 length and breadth of the land, and in the name (5f the 
 living God endeavouring to destroy our liberties and 
 rights." 
 
 The lamp suspended in the passage threw long streams 
 
408 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 of radiance across the portico, and lighted up the place 
 where the minister sat, making a halo round his chair. 
 He did not speak immediately, but lifted his eyes 
 upwards in silent appeal to Heaven. Moreland saw 
 this, and his conscience upbraided him for his sus- 
 picions. 
 
 "I am not naturally suspicious," said he; "no man 
 has more unlimited trust in my fellow men than myself; 
 but our dearest interests are at stake, and what is still 
 more, the union which the blood of our forefathers has 
 for ever hallowed." 
 
 " Far be it from me," said Mr. Brainard, — and his low 
 musical voice dropped with silver cadence on the ear of 
 night — " far be it from me to encroach on your rights, 
 or to interfere with your peculiar institutions. All my 
 desire is to preach Jesus Christ, and Him crucified ; to 
 address the coloured race as sinners, not as slaves. I 
 think I have been blessed in rny preaching to them. I 
 think God anointed me with his Holy Spirit for that one 
 purpose. I came to you with letters of introduction, in 
 the hope of finding aid and encouragement from you. 
 T was told you were a Christian, and would eagerly 
 embrace an opportunity of improving the religious con- 
 dition of a race, excluded by circumstances from the 
 usual "privileges of education. Having wedded a N< rth- 
 ern lady, I dared to think you would welcome, fo; her 
 sake, a brother from the New England States. You 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 409 
 
 have welcomed me, and I am grateful ; but I want still 
 more — your earnest, Christian co-operation." 
 
 "You shall have it," exclaimed Moreland, ashamed 
 of his weak misgivings. "I will introduce you to-mor- 
 row to some of the most influential religious persons in 
 the city, and I do not doubt you will find a cordial 
 greeting. There is a very fine church, belonging ex- 
 clusively to the Africans, situated on a beautiful com- 
 mon, quite aloof from all other buildings. There are 
 also houses appropriated to negro worship, near the 
 churches of the various religious denominations. The 
 Methodist, however, is the predominant sect." 
 
 "I am a Methodist, sir," said the minister, meekly. 
 
 "I thought so," replied Moreland; "but that makes 
 no difference, in my estimation. I am an Episcopalian ; 
 my wife a Presbyterian. I have no sectarian feelings. 
 George Whitfield and John Wesley are great and glo- 
 rious names. I honour them. Besides, I think your 
 peculiar style of preaching is better adapted than any 
 other for their warm and simple hearts. The demon- 
 strations of enthusiasm, which a colder formula represses, 
 constitute the joy of their religion. They all expect to 
 go to heaven with shouts of glory and songs of victory, 
 or never reach there at all. There is no silent path for 
 them." 
 
 In the mean time the kitchen cabinet discussed the 
 merits of the stranger guest. 
 
 Netty, who was young and giddy, and much given to 
 
410 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 worldly vanities, was disposed to cavil at his ministerial 
 peculiarities, and indulge in witticisms at Lis expense. 
 
 "I thought I should have died a laughing," said she, 
 winking at Albert, her professed admirer, "to hear Miss 
 Effie tell him 'bout his sharp chin and sleepy eyes. I 
 had to pinch myself hard as ever I could to keep from 
 busting out. I never noticed afore, but 'tis as sharp as 
 any razor, and turns up like the peak of Albert's old 
 boot yonder." 
 
 "Ain't you 'shamed, Netty," cried Kizzie, in a tone 
 of solemn rebuke, "to speak so unrespectably of the 
 Lord's anointed ? Miss Effie's a child, and don't know 
 no better ; but for grown folks there's no manner of ex- 
 cuse. He's a godly man and of beautiful countenance, 
 according to my appearance, and seems to have a great 
 respect for us coloured people. I tell you preachers is 
 not to be lightly spoken of. The Lord set the wild 
 bears on the children, once, that mocked at their blessed 
 heads." 
 
 "He's got a fine carriage, hain't he?" said Albert, 
 throwing a roguish glance at Netty over Aunt Kizzie's 
 shoulder, "and a most beautiful horse — I expect it can 
 go at least a mile an hour ! His trunk that he's so 
 choice of, looks a thousand years old, and the back of 
 his coat shines like Aunt Kizzie's forehead. I mean to 
 ask master to let me give him one of my cast-off ones. 
 'Sposeldo?" 
 
 "Saucy boy!" exclaimed Kizzie, slapping him on the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 411 
 
 back, laughing, in spite of herself, at his good-natured 
 insolence; "you knows you're a favourite, or yuu 
 wouldn't presume the way you do. You'd better hush 
 up among you. This gentleman's come a purpose to 
 preach to us black people, all over the world. I hearn 
 'em tell massa so ; and Mars. Russell say the doors of 
 all the churches going to swing right open and let 'em 
 in. You'd better mind what you say. He got the Lord 
 on his side. You'll find it out." 
 
 "Hope he ain't no wolf in sheep-skin!" said Crissy. 
 "I seen 'em 'fore now !" 
 
 Crissy quoted many a wise aphorism since her sojourn 
 in the west. 
 
 "S'pose he come to make us all free !" said Albert ; 
 " how you like that, Crissy ? When he asks you to tell 
 your experience, give him a touch of Massa Softly, 
 Crissy." 
 
 Crissy shrunk into herself, as she always did at Mr. 
 Softly's name. It was associated in her remembrance 
 with disgrace and sorrow, and had given her a taste for 
 hard and harsh-sounding things. 
 
 There was one member of the kitchen cabinet who 
 generally kept in the background, believing herself 
 inferior to the rest — and that was Judy. At first she 
 was looked upon rather as an interloper ; but her love 
 for Ildegerte, which fell little short of adoration, her 
 willingness to bear the heat and burden of the day, and 
 her humble appreciation of herself, soon removed all 
 
412 the planter's nortiiern bride. 
 
 prejudice against her, and substituted in its stead a cor- 
 dial good-will. 
 
 " Perhaps he come to tell us what de preacher did 
 once in old Kentuck," said Judy, rapping the ashes 
 from her pipe; "de corn-field preacher he was, and 
 had de pulpit made out of de green pine houghs. 'Twas 
 in de time of cotton picking, and we'd all been working 
 mighty hard. I tell you — ses he, — ' Niggers, if you're 
 faithful to your masters and work to the top of your 
 'bility, neber lie, nor steal, nor run away, dare's a great 
 big cotton field up yonder, where you'll pick to all etar- 
 nity and da basket neber git full. De field all white for 
 de picking. De angels help pull off de bolls.' Tinks I 
 to myself, I'll let de angels pick just as much as dey 
 please for all Judy. She want to do someting else, if 
 she eber get to heben. Plenty of cotton to pick in dis 
 world. 'Spect to pick gold up yonder." 
 
 The silver tinkling of a little bell was heard, and Judy 
 started to her feet. 
 
 "Dat's Miss Ilda's bell!" said she, eagerly; but be- 
 fore she could obey its summons, the lighter-footed Crissy 
 was half-way up stairs. 
 
 "Dat's de way!" said Judy, taking up her pipe; 
 "neber can keep up wid Crissy! Neber mind! She 
 got de best right, I 'spose ! Judy's too ugly to wait on 
 de beautiful young ladies in dis house ! better keep her 
 place in de kitchen ! tink dat de Paradise a'most !" 
 
 The evening of the following Sunday, Mr. Brainard 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 413 
 
 preached in the African church to an overflowing au- 
 dience. The Northern stranger, passing through the 
 city, would naturally ask what handsome brick building 
 occupied so conspicuous and commanding a site on that 
 smooth, grassy common. Green blinds protected its 
 numerous windows from the sun, and formed a refreshing 
 contrast with the pale red of the walls. The interior of 
 the church was finished with great simplicity and neat- 
 ness. The ceiling was of spotless whiteness, and the 
 area around the pulpit handsomely carpeted. Astral 
 lamps illuminated the altar, and shed a soft, moonlight 
 radiance on the dusky faces, upturned with solemn 
 reverence to the new messenger of salvation looking 
 down upon them. Is that a congregation of slaves, that 
 well-dressed, fashionably-attired audience ? There is 
 the rustle of tissues, the fluttering of muslins and laces, 
 the waving of feathery fans, the glitter of jewelry, min- 
 gling with the white gleam of the ivory, seen through 
 the dark, parted lips. Certainly, a more decorous, reve- 
 rential, waiting, listening throng never gathered in a 
 sanctuary, to witness the "stately steppings" of God's 
 mighty spirit. 
 
 Moreland stood near the door, anxious to hear the 
 first sermon of the Northern missionary. Never had he 
 found it so difficult to form a decision upon the charac- 
 ter of a stranger. At one moment he was strongly 
 attracted, at another as strongly repelled. Sometimes 
 he thought him one of those holy, self-sacrificing beings 
 161 
 
414 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 •who, in the ancient days of persecution, would have glo- 
 ried in the burning stake, the flaming crown, and shouted 
 amid the agonies of martyrdom. Then, again, he ima- 
 gined there was something sinister and insidious about 
 him, and the soft closing of his blue eye reminded him 
 of the slow sheathing of a shining weapon. Whenever . 
 he was conscious of such a feeling he would shake it 
 from him, as he would a worm that crept stealthily over 
 him, shocked that, for a moment, he could give admission 
 to thoughts which he contemned and despised. 
 
 Now, as he looked upon him, with the length of the 
 aisle between them, his countenance lighted up with the 
 pale yet dazzling lustre of the mimic moonlight, and 
 the sharp outline of his features .thus softened and sub- 
 dued, his long brown hair parted with an apostolic wave 
 and flowing back from his temples, he seemed an admi- 
 rable personification of the text — 
 
 "Beautiful on the mountains are the feet of him who 
 bringeth good tidings, who saith unto Zion, Thy God 
 reigneth." 
 
 He commenced in a low, clear, and sweet voice, and 
 in a calm, dispassionate manner. He told them that he 
 was a stranger, come among them to do them good, — 
 that he had left the comforts and endearments of home 
 for the love of their precious souls, — that he asked not 
 for silver or gold, nor for praise nor fame ; all he wanted 
 was the willing spirit, the listening ear, and the believ- 
 ing heart. A faint groaning sound was the response to 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 415 
 
 this exordium. Then gradually he kindled into deeper 
 fervour, and made those startling appeals to the imagina- 
 tion which the negro never hears unmoved. Had little 
 Effie been present, she would not have accused him of 
 looking sleepy then. His eyes flashed like the lightnings 
 of heaven ; his voice deepened into its thunders, and his 
 arms swayed at the bidding of his stormy eloquence. 
 The negroes began to shout and clap their hands in an 
 ecstasy of ungovernable emotion. Many of them pros- 
 trated themselves at the foot of the altar, and grovelled 
 there in tears ; others shrieked " Glory! glory !" till the 
 walls resounded with the hosannas, and they rolled forth 
 on the breezes of night. 
 
 Moreland scarcely recognised the meek, humble tra- 
 veller of the Jersey wagon, in the wildly splendid oiator 
 of the evening. Surely it was the inspiration of religion ! 
 It could be nothing else. He felt borne along himself 
 upon the fiery waves of his eloquence. He did not 
 wonder at the excitement of the congregation. By and 
 by, the minister came down from the pulpit, and knelt 
 by those prostrate and weeping at the altar. He ad- 
 dressed them in low soothing accents, ever and anon 
 bursting forth into snatches of sacred melody, and 
 gushes of holy song. He went down the aisles and 
 grasped the sable hands eagerly extended towards him, 
 giving a fervent "God bless you, my brother!" — "Joy 
 be with you, my sister !" as he passed along. 
 
 There were many white men present that night who 
 
416 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 went away deeply impressed with the eloquence of the 
 preacher. He received the most urgent invitations to 
 address his white brethren, also ; but he quietly, though 
 firmly refused. He had marked out his line of duty, 
 and would not swerve from it. In consequence of this 
 refusal, the African church was crowded almost to suffo- 
 cation whenever he preached, till at length he was com- 
 pelled to come forth under the canopy of heaven, and 
 beneath the moon and the stars, and the stilly, falling 
 dews, to scatter the fiery sparks of his eloquence, till 
 the multitude kindled and glowed like a blazing prairie. 
 
 Peculiarly susceptible as are the Africans to religious 
 impressions, it is not strange that a general revival was 
 the result of Mr. Brainard's exertions. Even Albert 
 and Netty were prostrated before him, in the depths of 
 humiliation, — believing that he held the golden keys of 
 Paradise in one hand, and in the other the iron ones 
 that open the gates of despair. No more laughter and 
 light talking about the old horse, and the shining coat, 
 and the worn-out trunk. Indeed, the coat was replaced 
 by a handsome new broadcloth one, the gift of More- 
 land ; and, when he rode abroad, Moreland's elegant 
 carriage and fine horses were at his disposal. Well 
 might he say that his lines had fallen in pleasant 
 places. 
 
 It was not, hoAvever, in a city well supplied with 
 ministers, that Mr. Brainard wished to locate himself. 
 It was on the plantations that he thought he should find 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 417 
 
 the most abundant field for his labours, where the privi- 
 leges of religion were less abundantly enjoyed. The 
 preacher whom Moreland and an adjoining planter 
 jointly employed was at this time disabled by sickness 
 from fulfilling his duties, and Moreland offered the 
 situation to Brainard, in whose piety he had now the 
 most implicit confidence. The offer was gladly accepted, 
 and in a short time he was to be installed in his new 
 office. 
 
 It was astonishing how he had ingratiated himself 
 with every member of the household. He seemed to 
 have found the avenue to every heart but Effie's, who 
 experienced one of those instinctive dislikes which child- 
 ren sometimes conceive, and for which they cannot 
 account. In vain he coaxed and caressed her, offered 
 her sugar-plums and candy ; she would shake her elfin 
 locks, pout her red lips, and elude his detaining arms. 
 
 " You are very wrong, Effie," Eula would say ; " Mr. 
 Brainard is very kind, and takes a great deal of notice 
 of you, for a little girl. It is not lady-like, either." 
 
 " I don't want to be a lady, mamma," the child per- 
 sisted in replying ; " and I don't want Mr. Brainard to 
 love me. I don't want him to touch me, and I can't 
 help it." 
 
 He had completely won the heart of the young mother 
 by his devotion to her beautiful boy. He would dandle 
 it by the hour, sing it sweet lullabys, or toss it in his 
 arms till its infant laughter rung like silvery bells on the 
 
41S THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 air. lie dwelt on the pride and delight with which she 
 would exhibit her infant to her parents and Northern 
 friends, in her contemplated visit home. He expatiated 
 on the noble and generous qualities of her husband ; on 
 his humanity as a master, his devotion as a friend, on 
 his manly, Christian graces, till her heart glowed, like 
 the disciples at Emmaus, when their master was talking. 
 
 To the widowed and sorrow-stricken Ildegerte he was 
 an angel of consolation. He conversed with her of her 
 departed husband, of his present glorified state, of the 
 divine communion she was to enjoy with him hereafter, 
 in terms of such sweet, exalted rapture, his breath 
 seemed to fan the drooping wings of her spirit, and 
 winnow fragrance from the fluttering plumes. 
 
 One day while he was sitting with Eula in the par- 
 lour, and Effie was playing in the passage — 
 
 "That child," said he, looking at her through the 
 open door, " is a very remarkable one. She requires 
 the most watchful and tender guardianship, as well as 
 the firmest and most unshaken discipline. Happy is it 
 for her, since death has deprived her of a mother's care, 
 that the void has been filled by one so fond to cherish, 
 so faithful to watch over her as yourself." 
 
 " She was not deprived of her mother by death,' 
 replied Eula, with burning cheeks. She felt a strange 
 reluctance to allude to the unhappy circumstances of her 
 husband's first marriage, but her reverence for truth was 
 paramount to it. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 419 
 
 "All!" he exclaimed, in an accent of surprise. 
 " Indeed !" he repeated. " It must have been, then, by 
 something still more sad — by sin I" 
 
 Eula bowed her head, oppressed by the humiliation 
 of another. Mr. Brainard seemed grieved, shocked 
 beyond expression. He walked up and down the room 
 with agitated steps. His emotion appeared so much 
 greater than the occasion justified, that Eula looked ac 
 him with surprised and questioning glance 
 
 "My sister," said he, addressing her with the affec- 
 tionate freedom customary with the disciples of Wesley, 
 " forgive me for exhibiting feelings which are perhaps 
 unwarrantable ; but I am so pained, so distressed at this 
 disclosure, I cannot conceal my anguish. Is it, can 
 it be true that you have married one who has been 
 divorced ?" 
 
 Eula, struck with consternation at the stern emphasis 
 on the word divorced, turned of ashy paleness. She 
 felt all that it implied, and a cold, sickening sensation 
 crept slowly over her. But immediately her pure, wo- 
 manly feelings, deeply wounded, came to her aid, and 
 enabled her to lift her eyes to the face of the minister. 
 
 "I know not why you express such horror at thi 
 communication," she said, with dignity. "It certainly 
 is not an unexampled case. I married with the sanction 
 of my parents, sir. One of the best and holiest of men, 
 a minister of God, with the full knowledge of every 
 circumstance, pronounced over me the nuptial benedic- 
 
420 the planter's northern bride.' 
 
 tion. I cannot say but what it has been to me a source 
 of regret and sorrow ; but I expect some thorns in a 
 path clustering with roses. Why do you speak as if I 
 had committed sacrilege ? I do not like to be the object 
 of such exaggerated emotion." 
 
 She rose and was about to leave the room, when 
 Brainard interposed himself between her and the door. 
 
 "I cannot suffer you to depart in anger, my sister," 
 said he, in the gentlest and most persuasive tones. 
 " The expression was involuntary, and cannot be re- 
 called. I have very peculiar views on that subject. I 
 understand my Bible differently from most men. I have 
 never, in my sacred office, admitted such an union ; and 
 hence my start of irrepressible surprise. But far be it 
 from me to question the authority of those whose sanc- 
 tion you quote. I am a man like them, of frail and 
 fallible judgment, and I may be wrong. In my deep 
 interest for your happiness I may have overstepped the 
 hounds of propriety. Forgive me ; forgive a too ardent, 
 too impulsive nature !" 
 
 "I have nothing to forgive," said Eula, "though 
 much to regret. If your peculiar views implicate in the 
 slightest degree the honour of my husband, whose irre- 
 proachable life is known to all ; if they would sacrifice 
 his happiness to a false and shadowy idea, there can be 
 no congeniality in our sentiments, no Christian fellow- 
 ship or sympathy. I wish to be alone, that I may 
 recover the great shock you have given me." 
 
J r Wk A- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 421 
 
 "Alas!" exclaimed the minister, clasping his hands 
 and looking upwards ; " by overmuch zeal I have 
 offended. What have I done ! and "what can I do to 
 atone for my indiscretion?" 
 
 "Think no more of it," said Eula, touched by his 
 sorrow, and ashamed of her resentment ; " I will try to 
 forget this painful interview, and remember only our 
 previous acquaintance." 
 
 " You will not speak of it to your husband ?" asked 
 he, anxiously. " I would not for the world have him 
 suppose I encroached on his hospitality by interfering 
 with the sacred privacy of his domestic relations. He 
 might consider it unpardonable ; and his displeasure 
 would be a millstone in the way of my duties." 
 
 Eula promised silence and left him, bearing an arrow 
 in her bosom, which she tried in vain to draw out. The 
 idea that any act of her life should cause a Christian 
 minister such ineffable grief and horror, however invo- 
 luntary its expression, was agonizing. Perhaps others 
 felt the same, though politeness or hypocrisy led them 
 to concealment. 
 
 We do not like the hackneyed expression of angel, as 
 applied to woman. In the common acceptation of the 
 term it means nothing ; and yet there are some beings 
 so different from the grosser multitude, so apparently 
 etherealized from the alloy of earth, we must distinguish 
 them by some epithet, indicating a higher degree of 
 purity and refinement than usually belongs to woman- 
 
422 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 kind. The word seraph would better express their hea- 
 venly attributes. No one could look upon Eula without 
 feeling he was in the presence of one of these pure and 
 holy intelligences, which, though clothed in humanity, 
 receives from it no pollution, but rather imparts to it its 
 own celestial nature. Her eyes, like stars shining in 
 deep waters, brought down heaven to earth, and dis- 
 coursed of celestial things. Though a wife and mother, 
 she retained the expression of child-like, virgin inno- 
 cence, which gave her the similitude of a vestal in the 
 white-robed village choir ; and this expression was the 
 mirror of her soul. Eula was still a child in heart, in 
 simplicity, purity, innocence, and confiding faith in the 
 goodness and truth of those around her. 
 
 If Brainard had studied her character for years, and 
 studied too a refined and subtle poioon, that would prey 
 slowly and surely on its sensitiveness and delicacy, he 
 could not have applied it more successfully. What a 
 pity that the godly man, in his too fastidious piety, 
 should have inflicted as keen a pang as the utmost art 
 of malice could have invented ! She cherished no 
 resentment against him ; it had died away with the 
 breath that expressed it; but the look, the start, the 
 shudder were never forgotten. She was too artless, too 
 ingenuous to be able to disguise all that she felt; and 
 when she met her husband he noticed the shadow on her 
 brow, though the smile trembled on her lips. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE, 423 
 
 " Are you not well, my Eula?" he asked, with anxious 
 tenderness. 
 
 "Perfectly so," she replied, and the colour rose at 
 once to confirm the truth of her words. 
 
 " Something has happened to disturb you. Som 
 little pebble has ruffled the sunny lake. Have the 
 servants troubled you ? Has Effie been unusually way- 
 ward?" 
 
 u Oh, no!" 
 
 "Perhaps you sigh for your Northern home; a little 
 while, my dear wife, and we will behold it once more. 
 Next summer it will be three years since I transplanted 
 you to our Southern bowers. Then you shall revisit 
 your native scenes, and carry our beautiful boy, as one 
 of the noblest specimens of the products of our sunny 
 clime." 
 
 He took the smiling infant in his arms, and caressed 
 it with all a father's fondness. 
 
 Effie, who had glided in unperceived, for her motions 
 were as quicK and noiseless as a bird's, Wrapped her 
 little arms round his knees, and said, in that sweet, 
 endearing tone which contrasted so bewitchingly with 
 her wild waywardness, 
 
 " You don't love me, papa, as well as you do little 
 brother." 
 
 The truth of this artless reproach struck home to the 
 heart of Moreland. He never could forget that Effie 
 was the child of Claudia, her resemblance to her was 
 
424 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 too painlully striking ; and, though he struggled with 
 the feelings awakened by this association, they still 
 existed, and the child knew it. But his boy-bab} r , 
 Eula's infant, came to him a cherub from the gardens 
 ); the blest, — pure from all unhallowed remembrances, 
 fresh with promises of future joy. How could he help 
 loving it better than the only remaining pledge of his 
 first unhappy love ? At this moment, however, the 
 doors of his heart seemed to swing open suddenly, to 
 take in the little fascinating being clinging to him with 
 such childish earnestness, and looking up to him with 
 such a bright, begging look. Bending down, he took 
 her up with one arm, and the two children were cradled 
 in one embrace. Eula was touched by this scene. She 
 had made use of every effort to equalize his affection 
 for his children ; but the dread canon of the Almighty 
 would be obeyed. The sin of the mother was visited 
 upon her offspring, and the outraged husband became 
 inevitably the alienated father. Eula remembered this 
 in her interview with Mr. Brainard, and it barbed the 
 arrow his words winged into her bosom. 
 
 Her own affection for Effie was very deep and strong. 
 The surprising alternations she exhibited, the dark 
 shades, the brilliant lights, kept her in a constant state 
 of solicitude and interest. Then her quick intelligence, 
 her eager, thirsting desire for knowledge, her reaching 
 ifter things unknown, her grasping at the invisible links 
 'hat bind matter and soul together, furnished an unfail- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 425 
 
 ing subject for her mind and heart. In trying to teach 
 Effie something of the great mystery of life, of the 
 nature of the Deity and her solemn relationship to Him, 
 she learned much that seemed unknown before, and was 
 drawn by this child of clay to more intimate communion 
 with the Glory of Glories, whose ineffable essence she 
 daily sought to explain. 
 
 " This is as it should be, my husband," said sli3, 
 gazing on the charming family-picture before her, with 
 moist, approving eyes ; " never again justify a reproach 
 like that." 
 
 "We will take Effie with us on our Northern tour," 
 said he, " and show them an embryo daughter of the 
 sun. Poor Nancy ! — I would she were alive to welcome 
 us. I have preserved the faded flowers she left upon 
 my pillow, as a memento of her grateful affection." 
 
 "Poor Nancy!" repeated Eula, with a sigh, — "yes! 
 she is gone, and her aged mother still lives. Yet why 
 do I say, poor Nancy ! Surely the bosom of her Saviour 
 is a happier resting-place than her couch of suffering. 
 Through poverty, sickness, and pain she has passed, I 
 doubt not, into glory and bliss." 
 
 " How strange !" continued Eula, and she wandered 
 m thought through her far native vale, " how strange 
 and varied are our destinies ! How little did I think, 
 when I first met you in Nancy's cottage, that I should 
 be your wife — that I should take, as it were, the wings 
 of the morning, and fly to this distant clime ! And 1 
 
426 [THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 have left those behind who will probably never see the 
 sun set beyond their native horizon, and the same trees 
 which shaded their cradle of infancy will bend over therr 
 graves. Those lilac bushes near Nancy's window ! Do 
 you remember them? Methinks their sweet oppressive 
 odour weighs upon my senses now !" 
 
 " Our magnolias are sweeter still," said Moreland. 
 " You do not regret being borne away on those morning 
 wings — do you?" 
 
 " Regret !" repeated she, " never — even if — " she 
 stopped, hesitated, and turn pale. 
 ."Even if what, Eula ?" 
 
 '"Nothing," said she, hastily; "but of one thing be 
 assured, if all my future life were dark and dreary, I 
 could not regret the unutterable happiness that has once 
 been mine." 
 
 Moreland looked at his wife earnestly, and the con- 
 viction that she concealed some feeling from him, that 
 she had some latent source of disquietude, pained hitn. 
 There had always been such perfect confidence, such a 
 transparency of thought between them, that a film, light 
 as the gossamer's web, was distinctly seen. 
 
 "Perhaps," thought he, "it is one of those faint 
 clouds that often arise between the soul and God. 
 Brainard has been sounding the depths of our hearts, 
 and stirring the stagnant waters. She has been brought 
 by self-examination into close communion with her 
 Maker, and even she, pure and holy as she is, must 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 427 
 
 shrink before Him, into whose presence the archangels 
 come with veiling wings." 
 
 Thus he explained her thoughtful, pensive mood. 
 Suspicion might glance in his breast, but, like the dart 
 8? rom tempered steel, it turned aside without entering. 
 
 In the evening, just about twilight, when the family 
 were gathering in the portico, Eula looked round for 
 Effie, who generally came bounding up the steps at that 
 hour, either tricked out with flowers, or bearing them in 
 her apron, making flowery litter in her way. 
 
 "Where is Effie?" asked she, of Kizzie, who, since 
 the advent of young Master Russell, had relaxed a good 
 deal in her surveillance of little missy. 
 
 "I saw her in the garden about an hour ago," was 
 the reply; "you know, missus, she e'ena'most lives 
 there." 
 
 This statement was corroborated by Netty, who was 
 sent immediately into the garden, where the shrubbery 
 was high and dense enough for a host of children to hide 
 in. 
 
 " She is playing hide and go seek with the butterflies, 
 I dare say," said Moreland. " She is the most fearless 
 child I ever saw, and would willingly walk abroad at mid- 
 night, were she permitted." 
 
 The return of Netty without Effie excited some sur- 
 prise, but not much alarm ; but, when a general search 
 was instituted through the house, kitchen, negro cabins, 
 when voices had become hoarse calling upon her name, 
 
428 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 and ears ached with the intensity of listening in vain for 
 a reply, then apprehension grew into torture, and the 
 wildest, most painful conjectures were formed. She was 
 not in the habit of running into the neighbouring houses, 
 yet messengers were despatched to all, to return without 
 tidings of the missing one. 
 
 Moreland, who, for the first time that very morning, 
 had allowed his parental feelings to gush forth towards 
 the child in a full, unobstructed stream of tenderness, 
 was distracted with anxiety. It was now dark, and 
 every place had been searched but one, — that was the 
 deep well in the back yard, scooped out in the shadow 
 of a giant oak. There was a deep curb around it — so 
 high that Effie's raven ringlets could just drip over the 
 mossy edge. Moreland snatched a torch from one of 
 the negroes, who were rushing about the yard with blaz- 
 ing lightwood flambeaux, exploring every nook and 
 corner, and bent over the dark abyss, but he saw nothing 
 save a spot of inky blackness in the centre, that seemed 
 at an interminable distance, and narrowed almost to a 
 point. The water was very low, so that, by descending, 
 the bottom could easily be sounded. 
 
 " Hold your torches over the well, and light me as I 
 descend !" he exclaimed, throwing off his coat as he 
 spoke, and tossing it on the arm of Albert. 
 
 "My God!" cried Enla, who was looking down into 
 the same fearful chasm — " Oh ! my husband, what are 
 you about to do !" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 429 
 
 " Hinder me not, Eula, for God's sake ! There is no 
 danger: look at this triple chain I" 
 
 "Let me entreat you, Mr. Moreland," said Brainard, 
 " not to do anything so rash. If the child has fallen in, 
 she must be drowned by this time. It is too late to 
 save her !" 
 
 "If she is drowned, she shall not be left weltering 
 there !" cried the father, springing into the inside of the 
 curb, and placing one foot on the edge of the bucket, 
 while he grasped the massy chain with both hands. 
 " Let me down slowly, steadily, Albert. Brainard, give 
 him your help. Eula, turn away, if you love me!" 
 
 " Oh ! master, don't — don't go down ! — for Lord Al- 
 mighty's sake — for dear missus' sake — don't !" cried 
 Albert, clinging to the arm he could reach with frantic 
 gestures. " Oh ! dear master, let me go ! I heap rather 
 go than see you !" 
 
 "Hush, my boy!" exclaimed Moreland; "take hold 
 of this chain firmly and steadily : now let me go !" 
 
 The negroes were half-frantic at the idea of their 
 master's danger ; but when they saw his pale, resolute 
 countenance slowly sinking below them, they pressed in 
 a dark ring round the well, and held their breaths, ir 
 awful apprehension. Eula spoke not, moved not ; bu 
 stood looking down, down, into that deep cold grave — 
 for such it seemed to her — and every time the windlass 
 turned and creaked and groaned, her heartstrings would 
 8 + .rain and quiver and twist themselves in agony on the 
 162 
 
430 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 wheel. Lower and lower lie went down. The gleam of 
 the red torchlight played a moment on his dark hair, 
 but the shadows extinguished that ; then it played on 
 his white shirt-sleeves, which were at length all that 
 could be distinguished in the chill obscurity of the 
 cavern. 
 
 Slowly, steadily, Albert ! Take care ; the chain gives 
 a sudden jerk, a horrible clank, and the bucket rebounds 
 against the rocky walls ! It swings from side to side ; 
 it rights itself at last ! Now strain every sinew : thy 
 master committed his safety into thy hands — and such a 
 master ! 
 
 Hark ! hear that splashing sound ! He has reached 
 the water ; he is searching in its cold wave for his 
 drowned child, but he finds her not ! He gives the 
 signal for ascending. And now the wheel makes more 
 rapid evolutions, in spite of the weight that impedes its 
 motions. The windlass creaks and groans, but the 
 sound is less doleful. The red torchlight gleams once 
 more on a mass of dark-waving hair ; a pale counte- 
 nance receives the ruddy illumination. At length the 
 whole form is visible, behind the massy glittering chain, 
 which the white-clad arms are wreathed around. 
 
 "Eula!" he exclaimed, springing from the curb, and 
 throwing his cold, dripping arms round his wife, " Thank 
 God, she is not there !" 
 
 Eula gave a short, quick gasp, and fell forward on his 
 bosom. She had fainted. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 431 
 
 The mysterious disappearance of the child, the danger 
 to which, the father had exposed himself, the sudden 
 fainting of Eula, circumstances so exciting in them- 
 selves, were sufficient when combined to create inde- 
 scribable confusion and dismay. The negroes were 
 perfectly beside themselves ; tossed from one billow of 
 emotion to another with such frightful rapidity. Their 
 mingled ejaculations of "Oh! little missy!" "Oh! my 
 massa !" and " Oh ! missus !" accompanied by sobs and 
 wringing of hands, were quite heart-rending. Even old 
 Dicey came tottering from her cabin to join in the gene- 
 ral bewailing. Ildegerte, the moment she saw her 
 brother spring upon the well-curb, had rushed into the 
 house, and throwing herself upon her knees, awaited in 
 loneliness and silence the issue of the awful moment. 
 
 "Oh! let me not look on death again!" she cried, 
 — burying her face in her hands, as if to shut the appal- 
 ling vision from her view, — " I've seen it all terribly 
 dyed in blood, — terrible must it be, in the dark, whelm- 
 ing waters !" 
 
 She was not, however, doomed to look on death ; but 
 its semblance, in the pallid face and insensible form 
 of Eula, which Moreland bore into the hall. The 
 swoon, however, was of short continuance, — Eula reco- 
 vered to mourn for the lost and rejoice over the spared. 
 Little Effie was almost forgotten, while the lives of 
 Moreland and Eula were endangered; but now her 
 claims to remembrance asserted themselves with new 
 
432 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 power. There was no clue to thread the labyrinth of 
 conjecture, in which thought was lost. Had Claudia 
 been in the vicinity, it might be supposed that she had 
 stolen her from her home ; but she had been absent 
 during the past year, — gone to Italy, her mother's 
 native country, — and, it was said, never to return. 
 When silence had settled down on the stormy emotions 
 of the household, and they were all gathered in the 
 hall, where Eula lay extended on a couch, the low, 
 sweet voice of Brainard uttered the simple, solemn 
 words, 
 
 "Let us pray." 
 
 With a simultaneous movement they all knelt, while 
 Brainard poured out his soul in the fervour of intense 
 devotion. Like frankincense rising from a golden cen- 
 ser, his prayer arose, and the air seemed perfumed with 
 the odours of heaven. He prayed to Him who was 
 once a babe in the manger, who took little children in 
 his arms and blessed them, to watch over the missing 
 lamb, and bring it back in safety to the fold. Every 
 one was comforted, and, though no trace of Effie was 
 discovered, they looked forward with hope to the mor- 
 row. 
 
 The morrow came, but not the lost one. Messengers 
 were despatched into the country, far and near ; adver- 
 tisements inserted in every paper, with offers of munifi- 
 cent reward ; placards were put up in the most con- 
 spicuous parts of the city, but no tidings came of the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 433 
 
 lost child. The last time she was seen, like the lovely 
 Proserpine m the vale of Enna, when borne off by the 
 terrible Pluto, she was gathering flowers, and twining 
 them in garlands, probably for her sweet mamma, as 
 she always called her lovely stepmother. The withered 
 wreaths were found trailing in the garden walks, as if 
 suddenly thrown down. Eula bedewed them with her 
 tears. Wherever she turned, she saw something that 
 reminded her of the pet, the fairy, the darling of the 
 household. There was a waxen doll, lying on one side, 
 with one arm amputated, and one blue eye fearfully 
 gouged, witness of EfBe's destructive propensity, — and, 
 on the other, innumerable gilded playthings, scattered 
 in glittering profusion, and mingled with faded blos- 
 soms. 
 
 Had the child sickened and died, — had they laid her 
 down in the quiet grave, and seen the green turf heaved 
 up over her clay-cold breast, they would have wept, it is 
 true ; but submission would have arisen from the dread 
 certainty of death. But the fearful incertitude of her 
 fate caused a gloom deeper than the dark flapping of the 
 funeral pall. 
 
 One day, Albert came in with Effie's little white 
 muslin sun-bonnet in his hand, no longer white, and all 
 torn with thorns and stained with green ; yet, still it 
 was recognised as hers. He had found it swinging from 
 the bough of a low tree, in the woods skirting the road 
 that led to the plantation, several miles from town. 
 
4C-i the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Here was fresh food for conjecture. The child could 
 not have wandered so far by herself. The Indians no 
 longer lurked in ambush, among the deep pines, for the 
 capture of helpless innocence. The wild beasts of the 
 forest no longer prowled in the wilderness to seek whom 
 they might devour. There was a half-crazy, half-idiot 
 negro in the city — but this was a thought too horrible — 
 it was crushed in the birth. The plantation had already 
 been searched ; indeed, everything possible had been 
 done, yet no gleam of light had illuminated the obscu- 
 rity that shrouded her fate. 
 
 " Would you be reconciled to her loss if her own mo- 
 ther had claimed her — supposing an impossible case?" 
 asked Urainard of Eula. 
 
 "No!" replied she, shuddering at the recollection of 
 Claudia's ungovernable temper and stormy passions. 
 "I believe her death would cause me less sorrow. If 
 dead, she is in the arms of her Saviour,— but with such a 
 mother, such an example, she would live alone for misery 
 and sin." 
 
 "And yet," said Brainard, thoughtfully, "nothing 
 can cancel a mother's claims to her child. She has 
 bought it by sufferings known only to her God, and no 
 human laws can annul her sacred rights. The beasts 
 of the fields and the fowls of the air vindicate the de- 
 mands of maternity with the most terrible ferocity, — and 
 shall we deny to human affection what we yield to the 
 instinct of brutes ?" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 435 
 
 "Do you think it wrong, under any circumstances, to 
 ■withhold a child from its mother ?" asked Eula, remem- 
 bering Claudia's agonizing supplications for her child, 
 which she had resisted with such a painful effort. 
 
 "I do!" replied the minister. "I am sorry you 
 asked me the question, for the answer may wound your 
 feelings ; but truth is omnipotent. I have told you that 
 my views do not conform to the common code of laws 
 and morals. I think I can see the hand of God stretched 
 out in retribution, in snatching this idol from your arms. 
 It was not yours. You had no legitimate claim to it, 
 and He who gave it to the bosom that yearned over it, 
 with nature's strong desirings, has taken it to Himself, 
 that He may confirm His immutable justice and sove- 
 reign will." 
 
 Again Eula felt the barb of the arrow, and she pressed 
 her hand involuntarily on her bosom. 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear sister !" said he, kindly and 
 soothingly. "You are too sensitive. I would not for 
 the world accuse you of voluntary wrong. You have 
 been the victim of circumstances, and your affections 
 have triumphed over the decisions of judgment. My 
 object is not to give you pain, but to reconcile you to a 
 just and irrevocable decree." 
 
 Eula spoke not to her husband of this conversation 
 with Brainard. Judging of his feelings by her own, she 
 knew it would give him pain, and probably excite his 
 
436 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 displeasure against the minister, whose opinions con- 
 demned his conduct. 
 
 It was singular, but, with all her reverence for Brain- 
 ard's talents, zeal, and piety, she never entered his 
 presence without an uncomfortable and oppressive feel- 
 ing. She was dissatisfied with herself for her coldness 
 and inward recoiling. She did not like to meet the 
 glance of his soft blue eyes, which always fell instan- 
 taneously before the beam of hers, neither did she like 
 to see them raised, as they so often were, in silent ap- 
 peal to heaven. She hated herself for all this, but she 
 could no more help it than the instinctive throbbing of 
 her heart. Ever since his arrival (and he had been do- 
 mesticated with them several weeks), the household 
 seemed changed. The servants, carried away by their 
 religious enthusiasm, hurried over their duties, or per- 
 formed them with a less willing spirit. She could hardly 
 refer to any particular violation of obedience or respect, 
 yet she felt a change. But, as usual, she blamed her- 
 self, rather than others. Perhaps she was becoming 
 selfish and exacting. She would watch herself more 
 closely, and beware of self-indulgence and captiousness. 
 
 One evening, after supper was over, and she had, as 
 usual, retired to the nursery, she found the baby restless, 
 and, as she imagined, feverish and unwell. She did not 
 feel well herself, and waited, in some anxiety, the coming 
 of Kizzie from her supper. When she entered, the 
 clean, starched white apron and bright headkerchief 
 
[the planter's northern bride. 487 
 
 denoted a preparation for going out. Brainard was to 
 preach ; but he did so every evening, and Eula thought it 
 would be imposing no hardship on Kizzie to detain her 
 at home, especially as Moreland was absent. 
 
 "Did you think of going to church to-night, Kizzie ?" 
 . he asked. " Little Russell is so unwell I would rather 
 you would not leave me. I have a bad headache my- 
 self, also." 
 
 "La, missus! there is nothing the matter with him, 
 just wakeful; that's all. He'll go to sleep directly." 
 
 "I do not feel able to take care of him to-night, 
 Kizzie. I want you to stay." 
 
 " Won't Netty do, missus ? I 'specially anxious to 
 go this time. Mars. Brainard going to the plantation 
 soon. There's to be great preaching to-night. Every 
 'vidual will be there but me." 
 
 "Netty has no experience, and I am sure the child 
 is sick ; but you may go if you cannot willingly remain 
 I will try to take care of him." 
 
 Her heart swelled and choked her words. She was 
 not willing that Kizzie should see how much she was 
 wounded by her reluctance to fulfil a positive duty. 
 She might have commanded her to stay; but her natural 
 gentleness restrained the exercise of just authority. 
 Pressing her baby to her breast, she bent her cheek to 
 its velvet one, and tried to hush its unwonted cries. 
 Her lip quivered, and a tear dropped on the infant's 
 warm temples. She was very childish — but Kizzie had 
 
438 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 always seemed so self-sacrificing, so devotedly attached 
 to her and the child, she could not help feeling dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 "If you insist on nay staying, missus," said Kizzie, 
 folding her fat fingers over her waist, without offering to 
 take the child, " of course I'll give up the preaching. 
 But maybe it'll cost me my soul, missus. I feel kinder 
 awful to-night. The Sperrit tells me I oughtn't to stay, 
 when I might git the blessing." 
 
 " Go, then, Kizzie, and say no more about it." 
 
 "I'll send Netty." 
 
 " I don't wish Netty. I had rather be alone." 
 
 She spoke falteringly, impatiently, and Kizzie turned 
 to the door. She laid her hand lingeringly on the latch, 
 hesitated a moment, then opened and closed the door, 
 and Eula was left alone with her infant. 
 
 " What is the reason," thought she, walking backward 
 and forward the length of her chamber, for she was too 
 much agitated to sit still, " what is the reason, that ever 
 since this man has been here, I have felt my happiness 
 insensibly diminish ? What is the silent, invisible influ- 
 ence he is exerting, that is so fatal to my peace ? He 
 has gradually assumed the empire of the household, and 
 making us secondary agents in it. Would he had never 
 come among us f And yet, how wicked I am to breathe 
 such a wish ! Surely he is a man of God ! What mo- 
 tive but pure, evangelical religion could induce him to 
 devote his splendid talents to such a lowly cause ? The 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 439 
 
 very incident which has so deeply wounded me, is only 
 a proof of his Christian influence ! How selfish I am, 
 to grudge poor Kizzie this little gratification ! Oh ! 
 how often has my own dear mother rocked me, a weep- 
 ing infant, in her arms, when there was no one near to 
 relieve her of the burden of care. Lie still, my darling 
 baby ; hush, my own little Russell !" 
 
 But the little Russell would not lie still; he writhed 
 in her embracing arms ; and the more she caressed the 
 more bitterly he cried. At length, very weary with her 
 vain efforts to soothe him, she seated herself in a rocking- 
 chair, and began to sing that sweet cradle hymn, that 
 holy lullaby, which has been so often breathed over the 
 couch of infancy: 
 
 4i Hush, my dear, lie still and slumbei, 
 Holy angels guard thy bed ; 
 Heavenly blessings without number 
 Gently fall upon thy head." 
 
 As the charming voice of the young mother warbled 
 in the ear of the child, its moanings ceased, and looking 
 up in her face, it smiled with that heavenly sweetness 
 of expression never seen save on the lip of infant inno- 
 cence. Ah ! where is the mother who is not repaid for 
 a thousand pangs by one such angelic smile ? It passed 
 away, however, as quick as a sunbeam, and was suc- 
 ceeded by a feverish restlessness that defied all her 
 soothing arts. Never had Eula spent so weary an 
 evening. She would not call on Ildegerte for aid. She 
 
440 the planter's northern bride 
 
 had the natural pride of wishing to bear her own pecu- 
 liar trials. She wanted Kizzie to see, when she re- 
 turned, how much trouble she had caused. She wanted 
 her to feel sorry for having left her. 
 
 By and by, when her arms drooped with their burden, 
 and refused to sustain it any longer, she laid the child 
 in the cradle, and kneeling by it, continued to sing 
 another verse of the divine song — ■ 
 
 " Soft and easy is thy cradle; 
 
 Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay — 
 For his birth-place was a stable, 
 And his softest bed was hay." 
 
 Again that heavenly smile. Then the beautiful, inno- 
 cent eyes gently closed, and, like stars withdrawing 
 behind a white, fleecy cloud, grew dim in slumber. 
 Eula, fearful of disturbing him by rising, slid from her 
 knees in a reclining position on the floor, and still keep- 
 ing one arm around him, lay with her head bending over 
 him, watching his gentle breathing. In this attitude 
 she unconsciously fell asleep herself; and thus Moreland 
 found her when, having transacted the business that 
 called him away, he returned to his home. 
 
 He paused by the cradle to contemplate the beautiful 
 picture, so dear to a husband's and father's heart. The 
 light, subdued by its crystal shade, fell with moonlight 
 softness on the slumbering pair. The cheeks of the 
 infant were flushed with a deep rose bloom ; the mother's 
 as fair and spotless as the petals of the lily. The hair 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 441 
 
 of Eula bung loose and floating over the side of the 
 cradle, and swept the floor in bright hazel waves. Her 
 attitude was the perfection of reposing grace, though it 
 expressed weariness and self-abandonment. He thought 
 of the virgin mother and the infant Jesus ; and holding 
 his breath as he gazed, continued to drink in their 
 beauty, till his whole soul was steeped in tenderness and 
 delight. Then he wondered at finding her thus alone 
 with the child, evidently overcome with watching and 
 fatigue ; and kneeling down by her, he put his arms 
 round her, and raised her from her recumbent position. 
 
 "Eulalia, my Eula," he cried, "why do I find you 
 thus ? You should not recline on the floor, with the 
 night-air flowing in on every side." 
 
 It was some time before she could rouse herself to a 
 consciousness of her situation ; then she smiled, and 
 explained the cause of her uneasiness. 
 
 " You should not have permitted Kizzie to leave you," 
 said he. " I shall not allow this to happen again. I 
 fear they are all taking advantage of your mildness and 
 indulgence. But I shall prevent any future encroach- 
 ment." 
 
 " Do not blame Kizzie. I told her she might go. It 
 is my fault entirely. If the baby had slept, I should 
 not have missed her. Mr. Brainard is going away, you 
 know, and the same temptation will not occur again." 
 
 "Yes, he goes to-morrow, I believe, and I do not 
 regret it. I would not like to have this excitement con- 
 
442 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 tinue much longer. The imagination of the negro is Sr« 
 powerful, that when it once gains the ascendancy, it ia 
 almost impossible for reason to exercise the least sway. 
 I have no doubt that Kizzie believed her soul would be 
 endangered by staying away from that meeting to-night. 
 Brainard is really a wonderful man. He has nights of 
 eloquence that bear the soul up to heaven itself. I do 
 not wonder at all at the hold he has taken of the sus- 
 ceptible and believing Africans. And yet, Eula, strange 
 as it may seem to you, I do not like the man. I feel a 
 sensation of relief in thinking of his approaching depar- 
 ture. I feel what our poor little lost Effie so innocently, 
 yet rudely expressed. I am conscious of an antagonism, 
 for which I cannot account." 
 
 " Is it indeed so ?" said Eula. " It is thus I feel, and 
 reproach myself bitterly for want of Christian sympathy 
 and regard." 
 
 " Well ! it is strange ; but as we feel alike, there 
 must be some inexplicable cause. Perhaps the attrac- 
 tion which draws him to the negroes, proves a repulsion 
 to us. I think he will do a great deal of good on the 
 plantation ; and as they are just now destitute of a 
 preacher, I could not possibly refuse his offered services. 
 He says he does not wish any remuneration ; but of 
 course I shall liberally reward him. There is one thing 
 of which I am assured : he has very just views of slavery, 
 and looks upon it, as it now exists, rather as a dispensa- 
 tion of Providence than as an institution established by 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 413 
 
 ourselves. He deprecates the mad zeal which would 
 involve by premature efforts our country in ruin, and 
 condemns, without reservation, the insidious attacks of 
 those who endeavour to undermine what they cannot 
 openly destroy." 
 
 "I have one consolation," said Eula: "whatever are 
 my father's sentiments, he glories in their avowal. If 
 he be an opponent, he comes forth to battle in the 
 noonday. He never seeks the midnight shade." 
 
 " You are right, Eula ; your father is a manly enemy 
 and a sincere one ; an unprejudiced one, I cannot say 
 he is. It is one of the rarest things in the world, to see 
 a man who looks upon the differing phases of the social 
 system with an impartial eye. Dr. Darley is one. What 
 a head, what a soul, what a heart he has ! I never think 
 of him, without feeling my respect and admiration for 
 mankind exalted. Just as strongly as I was repelled 
 by Brainard, at first sight, was I attracted to Dr. Dar- 
 ley. It seemed as if my being became incorporated 
 with his." 
 
 "He is, indeed, a fascinating and remarkable man," 
 replied Eula. " How kind it was in him to take charge 
 of Crissy, when he travelled South this spring ; and how 
 very kind it was in him to find her a good and com- 
 fortable home during her stay in the West ! Then, what 
 a friend to Ildegerte ! I do not wonder that her rever- 
 ence for his character approaches to worship." 
 
444 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 Moreland and Eulalia were right. There are few 
 such men as Dr. Darley ; but, for the honour and glory 
 of humanity, there are a few such, who, even while 
 walking through the Sardis of this world, defile not the 
 whiteness of their garments with the slime of prejudice 
 or the dark stains of passion. 
 
GHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 We return to the plantation, where the missionary, 
 Brainard, is now established in the full plenitude of his 
 ministerial power. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm which he in- 
 spired in the simple-hearted community in which he 
 was introduced. He told them that he had come all 
 the way from the North, actuated by love for their poor, 
 despised race ; that he had given up home and friends, 
 fame, wealth, and honourable position, to claim brother- 
 hood with them, and preach to them of the riches of 
 redeeming love. He told them that he loved his white 
 brethren ; but far better he loved the dark and lowly 
 African, — loved him, because, like his Saviour, he was 
 despised and rejected of men, and there was no comeli- 
 ness in him that men should desire him ; that he had 
 come to distil the dews of divine love on the root of a 
 dry ground, and make it a green and blossoming plant, 
 whose leaflets should reach into heaven. The negroes 
 listened, and thought an angel was before them, sent by 
 163 445 
 
446 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the Almighty, for the ransom of their souls. Every 
 night the log chapel was crowded, and the meeting kept 
 up beyond the midnight hour. The minister seemed 
 incapable of fatigue. He rose with the dawn of day, 
 and, long after the negroes had retired to their cabins, 
 his lamp glimmered through the windows, or his figure 
 was seen gliding beneath the shadows of the trees. 
 
 The overseer, fatigued with the labours of the day, 
 usually retired to rest at an early hour, while Brainard 
 assumed the responsibility of seeing order and quietude 
 established in the negro quarters. As he was invested 
 with the sanctity of a minister of the Gospel, and the 
 authority of a man employed and recommended by the 
 master, he did not hesitate to confide in him with im- 
 plicit trust. 
 
 Brainard stood on an elevated platform, reminding 
 one of a picture where a figure is seen rising above a 
 mass of dark-rolling clouds, he, the only point of light 
 in that black assembly. An unusual solemnity pervaded 
 the audience. He had promised them a sermon adapted 
 to their own condition. He had promised to tell 
 them of an ancient people, whose lot resembled their 
 own. Opening the Bible, he read, in a voice of plain- 
 tive melody, the one hundredth and thirty-seventh 
 psalm : — 
 
 " ' By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down and 
 wept, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 447 
 
 " ' We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst 
 thereof. 
 
 " ' For there, they that carried us away captive re- 
 quired of us a song ; and they that wasted us required 
 of us mirth ; saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion. 
 
 " ' How shall we sing the Lord's song in a Strang? 
 land? 
 
 " ' Oh ! daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed , 
 happy shall he be that rewardeth thee, as thou hast 
 served us !' " 
 
 Closing the book and looking earnestly on the serious, 
 upturned faces before him, he began to describe, in sim- 
 ple, but expressive language, the sorrows of captivity, 
 the sad doom of the exile. He described the Babylonish 
 slave, weeping beneath the willow's weeping boughs, 
 while his neglected harp-strings responded only to the 
 mournful gale. He painted him as writhing under the 
 scourge of him who carried him into captivity, and who, 
 in mockery of his despair, called for songs of joy and 
 mirth, in the midst of desolation and woe. Having 
 wrought up their susceptible feelings, by an eloquence 
 which they only partly understood, he changed the scene 
 to their native Africa, and carried them in imagination 
 to the green banks of the Niger, where the shadow of 
 the lofty palm tree is reflected in its clear dark waters. 
 He painted the negro, not degraded, benighted, and 
 imbruted as he really is, in his native land, plunged in 
 the lowest depths of sensuality and heathenism, but wan- 
 
448 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 tiering in all the glory of freedom, in his beautiful tro- 
 pic regions, the lord and king of all the boundless wealth 
 of nature spread out around him. Then he drew a 
 thrilling sketch of his being torn from his country and 
 home, deprived of his glorious privileges and lofty inhe- 
 ritance by the hand of rapine, and doomed to a life of 
 slavery and wretchedness. He paused not till he had 
 created the wildest excitement and confusion. Groans 
 mingled with shouts, and sobs with loud hosannas. Un- 
 cle Paul, who sat near the pulpit, though he made no 
 boisterous exhibition of his feelings, took in every word 
 with breathless attention. He arose and drew as near 
 as possible to the platform. He seemed to be mag- 
 netised by the preacher. Every time Brainard waved his 
 arm in the energy of speaking, Uncle Paul waved his in 
 response. If he bowed his head to give emphasis to his 
 words, Uncle Paul would bow his likewise. The negro 
 preacher was tall and brawny, and his large, swelling 
 muscles heaved visibly under his checked cotton shirt. 
 His collar was left unbuttoned, displaying the working 
 sinews of his neck, and the grizzly beard that bristled 
 round his chin. His head was covered with a thick 
 fleece of coal-black wool, white as snow on the surface, 
 but, whenever it parted, showing the hue of ink. His 
 forehead retreated under this woolly thatch, like the 
 slanting roof of a building, while the flattened nose, large, 
 spreading nostrils, ash-coloured and protruding lips, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 449 
 
 opening on rows of strong, unbroken ivory, proclaimed 
 the legitimate son of Africa. 
 
 When the congregation was dismissed, they gathered 
 in knots round the door, to talk about the wonderful 
 sermon, and ask each other what it meant, and what was 
 going to follow. 
 
 Paul stood just where he was in front of the preacher, 
 gazing in his face and waiting his every motion. When 
 he descended from the pulpit, Paul walked by his side 
 to the door of the chapel. They went out together and 
 walked in silence, till they left the enclosure bounded 
 by the cabins, and entered a path that led into the 
 woods. 
 
 "Massa preacher," said Paul, as soon as he thought 
 they were out of the hearing of the rest, " I want to 
 talk with you. I can't go to sleep till I hear you 
 'xplain some of the difficulties of my comprehension." 
 
 " Wait, my brother, till we reach a more convenient 
 place than this," answered Brainard; "follow me, and 
 I will make every difficult place easy, and every rough 
 one smooth." 
 
 He threaded the wild-wood path, dark with the 
 shadows of a moonless night, till they came to a small 
 opening, where the blacksmith's shop stood, isolated from 
 the other buildings of the plantation. Just behind it, a 
 gnarled and blasted oak, twisted off near its base by the 
 whirlwind's breath, lay upon the earth. Brainard 
 
450 tite planter's northern bride. 
 
 seated himself on the rough, knotted trunk, and mo- 
 tioned Paul to take a seat by his side." 
 
 "No, massa," said the negro. "If you please, I'll 
 stand just where I be. I want you to tell me more 
 'bout that sermon, that's tingling in my ears as if some- 
 ting had stung 'em. I never hearn afore Africa such a 
 great country. I thought this a heap better." 
 
 "My poor fellow!" exclaimed Brainard, "you have 
 been brought up in ignorance and deception. You know 
 nothing beyond your master's fields, which you enrich 
 by the sweat of your brow. Born in bondage, fettered, 
 manacled, and enslaved, you are made to drag out a 
 hopeless, joyless existence, ten thousand times more 
 degraded than the beasts of the field, for the birthright 
 of immortality is not theirs. Are you a man, and will- 
 ing to submit to this disgrace and shame ; this outrage 
 to humanity ; this robbery of your dearest, most sacred 
 rights?" 
 
 "Now, massa," said Paul, after a short pause, in 
 which he could see the blue eyes of Brainard glittering 
 like burnished steel in the clear starlight, " I thought I 
 mighty well off till I hearn you say I ain't. I got a 
 kind, good massa, that neber said a thing he oughtn't 
 to, nor did a thing he oughtn't to. He neber made me 
 work harder than my conscience telled me was right. 
 He gives me good clothes, good vittles, and never spited 
 me in no manner of ways. When he was a leetle boy 
 lie larned me how to read the Bible ; and though he 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 451 
 
 ben't a preacher, he can talk beautifully from Scripter. 
 He neber made me a slave ; he neber bought me ; he 
 neber will sell me. I was born on his grandfather's 
 plantation. I belonged to his father, and so slipped 
 through God's hands into hisn." 
 
 "That you have believed all this I cannot wonder," 
 said the minister, in a commiserating tone ; " but the 
 time is come when you must learn greater, better things ; 
 when you must realize what you are, what you may be, 
 and what you ought to be. I am come, commissioned 
 by the Almighty, to teach you how to rend asunder the 
 iron chains of servitude, and secure the glorious privi- 
 leges of freemen. I appeal to you, because I see well 
 that you are the most intelligent of the number I see 
 around me, and better capable of understanding me. 
 If you choose you can be free — you can make all your 
 brethren free. Instead of being slaves, you can be men. 
 You have but to will it ; the means are certain. You 
 have friends at the North ready to assist you, and place 
 you upon perfect equality with themselves. I have been 
 labouring in your behalf, wherever I have been. I have 
 been sowing broadcast the seeds of freedom, that you 
 may reap a golden harvest. Will you not put in your 
 sickle and reap, or will you lie, like a coward, on youi 
 back, and let the ploughshare cut through your vitals ?" 
 
 " Oh, massa, you talk mighty grand, and I know you 
 means right, and we ought to be much obleeged for your 
 thoughts and obligation of us ; but 'spose, massa, we get 
 
452 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 way off North, who's gwine to take care of us and our 
 wives and children ?" 
 
 " Take care of you !" repeated Brainard, scornfully ; 
 " are you not a man, and cannot you take care of your- 
 self? Who takes care of us? Who takes care of one, 
 I want to know, in the name of the God who made 
 me?" 
 
 "Ah! but you got the head-piece, massa," touching 
 a forehead that indeed showed the absence of intel- 
 lectual power. " God don't make everybody alike. He 
 make some for one thing, some for anoder. If he make 
 massa to take care of me, and me to work for him, why 
 ain't that good ? If I be satisfied, why not go to heaven 
 the way I started? — got halfway there 'ready, massa !" 
 
 Brainard made a gesture of impatience, and crushed 
 the dry twigs beneath his feet. Then, with admirable 
 patience and consummate eloquence, he continued to 
 enforce his arguments, and to stir up the quiet pool of 
 contentment in the negro's mind, into the troubled 
 billows of disaffection. He talked till the midnight 
 stars flashed through the deepening blue of heaven, — 
 till the wakeful mocking-bird was hushed to silence ; 
 and Paul listened, like one awaking from a dream, won- 
 dering how he could have lived so long, without knowing 
 what a wretched being he was before. It was not the 
 policy of Brainard to startle him at first, by unveiling 
 all his designs ; but he had taken the first step, and all 
 succeeding ones would be comparatively easy. He had 
 
THE PLANTER'S ' NORTHERN BRIDE. 453 
 
 been strewing a gunpowder train the length and breadth 
 of his journey, and waited the favourable moment to 
 apply the kindling spark and let the blazing track be 
 seen, — a fiery serpent winding through the land ! 
 
 "And now, Paul," said he, rising from the gnarled 
 trunk, and taking a Bible from his bosom, " you believe 
 in this holy book of God ?" 
 
 " Sartain, sartain ! — blessed be the Lord ! — I do." 
 
 " Swear, then, over this sacred volume, never to 
 speak of what I have this night revealed to you, with- 
 out my permission. By and by we will take others in 
 our counsel; but you and I must have many talks 
 together, before we understand each other ; but, as sure 
 as you are a man, you were created to be the instru- 
 ment of deliverance to your brethren, and a light to 
 them that sit in darkness and the shadow of death. 
 Ages hence shall hear of Uncle Paul, and the sons and 
 daughters of regenerated Africa shall arise up and call 
 him blessed ! Here, take this volume in your hand, and 
 swear that death itself shall not wrest from you the 
 secret of this hour." 
 
 The bewildered and awe-struck negro took the book, 
 and reverently kissing it, mechanically obeyed the bid- 
 ding of the master-will, acting upon him with such iron 
 *brce. 
 
 They then separated, and returned by different paths 
 to their respective dwelling-places. Uncle Paul was so 
 absorbed by new and momentous thoughts, he did not 
 
454 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 think that he was approaching the graveyard, till he saw 
 the white paling glimmering in the darkness, and he 
 felt the cold, fearful proximity of the dead. 
 
 "Wouldn't go by there this time for all the universe," 
 said he ; " didn't I tell massa, right over Dilsy's grave, 
 I didn't want to be free ? and ain't it the old sarpent 
 that's beguiling me ? Wish I'd neber known I so bad 
 off; wish 'twant a sin to be satisfied with myself; won- 
 der if the Lord did send Massa Brainard, sure enuff ?" 
 
 Turning round abruptly, he retraced his steps, and 
 circumambulated the woods, to avoid the grave of Dilsy. 
 He felt restless, unhappy, — he could not sleep. The 
 next day he could not work. Every few moments he 
 would stick his spade in the ground, and resting his 
 brawny hands on the top of the handle, look fixedly on the 
 earth, as if trying to solve some great problem. Then 
 he would rouse himself, shake his head, as much as to 
 say, "It won't do," — and, renewing his labour, make 
 the earth fly under his plunging utensil. But at night, 
 he was again under the magnetic influence of Brainard, 
 who at last found a spot in the negro's yielding heart 
 where he could place the lever of his strong will, and 
 move him to his purpose. The blacksmith, — a man 
 black as his coals, and endowed with the strength and 
 nerve of Hercules, was next admitted to their midnight 
 deliberations — another and then another, — till, fed by 
 numbers and inflamed by the mystery of their nocturnal 
 
the planter's northern bride. 455 
 
 Meetings, the elements of insurrection began to roar, in 
 sullen murmurs, like subterranean fires. 
 
 That a man, gifted with the eloquence of Whitfield, 
 the will of Napoleon, and the perseverance of Peter the 
 Great, should exercise a resistless influence over tl e 
 simple and credulous beings thrown so completely in his 
 power, it is not strange. The overseer suspected no- 
 thing, because religion was the watchword of all their 
 meetings, religion the cloak that mantled all their de- 
 signs. But he perceived a spirit of insubordination 
 gradually stealing over the plantation. There was sul- 
 lenness and gloom, where, formerly, cheerfulness and 
 good-humour enlivened the labours of the field; and the 
 merry laugh, the spontaneous song no longer were heard 
 in the evening twilight. 
 
 In less than a fortnight after Brainard's first unwit- 
 nessed meeting with Uncle Paul, a dusky form could be 
 seen travailing by the burning forge, in the hush of the 
 midnight hour, with closed shutters, to exclude the ruddy 
 beams from flashing on the darkness of night. Bude 
 swords and murderous weapons were shaped by the 
 swarthy artisan, from whose reeking brow the sweat- 
 drops rolled upon the hot metal, hissing as they evapo- 
 rated. Then, by and by, the black Vulcan would steal 
 forth, and, removing a pile of dried underbrush and 
 moss, crawl on his hands and feet under the building, 
 and deposit the hastily-wrought instruments in a dark 
 cavity, dug out, deep and narrow, beneath the forge. 
 
456 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Some old planks covered the aperture, and the moss 
 and underbrush concealed the place of entrance. Some- 
 times a white face gleamed stealthily through the cau- 
 tiously-opened door, and a low, sweet-toned voice invoked 
 : the blessing of heaven on the sable workman. 
 
 "Toil on, my brother — toil on, and faint not, for the 
 day of redemption is at hand ! Think of Him who said 
 'I come not to bring peace on earth, but a sword.' 
 Think of Him who came in dyed garments from Bozrah, 
 travelling in the greatness of his strength, whose rai- 
 ments were sprinkled with blood, who said 'The day 
 of vengeance is in my heart, and the year of my re- 
 deemed is come.' " 
 
 It was thus, with burning words, more powerful be- 
 cause partially unintelligible to the hearer, he set the 
 negro's excitable imagination into a blaze of enthu- 
 siasm, who went on toiling with ten-fold zeal, while his 
 large eyes glowed by the flaming forge, like balls of 
 living fire. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that Moreland's plantation 
 was the only scene of the labours of the indefatigable 
 Brainard. There was one about eight miles distant, 
 where he preached on alternate Sundays, and where the 
 same dark scenes were enacting. He had runners em- 
 ployed in travelling secretly from place to place, giving 
 constant information of all that was passing — shuttles 
 of the loom of abolition, weaving a web which should bo 
 the winding-sheet of the South. It was now autumn, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 457 
 
 and the Christmas holidays were to witness the fruition 
 of his labours. He had ample time to work in, ample 
 materials to work with, and opportunity smiled most 
 benignantly on his plans. 
 
 Shall we look into the secret chambers of his heart, 
 and try to discover the moving spring of the complicated 
 machinery at work there ? Is he really one of God's 
 anointed ministers, or has he assumed the sacred name, 
 as a passport with a hospitable and unsuspecting people ? 
 Has he borrowed the snowy fleece of the sheep, to clothe 
 the gaunt limbs and hide the gnashing fangs of the 
 wolf? Has Moreland ever injured him, that he should 
 come stealing and coiling himself secretly and insidiously 
 into the heart of his household, and endeavour to sting 
 the bosom that has warmed him ? that he should throw 
 the brand of discord in his peaceful plantation, and 
 abuse the sacred trust committed to his keeping ? Has 
 the South ...ever injured him, that he should seek to make 
 its blossoming fields and fragrant bowers, Acelclemas 
 and Gfolgothas, furrowed with the ploughshare of ruin ? 
 Does he really think, with Saul of Tarsus, when breath- 
 ing fire and persecution against the Christians, that he 
 is really doing God and man service ? We should like 
 to ask him if he has no home, wife or child of his own, 
 no household gods to defend, no domestic penetralia to 
 keep sacred from intrusion. We think he talked to 
 Eula of his fondness for his children — of his own smiling 
 offspring, We should like to ask him if he would teach 
 
458 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the hand of the assassin, where the life-veins were wan 
 dering in the bosom of his wife, or his bloody fingers tc 
 twist in the shining ringlets of his child ? 
 
 Is he the leader of a confederated band, or a mere 
 tool, a machine moved bj the will of others ? 
 
 Look at him ! He is alone now in the room appro- 
 priated to his accommodation. It is nearly three o'clock 
 in the morning, and yet he is still awake, — seated at a 
 little table, and poring over the pages of that Bible, on 
 which, with Judas kiss, Paul had sworn to betray his 
 kind and once beloved master. Ah ! he must be a good 
 man, or he would not read his Bible so earnestly. 
 
 But, perhaps he is studying passages to give sanctity 
 and effect to his incendiary addresses. Like Belshazzar, 
 he may be purloining the golden vessels from God's 
 temple, to gratify his own unhallowed passions. 
 
 There is one passage of Scripture on which his eye 
 glances ; then he hastily turns over the leaf. We won- 
 der he does not commit it to memory, for it is a most 
 eloquent denunciation. The arrows of divine indigna- 
 tion are quivering in every word. 
 
 " Woe unto you, Pharisees ! for ye tithe mint, and rue, 
 and all manner of herbs, and pass over judgment and 
 the love of God : these ought ye to have done, and not 
 leave the other undone. 
 
 "Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! 
 for ye are as graves which appear not, and the men that 
 walu over them are not aware of them." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 459 
 
 Years ago, in one of the Eastern States, there was a 
 boy, a very young boy, the son of obscure and indigent 
 parents, who, being convicted of theft, was immured in 
 the walls of a penitentiary. In consequence of his 
 ixtreme youth, and the remarkable talents he had exhi- 
 bited at school, a petition, signed by some of the most 
 influential gentlemen in town, was sent to the go- 
 vernor, to mitigate his sentence ; and after one year's 
 imprisonment he was released, with the felon's brand on 
 his youthful reputation. But the benevolent gentlemen 
 who had manifested so deep an interest in his fate, 
 resolved to rescue him from the disgraceful consequences 
 of his first transgression, by giving him those advantages 
 of education necessary for the development of his un- 
 common genius. They sent him to college, defrayed all 
 his expenses, and exulted in the bright promise of his 
 future eminence. But the dark spot, for a time con- 
 cealed, but never effaced, began to spread. His sole 
 ambition seemed to consist in deceiving and mocking the 
 judgment of those who had known him as a trans- 
 gressing boy. Possessed of a graceful carriage, a voice 
 of rare and winning power, he never failed to ingratiate 
 himself with strangers, on whose credulity he wished to 
 impose. Under different names, he went from place to 
 place, exciting admiration and commanding attention 
 even from the magnates of the land. Now he was a 
 lawyer, keen in debate, clenching in argument, eloquent 
 in speech ; now a young Esculapius, armed with power 
 
4G0 the planter's northern eride. 
 
 to crush the Python, disease, in all its hideous convolu 
 tions ; again a minister of God, with the dew of Hermon 
 on his lips, and the music of David's harp flowing from 
 his tongue. He seemed to glory in detection, exulting 
 over the dupes he had made. As adroit to escape the 
 consequences of his deception as he was skilful to 
 deceive, he flashed, a brilliant ignis-fatuus, here and 
 there, the wonder and shame of his native regions. 
 Destitute of principle, ready to lend himself to any 
 party, provided his momentary interests were advanced, 
 always anxious to enter on a new field of action, since 
 it afforded a larger development of his Machiavellian 
 powers, would it be incredible if this felon boy, this 
 artful, unprincipled young man, and Thomas Brainard, 
 now in the full meridian of manhood, should prove iden- 
 tical? Who could be better fitted as an agent of the 
 powers of darkness, than one who had served so long an 
 apprenticeship to its Satanic Prince? 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 It was a bleak, dull, cloudy, autumnal day. More- 
 land was travelling alone, a dismal, solitary road. The 
 oak leaves were brown and sere, partly strewed and 
 drifted on the ground, and partly quivering on the half- 
 naked boughs. The pines still wore their hue of peren- 
 nial green ; but the wind roared through their rustling 
 branches, like the voice of the surging waves, in melan- 
 choly gusts. The road was one bed of sand, in which 
 the horses' feet plunged to the fetlocks, throwing up a 
 cloud of dust at every step. Moreland was going on a 
 sad errand, and felt more than usually susceptible of 
 the depressing influences of the lonely scene and the 
 withering season. 
 
 He had received an unexpected summons that morn- 
 ing, before the breaking day. The messenger was from 
 the unhappy Claudia, whom he believed still in her 
 mother's native land. She had returned, was ill, the 
 physician had pronounced her malady incurable, — she 
 wished to see him, if it were but one moment, before 
 she died ; she entreated him to hasten his coming, lest 
 161 461 
 
462 the planter's northern eride. 
 
 it might be too late. Could any one turn a deaf ear to 
 such an appeal ? — and, least of all, could Moreland ? 
 
 It was terrible, to be compelled to plough through 
 those drifts of sand, when his agitated and impatient 
 spirit urged him on with lightning speed ; but, perhaps 
 it was well that he had leisure for reflection. In 
 reviewing his past life, he blamed himself so much for 
 having slighted the warnings of experience, and yielding 
 to the impulse of passion, that he felt only compassion 
 for the wrongs he had once believed beyond the reach 
 of forgiveness. He felt how long and how bitterly one 
 might rue the consequences of one rash act. It was 
 true, that he was legally freed from the disgraceful 
 connexion; but the scars, where the chain had galled 
 and corroded, would for ever remain on the heart. To 
 exasperate and humiliate him, she had remained where 
 her influence could still be felt, her appearance awaken 
 in full force the memories of the past. He knew that 
 Eulalia never thought of her without anguish, as having 
 made less honourable and holy the name of wife, — of 
 his wife. But she was dying now ; and he could meet 
 her as a fellow-sinner, whose only reliance, like himself, 
 must be on the mercy of the Son of God. 
 
 Suddenly the sand disappeared, and the hardened soil 
 assumed a deep red hue, that contrasted richly with the 
 dark-green pines. He proceeded with accelerated velo- 
 city ; but it was not until the close of the second day's 
 journey that he reached the place of his destination. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 4G3 
 
 It was a lonely dwelling, situated at some distance from 
 the main road, and densely shaded in summer with the 
 sweet-blossomed acacia, and the graceful China tree. 
 Now the only shade was a large and spreading live-oak, 
 hung with festoons of gray moss, that swept over More- 
 land's head, as he passed under it, in long, weeping 
 garlands. Had they been wreaths of blooming roses, 
 they would have had a funereal seeming, at that gloomy 
 moment. 
 
 A light, subdued by muslin curtains closely drawn, 
 indicated the chamber of Claudia. Was that light 
 shining on the struggles of departing life, or glimmer- 
 ing on the cold, still couch of death ? With an agitated 
 hand he lifted the knocker, which was muffled, then 
 without suffering it to fall, he gently let it go, and 
 entered the house without calling a servant to the door. 
 There was a light streaming from the parlour, the doors 
 of which were thrown widely open, showing it to be 
 unoccupied. Glad of an opportunity of composing his 
 thoughts, he entered, and throwing himself on a sofa, 
 waited the coming footstep which he was su/e would 
 soon approach. The reckless character of the mistress 
 seemed stamped on everything around him. The furni- 
 ture was rich and showy, but its polish was dimmed 
 with dust, and the flies had left innumerable traces on 
 the large gilded mirrors, hanging on opposite walls. A 
 harp, with broken strings dangling on the carpet, stood 
 in one corner ; a guitar, in the same neglected plight, 
 
4G4 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 was tJ'jrown carelessly in another. A piano, "with unco- 
 vered keys, and burdened with music books, confusedly 
 piled together, stood between two windows, whose cur- 
 tains, gathered back into gilded shafts, contained volumes 
 of dust in their sweeping folds. Splendidly bound books, 
 with the backs loose and broken, lay scattered on a mar- 
 ble centre table, around a costly Etruscan vase, filled 
 with faded and shrivelled flowers. No well trained, neat, 
 and considerate servant, thoughtful of the reputation 
 and comfort of her mistress, presided in that neglected 
 household. Moreland sighed bitterly, while the image 
 of his lovely wife, surrounded by an elegance and 
 purity, which was but a reflection of inward refinement 
 and innocence, rose before him, rebuking the tawdry 
 splendour on which he was gazing. 
 
 The sound of footsteps was heard in the passage, 
 and voices speaking in quick, passionate tones met his 
 ear. 
 
 "You shall go to bed, missy!" — it was the voice of 
 a negro, harsh and imperious. " I'm not going to be 
 bothered with you up arter supper, gracious knows ! 
 Come along, this minnitl" 
 
 " I won't ! — you ugly, cross old thing !" exclaimed a 
 pair of very juvenile lips, — and Moreland started from 
 the sofa, with a sudden bound, while the pulsations of 
 his heart were wildly quickened. " I won't go to bed 
 till I'm sleepy ! Let go of me, and hush your big 
 mouth!" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 465 
 
 Oil ! Erne, is ifc indeed, you, uttering this coarse, 
 violent language ? — you, in whose little bosom Eulalia 
 had transfused a portion of her own angelic sweetness ? 
 Is it the cherub, whose loss she has so wept and bewailed, 
 transformed into the miniature vixen, who is now rushing 
 by the door ? 
 
 "Effie, Eme !" Hark! — whose voice was that? 
 With a galvanic spring, she leaped forward, and, utter- 
 ing a loud, shrill cry, fell into the arms opened to 
 embrace her. 
 
 "Papa, papa!" she cried — bursting into hysterical 
 laughter, mingled with tears — " oh ! papa, have you 
 come for me ?" 
 
 She clung to him with passionate affection, and the 
 eyes that so lately flashed with defiance were swimming 
 in liquid softness. Moreland's heart yearned over his 
 restored child, with indescribable tenderness. In the 
 rude burst of passion, which had shocked and pained 
 him, he perceived the influence of her unhappy mother, 
 and he pitied far more than he blamed. Her person 
 was neglected and changed. Her dress was soiled, and 
 carelessly put on ; her thick, clustering curls tangled, 
 and devoid of lustre. What would Kizzie say, to see 
 her darling thus ? 
 
 "Is your mistress better?" he asked of the negress, 
 who stood staring in at the door, with a sullen, dogged 
 expression of countenance. 
 
 "Just as bad as can be !" was the uncourteous reply. 
 
4GG the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Tell her Mr. Moreland is here," said he, and the 
 girl turned from the door. 
 
 Effie's quick, glancing eyes followed her movements. 
 The moment she was out of sight, she said, 
 
 " Take me home, papa ; I don't love to stay here ! 
 Take me to my dear, sweet, other mamma ! How came 
 I to have two mammas?" she added, — knitting her 
 brows, and looking earnestly in his face, — "when I 
 don't love and don't want but one ?" 
 
 " We have been very unhappy about you," said he, — 
 without answering her last perplexing question, — " we 
 feared we should never see you again. I little thought 
 to find you here." 
 
 At the return of the black girl, Effie drew back with 
 such instinctive repugnance, Moreland was convinced 
 she must have been very harshly if not cruelly treated 
 by her. He could not help frowning, as he rose to 
 follow her. 
 
 "Mistress says you mustn't come," said she to Effie, 
 who immediately began to make a show of resistance ; 
 " she says you must mind me, and go to bed, right off." 
 
 "You must, Effie," said her father, in a tone of 
 authority, which subdued her at once, for, sliding from 
 his arms, she stood with an air of submission by his side. 
 Lightning is not quicker in its flash than the transitions 
 of feeling in the breast of Effie. " Speak another 
 harsh, insolent word to this child at your peril," he 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 467 
 
 added, in a low but distinct voice to the girl, when they 
 reached the door of Claudia's apartment. " Leave me/' 
 
 He paused a moment on the threshold, while Effie 
 walked quietly away with her surly conductress, looking 
 back wistfully at every step ; then opening the door with 
 noiseless touch, he found himself in the presence of her 
 who had once been his wife. She lay on a low couch, 
 in a half-reclining position, supported by pillows, not 
 more colourless than her face. How ghastly white it 
 looked, gleaming from amid the purplish blackness of 
 her hair ! Her eyes, so large, so black, so wildly, pain- 
 fully brilliant, were riveted upon him with such burning 
 intensity, they seemed to scorch while they gazed. He 
 was not prepared for such a fearful change. He felt 
 cold, faint, dizzy, and his face turned nearly as pallid 
 as her own. 
 
 "You have come; yes, you have come," said she in 
 a quick, panting, husky tone. " I ought to thank you, 
 but I have no time for idle words. You see I am dying. 
 I have often prayed for death ; but I did not know what 
 it was, — no, no, I did not know what it was !" 
 
 " Oh ! Claudia !" he exclaimed, with a burst of irre- 
 pressible emotion. It was all he could utter. He 
 seemed hurled back, with a violent wrench, over th 
 chasm of years, to the moment when, in the splendour 
 of her girlish bloom and beauty, she had fascinated hia 
 young imagination. He saw that radiant, graceful 
 figure, the goddess of the ball-room, side by side with 
 
468 the planter's northern bride 
 
 the pale, emaciated, reclining shadow — the sad mockery 
 of life ; and he shuddered and groaned at the contrast. 
 
 "I don't want you to pity me," said she, a softer 
 expression nevertheless passing over her face ; " it will 
 do no good. An ocean of tears could not save me now 
 from the grave that yawns black and cold before me. I 
 did not send for you because I wanted your compassion, 
 or even your forgiveness. I have suffered you to believe 
 a lie. After I am dead, I do not wish you to think of 
 me as worse than I really am. The crimes imputed I 
 would not deny, because they reflected shame and misery 
 on you. In my hatred and revenge, I felt willing to 
 sink down to the lowest abyss myself, provided I dragged 
 you with me, the sharer of my disgrace. But, on the 
 word of a dying woman, the accusations brought against 
 me were false. For my after career, I am responsible 
 to no one. I make no confessions : I ask no abso- 
 lution." 
 
 Moreland was too much shocked to reply. Whatever 
 joy he might feel at the avowal of her innocence, was 
 deadened by the knowledge of the bitter and revengeful 
 motives which had so long withheld it. 
 
 " You do not speak to me ! You do not believe me !" 
 she cried, in an impatient, yet exhausted tone, a dark 
 fire kindling in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Claudia, I do believe you ; but let the past be 
 forgotten in the contemplation of the future. Time is 
 nothing to you — eternity, everything. You do not want 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 469 
 
 my forgiveness ; but there is One whose forgiveness you 
 must obtain, or the doors of mercy will be for ever 
 closed." 
 
 "It is too late to think of such things — too late!" 
 said she, sinking back on her pillow. " I am going ; but 
 whether into the blackness of annihilation, or — " She 
 stopped, with a spasmodic shudder, and added with rapid 
 utterance — " Oh ! if you knew what I have suifered ! — 
 such agonies of pain ! I have died ten thousand deaths 
 already ! Oh ! surely there is expiation in this ! Tell 
 me, if there is not ! Sin must be burnt out in the 
 flames of suffering like mine !" 
 
 " There is One who bore the burden of our sins, and 
 the agonies of our sufferings," said Moreland, with inex- 
 pressible earnestness and solemnity. " His alone are 
 expiatory. To Him only can the living look for happi- 
 ness ; the dying for hope and consolation. Oh ! Claudia, 
 by the love we once bore each other ; by the child in 
 whose heart our own life is throbbing ; by the eternity 
 to which we both are hastening ; and by your soul and 
 mine, which the Son of God died to redeem, I beseech 
 you to cast yourself, lost and helpless as you are, into 
 His arms of love, and breathe out your life in prayers 
 for pardon ! It is not too late ! Dare not limit the 
 mercy of the Omnipotent !" 
 
 "Where is He?" asked she faintly, raising herself on 
 one elbow, and looking wildly upward. "Where are 
 the arms open to receive me ? I see them not ! I feel 
 
470 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 them not ! No, no, no ! There is no Saviour for me ! 
 I cannot pray — and they tell me prayer alone can open 
 the gates of heaven !" 
 
 With an involuntary motion, Moreland knelt by her 
 bedside and breathed forth one of the most solemn, fer- 
 vent, thrilling prayers that ever gushed from mortal 
 lips. A soul shrouded in almost heathen darkness, 
 trembling on the threshold of eternity, seemed pleading 
 through him, in agonies of supplication, from the depths 
 of penitence and remorse. 
 
 Claudia lay with closed eyes, and hands tightly clasped 
 over her bosom. The silence of death reigned in the 
 chamber long after his voice ceased, and Moreland 
 thought she slept, when, suddenly, low sobs, that threat- 
 ened her with suffocation, convulsed her frame, and she 
 burst into a passion of tears, such as seldom flow but 
 from the eyes of childhood. The more Moreland en- 
 deavoured to soothe, the more bitterly she wept. Deeply 
 affected, he raised her head on his arm, and put back 
 the damp, matted locks that fell blinding over her 
 temples. 
 
 "I don't deserve this," she said. "Tou ought to 
 curse me. Oh ! I have been walking in darkness all 
 my life, and light dawns just as my eyes are about to 
 close for ever. How kind, how good, how just you have 
 been, and I knew it not till now ! Oh ! Moreland ! if 
 the living could know how the dying feel !" 
 
 We will not attempt to describe all that passed in 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 471 
 
 this hour of awful reconciliation. Several times she 
 was seized with paroxysms of agony terrible to behold, 
 but she would not allow him to ring for assistance. 
 
 " The anodyne you have given me is the only thing 
 that gives me the slightest relief," she said, in the inter 
 val of her sufferings. "I cannot bear the sight of those 
 horrible negroes. I can bear pain better than their 
 insolence." 
 
 Moreland might have told her that no tyrants are so 
 despotic as those who have once been tyrannized over 
 themselves; that they were revenging themselves while 
 she lay helpless on the bed of sickness, for the wrongs they 
 had endured from her in her day of power. He might 
 have upbraided her for tearing away her child from the 
 gracious influences which were blessing her childhood, 
 and exposing her to the harshness and insolence she 
 had brought in judgment on herself; but he came to 
 pour oil, not vinegar, on the wounded heart of the humi- 
 liated victim of her own unmastered passions. 
 
 "Why are you here without friends ?" he asked ; "at 
 the mercy of menials, so destitute of comfort, so lonely 
 and desolate ? Why did you not send for me sooner, 
 that I might relieve your sufferings and administer to 
 your necessities ?" 
 
 "I felt a sullen pride in suffering alone and unpitied," 
 she answered. " I dreamed there was atonement for 
 sin in such unknown anguish. Friend ! I have no 
 friend. You are the only friend I ever had in the 
 
472 THE lLANTEIt's NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 world. Friend — lover — husband once," she slowly re- 
 peated, "now for ever lost to me. Yes! I had one 
 more friend — my adopted mother. Thank heaven ! she 
 died without knowing how utterly unworthy I proved of 
 her guardian love. My God ! It was in this very room 
 she died ! perhaps on this very pillow I" 
 
 "Would that Eulalia were with me !" exclaimed 
 Moreland; "she would prove to you an angel of conso- 
 lation. Let me send for her. You may linger yet for 
 days and weeks. You may yet be restored to health 
 and life." 
 
 "Never! the talons of the vulture are here," laying 
 her hand on her breast. "It is more than a year since 
 I have known that I have an incurable malady, and I 
 have seen death coming slowly and surely, nearer and 
 nearer, dark, cold, and inexorable, with a burning dart 
 in his hand, ready to transfix my writhing heart. They 
 wanted me to stay in Italy and die, but I would not. 
 I could not die without seeing you once more. I went 
 to your door, almost, but dared not enter. Sickness 
 had made me a coward. I saw my child playing among 
 the flowers, and there was no one near to guard her. 
 I stole softly behind her, threw my mantle round her 
 head to stifle her cries, and fled. Poor child ! I wish 
 I had not done it. I had better left her with your 
 Eulalia. I cannot make her love me." 
 
 After another pause, in which her thoughts seemed 
 flowing in a more tranquil stream, she added-- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 473 
 
 "You must not bring her hither. We ought not to 
 breath the same atmosphere. She is too pure, too 
 holy. I should envy her even in my death-gasp. As 
 I have lived without the friendship, I can die without 
 the sympathy of woman." 
 
 Moreland could not realize that death was so rapidly 
 approaching — she spoke with such occasional energy, 
 and such jets of fire issued from the dark fountains of 
 her eyes. But when unnatural excitement subsided 
 into lethargy, and the dark-veined lids closed over the 
 large sunken orbs, while a deeper pallor settled on her 
 altered and sharpened features, he could see but too 
 plainly the mark of the skeleton fingers, whose grasp 
 was tightening over her heart. There was nothing left 
 but the embers of life, which a breath might reduce to 
 a cold heap of ashes. Sad and mournful were his vigils. 
 The melancholy winds of autumn swept with a sighing, 
 wailing sound against the windows, and sometimes the 
 dry leaves came in a drift against the panes, rustling 
 and crackling as they fell. The stars gleamed faintly 
 through gray, rifted clouds, and the roar of a distant 
 waterfall, with a monotony more dreary than silence, 
 murmured on the ear. Oh, woman ! how dreadful, 
 even in this world, is the retribution that follows thy 
 aberration from rectitude and duty ! Canst thou gather 
 grapes of thorns, or roses from the barren sand ? Canst 
 thou put thy hand in the cockatrice's den, without feeling 
 the sting and venom of his fangs ? Canst thou wrap 
 
474 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 thyself body and soul in the sheet-lightning of passion, 
 without being scorched and shrivelled, furrowed and 
 scarred ? A wife, without the protection or name of 
 her husband, — a mother, disowned by her child, — a mis- 
 tress, the vassal of her slaves, — an accountable being, 
 awakened to the responsibilities of life at the very mo- 
 ment when they are sliding from the grasp ; an eternal 
 soul, trembling, shivering, groping in darkness illimita- 
 ble, for something to sustain it, even if it be but the 
 wind-shaken reed ! Wasted hours, perverted gifts, lost, 
 lost treasures behind, an unfathomable abyss below, a 
 consuming God above — oh ! is not this retribution ? 
 These thoughts swelled high in the breast of Moreland, 
 as he sat watching the death-like slumbers that hung, 
 like a heavy mist, over the couch of Claudia. The wind 
 rose higher, and swelled into loud and stormy gusts, 
 before which the dark cloud-racks scudded, unpiloted 
 barks of a dim and boundless sea. Moreland rose and 
 looked out through the curtains, feeling a gloomy plea- 
 sure in the apparent sympathy of nature. Dreariness 
 without, desolation within. He wa3 glad the moon was 
 not shining down, with cold, sickly effulgence ; he was 
 glad the stars were hiding their twinkling faces under 
 a cloud-veil, whose edges, torn by the wind, seemed to 
 flap as he gazed; and, ^hen lightning came darting in 
 zigzag leaps, high up from the zenith, and plunged hot 
 and fiery into the bowels of the earth, he felt congenial 
 electricity burning in his soul. 
 
'the planter's northern eride. 4,5 
 
 He waited for the thunder, and it came muttering and 
 roaring, like the startled lion from his lair, mingling 
 with the howling wind and the drifting rain. It was one 
 of those wild, terrific storms, peculiar to a Southern 
 latitude, which destroy, in a few moments, the growth of 
 years. The shallow roots of the China trees were torn 
 up, and lay heaving and quivering on the earth ; the 
 broken branches of the acacias went hurrying through 
 the air like birds of rapine ; and every drop of rain 
 seemed to bear upon its bosom a rent and twisted leaf. 
 
 Claudia slept in the midst of this elemental war, for 
 her senses were steeped in lethargy by the powerful drug 
 of the East. She slept, but she began to moan in her 
 slumbers, and toss her arms with delirious gesture — those 
 poor, emaciated arms, once so round and fair, and glit- 
 tering with gems. 
 
 " Oh ! thou who ridest upon the wings of the wind, 
 who makest darkness thy pavilion," cried Moreland, 
 turning from the dim-lighted couch to the darkened 
 heavens, " come not in judgment, but mercy ! Have 
 pity on the frail and erring creatures thou hast made ! 
 Thou knowest our frames : thou rememberest that we 
 are but dust ! Oh ! it is a fearful thin£, this rending of 
 the immortal from the mortal — fearful to witness, but, 
 alas ! more dread to bear !" 
 
 At this moment, a large branch of the live oak came 
 tumbling, crashing against the house, bursting in the 
 casement, and shivering into, splinters the crystal panes. 
 
476 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 The house rocked, and every article of furniture vibrated 
 with the concussion. The shock, the crash, roused 
 Claudia from the stupor in which her senses were 
 steeped. She opened her eyes with a look of inde- 
 scribable terror. 
 
 " The destroying angel is come !" she ejaculated, in a 
 hollow, trembling voice. "I hear the rushing of his 
 terrible wings !" 
 
 " The Lord is in the whirlwind, as well as the still 
 small voice, Claudia," said Moreland; but even as he 
 spoke an awful change came over her countenance, and 
 violent paroxysms convulsed her features. Moreland, 
 believing that the last struggle had indeed begun, roused 
 the servants, who, awakened by the storm, came hurry- 
 ing into the room, incapacitated by terror from ren- 
 dering the services required. Effie glided in after them. 
 She looked with awe and dread on the pale, writhing 
 form her father was supporting in his arms ; but she 
 manifested no alarm at the wild storm-gusts raging 
 abroad. 
 
 Moreland would have sent for a physician, but it was 
 impossible to brave the fury of the tempest ; and he 
 knew the skill of man was vain. That chill, gray tint, 
 never to be mistaken, that shows the tide of life has all 
 ebbed, leaving the sands dry and bare, was stealing, like 
 twilight, over every feature, with a gradually deepening 
 shade. 
 
 Moreland hung over her in unspeakable agony. He 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 477 
 
 would have given worlds for one assurance from her 
 dying lips of submission to her God, of hope in her 
 Saviour's mercy. He felt a portion of that divine love 
 in his heart, which threw its halo of light round Cal- 
 vary's blood-stained brow. He would willingly have 
 offered up his life for the peace of that departing soul. 
 
 "Speak to me, Claudia," he cried, "and tell me if 
 the hope of pardon has taken the sting from death, 
 the victory from the grave ! Look at me, if speech is 
 denied ! Give me one glance, in token that a forgiving 
 God is found !" 
 
 She could not speak, but she lifted her eyes, where 
 all that remained of vitality was concentrated in one 
 burning spark, and fixed them steadfastly on his. 
 Never, never did he forget that glance. It haunted him 
 years afterwards. He saw it in the blaze of noonday— 
 the darkness of midnight. It haunted him till his dying 
 day. 
 
 The morning sunbeams shone clear and bright on the 
 wreck of the midnight storm — on the uprooted trees, 
 the splintered limbs, the drifted leaves, the torn and 
 dripping moss garlands. The morning sunbeams stole, 
 with stealthy rays, through a rifted curtain on the ruins 
 of life, — the cold, white face, the shrouded eyes, and 
 folded hands ; on the dullness, the stillness, the mystery 
 of death. They glimmered on triple bars of dust, 
 stretching across the apartment, and gave them the 
 appearance of gauzy gold. The glittering particles sunk 
 1G5 
 
478 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 lower and lower, till they seemed to float like a shroud 
 over the body of the dead. 
 
 Even in death was the hand of retribution visible. 
 No white blossoms, emblematical of purity, were scat- 
 ered over the couch, — no fragrant jessamine or roses, 
 overpowering, with their sweetness, the deadly odour of 
 mortality. The fair, perishing tokens of love and me- 
 mory with which Southern custom beautifies the shroud 
 and the coffin, were wanting here. 
 
 Moreland and his little daughter followed her to her 
 lonely grave. He was spared the pain of a public fune- 
 ral by the isolation of the dwelling. It was the country- 
 seat of Claudia's adopted mother, remarkable for the 
 beauty of its situation, and once distinguished for its 
 elegance and taste. Now, however, everything wore a 
 neglected, dilapidated appearance. The vines and 
 shrubbery which the former mistress had so carefully 
 trained had grown to rank luxuriance, the former trail- 
 ing in the dust, the latter covered with dingy cobwebs 
 and defaced by the caterpillars' nests. 
 
 A new care now rested on Moreland. Effie, by her 
 mother's death, became the heiress of her property. He 
 would gladly have been released from this additional 
 responsibility, for the negroes, left so long without pro- 
 per discipline, were exceedingly difficult to manage, 
 He resolved to break up the establishment and take 
 them to his own plantation, which was under such excel- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 479 
 
 lent regulations, and where the influence of example 
 would be more powerful than precept or reproof. 
 
 Little did he dream of the subterranean fires sullenly 
 roaring under the apparent quietude of the surface. 
 Little did he dream that Lucifer, in the garb of an angel 
 of light, concealing the cunning of the serpent under 
 the dissembled innocence of the dove, was plotting re- 
 bellion, bloodshed, and ruin. 
 
 There was peace and happiness, however, in reserve, 
 in the home doubly endeared by contrast with the har- 
 rowing scenes through which he had lately passed. And 
 yet the remembrance of Claudia, her sufferings and her 
 death, long brooded in sadness on his heart. That last 
 glance, so earnestly sought as a token of peace, and 
 received as a sign of unutterable agony, often awakened 
 him suddenly from the dreams of midnight, and seemed 
 to be accompanied by a wailing cry that rang through 
 the household, and left its mournful echoes in his soul. 
 Eula wept over her fate. Not all her joy at the resto- 
 ration of the lost Effie could remove the sad impression 
 of her mother's melancholy death — and it was long be- 
 fore the Effie who was taken from them reappeared. 
 The little wilful being, whose childish prattle was vul- 
 garized by African phrases, learned by constant asso- 
 ciation with the negroes, was not the child of Eula's 
 tender, restraining care. She had to begin anew her 
 labours of love. New tares were to be uprooted, new 
 thorns extracted, and choking stones removed, before 
 
480 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the lately neglected plant could receive, in blessing, the 
 sunshine and the dew of culture. 
 
 But Eula, with unexampled sweetness of temper and 
 constancy of purpose, applied herself to the task, in the 
 hope of final success. She had another cause of anxiety, 
 of which she never complained, but which her natural 
 sensitiveness and timidity made her shrink from analyz- 
 ing. She missed the respectful, affectionate, sponta- 
 neous obedience which had made the relation of mistress 
 and servants hitherto so delightful. Albert seemed less 
 changed than the others, but there was something, even 
 in him, which she felt, without being able to explain. 
 
 " The Ides of March ! The Ides of March !" Will 
 a darker spirit than that which crimsoned the Roman 
 Capitol with blood, be suffered to consummate its fell 
 designs ? 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The jailer's wife sat alone in a little room adjoining 
 the prisoners' cells. Her husband was absent, and had 
 committed to her care the keys of the prison-house, 
 which she most faithfully guarded. The new jail, a 
 handsome, massy brick building, had been burned down 
 a short time previous (whether by accident or design, no 
 one had been able to discover), and the dismal walls of 
 the old wooden one once more showed signs of occu- 
 pancy. The partition that separated the cells from 
 each other were so thin, the shrunken boards exhibiting 
 many a chink and crevice, that voices could easily pene- 
 trate the barrier. Thus the prisoners, though nominally 
 divided, could hold occasional intercourse with each 
 other, when they believed themselves safe from vigilant 
 and listening ears. 
 
 The jailer's wife was an energetic and industrious 
 woman, who frequently sat up beyond the midnight 
 hour, plying her busy needle. It was a nice, quiet time 
 to sew, when the children were asleep, and the prisoners 
 at rest on their pallets of straw. 
 
 481 
 
4S2 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 The only present occupants of the jail were two negro 
 men, who had been arrested in the act of breaking into 
 the bank. They belonged to different masters, and had 
 previously sustained honest and respectable characters. 
 The name of one was Jerry, the other, Jack. 
 
 Mrs. Wood, the jailer's wife, was seated by a com- 
 fortable fire, for it was a chilly, wintry night ; and, as 
 she heard the low whistling of the wind under the doors 
 and windows, she thought of their cold, lonely cells, and 
 wished she could communicate to them some of the 
 genial warmth she was enjoying alone. She was a 
 kind-hearted woman, and many a heart had blessed her, 
 in going forth from those prison walls. 
 
 She was startled by the sound of voices in the cells, 
 where she knew the prisoners were in solitary confine- 
 ment. Laying down her needle-work, and stepping to 
 the door on tiptoe, she put her ear to the key-hole, and 
 held her breath to listen. She heard distinctly the 
 voice of Jerry talking to Jack through the chinks of 
 the partition ; and, gathering the import of their pre- 
 ceding conversation from the words which met her ear, 
 she stood paralyzed with amazement and horror. 
 
 "Hush!" said Jack, "you talk too loud. 'Spose 
 somebody hear what you say ? Put your mouth close to 
 this crack. Now, just talk easy. How long, you think, 
 'fore Christmas?" 
 
 " 'Bout two weeks, or so ; 'spect it's most by," 
 answered Jerry. " The Lord Harry ! ain't we gwinter 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 483 
 
 have a merry Christmas, this time ? White folks laugh 
 wrong side of the mouth, won't they ?" 
 
 " 'Spose they find us out, Jerry ! — wonder how merry 
 we'll be then ? 'Most wish I'd never had nothing to do 
 with it, no how ! If the Lord all on our side, as he tell 
 us, wonder what he let 'em catch us and shut us up here 
 for ? He said the Lord gwine to fight for us, with great 
 big flaming sword ! Don't see it ! Don't much believe 
 he got any !" 
 
 " You're fit for nothing but a coward, Jack ! If it 
 hadn't bin for you being afeard, we shouldn't bin 
 cotched in the fust place ! I tell you 'twill all come 
 right. The patrole never stays out arter twelve, — 
 they're too lazy to keep out of bed more than they can 
 help!" 
 
 " Wonder if they warn't up when they poked us in 
 this here ole dark hole ?" 
 
 " The niggers '11 be too mighty for 'em this time, I 
 tell you ! Ain't they coming from all the plantations ? 
 And what good, I want to know, is the patrole gwine to 
 be, when the bridge set afire, go splash in the water, 
 and white folks got nowhere to go?" 
 
 "How we gwine to get out, wonder?" said the mis 
 giving Jack. 
 
 " You great big black fool of a nigger," cried Jerry, 
 in a contemptuous tone, " think they won't set fire to 
 the old jail fust of all ? Can't get 'long without Jerry, 
 I know !" 
 
484 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 "Look a here, Jerry — wish I'd never had nothing 
 to do with this business. Hain't had no peace of mind 
 since it was sot a going. 'Tain't right, killing and burn- 
 ing folks in the dark — folks as done well by a body, too. 
 Don't think we gwine to better ourselves, arter all." 
 
 " There's no use in talking to a fool," cried the lordly 
 Jerry ; " but you better mind ! If you let out on it, 
 one syllable, you'll swing up by that black neck of 
 yourn, way up yonder on the pine tree ! Don't you 
 know what the preacher said?" 
 
 " Shouldn't think the Lord would send that sort of 
 preacher. Well ! he know best, sure enough. Tell you 
 what, Jerry — I'm gwine to sleep. Bimeby you'll find 
 out what a raal fool means. 'Spect you think you my 
 massa aready — hi !" 
 
 " Shut your mouth and go to sleep," said Jerry, who, 
 though he addressed such imperious language to his 
 brother prisoner, uttered it in a tone of good-natured 
 contempt, as if he were more in jest than earnest. 
 Silence followed this last injunction, which was soon 
 interrupted by a snoring sound, implying that the order 
 was obeyed. 
 
 The jailer's wife turned from the door and walked 
 softly back to the fire, shivering in every limb. Lean- 
 ing her elbows on her knees, and her head upon her 
 hands, she revolved in her mind the startling hints she 
 had just heard, and the best course of conduct for her 
 to pursue. As we said before, she was a woman of 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 485 
 
 great energy of character ; and though horror-stricken 
 at the plot just unfolded, she was not' intimidated. The 
 idea that Providence had made her the instrument of 
 discovering a conspiracy so dark and deadly, gave her a 
 moral courage and determination appropriate to the 
 emergency. Her husband being absent, she resolved to 
 act on her own responsibility. Not being able to sleep, 
 she watched with impatience the dawning day, thinking 
 the morning twilight had never lingered half so long. 
 
 After having sent the prisoners their usual breakfast, 
 she filled a plate with nice things from her own table, and 
 went to the grate of Jerry's cell. His was the master 
 spirit, and the one she was resolved to bring under her 
 influence. 
 
 " Here, Jerry," said she, " if you didn't sleep more 
 than I did last night, I thought you might feel poorly 
 this morning, and would relish a mouthful of my break- 
 fast." 
 
 " Missus mighty good," answered Jerry, gloating over 
 the plate with eager, devouring eyes ; " but what make 
 her think I didn't sleep ? Slept like a top all night 
 long. Wonder what made missus keep awake !" 
 
 " I'll tell you presently," said she ; " but I want to 
 ask you one question before I begin. Have I not been 
 kind to you, Jerry ? Have I not done all I could for 
 you and Jack, and treated you just as well as if you 
 were white ?" 
 
 " Yes, that you have, missus ; but what make you ax 
 
486 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 me that now?" The eyes of the negro glanced from 
 one side to the other, without looking towards her, and 
 the muscles about his mouth began to twitch. 
 
 " Have you a cruel master, Jerry, and a bad mis- 
 tress?" 
 
 "No, missus, not as I know of: got nothing to com- 
 plain of. Never worked at home much — work out by 
 the job. Pay so much to massa ; all I make over, keep 
 myself." 
 
 " Have you had hard times getting work ? Do the 
 people cheat you out of your money?" 
 
 " No, missus ! good work, good pay, or Jerry wouldn't 
 have nothing to do with it. Always got 'long mighty 
 well 'bout money." 
 
 "Then, Jerry," said she, fixing her eyes resolutely 
 on his face, and speaking in a calm deliberate tone, 
 "what do you want to kill me for, if I am your friend ? 
 and your master and mistress, if they have been good to 
 you? and the white people, if they have never abused 
 you ? What put such a thing as that in your head ?" 
 
 So quietly and coolly she questioned him, one might 
 have supposed she was asking him how he liked the 
 breakfast she had brought him. The negro winced 
 under her steadfast gaze, and his hands trembled so that 
 the plate dropped into his lap. 
 
 "Don't know what you talking 'bout," said he, putting 
 both hands to his head and rubbing his wool till it stood 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 487 
 
 up fierce and grim all round his temples. " Sure enough 
 missus must he crazy !" 
 
 " No, Jerry ! I'm in my right mind, thank God ! and 
 you soon will find it out. I heard all that you and Jack 
 said last night, and if you don't tell me the whole plot, 
 from beginning to end, you shall both swing from the 
 scaffold into flames hotter than your Christmas bonfires." 
 
 "Oh, missus!" cried Jerry, every feature working 
 and convulsed, while his eye-balls glowed like burning 
 coals. " I just talking in my sleep — knows I was. Don't 
 know nothing what you mean. Hain't got nothing 'gin 
 white folks — never did have." 
 
 " There's no use in lying to me, Jerry. It won't do. 
 Your only safety now is in speaking the truth, and the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth. On no other 
 terms can you have one hope of pardon. I am going to 
 a magistrate, to tell him all I have discovered ; and you 
 will just as surely be hung upon the scaffold as you are 
 sitting on that bed of straw." 
 
 Here groans and ejaculations from the next cell came 
 gushing through the chinks. Jack could not hold in 
 any longer. 
 
 "Oh, Lord a'mercy ! Lord a'mercy!" exclaimed 
 Jack ; "wish this nigger had never been born !" 
 
 "Hush, Jack!" said the jailer's wife; "hush that 
 noise ! I'm coming to you presently. Make up your 
 mind, Jerry. Tell everything you know, and get a 
 
438 the planter's northern bride 
 
 good chance for life, or choose chains, the rope, and the 
 scaffold." 
 
 In consequence of the quiet behaviour of the negroes 
 and the entreaties of Mrs. Wood, their manacles had 
 ;een knocked off, and their limbs were now free as her 
 
 TO. 
 
 Jerry sprang to his feet, shaking himself as the shaggy 
 mastiff does, when the fierce, animal nature is roused 
 within him. He looked wild and desperate, and a timid 
 woman would have fled trembling from that grated win- 
 dow. But the jailer's wife stood her ground with un- 
 daunted mien, and kept her intrepid eye on the black, 
 ignited face before her. 
 
 "I am not afraid of you, Jerry," said she; "you 
 would not lift a finger against me to save your life. 
 You have not a bad heart. You have been set on by 
 others, who would destroy you, body and eoul, if you 
 would let them. Well ! I am going. There is no time 
 to be lost:" 
 
 " Stop, missus !" exclaimed the negro. "I made up 
 my mind." 
 
 ' 'Twon't do no good if you hain't," cried Jack, 
 through the chink. "I'll make a clean breast, if I be 
 hanged for't." 
 
 The plot, as related by Jerry, with occasional episodes 
 from Jack, was cunningly devised and deeply laid. 
 During the Christmas holidays there was to be a general 
 insurrection in the surrounding country, and the rallying 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 489 
 
 spot was the city, of which they were to take possession 
 by fire and sword. Quantities of ammunition, brought in 
 by night, by secret agents, were concealed under the 
 African church and in the old cellars of houses occupied 
 by negroes, who hired their own time of their masters. 
 A false key was to open the doors of the arsenal ; the 
 bridge was to be set on fire ; the strongholds of wealth and 
 power to be broken up. And who was the master spirit 
 that raised the whirlwind, and was to direct the storm ? 
 What power had lashed the peaceful waters into wrath- 
 ful foam, and was rolling them on in waves of insurgency 
 ever the land ? 
 
 It was he, who, clothing himself with the authority 
 of a divine mission, and gifted with an eloquence passing 
 that of the sons of men, had wrapped his influence, like 
 a mantle of fire, round his superstitious victims, and 
 every struggle but drew the burning folds tighter and 
 tighter. When prostrate at the altar, where his terrible 
 representations of Almighty wrath had driven them, he 
 first breathed into their ears his insidious designs. He 
 told them he was the agent of the Almighty, and that 
 whoever betrayed his counsel would be doomed to ever- 
 lasting punishment. He promised them riches, honours, 
 and happiness in this world, and crowns of glory in the 
 next, if they yielded themselves to his will, in faith and 
 trust. The robbery of the bank was a step towards the 
 kingdom of heaven. The money was needed to carry 
 on the Lord's work, and he who stretched forward the 
 
490 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 ooldest hand would be accounted the most faithful and 
 profitable servant. 
 
 The next step taken by this firm and resolute woman, 
 was to go for a magistrate, to whom the statement was 
 repeated, and taken down in writing. He enjoined 
 upon her perfect secrecy, till the authorities of the city 
 had decided upon the proper measures to be taken in an 
 affair of such vital importance. 
 
 That evening Moreland was called away, and re- 
 mained till a late hour. When he returned, Eula noticed 
 at the first glance that something unusual had occurred. 
 He was very pale, his eyes seemed to wear a darker hue, 
 and there was no love-smile as usual, responding to the 
 greeting smile of his wife. 
 
 "Where is Albert?" he asked; and never had Eula 
 heard his voice sound so stern and unnatural. 
 
 " I suppose he is in the kitchen," answered Eula. " I 
 have not seen him during the evening." 
 
 Moreland rung the bell with such force that a quick, 
 startling peal rung echoing through the house. Becoming 
 more and more alarmed, Eula's fears, winged by natural 
 affection, flew to her native home, and imagined a thou- 
 sand ills, whose tidings had just reached him, and which 
 he would fain conceal from her. 
 
 " Oh, Moreland, tell me what has happened !" she 
 asked, in tremulous accents. " Have letters from the 
 North arrived ? Do they contain evil for me ?" 
 
 "The North!" repeated he, almost fiercely. "No, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 491 
 
 Eula ! "Would to Heaven — " He paused, and added 
 in an altered accent — "Do not question me, my dear 
 wife. I am hardly master of myself; but be assured, 
 that as far as I know, your Northern friends are well. 
 You have no cause for apprehension, believe me. Al- 
 b rt," said he to the mulatto as he opened the door, 
 " put the black horse in the buggy directly, and bring it 
 round to the gate. I am going to start for the planta- 
 tion, and you must go with me." 
 
 "To-night!" exclaimed Eula. "Oh! not to-night! 
 The sky is dark and lowering ! You will not go to- 
 night !" 
 
 " I must, my Eula ; there is no alternative. I wish 
 I were not obliged to leave you and my children. Al- 
 bert, why don't you obey me ? Must I repeat my com- 
 mands a second time ?" 
 
 " Oh, master, don't go to the plantation ! Don't 
 leave mistress and the children here !" cried Albert, his 
 golden complexion changing to a gray, ashen hue, and 
 his eyes expressing the very agony of supplication. 
 
 " And why should I not go ?" demanded he, sternly. 
 " Do you know of any evil threatening me there that 
 you keep back from my knowledge ? Have you turned 
 traitor to the master who has so loved and trusted you, 
 Albert?" 
 
 "No, dear master," cried he, throwing himself at his 
 feet, and winding his arms round his knees, " I wouldn't 
 harm you or mistress for a thousand worlds ; but there's 
 
492 THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 them that will ! Don't go to the plantation, master ! 
 That preacher you sent there — oh ! Mars. Russell — he 
 made me swear on the Bible not to tell what he was 
 going to say, or I'd told on him long ago. I wouldn't 
 have nothing to do with it, and they never let me know 
 nothing since. He says I'll lose my soul for a false oath ; 
 but I'll lose body and soul 'fore I see harm happen to 
 you and mistress. Oh ! Mars. Russell, don't go to the 
 plantation ! — don't go where Mars. Brainard is ! Don't 
 think Albert would turn against you ! — no, he die first !" 
 
 The mulatto wept bitterly, as he lay grovelling at his 
 master's feet, entreating his forgiveness, and imploring 
 him to take care of himself and "Miss Eula." 
 
 "Rise, Albert," said his master. "I am glad you 
 have told me this, but I knew it all before. I can no 
 longer trust, though I may forgive. My wife, there is 
 no cause for these pale cheeks, this trembling frame. 
 There is no danger, for everything is discovered. The 
 moment there is a suspicion of a plot, there is safety. 
 Every one is on the watch. A strong patrole will guard 
 the city every night, and all the night. You are sur- 
 rounded by friends, under whose guardianship you will 
 be as safe as at this moment, in my enfolding arms. 
 Would to heaven I were not compelled to leave you ! 
 but the serpent is spreading his venom among my poor 
 deluded people, and I must go and save them from his 
 fangs !" 
 
 "Let me go with you!" cried Eula, clinging to him, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 493 
 
 with passionate entreaty ; — " let us take our children, 
 and go together. If there is no danger for you, there 
 is none for me. I fear not for myself; but, oh ! let me 
 not be separated from you, in these dark and troubled 
 moments ! Let me go, my husband ; I will not troub'e 
 you with one weak, womanish fear !" 
 
 Moreland looked at her with an irresolute, troubled 
 countenance, and clasped her closer to his breast. 
 
 "Was it for scenes like these," he cried, in tones of 
 mingled bitterness and sorrow, " that I took you from 
 your peaceful village and quiet home ? But, oh I my 
 Eulalia, the spoiler came from your Northern region ; 
 and, under the sheltering banner of the Cross, has been 
 working the deeds of hell ! His birth-place was his 
 passport, — his holy calling his protection from suspicion. 
 Am I to blame, for being so blindly duped, so basely 
 deceived?" 
 
 " No, no ! — but let me go with you. I shall die if 
 you leave me behind ! With you, I fear nothing, not 
 even death itself!" 
 
 " I know not what to do !" cried Moreland, his heart 
 yielding to the pleadings of his wife, while his judgment 
 condemned its weakness ; " it is agony to leave you, — 
 seems madness to take you! And Ildegerte, — poo 
 Ildegerte !" — 
 
 " Take her with us. She will think and feel as I do. 
 Husband and brother, as well as master, listen to our 
 pleading hearts !" 
 166 
 
494 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 " If I did not know that you would be as safe there 
 as in this drawing-room," said Moreland, "I never 
 would consent. But it is only in my absence the 
 tempter can have any power. I know my own influ- 
 ence. The moment I am in their midst, they will 
 return to their allegiance, ashamed of their transient 
 dereliction. Well, be it so, then ; but prepare as quickly 
 as Josephine did, when she followed Napoleon in his 
 midnight tours. Go, Albert, and have the carriage 
 ordered as well as the buggy, — a saddle-horse besides." 
 
 Eula, who felt as if she had had a reprieve from 
 death, in permission to depart, flew to Ildegerte, and 
 told her in as few words as possible all that had trans- 
 pired. To the crushed heart of the young widow, every- 
 thing short of the one great sorrow that had darkened 
 her life seemed a minor consideration. Like Moreland, 
 too, she felt such perfect confidence in the attachment 
 of their slaves, — she believed his presence only was 
 necessary to insure their obedience and returning loy- 
 alty. 
 
 It was astonishing with what celerity and ease every- 
 thing was accomplished. Kizzie, though bewildered and 
 half-terrified at the summons, took the sleeping Effie in 
 er arms, while Eula cradled the infant Russell in her 
 own. All necessary garments were previously packed ; 
 and, when the carriages came to the door, the whole 
 party were in readiness. 
 
 A threatened insurrection ! Eulalia well remembered 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 495 
 
 the horror she had felt, even as a child, at the bare idea. 
 She remembered, too, that her father had justified the 
 act, and said that were he near the scene of action, he 
 should think it his duty to abet and assist the insurgent 
 party. Brainard had announced himself as her father's 
 friend. He had sat down at his board, been warmed at 
 his fireside, and admitted into the most intimate social 
 communion with him. Could he be aware of his secret 
 designs ? Was he willing to sacrifice his daughter, with 
 more than Roman stoicism, to the fierce spirit of philan- 
 thropy, embodied in the reckless, cruel, and insidious 
 Brainard ? She could not, would not believe it ; but 
 the possibility of her father's being in collusion with 
 this agent of darkness, gave her unutterable anguish. 
 Strange ! she did not tremble, now she was brought face 
 to face with a reality, whose phantom had ho often 
 chilled her in her Northern home. Her courage rose 
 with the occasion ; and since she was permitted to 
 remain at her husband's side, she felt that whatever 
 trials were in reserve for him, she could not only share 
 them with the devotion of a wife, but endure them with 
 the spirit of a martyr. Gentleness, sensitiveness, and 
 delicacy, flowers of life's sunshine, had always blossomed 
 in her heart. Fortitude, heroism, and self-renunciation, 
 stars of the night-shade of existence, now illuminated 
 with deepening lustre the darkness of her spirit. And 
 now she recalled the manner in which he had spoken of 
 her marriage, and of Claudia's right to her child, and 
 
496 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 his words lost their sting, since she understood the 
 spirit which gave them utterance, — envy, malice, and all 
 uncharitableness, and a fiendish love of inflicting pain. 
 
 As they approached the plantation, Moreland became 
 silent and abstracted. The dependencies which hung 
 upon him were heavier than the chains of slavery, and 
 more galling. He had a double task before him, — to 
 unmask the holy traitor, who had so basely requited his 
 hospitality and his confidence, and unwind his coils from 
 the necks of his deluded victims. He felt, in all its 
 venomed power, the sting of ingratitude and treachery. 
 He had fulfilled the duties of a master so faithfully and 
 conscientiously, bearing them not only on his mind, but 
 his heart ; had laboured so assiduously for the moral 
 improvement, as well as happiness of his slaves, and felt 
 towards them so tenderly and affectionately, that he 
 could not think of their disaffection and alienation with- 
 out bitterness and sorrow. Yet it was in compassion, 
 rather than anger, that he regarded them, for he well 
 knew the arts which had seduced them, and the elo- 
 quence which had swayed. 
 
 Had he received no intimation of the conspiracy, he 
 would have known from the countenances of the negroes 
 that an under-current, black as their skins, was flowing 
 beneath the smooth surface of their welcome. Had they 
 been thunder-stricken, they could hardly have appeared 
 more smitten than by the unexpected arrival of their 
 master and his family. 
 
'the planter's northern bride. 497 
 
 Moreland's first inquiry was for Brainard. He had 
 just left for the other plantation. How long since ? 
 About ten minutes. Aha ! he must have seen their 
 coming, as they wound round the hill, which looked down 
 on the cultivated fields and smiling plain, which More- 
 land had never before greeted without an emotion of 
 pleasure. He had a warrant, given him by the city 
 authorities, to arrest the villain, whom he expected to 
 find in the comfortable quarters he had assigned him. 
 For one moment he felt an impulse to pursue the traitor, 
 whose flight was sufficient proof of his cowardice and 
 perfidy; but the next he dismissed the thought. He 
 could not leave his family unprotected. Let him go, — 
 the emissaries of justice were now abroad in the land, 
 and would, sooner or later, circumvent his ^ath. Let 
 him go, — "Vengeance is mine, I will repay," saith the 
 Lord. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A LONG, winding blast of the bugle-horn summoned 
 the labourers from the field, the carpenter and black- 
 smith from their shops, the spinsters from their wheels, 
 the weaver from her loom, and emptied, as if by magic, 
 the white-washed cabins. The negroes, one and all, 
 had been told to attend their master's call, expressed by 
 that sounding blast. It was just before the sunset hour, 
 — one of those mild, glowing days, that so often diffuse 
 over the aspect of a Southern winter the blandness of 
 summer and the haziness of autumn. Eulalia and Ilde- 
 gerte stood in the portico, spectatresses of a scene which 
 made their hearts throb high in their bosoms. Ilde- 
 gerte's eyes flashed with excitement. Eulalia's cheek 
 was the bed of its coming and vanishing roses. She 
 saw her husband standing, as she had seen him once be- 
 fore, the centre of a dark ring, but she gazed with far 
 different emotions. It could not be said that she feared 
 for him. His superiority was so manifest, that it sug- 
 gested, at once, the idea of triumph — the triumph of 
 mind over matter. He seemed to her an angel of light 
 
 498 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE.] 499 
 
 surrounded by the spirits of darkness, and, knowing that 
 he was defended by the breastplate of righteousness, 
 she was assured of his safety as well as his power. 
 
 Moreland waited till they had all gathered, and they 
 came with halting, lingering steps, very unlike thei 
 former cheerful alacrity; then, telling them to follow 
 him, he led the way to the grave of the old prophetess, 
 Dilsy, at whose burial he had made with them a solemn 
 covenant, which he had kept inviolate. It was long 
 since any of them had approached the burying-ground. 
 In all their nightly meetings they had avoided passing 
 it, fearing that the spirits of the dead would sweep their 
 cold wings in their faces, or seize them with their stiff 
 and icy fingers, or shriek in their ear some unearthly 
 denunciation. As they walked through the place of 
 graves, the long, dry yellow grass broke and crumpled 
 under their steps, and the brambles twisted round their 
 ankles. They had neglected their dead. The autumn 
 leaves lay thick, damp, and rotting on the sods that 
 covered them, choking the vines and plants, which, in 
 happier hours, had been cultured there 
 
 Moreland stopped by the headstone, which his own 
 hand had placed at Dilsy's grave, and indicated by a 
 commanding gesture the places they were to assume. 
 Paul, the preacher, stood nearest to him, his arms folded 
 on his brawny chest, and his hoary locks of wool bent 
 so low they seemed scattering their powder on the 
 ground. Vulcan, the blacksmith, black and sullen as a 
 
500 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 thunder-cloud, stood on his left. The women, who had 
 most of them been excluded from the secret deliberations, 
 hung timidly in the rear, curiosity and apprehension 
 struggling in them for mastery. And beyond the 
 edge of the burying-ground, the two children of More- 
 land, — the one holding the hand, the other borne in the 
 arms of Kizzie, shone in the innocence of infancy and 
 beauty of childhood, on the gloom and duskiness of the 
 scene. 
 
 "More than two years have passed," said Moreland, 
 his eyes glancing from face to face, calmly and gravely, 
 as he spoke, " since I stood on this spot, on which the 
 grave-clods had just been thrown, and you all stood 
 around me then, just as you are gathered now. At that 
 hour, I renewed the vows of protection and kindness to 
 you which I uttered, when a boy, in the ear of a dying 
 mother. I told you, if I ever proved unkind, unjust, 
 and tyrannical, if I ever forgot my duties to you as a 
 master and a friend, to meet me here, in this solemn 
 enclosure, and remind me of what I then said. You all 
 promised then, to continue faithful, trustworthy, and 
 obedient, and, judging of the future Dy the past, I be- 
 lieved you. And yet," he added, his voice deepening 
 into sternness and his eye kindling with indignation, 
 "you have basely deceived me; you have been listening 
 to a traitor and a villain, and plotting against your mas- 
 ter and your friend. Under pretence of worshipping 
 God, you have been engaged in the service of Satan, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 501 
 
 and doing the work of devils. I know all your horrible 
 plans. I know what holiday frolics you are preparing. 
 Which of you has a word to say in his defence ? Which 
 of you can look me in the face and say he does not de- 
 serve the severest punishment, for treachery and ingra- 
 titude to a master as kind and forbearing as I have 
 ever been ? Paul, you have taken upon you the office 
 of a preacher of the gospel of peace, who, on all occa- 
 sions, are the voice of your brethren; look up, speak, 
 and if you have one word to say in your justification and 
 theirs, let us hear it, and hear it quickly." 
 
 "No, massa!" cried Paul, slowly raising his head, 
 without lifting his eyes ; " got noting to say — noting — 
 only Massa Brainard." 
 
 "Poor, deluded creatures!" said Moreland, "poor, 
 blind tools of an artful, selfish, false, and cold-hearted 
 hypocrite, who cares no more for you than the grass you 
 are trampling under your feet. I pity you ; for I sent 
 the wretch in your midst, believing him to be a man of 
 God. He has beguiled you with promises of freedom. 
 What is the freedom he can offer you? Nothing but 
 poverty, degradation, and sorrow. If you could com- 
 pare your condition with those of the free coloured peo- 
 ple at the North, you would shudder to think of all that 
 you have escaped. Listen ! You are slaves, and I am 
 free ; but I neither made you slaves nor myself a free 
 man. We are all in the condition in which we were 
 born. You are black, and I am white ; but I did not 
 
502 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 give you those sable skins, nor myself this fairer com- 
 plexion. You and I are as God Almighty made us, 
 and, as I expect to give an account of the manner in 
 which I fulfil my duties as a master, so you will be 
 judged according to your fidelity, honesty, and upright- 
 ness as servants. The Bible says — ' Can the Ethiopian 
 change his skin ?' No, he cannot ! but there is no rea- 
 son why he should have a black heart, because his skin 
 is black. Free ! how willingly would I make you free 
 this moment, if, by so doing, I could make you better 
 and happier ! Free ! I would to heaven you were all 
 free, — then I, too, should be free from a burden made 
 intolerable by your treachery and ingratitude ! I would 
 rathe*', ten thousand times, cultivate these broad fields 
 myself, than be served by faithless hands and false, 
 hollow hearts. I have hands that can work. I would 
 do it cheerfully, if labour was the portion God had as- 
 signed me in this world. Better, far better, the toiling 
 limbs, than the aching heart !" 
 
 He paused a moment in indescribable emotion. 
 Among those who were looking earnestly in his face, 
 and drinking in his words with countenances expressive 
 of shame, remorse, and returning devotion, were some 
 who had been the playmates of his childhood, and others 
 in whose arms he had been dandled and caressed when 
 a little boy, and others, again, mere boys now, whom 
 he had made the playthings of his youthful years. lie 
 remembered sitting, many and many a time, in the lap 
 
THE PLANTER 8 NORTHERN BRIDE. 503 
 
 of Paul, under an old tree, teaching him to read, while 
 the negro would twist his dark lingers in his childish 
 locks, and pray God Almighty to bless him and make 
 him a blessing to mankind. A sable filament was 
 twisted in every cord that bound him to the past. The 
 associations of bygone years rose above the painful and 
 gloomy present, and it was far more in sorrow than in 
 anger, that he regarded the large family whom the most 
 consummate art had alienated from him. 
 
 "Paul," said he, turning to the preacher, whose head 
 was drooping still lower on his breast, and whose cheeks 
 were marked by a wet, shining streak, where silent 
 tears were travelling, "Paul, do you remember Davy, 
 to whom my father gave his freedom many years ago, 
 and who afterwards bought his wife and settled in the 
 State of New York?" 
 
 "Yes, massa !" 
 
 " Here is a letter, which I received from him a few 
 days since. I will read it. I want you all to listen 
 to it."* 
 
 Moreland took a letter from his pocket-book and read 
 as follows : — - 
 
 " Dear Young Master : — I hope you have not for- 
 gotten Davy, though you was a little boy when I came 
 
 * This is a genuine fact, and the gentleman to whom the letter was 
 addressed complied with the request it contained. He arrived just in 
 time to receive the legacy so solemnly bequeathed, and to comfort, 
 with his presence, the dying negro. 
 
50-4 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 away. I'm very sick ; the doctor says I can't live long. 
 I'm willing to die; but there's one great care on my 
 mind. I don't want to leave my wife and children here. 
 I've made a considerable property, so they wouldn't be 
 in want ; but that ain't all a person wants, master. If 
 I had life before me again, I'd come back myself, for 
 I've never been as happy, or as respectable, as when I 
 lived with old Master. I heard so much talk about the 
 white people at the North being such friends to the 
 blacks, I thought we'd be on perfect equality ; but it's 
 no such thing. They won't associate with us ; and I 
 never want my wife and children to put themselves on a 
 level with the free negroes I see here, — they are a low, 
 miserable set, and folks that respect themselves won't 
 have anything to do with them. My dear young mas- 
 ter, please come on, or, if you can't come yourself, send 
 somebody to take back my wife and children, — I have 
 but two daughters, if they were boys I would not care 
 so much. I give them to you, just as if they had never 
 been free. I bequeath you all my property too, and 
 wish it was more. Oh ! happy should I be, could I live 
 to see the son of my dear old master before I die, — but 
 the will of God be done. I've got somebody to write 
 this letter for me, for I am too weak to sit up ; but I'll 
 put my name to it, that you may know it comes from 
 
 Davy. 
 "If you can't come or send directly, please write a 
 line, just to ease my dying thoughts." 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 505 
 
 "This letter," said Moreland, "was dictated by one 
 who has tasted the joys of freedom, as it exists among 
 the black people at the North. His condition is far 
 better than the majority, for he has acquired property, 
 while most of them are miserably poor. Listen to me, 
 sons and daughters of Africa ! If I thought freedom 
 would be a blessing to you, it should be yours. East, 
 West, or North, anywhere, everywhere, you might go, 
 and I would bid you God speed ; but I would as soon 
 send those poor sheep on the hill-side, among ravening 
 wolves, as cast you amid such friends as this pretended 
 minister of God represents ! Which of you wants to 
 trust him now ? Which of you wants to leave your 
 master and follow him ? Tell me, for I will have no 
 Judas in the field, ready to betray his too kind and 
 trusting master !" 
 
 " Oh, massa I" exclaimed Paul, — completely subdued 
 and melted, and sinking down on his knees, right on the 
 grave of Dilsy, — " forgive us ! Don't send us away ! 
 Trust us once more ! We've ben 'ceived by Satan, and 
 didn't know what we were doing!" 
 
 The moment Paul prostrated himself before his mas- 
 ter, all but one followed his example, entreating for 
 pardon, and imploring with tears and sobs not to be 
 sent away from him. Vulcan, the blacksmith, stood 
 firm and unmoved as the anvil in his forge. All his 
 dark and angry passions had been whetted on the edge 
 of the murderous weapons hidden beneath his shop, and 
 
506 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 made red not by the flames of the midnight furnace. 
 His stubborn knees refused to bend, and a sullen cloud 
 added luridness to his raven-black face. 
 
 Moreland and he stood side by side ; — all the rest were 
 kneeling. The beams of the departing sun played in 
 golden glory round the brow of Moreland ; the negro 
 seemed to absorb the rays, — he looked of more intense, 
 inky blackness. 
 
 "Vulcan!" said his master, "if you expect my for- 
 giveness, ask it. Dare to resist me, and you shall feel 
 the full weight of my indignation." 
 
 "I'm my own master," cried the blacksmith, in a mo- 
 rose, defying tone. "I ain't a gwine to let no man set 
 his feet on my neck. If the rest are a mind to be fools, 
 let 'em!" and he shook his iron hand over the throng, 
 and rolled his bloodshot eyes, like a tiger ready to 
 spring from its lair. 
 
 The face of Moreland turned pale as marble, and 
 lightnings kindled in his eyes. To brute force and pas- 
 sion he had nothing to oppose but moral courage and 
 undaunted will; but he paused not to measure his 
 strength with the muscles swelling out, like twisting 
 serpents, in the negro's brandished arm. Laying his 
 right hand commandingly on his shoulder, he ex- 
 claimed: — 
 
 " There is but one master here. Submit to his autho- 
 rity, or tremble for the consequences !" 
 
 Suddenly wrenching his shoulder from the hand that 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 5(<7 
 
 grasped it, the blacksmith leaped forward, and seizing 
 his master in his gigantic arms, was about to hurl him 
 to the ground, when a tremendous blow on the back of 
 his head laid him prostrate and stunned at Moreland's 
 feet. So sudden had been the attack, so instantaneous 
 the release, that Moreland was hardly conscious how it 
 had been effected, till the sight of Paul, standing with 
 dilated nostrils and panting chest over the fallen giant, 
 and brandishing with both hands a massy rail, which 
 had been lying at the foot of the grave, made him aware 
 who his deliverer was. 
 
 "Let me kill 'em, massa — let me kill 'em," cried 
 Paul, swinging the rail above his head, and planting his 
 foot on the broad breast of the rebel. 
 
 "Stop!" cried Moreland; "in the name of God, 
 stop ! He may be dead already ! Let him be carried 
 to the guard-house and there taken care of. Give him 
 in charge to the overseer." 
 
 Four of the stoutest negroes sprang forward, eager to 
 show their recovered zeal and loyalty, and lifted up the 
 heavy mass of insensible flesh, which they would have 
 beaten to jelly in their indignation, so powerful was the 
 reaction of their feelings. 
 
 "Paul," said Moreland, holding out his hand, "true 
 and faithful servant yet ! Let the past be forgotten, or 
 remembered only to forgive!" 
 
 " Oh ! dear massa !" cried Paul, dropping the rail, and 
 throwing his arms round Moreland's shoulders, he wept 
 
508 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 and sobbed like a child, — " you're safe and alive yet ! 
 Bless a Lord Almighty ! Paul's heart always was right, 
 but he got a mighty poor head of hisn." 
 
 When Moreland seemed under the ruffian grasp of 
 Vulcan, the women uttered the most terrible screams ; 
 but wilder and more piercing than all the rest was the 
 shriek that issued from the portico, that commanded a 
 full view of the scene. Eulalia and Ildegerte, who were 
 standing with arms interlaced, gazing on what to them 
 was an exciting pantomime, for they could not hear one 
 syllable of what was uttered, beheld the giant leaping 
 on his master, and believed it the signal of death. How 
 they reached there they knew not, for the place was at 
 some distance from the house, — but they found themselves 
 forcing their way through the ring just as Paul was 
 weeping on his master's shoulder. 
 
 "All is safe!" cried Moreland, as they threw them- 
 selves into his arms, clinging to him in an agony of 
 emotion — " all is well ! Look up, my Eula ! Sister, be 
 not afraid ; it is all over ! Here is Paul, who is ready 
 to die in my defence." 
 
 " Me too, master !" cried Albert, with glistening eyes ; 
 "Paul struck 'fore I got a chance, or I would have 
 killed him !" 
 
 The little golden-brown head of the infant Russell 
 was seen peeping behind the ring, like a sunbeam play- 
 ing on the cloud-edge. Kizzie, nearly distracted, had 
 pressed as close as possible to the scene of action, after 
 
m 
 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 509 
 
 the terrible rebel was secured ; and the infant, excited 
 by the tumult, clapped its cherub hands, and glanced its 
 beautiful hazel eyes from face to face with innoceut 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Bring that child here," said Moreland; and Albert, 
 springing forward, bore it in triumph over the woolly 
 heads between, to his master's extended arms. 
 
 " This child," said he, raising it aloft in its smiling 
 beauty, "is your future master. With its first lessons 
 of obedience to his parents and love to his God, he 
 shall be taught his duties to you, and yours to him. 
 Born and brought up in your midst, he will learn to 
 regard you as a part of his own life and soul. I trust, 
 with the blessing of God, he will live to be a better, 
 wiser, kinder master than I have ever been, and watch 
 over your children's interests when I am laid low in the 
 grave." 
 
 The infant, delighted with its elevated position, 
 laughed in its glee, while the negroes gazed upon both 
 father and child as beings of a superior world. 
 
 The admiration, love, and devotion which the negro 
 feels for the children of a beloved master, is one of the 
 strongest, most unselfish passions the human heart is 
 capable of cherishing. The partition wall of colour is 
 broken down. The sable arms are privileged to wreathe 
 the neck of snow, the dusky lips to press soft kisses on 
 the cheek of living roses. And, though, in after years, 
 the child feels the barrier of distinction drawn by the 
 167 
 
510 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 Creator's hand, in infancy it clings with instinctive 
 affection to the dark bosom that nurses it, and sees only 
 the loving heart through the black and sooty skin. If 
 such are the feelings which infancy usually inspires, it 
 is not strange that the child of such a master as More- 
 land should be an object of idolatry, for, notwithstanding 
 they had been tempted from their allegiance by the 
 irresistible arts of Brainard, the principles of strong 
 affection and undying loyalty existed in their hearts, 
 and now throbbed with renovated vitality — with the 
 exception of the fierce and rebellious artisan. His was 
 one of those animal natures which, having had a scent 
 of blood in the breeze, snuffed it with savage delight, 
 and, being baffled of its prey, revenged itself for its un- 
 slaked thirst in roars of defiance and deeds of violence. 
 He was now, however, incapable of inflicting farther 
 injury. The well-aimed blow of Paul, though not mor- 
 tal, had caused a terrible concussion in his system, from 
 which he was likely long to suffer ; and he was also 
 strongly guarded. 
 
 That night the deepest tranquillity brooded over the 
 plantation. The stormy elements were hushed ; the late 
 troubled waters subsided into a peaceful yet tremulous 
 expanse. Eula, exhausted by the agitation of the seve- 
 ral preceding days, slept as quietly as the babe that 
 rested on her bosom. But no sleep visited the wakeful 
 eyes of Moreland. He went abroad into the stillness, 
 the solemnity and loneliness of night, and beyond the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 511 
 
 clear and illimitable moonlight, lie looked into the dark- 
 ening future. The clouds of the preceding night were 
 all swept away, and the moon glided, slowly, majesti- 
 cally, radiantly over the blue and boundless firmament, 
 a solitary bark of silver navigating the unfathomable 
 ocean of ether. Moreland walked through the long 
 rows of cabins, whose whitewashed walls reflected, with 
 intense brightness, the light that illumined them, and 
 envied the repose of the occupants. The signs of the 
 times were dark, and portentous of disunion and ruin. 
 The lightnings might be sheathed, but they were ready, 
 at any moment, to rend the cloud and dart their fiery 
 bolts around. Supposing, for one moment, the full tri- 
 umph of fanaticism, how fearful would be the result ! 
 The emancipation of brute force ; the reign of animal 
 passion and power ; the wisdom of eighteen centuries 
 buried under waves of barbarism, rolling back upon the 
 world ; the beautiful cotton-fields of the South left neg- 
 lected and overgrown with weeds ; the looms of the 
 North idle for want of the downy fleece, and England, 
 in all her pride and might, bleeding from the wound her 
 own hands had inflicted. None but the native of a tro- 
 pic zone, physically constructed to endure the heat of a 
 Southern clime, can cultivate its soil and raise its staple 
 products. That the African, unguided by the white 
 mans influence, would suffer the fairest portions of 
 God's earth to become uncultivated wildernesses, let St. 
 
512 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Domingo, Jamaica, and the emancipated islands bear 
 witness. Suppose the triumph of fanaticism, agriculture 
 would inevitably languish and die ; the negro, as well as 
 the white man, would not only sink into an abyss of 
 poverty and ruin, but the withered energies, the decay- 
 ing commerce, and expiring manufactures of the North 
 would show the interests of the two different sections of 
 our common country to be connected by as vital a liga- 
 ment as that which unites the twin-born brothers of 
 Siam. Let the death-stroke pierce the bosom of one, 
 the other must soon become a livid and putrifying 
 corpse. 
 
 If it be God's will that our country, so long the boast 
 and glory of the ge, should become its byword and 
 reproach ; if the Genius of America is to be driven 
 from her mountain heights into the dens and caves of 
 earth, weeping over her banner insulted, its stars extin- 
 tinguished, its stripes rent asunder, with none left to 
 vindicate its rights ; if the beauty, order, and moral 
 discipline of society are to be resolved into the gloom 
 and darkness of chaos, the silver chords of brotherhood 
 snapped asunder, and the golden bowl of union for ever 
 broken : — if it be God's will, let man lay his hand upon 
 his mouth, and his mouth in the dust, and say, 
 
 "It is good!" 
 
 But let him beware of mistaking the traces of human 
 Weakness and passion for the stately footprints of the 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 513 
 
 Almighty, lest the Lord come in judgment and avenge 
 his insulted majesty ! 
 
 Such were the thoughts that banished sleep from the 
 eyes of Moreland, and sent him abroad, a nocturnal 
 wanderer, in the holy splendour of the night. His feet 
 involuntarily turned to the blacksmith's shop. It was a, 
 lonely path that led to it, and, just before it reached 
 the building, a dense thicket of pines made an imper- 
 vious shade, black and heavy by contrast with the beams 
 beyond. While he was passing through the shadows, 
 and about to emerge into the light, he saw the figure of 
 a man stealing cautiously round the shop and approach- 
 ing the door. A low, distinct knock was heard, repeated 
 at intervals. He was sure, from the outline, that it was 
 the form of Brainard, and he could see that it was the 
 face of a white man. His first impulse was to rush 
 forward and seize him, — his next, to watch his farther 
 motions. Stepping very cautiously, and looking round at 
 every step, the figure went to the pile of brushwood we 
 described in a former chapter, and removed it from the 
 excavation. Stooping down and groping his way under, 
 he disappeared, while Moreland, accelerating his steps, 
 reached the spot before he had time to emerge again 
 into the light. He could hear distinctly the clinking 
 of steel under the house, and wondered if the man had 
 engaged some subterranean knight in conflict. An old 
 door, broken from its hinges, lay upon the ground. 
 Moreland raised it as noiselessly as possible, and putting 
 
514 tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 it up against the opening, planted his foot firmly against 
 it, — thus making the man, whoever he was, his prisoner. 
 The sudden darkening of the moonlight, which streamed 
 in under the building, made the intruder aware of his 
 situation, and he came rushing against the barrier with 
 headlong force ; the planks vibrated and cracked, but 
 Moreland stood his ground, firm as a rock. 
 
 " Vulcan, Vulcan ! is it you ? For God's sake, let 
 me out ! It is I ! Don't you know my voice ?" It was 
 the voice of Brainard, — not the sweet music he was 
 accustomed to breathe from the pulpit, but the sharp, 
 quick, startled accents of fear. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Brainard," said Moreland; and a 
 proud smile curled his lip at the ridiculous and humili- 
 ating position of his enemy. " I hope you do not find 
 yourself uncomfortable ! I was not aware that you had 
 lodgings there before ; but I believe you are fond of 
 subterranean works !" 
 
 "Mr. Moreland," exclaimed Brainard, "it is not pos- 
 sible that it is you who are opposing my egress ? Is 
 this the treatment that one gentleman has a right to 
 expect from another?" 
 
 " Gentleman !" repeated Moreland, in an accent of 
 withering sarcasm ; " coward ! traitor ! knave ! too vile 
 for indignation, too low for contempt ! Come forth, and 
 meet me face to face, if you dare ! Rise, if you are 
 not too grovelling to assume the attitude of a man !" 
 
 Removing his foot from the door, it fell forward, and 
 
THE planter's northern bride. 515 
 
 the moon again shining into the aperture, revealed the 
 prone and abject form of the pretended minister. 
 Crawling a few steps on his hands and knees, he rose 
 slowly, for his limbs were cramped and stiff, and shook 
 the earth-soil from his garments. His face was now 
 directly opposite Moreland ; and from his blue, half- 
 closed eyes, the unsheathing daggers of hatred and 
 revenge were furtively gleaming. 
 
 " What are you doing here ?" asked Moreland, sternly, 
 " stealing round my premises at the midnight hour, bur- 
 rowing like a wild beast in the earth, after having fled 
 like a coward at my approach, to avoid the consequences 
 of detected perfidy ?" 
 
 " I have been on my Master's business," he answered, 
 looking upward. " I am not accountable to any man, 
 being amenable to a higher law." 
 
 " Hypocrite !" exclaimed Moreland, his dark eyes 
 flashing with indignation, " away with this vile cant ! 
 Throw aside the cloak with which you have tried in vain 
 to cover your iniquitous plots ! Everything is disco- 
 vered. If you were seen now in the city whose hospi- 
 tality you have so wantonly abused, you would fall a 
 sacrifice to the vengeance of an incensed community 
 We are safe, thank Heaven, from your incendiary pur 
 poses ; but what can save you, bare and exposed as you 
 are, from the hands of an outraged public?" 
 
 Brainard was in such a position that it was impossible 
 for him to escape. On one side was a jutting beam, an 
 
51G the planter's northern bride. 
 
 abutment of the building; on the other, the pile of 
 brushwood he had thrown aside ; before him, the proud, 
 resolute form, and commanding glance of the man he 
 had deceived and attempted to destroy. By what sub- 
 terfuge could he now elude the doom he had brought 
 upon himself? 
 
 "Mr. Moreland," said he, "I have sat at your board, 
 slept in your bed, and broken bread at your table. Even 
 the wild Arab will protect the stranger who has par- 
 taken of his hospitality. Will you, a Christian, do less 
 than he?" 
 
 " Yes ; you have done all this," replied his host. " I 
 know it but too well. You have slept in my bed that 
 you might strew it with thorns, fou have broken my 
 bread that you might infuse into it poison and death. 
 It is my duty as a Christian to incapacitate you for the 
 perpetration of new crimes." 
 
 "I may have been carried farther than I intended," 
 said he, in an humble, adjuring tone ; " but it was not 
 for myself I was labouring. I have been made the 
 agent of others, whose cause I embraced with premature 
 ardour. I have been misled by false misrepresentations, 
 to adopt a course which I now sincerely regret. A 
 candid man, Mr. Moreland, would require no other 
 apology." 
 
 " False as cowardly !" answered Moreland. " If you 
 are the tool of a party, it only aggravates your mean- 
 ness. There may be those who are degraded enough to 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 517 
 
 employ a wretch like you, as an instrument to work the 
 downfall of the South ; but, if so, they must be the 
 lowest dregs of society. There may be men, and women 
 too, for I have heard of such, — but I do not believe 
 there is a respectable town or village in the Northern 
 States that would not consider itself disgraced by your 
 conduct, and blush for the opprobrium which you have 
 brought upon their name. I have travelled in the 
 North, — I know the spirit of the times ; but I know, 
 too, that there is a conservative principle there, that 
 would protect us from aggression, and itself from 
 ignominy." 
 
 "It matters not whose agent I am," said Brainard, 
 bitterly. "I see 1 am at your mercy. Yet, if you will 
 suffer me to depart in peace, I will pledge my solemn 
 word to leave this part of the country, immediately and 
 for ever." 
 
 "What faith can be put in promises like yours? No, 
 sir ! The day of blind confidence is past. I arrest you 
 by virtue of a warrant which I bear about me. Come 
 with me, till better accommodations are provided for you 
 at the public expense." 
 
 Even while speaking these words, Moreland was con- 
 scious of great perplexity, for he knew of no place of 
 security but the guard-house, where Vulcan was already 
 imprisoned, where he could put the arch-traitor. It is 
 true, Vulcan was now in no situation to be influenced 
 by his insidious arts, but he did not like their juxta- 
 
518 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 position. Another thing, it was considerably distant 
 from the blacksmith's shop, and it would be no easy 
 task to conduct a desperate and infuriated man to that 
 place of confinement. Still, he must not be suffered to 
 escape, so, laying a firm hand on his shoulder, he com- 
 manded him to follow him. Quick as a flash of thought, 
 Brainard drew a bowie knife from his bosom with his 
 free right hand, and made a plunge at Moreland's 
 breast. Moreland saw the steel glittering in the moon- 
 light, and the next moment might have been his last, 
 but, throwing his assailant back with a violent jerk, the 
 stroke glanced in the air. This was the commencement 
 of a life-struggle, fierce and bloodthirsty on one side, 
 bold, firm, and unrelaxing on the other. One could 
 hear the gritting of Brainard's grinding teeth, as he 
 tried to release himself from the clenching grasp of his 
 antagonist. Moreland was armed, for, at this time of 
 threatened insurrection, every man was provided with 
 defensive weapons, but, instead of drawing his own, his 
 object was to get possession of Brainard's knife. Had 
 he released his hold one second, his life might have been 
 the sacrifice. Once or twice he felt the sharp steel 
 gashing his left arm, but he heeded it not, and once, in 
 warding off a deadly blow at his heart, he turned the 
 point of the knife and it plunged in Brainard's right 
 arm — the arm which wielded the destructive weapon. 
 Moreland, after the first moment of exasperation and 
 excitement, did not want to kill him, but to defend him- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 519 
 
 self, and incapacitate him from further mischief. The 
 knife dropped from Brainard's powerless hand, and the 
 blood spouted from the wound. Moreland, well knowing 
 it was not a mortal stroke, and that his left hand still 
 had power, snatched the knife from the ground an 
 sheathed it in the folds of his vest. The blood was 
 flowing from his own wounds, but, without heeding it, 
 he bound his handkerchief round Brainard's arm, who 
 had reeled as if fainting, against the walls of the shop. 
 He looked very pale, but Moreland could plainly see 
 that it was not the death-like paleness preceding a 
 swoon. Still, he did not like to drag him, in that situa- 
 tion to the guard-house, and, enfeebled as he was, he 
 believed he could leave him in the shop with safety, 
 while he went to rouse the overseer and some of the 
 strongest hands, to assist in guarding him, and he him- 
 self obtained proper materials to dress his wound. The 
 door of the shop was usually locked at this hour, but, in 
 consequence of Vulcan's arrest, who had the charge of 
 it, the key was left hanging in the padlock — a circum- 
 stance fortunate for Moreland's design. The wooden 
 windows were barred inside, and Vulcan, while prose- 
 cuting his midnight labours, had added iron staples, as 
 a greater security from intrusion. Had Brainard not 
 been disabled by his wound, Moreland would not have 
 dared to have enclosed him, even for a brief time, in a 
 place where the weapons of deliverance might be found 
 in the massy iron tools of the blacksmith ; but he well 
 
f>20 THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 
 
 knew that the arm, whose reeking blood had already 
 dyed his handkerchief, could not wield the ponderous 
 sledge-hammer or the iron bars. 
 
 " Come," said he, taking him by the left arm, " come 
 into the shop, while I go for linen and balsam to dress 
 your wound. I presume it is not the first time that 
 you have found shelter in its walls." 
 
 "Bring none of your linen and balsam for me," he 
 answered, " I'll none of it. Put me where you please, 
 it makes no difference ; I scorn and defy your power !" 
 
 Though he spoke in a faint voice, it was expressive 
 of malignity and revenge. He no longer resisted, how- 
 ever, and Moreland, drawing rather than leading him 
 round to the front side of the shop, opened the door, 
 sprang upon the threshold with his prisoner, then releas- 
 ing him suddenly, he sprang back, closed and locked 
 the door, and returning to the rear of the building, 
 examined the shutters on the outside. — It would not do 
 to leave them without some barrier, for Brainard might 
 remove the inner bar with his left hand, and leap from 
 the window. There were two large posts lying on the 
 ground, which seemed left there for his peculiar purpose, 
 and though it required an exertion of strength to lift 
 them, with his left arm weakened and painful as it was, 
 he did it with astonishing celerity, and steadying the 
 lower ends against the old fallen tree, suffered the upper 
 ones to fall heavily upon the shutters, just below the 
 jutting of the wood-piece nailed across them, and in 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 521 
 
 this position every effort to open the windows would 
 only make the posts more firm in their resistance. 
 
 " That will do," said Moreland, turning away, and 
 directing his steps towards the overseer's dwelling-house. 
 With an involuntary impulse, he drew forth the knife 
 concealed in his bosom, and suffered the moonlight to 
 gleam upon it. Half of it was stained with blood, the 
 other half shone cold and blue, with deadly lustre, in 
 the serene glory of the night. He shuddered at the 
 temptation he had momentarily felt, to bury it in the 
 false heart of Brainard, and blessed his guardian angel 
 for covering the edge of the weapon with his interposing 
 wings. 
 
 The chivalry of his nature had received a painful 
 wound. He had discharged an imperative duty, but in 
 a manner revolting to the magnanimity of his character. 
 He had felt his cheek burn, while turning the key of 
 that black sooty prison on a wounded enemy. Had he 
 known that Brainard was familiar with even more gloomy 
 walls, that, even when a boy, he had made his bed on 
 the dungeon's floor, and worn the felon's badge of igno- 
 miny, he would have been less fastidious with regard to 
 his accommodations. 
 
 Having awakened the overseer, and told him to rouse 
 immediately several of the stoutest negroes, including 
 Uncle Paul, and repair to the shop, which they were to 
 guard during the remainder of the night ; he began to feel 
 the necessity of having his own wounds attended to, — 
 
522 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 though not deep, the flowing of the unstanched blood, and 
 the straining of the muscles in barricading the shutters, 
 made him feel weak and nerveless. He therefore com- 
 missioned the overseer to act as leech, as well as guard, 
 aad sought his own dwelling. 
 
 Fearing to awake his wife, and alarm her by th 
 sight of his blood-stained garments, he entered with 
 noiseless steps, and the faint, soft, regular breathing 
 that met his ear gave him a sensation of exquisite 
 repose. Eulalia still slept, and the babe still slumbered 
 on her bosom. Again the image of the virgin mother 
 and the infant Jesus rose before him, as when he had 
 knelt by her, when reclining over the cradle of her son. 
 And once more he knelt, but without awakening her, 
 and commended them both to the God of the South as 
 well as the North, — " to the Monarch, and Maker, and 
 Saviour of all !" 
 
 "Ah, my sweet wife !" thought he, when, rising from 
 his knees, he looked down upon her with unutterable 
 tenderness, "you are paying a sad penalty for the love 
 that lured you from your quiet village home. Better 
 had it been for you had I left you near the shadow of 
 that temple where your seraph voice first waked the 
 slumbering music of my heart." 
 
 For a moment he had forgotten his arm, and the 
 blood-stains on his dress ; but a stiff, painful feeling re- 
 minded him of the past conflict, and, with the same 
 noiseless steps with which he had entered, he left his 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 523 
 
 own room, and, seeking the one where Albert slept, 
 committed himself to his healing hands. 
 
 In the mean time Brainard was not idle. When left 
 by Moreland in the grim retreat with which he had made 
 himself so familiar, he stood at first perfectly still, in 
 the centre of the shop, where the momentum given by 
 Moreland's releasing arm had sent him. It was not 
 utterly dark, for silvers of moonshine penetrated the 
 chinks of the boards, and fell on the blackened planks. 
 He looked round him, straightened himself up to his full 
 height, and shook his left arm in defiance, as if facing 
 an invisible enemy. 
 
 "Fool!" he muttered. "He did not know he was 
 dealing with an ambidextrous man. There is as much 
 cunning in this hand as in that. Does he think these 
 drops of blood have weakened me so that I cannot burst 
 these bars and free myself from his power ? Ha, ha ! 
 I played the part of a fainting man to put him off his 
 guard; but I have strength enough yet to perform a 
 good night's work. These shutters are nothing but old 
 boards. I'll soon shiver them. I'll hurl them into 
 fragments. Yes, yes ! if the morning find me a prisoner 
 here, may I hang from the gibbet, and the fowls of 
 heaven feed upon my carcass !" 
 
 Guided by the light of the silver bars on the floor, he 
 seized the sledgehammer with his left hand, and, swing- 
 ing it high in air, brought it down upon the shutter with 
 a tremendous blow. There was a jarring and rattling 
 
524 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 of boards, and a cloud of black dust, but Moreland's 
 strong barrier resisted the effort. 
 
 "Death and fury !" he exclaimed; "are the boards 
 lignum vitas ? I'll try the door. If I cannot break 
 that open, I'll spill my own brains on these planks !" 
 
 Swinging the huge hammer once more, he hurled i 
 against the door with maniac force. Ha ! it does begin 
 to yield. Bravo ! strike again. They hear your blows, 
 to be sure, but they think the horses are pounding and 
 kicking in the stable, as they are wont to do. Strike 
 again ; a desperate man can do anything. No matter 
 if every stroke makes the blood ooze from your wounded 
 veins, and the sultry sweat-drops gush from your pores. 
 There ! don't you see the hinges strain, tug, crack, and 
 at length give way with a sudden crash. Jump through ! 
 the avengers are coming. Make haste ! they are in the 
 dark path now. Remember you are in the moonlight. 
 
 Yes ! Brainard did remember all this, and he leaped 
 through the opening with supernatural agility, flew, 
 rather than ran to the stable, mounted the fleetest horse, 
 and cut the air like the arrow. He was seen, just as 
 he reached the stable, by the party appointed to be his 
 guard. Paul, who seemed to have the vigour and fire of 
 youth miraculously restored, shouted till the thicket 
 reverberated the sound, and rushed after him, his long 
 limbs sweeping over the ground like forked lightning. 
 The overseer and other negroes followed, but they could 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 525 
 
 not begin to keep up with the streaking steps of Paul 
 As he reached the stable Brainard leaped into the road. 
 Paul was on the back of Swiftsure, one of his master's 
 strongest, fleetest horses, with the quickness of thought, 
 and away he went in pursuit of the fugitive. 
 
 "Good Lord!" cried Paul, "let me only catch 'em! 
 Just let massa know what Paul can do for him ! Go it, 
 go it, Swiftshur ! — wide awake ! wide awake ! — keep a 
 eye open ! — stretch a feet apart ! — that the way to go !" 
 
 Paul lay almost horizontally on the barebacked animal, 
 grasping his mane for a bridle, his body thrown up and 
 down by the violence of the motion. Brainard had 
 saddle and bridle, for he was on the same horse which 
 had been caparisoned to bear him from the plantation, 
 just before Moreland's arrival. The odds were in his 
 favour, and he knew it. His scornful laugh was driven 
 back into Paul's face, like a dash of cold water. Once 
 he reeled in the saddle, and his speed perceptibly slack- 
 ened, and the shadow of his pursuer appeared to be 
 leaping on his back ; but just as Paul stretched out his 
 long arm, thinking him within reach, he shot ahead, 
 with dizzying velocity, and Paul grasped a handful of 
 moonbeams. It was all in vain. As he told his master 
 the next day — " The devil was in him, and one might as 
 well try to catch hold of a streak of lightning." 
 
 All the time Brainard was winging his way, thought, 
 swifter than his flight, was darting in his mind, bringing 
 168 
 
528 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 messages from the future, that lit up his countenance 
 with vindictive joy. 
 
 " Oh ! I have a glorious career before me," said he to 
 himself, dashing his spurs into his horse's smoking 
 flanks, — for he had equipped himself like a knight when 
 he started on his midnight expedition. " I have planned 
 it all — and when did I ever plan without executing ? 
 Who says I have failed ? I tell you, you lie, sir. I 
 have made a plenty of dupes. The flames I have kin- 
 dled will not be quenched. They will burst out afresh, 
 when people think they are gazing on ashes. Yes ! I 
 will go back to the North, and deliver such lectures on 
 the South as will curdle the blood with horror. No 
 matter what I say — I'll find fools to believe it all. If I 
 pour falsehoods hot as molten lead down their throats, 
 they will believe them all, and smack their lips with 
 delight. Take care, Master Moreland ! the devil shall 
 be an angel of light compared to the foul demon I will 
 represent you to be — you, and all your tribe. Thank 
 Heaven for the gift of eloquence ! Oh ! I'll rave of 
 blood-marked chains, of flesh torn from the body with 
 red-hot pincers, of children roasted alive, of women 
 burned at the stake ! They'll believe it all ! The more 
 liorrors I manufacture the more ecstasy they will feel ! 
 Curses on the arm that failed to pierce his heart's core ! 
 Curses on Mm for every drop of blood he has drawn ! 
 But I'll have my revenge ! — a glorious revenge ! — ha ! 
 ba!" 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 527 
 
 Away with him ! Close the shutters of that workshop 
 of Satan — his breast. We shudder at the glimpses 
 revealed. Let him go, and fill up the measure of his 
 iniquity : brimming as it now seems, it is not quite full. 
 The crowning drop must be blacker than all. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 It cannot be said that Moreland regretted the flight 
 of Brainard. Detected villany is no longer to be 
 feared. 
 
 The threatened insurrection had been proclaimed 
 trumpet-tongued through the state, and guards every- 
 where appointed to watch over the public safety. A 
 minute description of his person was published in all 
 the papers, so that none might unwittingly receive the 
 traitor as a guest. Though Moreland was convinced 
 that he was an impostor, he addressed letters to the 
 Conference to which he professed to belong, making 
 inquiries respecting his standing as a minister. The 
 answer denied any knowledge of a person by the name 
 of Brainard. There was no minister belonging to their 
 Conference or denomination of that name. They did 
 not hesitate to pronounce him a vile impostor. 
 
 Mr. Hastings also affirmed, in his letters, that he 
 knew nothing of such an individual, relieving his 
 daughter's mind of an unspeakable weight. He could 
 not account for his familiarity with the names of his 
 
 628 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 529 
 
 household, but by supposing he had passed through the 
 village, and made himself acquainted, by report, with 
 its principal inhabitants, — a supposition which was 
 founded on truth. The agitation he had caused in the 
 domestic circle and in the public mind gradually sub- 
 sided, and the peace he had disturbed once more settled 
 on the community. The negroes were pardoned, as 
 their ringleader was white, but put under a stricter 
 discipline. Having so shamefully abused their religious 
 privileges, they were restricted in their nightly meet- 
 ings, which were no longer allowed to be kept up 
 beyond the ringing of the nine o'clock bell. The mid- 
 night hour, which was the scene of their unhallowed 
 orgies, was constantly guarded, and no night passed 
 without the scrutiny of the vigilant patrole within the 
 walls of their cabins. 
 
 The domestic establishment of Moreland resumed its 
 usual peaceful and cheerful aspect. Jim and Crissy 
 were seen, as formerly, unfurling the contents of the big 
 chest to the morning sunshine, and Kizzie's countenance 
 rejoiced once more in its former expression of conse- 
 quential good-nature. Eulalia began to look upon the 
 past as a frightful dream, and to enjoy, without fear of 
 molestation, the comforts of her Southern home. There 
 was one circumstance which she considered a blessing ; 
 for she never could think of Yulcan, the blacksmith, 
 without horror and dread. As soon as he had recovered 
 from the effects of the blow, and, after humbling him- 
 
530 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 self before his master, been released from imprisonment, 
 he absconded, stealing, in imitation of his illustrious 
 predecessor, one of his master's finest horses, and baf- 
 fling the vigilance of pursuit. 
 
 "I am glad he is gone !" cried Moreland, when the 
 tidings of his flight reached his ears ; " for I never could 
 have had any reliance on his fidelity, any confidence in 
 his truth. He was an excellent workman, and, as far as 
 labour is concerned, a great pecuniary loss to me, but 
 he seemed to cast a dark shadow over the plantation, 
 which I rejoice to have rolled away. I suspect he will 
 soon be lionized at the North, as one of those poor, 
 injured, persecuted beings, escaped from Southern 
 tyranny to throw themselves in the expanded arms of 
 Northern philanthropy. Brainard may become his 
 keeper, and tell to a gaping multitude the story of his 
 sufferings. When Vulcan was a little boy, a negro 
 about his own age, who was playing with an axe, 
 chopped off two of the fingers of his left hand, and he 
 has the scar of a terrible burn on his shoulder. The 
 mutilated hand may be shown as the mark by which 
 a Southern planter identifies his slaves, and the scar as 
 the brand of his cruelty. Mark my words, Eula, and 
 see if I am not a true prophet." 
 
 Eula remembered her father's giant protege* and 
 blushed. 
 
 Before we dismiss this era in our history, we ought, 
 in justice to the intrepid wife of the jailer, to mention 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 531 
 
 the manner in which the grateful public manifested their 
 appreciation of her services. When told by a friend 
 that she was to be presented with a splendid silver 
 waiter, on which the prison scene, of which she was the 
 heroine, was to be wrought in bas relief, she remarked, 
 with her usual sound, practical good sense — 
 
 "I don't want them to give me anything, for I've 
 done nothing but my duty — I would despise the woman 
 that would do less — and least of all, a silver waiter. It 
 would shame my homely furniture ; and be as much out 
 of place as if I should stick a crown on my head. If 
 they would send my boy to a first-rate school, that would 
 be something to be grateful for." 
 
 In consequence of this hint, the silver streams of 
 knowledge were poured into the boy's mind, and his 
 education continued at the public expense. 
 
 Eula hailed the opening spring with anticipations of 
 delight. She was looking forward to a visit to her 
 Northern home, and almost every thought and feeling 
 had reference to that joyous event. She watched the 
 unfolding charms of her beautiful boy with a jealous 
 eye, fearing one infantile beauty might fleet, before the 
 eyes of her parents could gaze upon its loveliness. She 
 talked to Effie of her sweet little sister, Dora, as her 
 playmate and companion, forgetting that three passing 
 years had added considerable dignity to the five-year- 
 old child, who used to call her sister-mother. She 
 opened her casket of love-tokens, and spread them in 
 
532 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 fond review before her, thus reviving, in all their early 
 freshness, the associations of her youth : — the faded 
 flowers she had pressed ; even the humble ironing-holder 
 and modest comb-case, which had been carefully pre- 
 served ; and, more precious than all, poor Nancy's 
 heart-shaped breast-pin, containing a lock of her long 
 raven hair. 
 
 "I fear I am selfish," said she to her husband, grate- 
 ful for his animated sympathy in all her anticipations. 
 " You can look forward with no such joy as mine. I 
 fear even that the journey may be painful to you, frocr. 
 recent associations." 
 
 "You are mistaken," he replied. "I shall revisit 
 with delight the beautiful village of your birth. I never 
 can forget the kindness I received, as a stranger, when 
 I was lying sick and apparently dying there. There 
 was no cold Levite passing the other side : all were 
 ministering Samaritans, whom I bless in remembrance. 
 Your excellent pastor — how I long to clasp his venera- 
 ble hand once more ! that hand which I last saw placed 
 so tenderly on the head of my kneeling bride ! My 
 friend, the bridge architect, I respect as a high-minded 
 and most honourable gentleman ; and good Mrs. Grimby 
 will receive from me a most cordial greeting. You need 
 not think of appropriating to yourself all the joy, leav- 
 ing me nothing but self-sacrifice to console me. But 
 there is one thing, my dear Eula, that we must not 
 forget. You know we are going quite strong in number, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 533 
 
 and people are not accustomed, at the North, to visit in 
 caravans, as we do. My sister, "who will accompany us, 
 has no claims on the hospitality of your home. Nay, 
 let me finish my declamation. Our little Efne is another 
 interloper. Then, two servants, my own inseparable 
 shadow, and the nurse to the honourable heir of the 
 house of Moreland, will make in addition a goodly 
 company." 
 
 "I was thinking I had better not take a nurse," said 
 Eula. "Ildegerte's experience has intimidated me." 
 
 "It should rather give you courage. There is no 
 danger of any of them being induced to follow Crissy's 
 example. Netty, who is now the wife of Albert, may 
 go, in place of Kizzie, whose ample person is something 
 of an encumbrance to a traveller. I do not intend that 
 you shall endure the fatigue of a mother's cares unas- 
 sisted, or that your parents shall be burdened with the 
 expense of our family during our long summer visit. 
 The fatted calf and golden ring of welcome will be ours ; 
 let this trifle" (putting a folded paper in Eula's hand) 
 " be theirs. Coming from you as a filial offering, they 
 will not shrink from receiving it. Do not blush, my 
 Eula. Is not all mine thine, and all yours theirs, if 
 occasion requires the appropriation ? Had I millions to 
 pour into their coffers, I never could repay them the 
 countless debt I owe." 
 
 "Flatterer!" exclaimed Eula, smiling through glis- 
 tening tears. " Is not mine the debt, and shall not my 
 
534 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 life repay it? How kindly, how generously and const 
 derately do you relieve me of every anxiety ! I well 
 know that my father's means are limited ; and the fear 
 of drawing too largely on his resources has been the 
 only drawback to my joyous anticipations. How can I 
 do justice to my grateful heart?" 
 
 "Hush, my wife; never, never speak of gratitude to 
 me. If I could be angry with you, it would make me 
 so." 
 
 Kizzie would have been greatly mortified at being 
 superseded by the young and airy Netty, had not Eula 
 told her most truly that she could not leave the care of 
 the household in any other hands than hers. Dicey was 
 too aged to take the superintendence ; Crissy too deli- 
 cate in health, and Judy entirely too ignorant. They 
 had lately received a valuable addition to the household 
 establishment. Moreland, in accordance with the dying 
 wishes of Davy, had sent for his wife and daughters, by 
 a gentleman who was then travelling to the North. 
 They had arrived, and were now members of his family. 
 He had offered to settle them in a dwelling of their own, 
 where they could be entirely independent, but they 
 pleaded so earnestly to remain with him, that he could 
 not refuse. This was a perplexing circumstance to him ; 
 for, notwithstanding the husband's and father's legacy, 
 he looked upon them as free, and resolved never to be 
 personally benefited by their labours, or to appropriate 
 to himself the property bequeathed to him. He could 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 585 
 
 make no distinction in his treatment of them, however, 
 and they seemed to desire none. Davy was now dead. 
 His last injunction to them was, to place themselves 
 under the protection of Master Moreland. 
 
 This is a remarkable fact, and, if placed in the scales 
 of justice, might outweigh a thousand exaggerated state- 
 ments of oppression and cruelty. But prejudice is 
 stronger than iron, more heavy than lead, more sound- 
 ing than brass, — opposed to its weight, the deeds of an 
 angel would be as down in the balance ; the ordination a 
 of Heaven but as dust. Its trumpet-cry to the sons of 
 men is, " Tekel, Tekel ! thou art weighed in the balance 
 and found wanting !" Is there no invisible handwriting 
 on the walls of its conscience ? Is there not a greater 
 than Daniel to interpret the mystic characters ? 
 
 At length the time appointed for the departure of the 
 travellers arrived, and with it all the customary bustle 
 and preparation. We have intimated before, that our 
 good friend Kizzie was a very bustling body, and fond 
 of creating a breeze wherever she moved. Now, when 
 she was about to be left, with a charge scarcely inferior, 
 in her estimation, to the seven churches of Asia, it is 
 not strange that she should make her responsibilities 
 known. 
 
 " Yes ! mistress," said she, — enumerating a few of 
 her duties to Eula, with emphatic gesticulations, — " 1 
 shall have a heap of things to see to ; but you'll find 
 I've taken an obligation of the whole. There'll be the 
 
530 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 pickles to make, the vegetables to be gathered, the 
 peaches to dry, and the preserves, and jellies, and 
 catchups to be put up ; the watermillion rinds to be 
 cut into citron ; Master's winter clothes to be aired, so 
 that the moths can't get in 'em, and your winter ones 
 too, mistress; the linen aired, the carpets taken up, and 
 the picter frames converted with muslin, to keep the fly- 
 specs off. The curtains must be taken down, too, for 
 they needn't be wasting themselves on nobody but 
 niggers !" 
 
 " You will really have a hard time, Kizzie," said 
 Eula, compassionately, while Moreland laughed at Kiz- 
 zie's tremendous vocabulary. 
 
 "You had better let Jim and Crissy do the airing 
 part," said he; "they understand it by this time." 
 
 " I tell you, mistress," said Kizzie, — after honouring 
 her master's remark with a respectful laugh, — " the 
 hardest part of all is to part with little master. I love 
 little missy, but your baby has got the nighest place in 
 mj heart. It goes mighty hard, mistress, to gin him 
 up. If anything should happen, and you never bring 
 him back no more ! — " 
 
 "Don't, Kizzie !— don't !" 
 
 " I can't help it, mistress !" cried she, beginning to 
 sob, while she hugged the beautiful boy in her arms, and 
 pressed her cheek on its silky hair; "things is so un- 
 sartin in this world, and children's lives are nothing but 
 spiders' webs, any way ! Lord Almighty bless you, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 537 
 
 honey sweet baby ! and keep you a burning and a 
 shining when Kizzie's candle done need no more snuff- 
 mg! 
 
 Eula could not help being affected by the grief of the 
 demonstrative Kizzie ; and the young Russell seemed to 
 appreciate, in its fullest sense, the affection of his old 
 nurse. He clung to her neck, refusing to unlock his 
 loving hands, till Moreland, with gentle firmness, with- 
 drew him from her arms, and gave him in charge to the 
 waiting Netty. 
 
 "You must not forget me, either, mammy!" said 
 Effie, blowing kisses to her from the carriage, where she 
 had enthroned herself. 
 
 "Bless your little heart, no !" cried the tender-hearted 
 nurse, sobbing afresh. 
 
 Ildegerte was very sad, for she remembered her last 
 fruitless journey, and that she was lonely now ; but the 
 bright and beautiful morning, the air fragrant with the 
 breath of opening roses, and the exhilaration of motion, 
 soon produced a reaction in the spirits of the travellers, 
 and Ildegerte's sadness became illuminated by the cheer- 
 fulness of her companions. 
 
 While the travellers are pursuing their way rejoicing, 
 we will turn to the beautiful New England village, to 
 which the reader was introduced in the early pages of 
 this history. 
 
 How fresh and green and quiet it looks ! Fresh as 
 when baptized with the morning dew of creation, it first 
 
538 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 reflected its Maker's smile ; green as when emerging 
 from the waters of the deluge, the dove of the ark 
 hovered over its bosom. It was fair and beautiful three 
 years ago : it is fair and beautiful now. Scarcely one 
 new building has been erected, one change made to 
 remind one of the insensible lapse of time. Mr. 
 Grimby's sign, having an eagle on one side, and Wash- 
 ington, prim and dim, on the other, swings majestically 
 in the wind, and the beautiful bridge constructed by Mr. 
 Brooks, spans with its graceful arch the river's azure 
 volume. There stands the church, with its glittering 
 vane, and leaden dome, and snowy pillars, " looking 
 tranquillity;" yonder is the parsonage, embosomed in 
 its consecrated shades ; and here is the well-known man- 
 sion, rising mid its grove of sycamore and mountain 
 ash. Methinks it looks younger and fairer than it did 
 three years ago, — and well it may, for it has just put on 
 a new robe of paint, and the old green blinds have been 
 rejuvenated also. Let us peep in the inside, and see if 
 it wears the same familiar aspect. The painter's brush 
 has been there likewise, — the ceiling is dazzling in its 
 fresh, unsoiled whitewash, and the walls papered and 
 bordered anew. Everything is as fair and smiling as a 
 bride adorned for her husband. 
 
 Ah ! dear must be the daughter and sister for whose 
 welcome even inanimate objects thus renew and beautify 
 themselves ! 
 
 Eulalia's expected return was indeed an era in the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 539 
 
 quiet, monotonous life of our villagers. There was not 
 a house whose inmates were not excited, in some degree, 
 by the anticipation. Even strangers, and there were a 
 few, who had sought the retirement of the valley, parti- 
 cipated, through sympathy, with the all-pervading feel- 
 ing. If such was the general interest, what must have 
 been the emotions of the household where, as a young 
 divinity, she was enshrined and worshipped? Yet, 
 while every chord of their hearts was vibrating with 
 hope and quivering with love, there were one or two 
 little discordant notes mingling with this music of nature. 
 Moreland, the planter, whose princely abode and broad 
 possessions Eulalia had so often described, was more 
 awe-inspiring than the stranger who had wooed her for 
 his bride. Then, he merely visited them, now he must- 
 be domesticated; and the contrast between his own 
 luxurious style of living, and their plain and necessa- 
 rily economical habits, would be inevitably more con- 
 spicuous. Then his sister — they shrunk from the 
 thought of her being admitted into their simple, una- 
 dorned circle, accustomed as she had been to all the 
 appliances of wealth. The house was small, the rooms 
 low and old-fashioned, the furniture, most of it, handed 
 down from other generations. Mrs. Hastings, with all 
 her genuine piety and sound good sense, could not help 
 occasionally being troubled and careful about these 
 things. It was one of the weaknesses to which poor 
 human nature is liable, and, though one of the most 
 
54-0 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 excellent of her sex, she was still a woman, and had all 
 a true woman's pride of appearance and self-respect. 
 
 Betsy was in a perfect fever of expectation and pre- 
 paration. She scarcely slept at night, thinking of the 
 morrow's work. The ghost that haunted her came in 
 the shape of the negro nurse. Albert she knew, and 
 did not care for him ; but Netty must be proud and 
 " sarcy," and would turn up her nose at everything she 
 saw and heard. She would give all the world if Miss 
 Eula had left her at home. She was willing to work 
 her fingers to the bone herself — she did not mind that ; 
 but she could not bear to be interfered with, as she knew 
 she should be. Yet such is the inconsistency of human 
 nature, that while Betsy gave utterance to these misgiv- 
 ings, she liked to boast of the style in which Miss Eula 
 was coming, and would have been quite ashamed to have 
 had any one suppose that she had to attend to her baby 
 herself. The way she scrubbed and cleaned and cooked 
 was almost miraculous. The genius of Aladdin's lamp 
 hardly wrought more wonders than Betsy out of her 
 limited materials. 
 
 One day, after receiving a letter from the South, 
 Mrs. Hastings entered the kitchen with a glowing coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 "Betsy!" she said, "I want you to look out for a 
 young girl, who can help you while Eula is here — a 
 nice, respectable young person, who can wait upon tablo 
 and put the rooms in order." 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 5il 
 
 Betsy opened her eyes wide, and dropped the shovel 
 in her astonishment. 
 
 "That would be grand," she answered; "that's what 
 I've been wanting all along, but I was afraid to say it, 
 'cause you allers said you couldn't afford any extras." 
 
 "We cannot do too much in honour of Mr. Moreland," 
 said Mrs. Hastings. The letter of Eulalia was in her bo- 
 som, containing the munificent gift her husband had 
 insisted upon her offering to her mother, and it was ac- 
 companied by words so sweet and affectionate, the most 
 fastidious delicacy could not shrink from its reception. 
 AH that her warm and liberal heart had yearned to do, 
 coaM now be done without impoverishing her husband, 
 who "vas burdened with many cares. 
 
 "To-morrow they will be here," cried Reuben, now a 
 
 ^radu ite of College, with the highest honours of 
 
 tho i istitution adorning his reputation, and who had 
 been listinguished among his classmates as the eloquent 
 chanvpion of Southern rights. 
 
 "To-morrow and one day more, you mean," exclaimed 
 Don, in whose intelligent eyes and darkened hair the 
 shaie of three passing years softly rested. "How long 
 the days are now ! It seems as if they wo Jd never, 
 nev:n- end !" 
 
 The morrow came and went ; the one day more was 
 
 nearly closed, and Dora, in her best white frock and 
 
 curls smooth as satin, stood on the gate, and, shading 
 
 her eyes with her hand, watched the road through the 
 
 169 
 
542 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 vista of lofty poplars, this side of the tavern. Reuben's 
 glowing locks were seen leaning against the sycamore 
 tree, which commanded the most distant view. Mrs. 
 Hastings, too agitated to leave the house, gazed through 
 the windows, which often grew dim as she gazed. Mr. 
 Hastings's portly figure stalked up and down the yard, 
 in its suit of Sunday broadcloth ; and Betsy flourished 
 about the kitchen in her finest calico frock, pinned up 
 to be sure, and guarded by a blue-checked apron. Never 
 were the setting-sun rays so anxiously watched. Every 
 object seen through the poplar vista was a coming car- 
 riage. Sometimes it proved a black cow, sometimes a 
 gentleman in black with a white vest, who was mistaken 
 for a white-faced horse. The buzzing of a humble-bee 
 was converted into the humming of distant wheels, and 
 the haziness of twilight for the dust that heralded the 
 approaching carriage. For hours, the supper stood un- 
 touched on the table, waiting for the expected guests, 
 but they came not. Dora, who had soiled her white 
 dress rubbing against the gate, and strained her eyes 
 till they ached, ana their clear white was streaked with 
 little blood-shot veins, went supperless and weeping to 
 bed. Be^y folded up her nice calico frock, grieved 
 that she had tumbled it for nothing, and sighing over 
 the flannel cakes so light and melting, and the muffins, 
 white and porous as the froth of albumen. 
 
 "What was the reason folks never come when folks 
 were ready and looking for them ? 'Twas such a putty 
 
THE PLANTER S NORTHERN BRIDE. 04'3 
 
 time to come about sundown, and have a whole night to 
 rest in ! One does hate to be cotched in their duds !" 
 
 Poor Betsy ! people are so perverse they never will 
 come at the exact moment, — they will take their own 
 time, and it is generally the very worst in the world. 
 
 The morning was veiled in mist, so dense that not one 
 solitary sunbeam could penetrate it. As Betsy said, 
 "one could hardly see a hand before them." The dis- 
 appointment of the preceding evening had cast a gloom 
 over the family ; and Dora wondered if it would be 
 possible to live through another long day of expectation, 
 — and foggy days were so dreary, they were longer than 
 any other. But a short time before noon, the fog began 
 slowly to lift up, like the curtain of a theatre, revealing 
 the charming scenery concealed by its folds. It rose, 
 becoming more and more thin, and brightening as it 
 rose, till it assumed the appearance of transparent, 
 silvery gauze, through which the green foliage was seen 
 waving and sparkling, and the spring flowers softly 
 glowing. It rested, a gossamer canopy, on the tops of 
 the sycamores, then, melting into soft, bluish wreaths, 
 floated up into the depths of ether. Just as the silver 
 veil was slowlv lifting;, the sound of carriage-wheels was 
 heard, right at the very gate, before any one was aware 
 of their coming. Two carriages were there, and the 
 steps of both let down before the door flew open, and 
 the welcome home commenced. Oh ! was not thau 
 glorious sunburst, penetrating the vaporous, gauze-like 
 
544 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 folds, an emblem of the joy of that meeting hour, — 
 a joy shining through tears ! That lovely youthful 
 matron, with such a pale yet radiant face, who throws 
 herself trembling in her mother's arms, — ah ! that is 
 sweet Eula Hastings, the flower of her native village ! 
 That beautiful boy, nestling, dove-like, in its father's 
 bosom, and looking wonderingly at the strange faces 
 that surround it, — that cherub boy is hers. For one 
 moment, even Moreland was forgotten, who turned with 
 glistening eyes to his sister, that seemed to say, 
 
 "You see, New England hearts are warm and tender 
 as our own." 
 
 The Southern stranger was not chilled by her recep- 
 tion, though her own demonstrative nature exceeded its 
 warmth. Her heart involuntarily sprang forward to 
 meet Mrs. Hastings, whom she loved already, as the 
 mother of Eulalia. When she came forward to greet 
 her, with that air of subdued kindness which shows 
 there is a well-spring flowing within, and extended her 
 hand to the young creature clad in the sable weeds of 
 widowhood, Ildegerte threw her arms round her neck, 
 and exclaimed, 
 
 "Let me be your daughter, too !" 
 
 The warm embrace that followed this petition was a 
 mute but expressive answer. Was this the lady whom 
 her imagination had invested with such stately grace 
 and aristocracy, whose coming she had secretly dreaded, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 545 
 
 this fair, pensive, loving being, who claimed so sweetly 
 her maternal love ? 
 
 The little black-eyed fairy, whose hand is already 
 closely locked in Dora's, every one knows it is Efiie, 
 "the child of the sun," as Eula had often called her; 
 Dora leads her into the house with such a protecting, 
 motherly air, so confidential yet so patronizing, it is im- 
 possible to describe it. Dora has become such a pre- 
 cocious little woman, since Eula left her home, has so 
 many responsibilities resting upon her, as the only 
 unmarried daughter, — has so many of Eula's proteges 
 to take care of, and her own reputation to sustain as 
 the brightest scholar in school, that there is some 
 clanger of her losing some of the graces of childhood, 
 without receiving a full equivalent. The wild and 
 pranksome Effie will soon bring her back to the right 
 level. 
 
 The "neat-handed Phillis," who had been engaged 
 as Betsy's assistant, insisted upon relieving Netty of 
 the carpet-bags and bundles which she was bearing, so 
 that, fortunately, Netty's first impression of the village 
 servants was, that they were very polite and well-bred; 
 and Albert, who was never outdone in politeness, in- 
 sisted upon taking them from the "neat-handed Phillis," 
 who, on her part, thought the Southern slaves the best 
 bred people in the world. But where was Betsy her- 
 self, that she had not appeared to welcome one whom 
 she so dearly loved ? She had been flying halfway up 
 
51Q tiie planter's northern bride. 
 
 stairs, and halfway down stairs, in a state bordering on 
 distraction, — resolving one moment she would change her 
 domestic morning dress, the next, thinking it would take 
 too long, — almost crying for joy at the thought of seeing 
 Miss Eula's beautiful face once more, yet recoiling in 
 imagination from the "sarcy" black negro, who accom- 
 panied her. 
 
 Eulalia's affectionate heart waited not for Betsy's 
 vacillating and bewildered movements. Catching her 
 baby in her arms, she sought the kitchen with eager 
 steps, and found Betsy hovering, like Mahomet's coffin, 
 between two counter influences. 
 
 " Why dear, good, faithful Betsy, how glad I am to 
 see you !" cried she, her voice tremulous from excite- 
 ment, and pressing Betsy's callous hand in her soft and 
 rosy palm. " I have brought my boy to show you — my 
 fair and beautiful Southern blossom." 
 
 Betsy gazed upon the mother and gazed upon the 
 child with brimming eyes, that soon overflowed in a 
 genuine heart- shower. 
 
 "Oh! you are puttier than ever, Miss Euly !" said 
 she, laughing and crying in the same breath, "and just 
 as good — better you couldn't be. And is this your own 
 sweet precious baby — the beautifulest darling that ever 
 my eyes sot upon !" 
 
 There was something in Betsy's homely, but honest, 
 sterling features that attracted Master Russell's discri- 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 547 
 
 urinating eyes, and, with a most engaging smile, he ex- 
 tended his snowy arms towards her. 
 
 "Bless his little heart and soul! I'm ashamed to 
 touch him, that I am — all in my dirty morning working 
 clothes. I dressed in my best last night and you didn't 
 come, and now ain't I a sight to see?" 
 
 "You look very well indeed, Betsy, and your kitchen, 
 as usual, as neat as wax. How is your poor lame bro- 
 ther, Betsy?" 
 
 " He is better off, a great deal, Miss Euly, for he's 
 gone to Him that makes the lame to walk like the bound- 
 ing roe. For a long time it seemed as if I'd nothing to 
 live or work for ; but them that has a plenty to do hasn't 
 time to spend a grieving, and it's a mercy in the end." 
 
 It is not to be supposed that so important a personage 
 as Eulalia would be suffered to remain alone in the 
 kitchen, for the doorway was soon filled with those that 
 followed her movements and hung upon her accents, as 
 if her lips dropped manna. Moreland greeted Betsy 
 with genuine cordiality, and Count D'Orsay himself 
 could not have displayed more grace than Albert, in 
 introducing his young and coquettish-looking bride to 
 the sturdy, republican Yankee servant. Netty though 
 herself vastly superior to Betsy, but she had been s< 
 well drilled by Albert in the proprieties of a Northern 
 kitchen that she condescended to be very courteous and 
 genteel. Indeed she stood too much in awe of her mas- 
 ter to do anything which she knew would displease him. 
 
548 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Betsy saw the vision of the insolent black woman fade 
 away, and a trim, smiling, smooth-faced mulatto beaming 
 in its place. Erom that moment she extended the hos- 
 pitalities of the kitchen with excellent good-will. Betsy 
 was an uncommon instance of unchanging devotion to 
 one family, in the midst of general fluctuation. It is 
 not often that you find, among Northern servants, one 
 who remains, as she had done, a fixture in the household, 
 identified with the best interests of the family, and par- 
 ticipating heartily in all its joys and sorrows. But in a 
 small inland town, where the tide of emigration does not 
 come flowing in, there is less of the spirit of change than 
 in the large cities. Those who prefer labouring in a 
 family to toiling in the crowded factories, are generally 
 of steady, domestic habits, and, having made up their 
 minds to work as a necessity, see no advantage in roll- 
 ing, like the stone that gathers no moss, from door to 
 door. 
 
 Had Mr. Hastings become reconciled to his Southern 
 son-in-law ? One would suppose so, from the bright 
 sparkling of his keen black eyes, the constant friction 
 of his hands, and the " very happy to see you again," 
 that repeatedly gladdened his lips. Not that he had 
 voluntarily yielded one iota of his principles — he still 
 persisted that they were as firm as Mount Atlas ; but he 
 was more guarded in the expression of his feelings, and 
 the letters of his daughter had insensibly wrought a 
 change in them greater than he himself was aware of. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 5*9 
 
 He could not but respect and adinire the character of 
 Moreland, and rejoice in the happiness of Eulalia. He 
 was proud, too, of the wealth of her husband, and the 
 distinction his alliance had given the family. 
 
 The being, beloved as Eulalia was, returning after the 
 absence, even of a few years, to the bosom of her family 
 and friends, has an earnest of the bliss of reunion in the 
 spirit-world. There was no mistaking the testimonies 
 of joy and affection that greeted her wherever she 
 moved. The venerable Dr. Ellery, her beloved pastor, 
 shed tears of joy when he embraced her ; and when, 
 with all a mother's pride and tenderness, she placed her 
 blooming boy in his arms, he raised it towards heaven, 
 and blessed it with the inspiration of a prophet and the 
 solemnity of a saint. Then gently drawing it to his 
 bosom, he said, 
 
 " I remember you, my daughter, an innocent, smiling 
 babe, thus nestling in my paternal arms. I love to look 
 back to that period, seeing before me the fulfilment of 
 my fondest prayers. I love to look forward to the 
 future destiny of this child. The blood of the North 
 and the South is blended in its veins, and may he be a 
 representative of the reunion of these now too divided 
 parties !" 
 
 "Amen!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings. The spirit cer- 
 tainly moved him to utter it, for he seemed as much 
 electrified by its sound as any of his auditors. The 
 truth was, that little child, with its soft, downy touch, 
 
550 the planter's northern eriee. 
 
 had done more to make Mount Atlas shake, than the 
 giant efforts of reason, or the strong though invisible 
 pressure of conscience. 
 
 On the following Sunday, Eulalia, dressed as she was 
 accustomed to do as a village maiden, in simple, una- 
 dorned white, took her place behind the green curtain 
 with the choral throng. With but few exceptions the 
 same choristers were there, composing the singing band, 
 the same " Harmonicas Sacras" lay open, at the notes of 
 the same old, majestic anthems, which were wont to 
 usher in the morning worship of the temple. The tem- 
 ple itself was unchanged. Pure from the breath of 
 sacrilege, its walls presented the same spotless surface, 
 and the same spotless hands ministered at the altar. 
 When the choir rose, and, with a simultaneous burst of 
 melody, chanted the sublime hymn commencing thus — 
 
 " Before Jehovah's awful throne, 
 Ye nations bow with sacred joy ;" 
 
 Eulalia met the uplifted eyes of her husband, and they 
 both remembered the first time he had heard her voice 
 sustaining the magnificent chorus. The memories of 
 three years of wedded happiness, such as seldom is given 
 to mortals to enjoy, were gathered in that single glance. 
 Her heart swelled with adoring gratitude, and gave 
 Utterance to its emotions in strains of angelic sweetness 
 and power. There were some, whose aged ears had 
 never hoped to hear that voice again, save in the celes- 
 tial orchestra, were moved to tear3 as they listened, and 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 551 
 
 blessed the lips that still, pure from worldly guile, loved 
 to sing the holy songs of Zion. 
 
 Nature itself harmonized with the spirit of the scene, 
 and breathed forth its gentlest, balmiest influences. 
 The air, soft and bland as the gales of the South, stole 
 in through the half-opened blinds, reverently parting 
 the white locks of age, and fluttering the ringlets of 
 childhood. Effie's gipsy curls and Dora's light-brown 
 tresses, as they sat side by side, unbonneted, as children 
 usually are during the heat of summer, were twined 
 together by the loving gale. Beautiful representatives 
 of the North and the South, they sat, with hand linked 
 with hand and heart meeting heart ! Oh ! that they 
 might be typical of that harmony which ought to exist 
 between two regions which God has so greatly glorified, 
 so abundantly blessed ! 
 
 Moreland was exceedingly gratified by the cordial 
 manner in which the citizens expressed their congratu- 
 lations for his return, greeting him at the door of the 
 church, when the services of the morning were over 
 Mr. Grimby's swarthy features wore quite a benignant 
 glow. 
 
 "What a man soweth, that doth he also reap." 
 
 Moreland's charities, though unostentatiously be- 
 stowed by the gentle hands of his wife, had glided 
 through the byways of the village, quietly as the stream 
 that fertilized its soil, imparting, like its clear and 
 shaded waters, greenness and bloom. The blessing of 
 
552 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 the poor rested upon him, neutralizing the curse of 
 fanaticism, — the anathema of prejudice. 
 
 Where was the aged mother of Nancy ? This was a 
 question Moreland and Eulalia both asked. She dwelt 
 i 1 the almshouse, the abode she had so long dreaded to 
 inhabit. After Nancy's death, it was impossible for her 
 to remain alone, in her age and infirmity. Though all 
 were kind to the lonely octogenarian, none could assume 
 the heavy burden of her support. Few had a room to 
 spare or time to devote to one requiring so much watch- 
 fulness in life's second childhood, — that sad, sad era, 
 marked by the helplessness of infancy, without its inno- 
 cence ; the infirmity of age, without its majesty. So 
 she was borne to the almshouse, where many of the 
 poor, unhappy, scattered members of the great human 
 family were doomed to meet. The building was ample 
 and comfortable, their common wants were supplied ; 
 but the withered and rent associations of home were 
 trailing after their weary steps, and hanging in mourn- 
 ful tangles round their broken hearts. Who, while they 
 bless the benevolence that founded these institutions of 
 mercy, does not pity the miserable beings who, deprived 
 of all other shelter, are condemned to bear the cross of 
 humiliation, and suffer the most melancholy of earthly 
 privations ? We would ask any unprejudiced person, if 
 old Aunt Dicey, in her comfortable cabin, in the midst 
 of home and its unbroken associations, was not happier 
 than Dame Brown, the companion of the drivelling idiot, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 553 
 
 the imbecile, the crazed, the lame, the halt, and the 
 blind? 
 
 The poor old creature wept like an infant, when 
 Moreland and Eulalia sought her in her sad retreat. 
 They tried to comfort her, but their own hearts were 
 full. How strange it seemed, that she should be suf- 
 fered to live, the survivor of all earthly ties and joys, 
 with the clanking of life's broken chain ringing in her 
 ears ; and Nancy, the joy and comfort of her age, 
 blighted and cut down in the flower of her youth ! 
 
 Never had Eulalia felt such an oppression of the 
 heart, as in quitting that melancholy abode. The in- 
 equality of happiness in this world struck her with a 
 force that was appalling. Why was she so richly 
 blessed, and others so barren of comfort ? Were poverty 
 and suffering the black clouds prepared as the back- 
 ground for the exhibition of Christian graces ? Must 
 the earth for ever be darkened by the smoke of human 
 suffering, creation for ever groan beneath the burden 
 of sorrow and of want? Eulalia gave utterance to 
 these interrogations, on her homeward path, and More- 
 land answered thus, — 
 
 " I have pondered long and deeply over these things, 
 and have come to the conclusion, that, if every indivi- 
 dual would do all that he can to relieve the sorrows and 
 trials of those within his reach, whom Heaven has placed 
 under his immediate influence, the sum of human misery 
 would gradually and surely diminish, and dwindle into 
 
551 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 nothing. But man places himself on the hill-top, and, 
 overlooking the valley at his feet, stretches his hands 
 afar, grasping at intangible objects, and wasting his 
 energies in fruitless and impossible efforts. He is not 
 obliged to lift up his voice, to appease the groaning 
 poor at his side, — the world will not hear the soft hush- 
 ings of his benevolence, — his name will not echo to the 
 distant hills. Every once in a while, he mounts a 
 hobby, whose thundering hoofs trample down all indi- 
 vidual rights, and disturb the repose of nations. Anti- 
 slavery is the monomania of the present day ; and a 
 black face, provided it belongs to a fugitive, irrespective 
 of every moral claim, a passport to favour and distinc- 
 tion." 
 
 Moreland started, and a glow of pleasure illumined 
 his serious and thoughtful countenance. Whom should 
 he meet near the threshold of Mr. Hastings's door but 
 his Western friend, Dr. Darley ? The doctor was making 
 a Northern tour, the present summer, and his route 
 leading him through this beautiful village, he learnt, 
 with joy, that he might have an opportunity of meeting 
 his Southern friends. This unexpected addition to their 
 happiness was duly appreciated by all, but most espe- 
 cially by the grateful Ildegerte, whose countenance be- 
 came literally radiant with the joy of welcome. Mr. 
 Hastings was " very, very happy to see Dr. Darley, and 
 to entertain so distinguished a guest." He was proud 
 of the honour — so proud and so happy that he almost 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 555 
 
 rubbed the skin from his hands by incessant friction. 
 The doctor, who was an enthusiastic and poetic lover of 
 the beauties of nature, and who thought he had found 
 the loveliest resting spot in creation, consented to remain 
 
 few days, and, during that short time, he had an op 
 X jortunity of exercising that commanding influence for 
 the public good which he exerted wherever he went. 
 
 A placard had been put up at Mr. Grimby's tavern, 
 and in the most conspicuous public places, announcing 
 that Mr. Howard, a distinguished philanthropist, would 
 lecture on such a night in the Lyceum hall. He was 
 to be accompanied by a fugitive slave, who would relate 
 some of the most startling and thrilling incidents of the 
 horrible system from which he had recently escaped. 
 
 Mr. Hastings was placed in a very perplexing dilem- 
 ma. His house had always been a kind of abolition- 
 tavern, and all itinerant lecturers were received by him 
 with all the honours of hospitality. They were sure to 
 bring him letters of introduction, and he was sure to 
 introduce them to the public with a glowing smile of 
 patronage. Supposing this stranger came, with his 
 sable satellite, expecting admission to his home, how 
 could he receive him under the same roof with Moie 
 land ? Yet, if he refused, how recreant to the princi 
 pies he had so often declared himself ready to die to 
 defend ! Dr. Darley, too, whose sentiments on the sub- 
 ject he had been careful to ascertain, and whose good 
 opinion he was most anxious to secure, would consider 
 
55G the planter's northern bride. 
 
 himself insulted as well as Moreland, by his countenance 
 of one, the avowed champion of a cause, against which 
 he had thrown the weight of his talents and the influence 
 of his reputation. Poor Mr. Hastings was sadly trou- 
 bled and perplexed. The large, staring black letters 
 on the placards seemed branded on his mind, and by a 
 most painful introspection, he beheld them from "morn 
 till noon, from noon till dewy eve." 
 
 "I want to hear this orator," said Moreland, "and 
 his African colleague. If he has the eloquence of a 
 Brainard, he may make every green leaf of the valley 
 thrill. I want to hear Dr. Darley, too, on the other 
 side of the question." 
 
 "Not when Mr. Moreland is present." 
 
 " Surely you, Dr. Darley, standing as you do on the 
 borders of the West, with the North on one side and the 
 South on the other, can speak with a far better grace 
 than one whose personal interests are identified with 
 either." 
 
 "It will be as the occasion prompts," replied the 
 doctor. "I do not believe I ever stayed three days in 
 a place without being called upon to make a public ad- 
 dress, by the imperiousness of circumstances." 
 
 Moreland had related to him the history of Brainard, 
 the insurrection he had plotted, the scene at the grave 
 of Dilsy, and the after flight of Vulcan. 
 
 " Perhaps this is the self-same man, figuring under a 
 new name," said Dr. Darley. 
 
THE TLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 557 
 
 "I have been thinking so," replied Moreland. 
 
 " If so, we may anticipate some great scenes," said the 
 doctor, the merry spark in his eye scintillating with 
 unusual brilliancy. 
 
 This was not said in the presence of Mr. Hastings, 
 who wandered like a restless ghost the whole afternoon 
 of the appointed evening. Every knock made him start 
 and change colour : but to his unspeakable relief his hos- 
 pitality was unclaimed — the modern Howard had not 
 yet made his appearance. 
 
 When they arrived at the Lyceum Hall, it was 
 already crowded almost to suffocation, all the front seats 
 being occupied by ladies, and the window sills by little 
 boys, with long republican sticks in their hands, ready 
 to applaud the coming orator. Neither Mrs. Hastings, 
 Eulalia, or Ildegerte were present, and Moreland, for 
 reasons well known to himself, took the most remote and 
 obscure corner of the hall. Dr. Darley glided in very 
 quietly and seated himself at his side, while Mr. Hastings, 
 with a reddening brow, walked forward with slow and 
 measured tread to his accustomed place of honour on 
 the platform. 
 
 The appointed hour came and passed. I eads were 
 constantly turning towards the door, shuffl ag feet beto- 
 kened impatience, and there was an incessant coughing 
 and hemming in the audience, as if they were endea- 
 vouring to fill up the awful pause of expectation. Some 
 accident must have occurred to detain the orator : there 
 170 
 
558 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 was no use in remaining longer in that close, oppressive 
 atmosphere. Just then, a commotion near the door 
 caused a sudden revulsion of feeling, the crowd divided, 
 and a tall and slender figure, of erect and dignified 
 mien, passed on towards the platform, ushered by the 
 obsequious Mr. Grimby, and followed bj a stout, brawny 
 framed negro, black as the shades of Erebus. More- 
 land gave a sudden start, and laid his hand on Dr. 
 Darley. He understood the pressure, and smiled. Yes ! 
 that was the sinewy arm which had forged the weapons 
 of rebellion in the midnight forge, which had been 
 wrapped in straining coil round his master's form when 
 paralyzed by Paul's avenging blow. Yes ! there were 
 the murky brow, the sullen, bloodshot eye, the fierce, 
 vindictive mouth, and glittering teeth of the Herculean 
 rebel. But the orator ! Moreland gazed upon his face, 
 doubting and bewildered. Was it, could it be the false, 
 hypocritical Brainard, thus transformed ? His hair was 
 short, and pushed far back from his high, fair forehead ; 
 Brainard's long, sleek, and meekly parted on his brow. 
 A thick, dark beard, clustered round his mouth and 
 chin, giving it a massy and bold appearance ; Brainard's 
 was smooth and sharp, as little EfBe's classic eye had at 
 nee discovered ; — yet there was the same half-sheathed, 
 steel-like glance, and the voice, though more clear and 
 "ringing, had the same false, silver sound. The garb of 
 the minister, the clothing of the sheep, were cast aside 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 559 
 
 for the bolder lion's skin, but the wolf was apparent 
 behind them all. 
 
 Moreland's blood began to seethe in his veins when 
 he saw Vulcan, far more embruted and animal in 
 appearance than when he defied him over the ashes of 
 the dead, ascend the platform and sit down side by side 
 with his own father-in-law ; when he saw the vile im- 
 postor, whose path had been marked with the slime of 
 the snake, the brand of the incendiary, and the steel of 
 the assassin, standing in that elevated position, the cen- 
 tre of every gazing eye, assuming to be the champion 
 of truth and humanity, while violating their most sacred 
 rights. He announced himself as a traveller recently 
 returned from the South, that beautiful, but accursed 
 region, "where all save the spirit of man was divine." 
 He had had the most abundant opportunities of studying 
 and examining its social and domestic institutions, and 
 he was prepared to lay the result before an intelligent 
 and enlightened community. He began with the utmost 
 calmness and deliberation, describing the delicious cli- 
 mate, the luxuriant vegetation, the gardens of roses, 
 the bowers of jessamine, and groves of orange trees, 
 which made an Eden of that smiling land. He dwelt 
 with enthusiastic admiration on the grace and loveliness 
 of its daughters, the brave and gallant bearing of its 
 sons, One would have supposed that to praise was his 
 only task; but he was making a flowering groundwork, 
 to enhance by contrast, the effect of the hideous struc- 
 
560 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 ture lie was about to rear upon it. Anon the hand that 
 had been gently scattering roses, began to hurl the hiss- 
 ing thunderbolt, and in the wild and thrilling eloquence 
 which succeeded, Moreland found no difficulty in recog- 
 nising the splendid orator of the African church. He 
 heard himself (for in what other planter's home had he 
 been so closely domesticated ?) described as a demon of 
 cruelty, his slaves the subjects of the most atrocious 
 barbarity, his plantation the scene of horrors that baffled 
 the power of imagination to conceive. The clanking 
 chain, the excoriating manacle, the gashing scourge, the 
 burning brand, were represented as tortures in daily, 
 nay, even in hourly use ; the shrieks of womanhood, the 
 cries of infancy, and the lamentations of age, as no 
 more regarded than the yelling of wild beasts or the 
 whistling of the wind. The audience was becoming 
 painfully excited. Ladies were passing little bottles 
 containing the spirits of ammonia from one to the other, 
 and covering their faces with their white handkerchiefs ; 
 men groaned audibly, and many a dark and sinister 
 glance was turned to the dim corner, where the South- 
 ern planter sat, unseen as yet by the orator of the 
 night. 
 
 "Hush, hush!" whispered Dr. Darley to the excited 
 and indignant Moreland. "Not for worlds would I have 
 you prematurely interrupt this scene. Wait, and you 
 shall have a signal triumph." 
 
 It was a terrible struggle with Moreland, to keep 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 5G1 
 
 from rushing forward and hurling the "wretch from the 
 platform, exposing him at once to the crowd, whom he 
 was deluding bj his falsehoods and magnetising by his 
 electrical eloquence. 
 
 "Behold," said Brainard, after having exhausted, for 
 the time, the vocabulary of horrors, "behold one of the 
 poor victims of Southern barbarity — behold his mutilated 
 fingers, his branded and disfigured body. Hold out 
 your hand, long-suffering son of Africa — and show the 
 awful mark of your master's cruelty." 
 
 Vulcan stretched out his left hand, in which the two 
 central fingers were wanting, making a sickening chasm. 
 We have already related the accident which caused this 
 loss, as well as the burn which had left such an enduring 
 cicatrice. 
 
 "Look at this poor disfigured shoulder," continued 
 Brainard, folding back the negro's shirt-collar and dis- 
 playing a terrible-looking scar (probably embellished by 
 a few touches of reddish paint). " This is but a small 
 portion of the scars which seam and corrugate his whole 
 body." 
 
 Groans and faint shrieks were now heard from every 
 part of the house, and again Dr. Parley's restraining 
 hand was laid on Moreland's quivering arm. 
 
 "Not yet, not yet ! We must hear the negro's story. 
 The climax is to come." 
 
 But, just as Vulcan opened his huge lips to speak, in 
 obedience to a gesture of Brainard, and people were 
 
5G2 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 pressing forward, half standing in their eagerness to 
 catch every word of the hideous speaker, a young man 
 forced his way through the crowd in the doorway, and 
 rushed to the centre of the hall. So sudden was his 
 entrance, so rapid his movements, that no one recognised 
 his colour till, slackening his pace and looking wildly 
 round him, he disclosed the bright yellow hue and dark- 
 beaming eyes of the mulatto. 
 
 "Master, master, Mars. Russell!" he exclaimed, 
 breathlessly, pantingly ; "where are you? Why don't 
 you speak, and tell 'em they're all lies ? Why don't you 
 tell 'em it's Vulcan, that tried to kill you, and Master 
 Brainard, that tried to make everybody kill you ? You 
 may kill me if you want to !" cried he, shaking his 
 clenched fist at the astonished Brainard. "I don't care 
 if you do ! I'll call you a story-teller and a rogue. I'd 
 a heap rather be killed, than stand still and hear the 
 best master that ever lived made out a monster of a 
 brute !" 
 
 It is impossible to give the faintest conception of the 
 effect of this impassioned appeal. The young repub- 
 licans in the windows brought down their sticks like 
 rattling thunder, while, high above the din, several 
 voices were heard exclaiming — 
 
 "Put him out, put him out !" and many leaped for- 
 ward to execute the order. 
 
 "Stop!" exclaimed a voice of command, and More- 
 land, without waiting to make a passage through the 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 563 
 
 people, sprang from bench to bench, till he reached tho 
 spot where Albert stood, directly opposite the platform, 
 in the full glare of the lamplight. With glowing cheek 
 and flashing eye, he faced the bold, but now pale impos- 
 tor and cowering slave, then turning to the people — 
 
 "Let no one," he cried, "on their peril, touch this 
 boy. He is under my protection, and I will defend him 
 with my life. He has spoken the truth. This man is 
 a vile impostor. Pretending to be a minister of God, 
 he introduced himself into my household, and, under the 
 cloak of religion, plotted the most damning designs. I 
 received him as a friend, cherished him as a brother, 
 and obtained for him the confidence of a generous and 
 trusting community. I blush for my own weakness ; I 
 pity the delusion of others. As to the horrible charges 
 he has brought against me and my Southern brethren, 
 I scorn to deny them. If you could believe such atroci- 
 ties of any man, your good opinion would be valueless to 
 me. That you can believe them of me, knowing me, as 
 most of you now do, I know it is impossible. Had he 
 been less malignant, he had done me more evil." 
 
 "I have spoken the truth, and nothing but the truth," 
 interrupted Brainard, grinding his teeth with suppressec 1 
 rage ; "our black brother can bear witness to all I have 
 declared." 
 
 But "our black brother" did not seem disposed to 
 back his falsehoods with the boldness he had anticipated. 
 Though brute force, roused by long- continued excite- 
 
564 THE planter's northern bride. 
 
 ment, had once triumphed over moral cowardice, it gave 
 him no sustaining influence now, and he shrunk and 
 quailed before the thrilling eye of his deserted and in- 
 jured master. The influence of early habits and feelings 
 resumed its sway, and gleamings of his better nature 
 struggled through the darkness of falsehood and trea- 
 chery. Notwithstanding the bluntness of his perceptions, 
 he felt the power of Moreland's moral superiority over 
 Brainard, and when he found himself called upon to 
 confirm his unblushing lies in the pure light of his mas- 
 ter's countenance, a sudden loathing for the white man 
 who could stoop to such degradation, filled his mind ; 
 and a strong desire for the favour he had forfeited and 
 the place he had lost, stirred his heart. 
 
 "Speak, Vulcan!" cried Moreland, who had marked 
 the changes of his dark face with intense interest, 
 "speak! and in the presence of an all-hearing God, say 
 if this man utters the truth, or I." 
 
 "You, massa, you!" burst spontaneously from the 
 lips of the negro, and it seemed as if a portion of black- 
 ness rolled away from his face, with the relieving con- 
 sciousness of having borne testimony to the truth. 
 
 "Villain!" cried Brainard, — stamping his foot, and 
 turning fiercely on the blacksmith, — " villain, you lie ! 
 you and your master — " 
 
 "Order, order!" exclaimed Mr. Hastings, who had 
 been terribly agitated during this scene. Before he 
 could add another syllable, Moreland, with one bound, 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 565 
 
 stood upon the platform, and seizing Brainard by the 
 arm, gave him a downward swing that sent him reeling 
 against the living wall below. The act was instantaneous 
 as lightning, and the mimic thunder of the pounding 
 sticks followed the flash. Brainard could not, at any- 
 time, compete in strength with Moreland, and now, 
 when indignation nerved the arm of the latter, it seemed 
 to have a giant's sinews. Conscious of a great revul- 
 sion of feeling in the audience, since Vulcan's testimony 
 against him, he began to feel the insecurity t)f his situa- 
 tion. Turning in desperation to the platform, like an 
 animal at bay, 
 
 "Sir," said he, addressing Mr. Hastings, "I appeal 
 to you for redress, and protection from insult and out- 
 rage. I appeal to this whole assembly, as a stranger 
 foully wronged. I appeal to Northern justice, for de- 
 fence against Southern insolence and aggression." 
 
 For one moment, there was a breathless stillness, 
 awaiting the reply of Mr. Hastings. The face of More- 
 land crimsoned, and his heart throbbed audibly. Would 
 Eulalia's father throw the shield of his protection round 
 this man ? If so, they must be for ever separated. 
 
 "Sir," cried Mr. Hastings, — coming forward and 
 speaking with emphasis, though in an agitated voice, — 
 " I have no protection to offer an impostor and a liar 
 This people have no redress for one who insults them 
 by asking it, in the face of such a shameful detection. 
 He shall find to his cost, that Northern justice will 
 
566 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 protect the South from aggressions and slanders like 
 his!" 
 
 A deafening shout went up as Mr. Hastings con- 
 cluded, showing how warmly public sentiment was now 
 enlisted in the cause of Moreland. Moreland, relieved 
 from an intolerable dread, involuntarily grasped the 
 hand of his father-in-law, and pressed it with more 
 cordiality than he had ever felt before. 
 
 Where was Dr. Darley all this time ? Was he a cool, 
 indifferent spectator of this exciting scene ? By no 
 means. Look at his keen, scintillating eyes, sparkling 
 right over Brainard's shoulder ; see the ignited, glitter- 
 ing particles they emit, and say if he is cool, — think of 
 coolness if you can, in the presence of that counte- 
 nance of fire. He has been biding his time, and it has 
 come. 
 
 "My friends," said he, — addressing Mr. Hastings 
 and Moreland, — " may I stand by you a few moments ? 
 I have a few words which I would like to say to this 
 good people, if they will permit me. I want this man 
 to hear me, also," — laying his hand on Brainard's 
 shoulder, — "I pray you," turning courteously to the 
 gentlemen in his rear, "not to suffer him to depart." 
 
 Mr. Hastings, who seemed quite inspired by the occa- 
 sion, immediately descending the steps, led up Dr. Dar- 
 ley, and introduced him in the most flattering manner 
 to the audience, as one of the most distinguished citizens 
 of the American republic. 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 567 
 
 "You see before you a plain, blunt man," said 
 the doctor, — bowing with great dignity to the au- 
 dience, — " as deficient as the Roman Antony in the 
 graces of oratory and the flowers of rhetoric. Yet, I 
 am given to making long speeches, and if I chance to 
 inflict one on you, you must impute it to the force of 
 habit, rather than inclination. The man who has ad- 
 dressed you to-night, and who is a most wonderfully 
 eloquent speaker, is not entirely unknown to me. No 
 testimony of mine, however, is requisite, to add force to 
 the words of Mr. Moreland, whom I am proud to call 
 my friend, whose hospitality I have experienced, whose 
 domestic virtues are fully known to me, and whose kind- 
 ness to his black family I have myself witnessed and 
 appreciated, — no testimony of mine is needed to give 
 effect to the spontaneous tribute paid by this son of 
 Africa to his master's truth and worth. Your own 
 hearts have given the verdict, your own consciences 
 bearing witness to the justice of the decree. But, I 
 said before, I have some little knowledge of Mr. 
 Howard, — alias, the Rev. Mr. Brainard, — alias, Mr. 
 Hiram Coates." 
 
 "Alias Ichabod Jenkins," cried a voice from the back 
 part of the house. 
 
 Brainard started as if he had been shot, but there 
 was no egress through that mass of living beings. 
 
 "I doubt not that he has innumerable aliases," con- 
 tinued the doctor, "but my present business is with Mr 
 
568 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 Hiram Coates, who figured rather extensively in the 
 West several years since. His magnificent forgeries are 
 even now the wonder of the Queen City, where I reside. 
 Now, if a man is determined to be a villain, I like to see 
 him go on a grand scale. If he sells his soul, he should 
 set a lofty price. Gentlemen, I recognised this indivi- 
 dual the moment I beheld him, as the accomplished 
 criminal who broke the prison bars of the West, and 
 eluded the punishment of his transgressions. His after 
 course you have learned ; and what his future will 
 be, if his evil passions are allowed to have scope, 
 it requires no prophetic inspiration to tell. He is a 
 dangerous, unprincipled, and lawless man, who should 
 no more be suffered to roam at large than the brindled 
 tiger or the shaggy bear. If there is a sheriff present, 
 I call upon him to arrest him, on my own responsibility. 
 If not, I call upon every lover of the peace of society, 
 every advocate for the rights of mankind, to assist in 
 securing him, till proper legal measures can be taken." 
 The prompt response of the sheriff, who was present, 
 proved the alacrity with which he obeyed the summons. 
 There was no escape for Brainard. Wherever he turned, 
 detection glared him in the face. The individual who 
 had called out "Alias Ichabod Jenkins," now came for- 
 ward, and begged permission to recall to the public mind 
 an incident which occurred in the county many years 
 since. He asked if there were not some present who 
 remembered a boy of that name put in the penitentiary 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 5G9 
 
 for theft, but whose sentence was mitigated in conse- 
 quence of his extreme youth, and the influence of many 
 benevolent individuals, who interested themselves largely 
 in his behalf, and defrayed the expenses of his collegiate 
 education. He reminded them of the notorious cha- 
 racter the young man afterwards established, of his won- 
 derful powers of dissimulation, and his successful vil- 
 lany. For years he had disappeared from public 
 notice ; but there he was, the self-same individual, and 
 he would swear to his identity though hundred thousands 
 were present endeavouring to prove the contrary. 
 
 It is singular, but there are oftentimes moments in 
 the life of individuals, who have seemed to possess a 
 supernatural power of elusion, when an accumulation of 
 evidence suddenly falls upon them, and they are crushed 
 as if with a thunderbolt from Heaven ; when the key- 
 stone of the proud arch of their iniquity gives way, and 
 they are buried beneath its ruins. 
 
 As they were bearing this man of many aliases out 
 of the hall, he turned round, and bursting into a sardo- 
 nic laugh, exclaimed — 
 
 " Fools ! dupes that you are ! who strain at a gnat 
 and swallow a camel ! if I had not known your credulity, 
 and proneness to believe evil of your brethren, I never 
 should have prepared the black and bitter pill ye have 
 been rolling as a sweet morsel under your tongue. You 
 had better profit by the lesson." 
 
 'Yes, my friends," said Dr. Darley, as soon as the 
 
570 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 criminal bad passed through the door, where the rabble 
 received him with hootings and hissings of scorn, "it will 
 be well to profit by a lesson which, though it comes 
 from a polluted source, may be salutary to you. We 
 are too prone to believe evil of others, to forget extenu- 
 ating circumstances, to put our own consciences in other 
 men's bosoms, to decide upon their motives of action, 
 and shake them, at our own will and pleasure, over the 
 borders of the flaming lake. I am a man of many faults, 
 but there is one thing I claim as a virtue, and that is 
 patriotism. I love my country — my whole country. I 
 recognise no North or South, East or West in the affec- 
 tion I bear it. I find no cardinal points in my heart, 
 though they are convenient to use for geographical pur- 
 poses. Born in one of the Middle States, I emigrated, 
 in my boyhood, to the West. Since I have been a man, 
 I have devoted much of my time to travelling, and stu- 
 dying the great book of mankind. I have learned to 
 respect the rights of my countrymen, wherever they 
 reside ; to appreciate their virtues, to judge kindly of 
 their motives of action, and to mete them with the golden 
 measure which I would have applied to myself. I have 
 learned to consider the iron bed of Procrustes as an 
 abomination of heathenism, and the shame of a Christian 
 land. I do not believe that when you and I and the 
 whole congregated universe shall be arraigned before 
 the great God and Judge of all, that he will ask whether 
 we came from the North or the South, the East or the 
 
the planter's northern eride. 571 
 
 West (there will be no cardinal points in heaven either) ; 
 that He will ask whether we were born in a free or a 
 slave State : but whether we have been faithful to the 
 responsibilities imposed upon us, faithful to our own pe- 
 culiar duties ; whether we have done all we could to 
 advance the sum of human happiness, and to promote 
 His sovereign glory." 
 
 It is not our intention to repeat all that Dr. Darley said, 
 for he spoke at least two hours, yet they scarcely seemed 
 more than two minutes, so intent was the interest that 
 hung upon his words. Every one felt that it was a 
 whole-souled, whole-hearted, high-minded man who ad- 
 dressed them, lifted above all party zeal or sectional 
 feeling, acknowledging the great brotherhood of human- 
 ity, while respecting the distinctions the Almighty has 
 made. The kindling eye, the earnest tone, the impres- 
 sive rather than the graceful gesture, the whole coun- 
 tenance illuminated with intelligence and sensibility, 
 riveted the attention and made it impossible for it to 
 Avander. 
 
 There was one present on whom the events of the 
 evening and the eloquence they elicited had a most 
 powerful and enduring influence — and that was Reuben 
 Hastings. He had listened with unspeakable indigna- 
 tion to the false representations of Brainard, and with 
 difficulty restrained himself from rushing forward as 
 Albert had done, in defence of the slandered Moreland. 
 
 But the youth of l^ew England are accustomed to 
 
572 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 repress their emotions, and habits of self-control are 
 woven in with the woof and warp of their existence. At 
 his father's indignant denunciation of the impostor, he 
 could not help waving his hat in the air, while he pressed 
 the other hand on his lips to hold back the exulting 
 hurrah. Nor was he the only one who responded in 
 heart to Mr. Hastings's remarks. 
 
 "That was the best speech you ever made in your 
 life, squire," said Mr. Grimby to him the next day. 
 " You hit the nail right on the head. To tell the truth, 
 squire, I begin to think we have been a little too hard 
 on the Southern people. It won't do to believe every- 
 thing we hear. I wouldn't feel as cheap another time 
 as I did last night to be made President of the United 
 States. Now, that doctor of the West is the right sort 
 of man. He don't shut up one eye and squint with the 
 other, but he looks wide awake all round him, and sees 
 everything at once. There ain't many men could keep 
 me standing two hours on my feet without knowing it, 
 as he did. We needed just such a speech, and it will 
 do us all good. I tell you what, squire, if all the 
 Southern people were like your son-in-law, Mr. More- 
 land, I wouldn't say one word against them as long as 
 I live." 
 
 " There are few such men anywhere as Mr. More- 
 land," replied Mr. Hastings, delighted to find that he 
 had not injured his social position by the stand he had 
 taken the previous night. "You know," he added, in 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 573 
 
 a self-appreciating tone, while his palms gave each a 
 friendly salute, " that I made a sacrifice, a great sacri- 
 fice, when I gave him my daughter ; hut, like every act 
 of self-immolation, it has met its reward. If ever woman 
 was happy in marriage, my Eulalia is." 
 
 "If ever woman deserved to be happy, she does," 
 said Mr. Grimby. On this the two gentlemen shook 
 hands very warmly, and Mr. Hastings seemed to be 
 attacked with a sudden cold, for he blew his nose and 
 cleared his throat several times before he continued the 
 conversation. 
 
 Vulcan humbled himself in the dust before his master, 
 begged to be reinstated in his favour and received again 
 into his family, but this Moreland refused. 
 
 "I forgive you, Vulcan," said he, "but I cannot 
 place that confidence in your fidelity necessary to the 
 relation that has existed between us. I have always 
 said that the moment one of my slaves became rebellious 
 in feeling to me, they might go. I want no unwilling 
 service. You have an excellent trade, and, if steady and 
 industrious, can earn a comfortable living. If you want 
 money, I will give it to you. Come to me if you are in 
 trouble, and I will relieve you, — but the relation of mas- 
 ter and servant must exist no longer." 
 
 Vulcan had one of those surly, animal natures, that 
 grow affectionate and yielding under a stern, controlling 
 will. He had not appreciated his master's favour while 
 
 171 
 
574 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 basking in its sunshine, but now it was withdrawn for 
 ever, he crouched in abject submission at his feet. 
 
 " I forgive you," again repeated Moreland, " but the 
 rebel arm which dared to lift itself against my life, must 
 never more wield the hammer or strike the anvil for me. 
 Nothing can change this resolution. Go — you are free." 
 
 Yulcan turned gloomily away, cursing the tempter 
 who had lured him from the white-walled cabin, the 
 " old plantation," and taught him to lift his hand 
 against his once affectionate and indulgent master. 
 
 The stirring events and denouement of that memo- 
 rable night furnished subjects of conversation that ap- 
 peared inexhaustible. The result was the diffusion of a 
 more liberal, charitable, and enlightened spirit in the 
 whole community. But the change in Mr. Hastings was 
 most remarkable. His very person seemed to alter. 
 His eyes looked larger, and his hair had a more subdued 
 colour. He was constantly quoting Dr. Darley's opi- 
 nions, and inveighed with great bitterness against one- 
 sided and prejudiced people. As Mr. Brooks said, when 
 first describing him to Moreland, he always had a hobby, 
 which he rode without mercy. As his last had given 
 him such a terrible kick, he resolved to discard it, and 
 mounting another, it was not long before he was in dan- 
 ger of being carried as fast and far in an opposite direc- 
 tion. He talked a great deal about " our visit to the 
 South" next winter, or rather the winter after next, of 
 the fine prospects of "my son Reuben," who was to be 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 57^ 
 
 established there as a lawyer, under the patronage of 
 " my son-in-law." He even spoke of the possibility of 
 his remaining there himself, and opening a classical 
 Bchool. 
 
 Shall we describe the visit of the Northern family to 
 Eulalia's Southern home ? Not minutely, lest we weary 
 the reader by recapitulation ; but it was an event unpa- 
 ralleled in interest in the lives of our villagers. It was 
 long before Mrs. Hastings yielded her consent to the 
 journey, well knowing that they would be placed under 
 new obligations to the generous and uncalculating More- 
 land. But he bore down at last all her scruples, and 
 when he had obtained her promise to accede to their 
 wishes, he insisted upon carrying with them the young 
 Dora, as a hostage of its fulfilment. 
 
 When he told Betsy that she must accompany the 
 family, as it would not be considered complete without 
 her, she shook her head, and said, 
 
 " I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for not 
 being ashamed to ask me, but I ain't fit to travel about 
 and wait on ladies. My place is in the kitchen, and 1 
 wouldn't feel at home anywhere else. I'd feel as strange 
 as a fish out of water, anywhere, but where I had to 
 knock about and scuffle with my work. People gets used 
 to the way they live, and, though it mayn't be the best 
 way, it's hard to turn 'em any other. Your fine niggers 
 don't make fun of me here, 'cause they see me in the 
 right place ; but let me stick up as a lady's maid, and 
 
576 THE PLANTER S NORTIIERN BRIDE. 
 
 go among 'em, I'd be the biggest laughing-stock under 
 the sun !" 
 
 Betsy was right, and Eula, feeling that she was, did 
 not endeavour to shake her resolution. She had too 
 much regard for her feelings to wish to see her in an 
 uncongenial situation, where her visible awkwardness 
 might expose her to ridicule, and her innate worth be 
 undiscovered or unappreciated. 
 
 The family made their visit in the winter season ; but 
 they were not suffered to return till they had witnessed 
 the beauty and magnificence of a Southern spring, — a 
 spring which does not break forth at once, in the full 
 glory of the Northern season ; but comes stealing gentlv 
 on the scarcely perceptible footsteps of departing winter, 
 showering roses, and distilling the odours of Paradise. 
 They were enchanted with the climate, the luxuriant 
 vegetation, the wilderness of blossoms and profusion of 
 sweets, and even bondage, which at a distance had 
 seemed so dark and threatening, lightened up as they 
 approached it, like the mist of their valley, and receded 
 from their view. 
 
 They passed a week at the plantation, from which all 
 traces of the arch-fiend Brainard were now removed, and 
 their respect and admiration for Moreland were height- 
 ened, when they saw him in his true position of planter 
 and master, and filling it with such dignity, firmness, 
 and humanity. Mr. Hastings acknowledged, that, if 
 all masters established as excellent regulations, and 
 
the planter's northern bride. 577 
 
 enforced them with the same kindness, wisdom, and 
 decision, the spirit of Abolitionism would die away for 
 want of fuel to feed its flames. He carried a memoran- 
 dum-book in his pocket, which he filled with notes, as 
 materials for a new course of lectures, with which he 
 intended to illuminate the prejudices of the Northern 
 people. He had relinquished the idea of the classical 
 school, believing that he would not be considered as 
 great a man at the South as in the little village of which 
 he had long been the intellectual autocrat. His son 
 Reuben was to remain as his representative, and among 
 his parting injunctions, while rubbing his hands with 
 serene self-complacency, he warned him from cultivating 
 an illiberal, narrow spirit, and bade him sustain his 
 father's reputation for candour and philanthropy. 
 
 Perhaps some young, romantic girl may ask, "Did 
 Ildegerte never marry again ?" Perhaps they may wish 
 that Dr. Darley were a young man for her sake, or that 
 he had not devoted himself with such matchless con- 
 stancy to the memory of his buried wife. It is certain, 
 that Ildegerte values his esteem and friendship now 
 more than the admiration of more youthful men ; but 
 the time may come when her blighted affections will 
 bloom afresh, and another fill the place of the departed 
 Richard. She is still young and very beautiful, a 
 charming representative of her native South, by the 
 side of the Northern Eula. 
 
 We are loth to leave her, our sweet " Northern bride/' 
 
578 the planter's northern bride. 
 
 now a wife and mother, far happier than the bride ; but, 
 committing her to the guardianship and kindness of a 
 generous public, we bid her farewell. 
 
 We know there are some who will throw aside these 
 pages, with the impression that they give false and ex- 
 aggerated views of Southern life ; but, with a conviction 
 that a God of truth beholds the lines traced by the hand 
 which He has formed, we give them to the world. We 
 have not gone groping in dark by-lanes and foul dens 
 for tales of horror, which might gratify a morbid and 
 perverted taste ; but we have described what we have 
 seen and known, without the intention of enhancing 
 what is fair or of softening what is repulsive. Wis be- 
 lieve the Southern character to be misunderstood, mis- 
 represented, and wronged, and that it is the duty of those 
 in whose minds this conviction is rooted, to vindicate it, 
 as far as their influence extends, from calumny and 
 animadversion. 
 
 Not merely in the expectation of honour or profit, 
 have we entered the lists as a champion of the South, 
 but from a motive which we glory in acknowledging. 
 We love it as the home of noble, generous hearts, of 
 ingenuous and lofty minds. We love the magnanimity 
 and chivalry of its sons, the pure and high-toned spirit 
 that animates its daughters. Shall we dwell in its beau- 
 tiful bowers and see the canker-worm eating into the 
 heart of its blossoms, without reaching out a hand to 
 rescue their bloom from the destroyer ? Shall we breathe 
 
THE PLANTER'S NORTHERN BRIDE. 579 
 
 its bland, delicious climate, and know that the noxious 
 miasma is rising and spreading, without endeavouring 
 to disperse its exhalations, or trying to counteract its 
 deadly influence ? We love the North — 
 
 Land of the wild and wintry blast, 
 Of spirits high and glowing, 
 
 of minds exalted and refined, of hearts steadfast and 
 true ; even its snows and icicles are dear to our bosom ; 
 but it needs no champion to assert its uninvaded rights. 
 Enthroned on its granite hills, it reigns in unmolested 
 grandeur and serene repose. No volcanic elements are 
 heaving under its wintry shroud, or threatening to lay 
 waste its summer bloom. But, should the burning lava 
 of anarchy and servile war roll over the plains of the 
 South, and bury, under its fiery waves, its social and 
 domestic institutions, it will not suffer alone. The North 
 and the South are branches of the same parent tree, and 
 the lightning bolt that shivers the one, must scorch and 
 wither the other. 
 
 TIIE END.