^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V // O A '^ o LO I.I 1.25 Litll 12.5 ^ U& 12.0 1.8 U 111.6 V] /') .^^? '>%^:? V 7 ^ -. CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Certains d6fauts susceptibles de nuire d la quality de la reproduction sont not6s ci-dessous. 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The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour 6tre reproduites en un seul clichA sont fiimdes i partir de i'angle supArieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la m6thode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ♦k. ROSE WOOD, OR, THE OCTOBOONl BRIDE. By JUAN FAIRWEATEER. Montreal : J. THEO. KOBINSON, Printbk. Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year ona thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine, by J. Theo. Kobinson, in the office of the Minister of Agriculture. DEDICATION. To my good, kind, inestimable Guardian, I dedicate this, my first work, with my love. CONTENTS. ■■;■',■ ' Page. ^Chapter I. — George 5 Chapter II. — " Eose Mount " House 11 Chapter III. — George Becomes a I*upil 15 Chapter IV.— Coming Home. 26 Chapter V. — Kuth's Discovery, and Rose's Peril... 31 Chapter VI. — Love's Young Dream. . . . , 38 Chapter VII. — The Gordons of Charleston 44 Chapter VIIL— " Until Death Us Part." 56 Chapter IX.— A Volunteer 64 Chapter X. — Lionel 73 Chapter XL— Adolph Struss, M.D 84 Chapter XIL— Eobert Gray 95 Chapter XIII. — Captain Stevenson 105 Chapter XIV. — Dr. Struss Soliloquizes, and Inter- views Mrs. Browne 116 Chapter XV— A Wasted Life 127 Chapter XVL— They All Sang " Annie Laurie."... 138 Chapter XVII. — A New Nurse at Richmond 148 Chapter XVIII.—" Somebody's Darling." ; 154 Chapter XIX. — A Deserted Home 161 Chapter XX.— " He Was My Father." 169 Chapter XXI. — Down by the Sea 178 Chapter XXII. — Joy Cometh with the Morrow.... 191 Chapter XXIIL- Twenty Years' Penal Servitude 196 Chapter XXIV.— The Cup Overflows 200 ROSE WOOD OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. CHAPTEK I. GEORGE. «( J beg pardon, but may I ask if you have lost any- J- thing r The speaker, a handsome octoroon of some seventeen summers, thus addressed a young girl two years his junior, one fair August morning, as\e observed her diligently in search of something in the long grass under a fragrant magnolia. Turning quickly upon him she answered, « Yes I a volume of poems, ' Tennysons,' given me on my last birthday by my father. I ha-^ it, together with some ot^^ers, and now discover that tuey, too, are gone. I am so distressed about It; I would not lose the book for anything. If you should find it please bring it here to me, as I shall re- main in the grounds until luncheon." He bowed in acquiesence and turned away. The young girl con- 6 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. tinned in her romp v ith a brace of greyhounds named "King" and "Queen," and a huge mastiff named "Sultan.'* In her arms, suspended high above her head, was a large snow-white cat which gloried in the unclassic name of " Teddy." Half terrified was he now, squirming p nd meowing from his perilous elevation ; the greyhounds were endeavoring in vain to reach the tip of his franti- cally whisking tail, but the leash binding them together rendered their bounds fruitless, so they worried and snapped at each other in seeming disgust at each unsuc- cessful attempt to secure the coveted prize. " Sultan," with his huge jaws wide apart, was intent also upon his mistress and her feline pet, and looking, should he attempt such a heinous act, capable of de- vouring both in one rapid gulp. Long and loud were the merry peals of laughter issuing forth from the young girl's lips until the welkin rang with its sonorous sound. The attention of all was now diverted by the appear- ance of the young octoroon. In his hands were two books, but neither of them upon examination proved to be the missing volume. " Why, neither of these are the poems," she said, adding, " you might have known them by the cover or title page." He looked abashed and then answered : "It might be printed in English or Greek, young miss, and I could not tell the difference ;" then with a long drawn sigh and half-averted face he said, " you forget, / can not read" Surprise and embarrassment mounted the young girl's face. She Jiad forgotten that so many of the slaves ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. were ignorant in tliis respect, and finally Iier eyes filled with tears and lier tender lieart throbed with pity, prompted thus by listening to this truthful, humiliating confession. However, making no comment upon it then, she said, with a faint touch of tenderness in her voice : " Then come, we will search for it together." On tfiey strayed throughout the extensive grounds, giving utterance to but few words, each absorbed iix their own peculiar way, she pitying him from the depths of her young heart and wondering why he appeared so different from the rest of the slaves. Could it be be- cause he was lighter in color ? or because his stalwart supple frame towered above any laboring form on the large plantation ? No ! there was something in the frank, open face that attracted and awakened her in- terest, but she had never noticed it before. He in turn drank in her glorious rich beauty and a pang of regret twitched at his heart, thinking of how he was denied the privilege of basking in its sweet power. This incident gave rise to a long train o^ thoughts in both young minds, thoughts that did not cease with that morning's adventure. The book at last was found, after they had passed and re passed it a number of times, and after being restored to its owner she was about to turn away when she reversed her course, and with a look of earnest resolve on her beautiful face, said : " George, would you like to learn to read ?'* Would he like to 1 It had been his one grief in his young life,realizing he was deprived of such an advantage. 8 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON's BRIDE. On the Sabbath all the slaves of St. Clare Wood'a plautation were allowed the privilege of attending divine worship at the little church in tlie small village of some fourteen miles distant, and none of that dusky group neglected such a golden opportunity, two in their turn remained at home in charge of the house- hold, but ever Sunday morning the plantation was well representev . and reverently and gratefully did each spirit join in worshipping and returning thanks to the good Creator. Often, as George had listened to the old minister standing before the Word of God, reading and expounding its glorious truths, he was nearly crazed with the desire lo be able to wander through its rich pages and ponder upon its marvelous promises. And now Eose Wood had asked him if he should like to realize his wildest dream. She was startled by the look of delight that shone from his handsome face, however he suppressed it, and answered calmly but with no little trace of joy in his deep mellow voice, " Yes ! I would more than like to. I would love to. I have craved every hour of my life, since I have realized my inability to be able to read God's Holy Book,"' Gladdened by the effect of her question, she said to- him : '* But it would require a great deal of study, patience and perseverance; it cannot be achieved in a few days, and besides, your labors might interfere. I know every minute of the day is monopolized with your duties around the plantation." " I know that," he answered, " but my master has never required me to work after sundown. I have my nights to myself. I do not know that I would be allowed ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 9 a light, but the moon often shines brightly, and nights it was brijihtest her beams would enable me to see sufficiently." Eose thought some moments and again said to him : " I know of a way by which you could be taught, but you must wait until I ba thought more about it. What would you do when there was no moon ?" "I would spend my time in reviewing what I had learned, and by so doing have it all thj more perfect." She looked at him steadfastly a moment more, and then collecting pets and books and bidding him come to her on the morrow when she would divulge her plan, turned and walked in the direction of the dwelling not far distant. George watched her until she disappeared, then, as he stood hat in hand, he raised his head to heaven, saying, " God, bless her, protect her and guide her always in Thine own paths." Five years before the transpiration of this garden scene, St. Clare Wood, the owner of this large cotton plantation in sunny South Carolina, attended a large slave sale in New Orleans, and purchased for an almost fabulous sum a quadroon woman and her son. Her lot in life had been a sad one. A wealthy planter had taken her from the labor field, and some time afterwards made her his lawful wife. He had never given her any freedom papers, not dreaming a day would ever come when such a thing would prove necessary. He, however, promised her that their last born and only living son would never fall into slave dealers hands, and would, in liis last wijl and testament acknowledge him to be law- fully born and legally his heir ; but he defered fulfilling 10 HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. it until it was too late. One day a body of men carried the heretofore hale and hearty planter to his home in an insensible state, rendered thus by a stroke of apoplexy, and a few hours afterwards all who looked upon the in- animate form of John Stevenson knew he was past fulfilling all earthly agreements. Creditors seized the estate, and Ruth, the slave wife and her boy were in- cluded ; they scoffed at the idea of her being a wife, and as the ceremony had been performed in another state by an officer of the law, the conclusions drawn were, that had ever such a being existed he was either out of office or dead. Slavery or death stared her in the face. She submit- ted to the former, cheered by the hope that she would not be harshly dealt with, and she mercifully fell into the ■ hands of her pre^juc owner, who, knowing all her sad history, spared nei . unnecessary pain and labor. Ever sin^e her ' ival at his plantation, a small cabin was assigned her s^me distance from the planters house,, and plain sewing, weaving, darning and such like duties were required of her. At present writing she was in her fortieth year. She had never acg^uainted George with any of her sad past,, nor allowed him to mention their former life, but he was twelve years of age when he left his Louisanian home, and knew at the time they had not been fairly dealt with. But some day, he argued, libei ty's banner would be un- furled in these states of bondage, and when slavery was ' abolis' ;ed he would make a place in the wo/ld for hiih- seit and a home fur his mothei, und endeavor to make ROSE WCrOD, OU THE OCTOPtOON S BRIDE. 11 some reparation to her for the cruel wrong done her by his negligent begetter. Bright had been his dreams but brighter were they that August night. Dream on young heart, dreams are the sweetest food to youths' susceptible mind. We all have them, and their rude awakenings too. . CHAPTER II. ROSE MOUNT HOUSE. IT stood to the right of the plantation, just where it commanded a good view of the sea, and was built after the fashion of all southern planters' homes. To omit a description of this grand old dwelling would be> in the writer's opinion, neglecting to give to the story a most interesting page. There are few mcjn or women grown to a mature age who do not like reading a description of a home ; and to those who read this tale, should any of them prove to be southerners, I could not dwell long enough upon a subject so dear at heart. In hours of retrospection, as *• Time's " fingers turn o'er memory's pages, disclosing to view scenes that were ne'er lo be again, is there a human heart palpitating in a human breast that does not bound rapturously as the leaves at last reveal the house where I loas horn ? Poets have rhymed it, sweetest songsters have sung it, clever authors have with rhetoric's flowers expatiated upon it, heaven-inspired artists portrayed it on cenvas, and yet there are volumes unsung, unwritten, unpainted untold. 12 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. " Eose Mount " was just the place to prompt one to ejaculate, " A dear old place to live and die in." It had but little pretentions to palatial grandeur, yet it looked, in its massive graystone structure, a house of which any one might be proud. The broad veranda that encircled its ample walls for two storeys was entirely hidden upon one side by honeysuckle vine and climbing wisteria— the former, with its spider- legged blossom, twining gracefully up its huge pillars; the latter, with itsstarry-eyed flower, stealing in and out wher- ever it could Gjain admittance, making redolent the air with its sweet perfume. The front of the house and the side that looked to the sea was covered with the famous climbing yellow rose. Its abundant growth obstructed from view, all but the long French windows, and looked as if it might some day with impulsive, strenuous effort, mount to the blue skies far above. Four large chimneys, looking like so many sentinels, with their strips of lightning-rod serving a . their bayonet pointed muskets, completed the outward view of the edifice. Behind lay the vast fields of cotton and vegetation, dotted here and there with negroes' cabins. In front, two long avenues led up to the entrance-door and broad stone steps, lined with magnolias, palmento, locust, and silver-leaved poplar trees. Tiny crystal fountains played, flowery mounds, luxuriant hedge, easy garden chairs, inviting hammocks, were distributed promiscuously throughout the space between. Twenty years previous to the opening of our story, St. Clare Wood brought to this terrestrial paradise his lovely Cuban bride. They revelled in love's blissful dream ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 13 — one brief year — then, at the dawn of one May morning, Eose Marie Wood's life ebbed out beyond recall, and her spirt winged its flight to a brighter sphere, where, we are taught to believe, tlie " wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.'' St, Clare Wood, though wifeless, was a father. A new life •came to brighten and bless in part his desolate home and sorrow-stricken heart. He had sometimes wished his child a son. True, he could have married again, and other little ones might have appeared and proved to be of the desired se. , but he, unlike most men thus situated, knew he could never again give to womjin all he had .given his dead Rose, so he spared some young life and unfettered heart a sad disappointment. To have brought to Rose Mount a new mistress, it would have been necessary, for her sole happiness and peacw of mind, to obliterate all traces of a former, to ensure her she was the one now, and indisputably ([ueen of all surround- ings. This St. Clare Wood could not do, so he thereby avoided doing to some woman a cruel wrong. Unless a woman is positive she holds a place equally as dear in her husband's heart, with no longings for nor compari- sons drawn to tlmt other one, her life is far from being unshine, despite his lavish attentions' and studied kind- nesses. The bereaved planter consoled himself with the thought that, if Providence spared his daughter, she would one day marry ; and when such a day arrived, in order that the race might be propagated and the name j)reserved, he- would give his consent to such a union, 14 KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. providing the fortunate suitor would renounce the cog- nomen of his forefathers and adopt that of Wood. For years the old house had stood unnamed owing to some eccentricity of his ancestors, but from the time St... Clare Wood had looked into his futuie wife's eloquent eyes and clasped her dear hand, henceforth to be his own for all time, and after time ceases to be, he re- solved to honour thi^ir future abode by giving it her name, and there it stood a living monument, and likely to for some time to come. In his library, over the large fire-place, hung her painted portrait, full-figure, disclosing to the admiring gaze of an observer a graceful woman — clad in raiment soft, white, and clinging, well becoming her Spanish beauty and symmetrical sweep of limb — in the act of descending broad low steps, in her arms carelessly clasping a huge bouquet of crimson roses. Unknown to the bearer, some of the luscious flowers had straved from their companions' embrace and dropped down to the spotless marble, and resting some of their curled crimson petals on the flowing white draperies. Its mas- sive gilded frame, designed by St. Clare Wood, was a complete master-piece of art. It was constructed of twigs of rosewood and artistically scattered roses. Never since the day it had been hung in the place pre- pared for it had he ever neglected to address to it his morning greetings and evening adieux. It was his shrine of prayer, his sanctuary of meditation. In hours of anguish, in moments of gladness, he found his way to her image and poured forth the tale of joy or woe. And there, too, little Eose was tau^^ht to lisp her infant's- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 15 prayer; and, as she grew from infancy to girlhood, she, like her father, carried all griefs and joys to that hal- lowed spot ; looking into the eyes, so like her own, she found for happiness an answer responsive, and for trouble a solace. After the death of her mother, a maiden sister of St. Clare Wood's came to take care of the motherless babe and try to comfort her brother in his bereavement. When Rose was about five years of age, the aged aunt's life too passed away beyond recall, so the rest of the little girl's days up to the present time were spent in a Louisianian convent, so hitherto her life had been calm as a summer stream. She had never dreamed nor pic- tured a mission in life ; but now school days were almost ended, and ere long she would soon be in full possession of the knowledge of what constitutes human joys and sorrows in this strange earth. OHAPTEK III. GEORGE BECOMES A PUPIL. ii PAPA, dear," said Rose, on the evening of the day in which she had had the book episode, as they sat together in their accustomed haunt. "Wouldn't it be .nice if some of our house slaves could read. I do not mean the older ones but if some or all of the younger ones were taught they could instruct their parents in a great many things of which they are ignorant, and em- ploy their Sunday afternoons in reading good religious works." f 16 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. " How many young ones are there ?" interrogated her amused parent. " Let me see," answered she. " Chloo has two small boys, besides Caroline the house maid, and A.be the house boy. Esther has two small girls, besides Sam your valet and Libby my maid, and," timidly, " Kuth has George.'' " Any more !" asked her father in the same tone of voice. >■:'■%■, J!- .;;,•■■''■■-:..■';■-■. '■^-■'^:r-': "Why ! that's only nine," she exclaimed. " And how does my little girl propose to execute this mode of education? Will she erect a school house and en- gage a tutor to instruct these unfortunate ignoramuses ? If so I do not propose to let her. No, my dear, they are very well as they are, don't worry yourself unnecessarily. Providence never intended the African to lead the land nor have equal rights with our race. The sons of Adam and Ham, remember, have been given different stations in life, and in my opinion they were never meant to mingle with iir pleasures and privileges." "But, papa, it is not necessary that they should plunge into classics, if such a time is destined to arrive it is far, far distant. Only think if they could enjoy the Sabbath by reading and teaching the Holy Scriptures; it would discipline their hearts, refine their minds, and more clearly lay open to them the divine way. God has graciously paved for all souls, and papa dear," growing more earnest, "they have souls bright and beautiful, as dear to God as yours or mine. It seems to me life would not be so dark to the poor creatures if they could read. Their words will sound just as sweet ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 17 to God from black lips as from those of lighter hue. Do, papa, let me commence. If you think the number just enumerated too many let me try with one. George seems intellectual and so eager too, to learn." Then she related the book scene; her lather listened on to the end without interruption, then indifferently ex- claimed, " Tut, tut, my child, drive such a fancy from your foolish little mind. This boy pleaded his cause well and excited your sympathies. Where are your dolls, your books, dogs, surely you have plenty to occupy your time without undertaking such a harrassiug task." Eose sighed and answered: "I know papa you have been kindness itself by lavishing up m me all these things, but I am alive with this new desire. Only let me try to teach Kuth's George, then when he becomes profi- cient let him instruct the rest." Creeping closer to him with her eyes turned full upon her mother's face, she said, " Some one, someone dear to us both up in heaven would be so glad her little daughter would be the cause of so much joy to the poor down-trodden race she learned to love so well during her short stay among them, for I believe from what old Esther has told me about her that she really loved and pitied all slaves, and did so many kind acts and gave them so many encouraging words to help alleviate their state of bondage. For her sake, papa, do let me begin in this new venture, her prayers will suppress any impatience that may arise upon my part, you know it only needs a beginning. I will not always give my time, only occasionally, to ex- plain. George is so different from the rest. I would never undertake to become tutoress to the field slaves, but I 18 HOSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE would he delighted to think they could listen to Bible readings Sunday afternoons and evenings." St. Clare Wood made no reply to this last argumen- tative entreaty, but closer he drew the young girl to his side and tenderly he stroked the glossy tresses ; long he looked into the tender eyes so long closed in death and they seemed to plead in the daughter's request, the sweet lips seemed to frame the words, " Our daughter has decided upon a good cause, consent to it, my hus- band, heaven and earth shall pne day bless her for it." And Eose had asked in that dead darling's name, had she been spared she would have undoubtedly succeeded in accomplishing this task, then let it be, and leaning- down and touching the fair wliite brow of their daughter, he said: " It shall be, my darli'% but do not overtask yourself, there must be system with it, everything must come in its time, ' all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' and now, dear, sing to me while I rest." Quickly she flew to do his bidding, crossing over to a corner of the room, drawing forth a large silver-mounted harp, sweeping her fingers over the stritigs she strayed into a plaintive minor key, singing to a low subbing accompaniment, Jean Ingelow's, "When Sparrows Build," On strayed the lingers, on warbled the sweet voice, until the large old room was made heavefuly with the low lulling music. Lower and lower sank St. Clare Wood's he.id upon his high heaving breast, so en- raptured was he with listening to the words of the poetess, the voice of his daughter, and melody of her mother's harp. And over and over he turned the ques- ion in his heart — ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 19 " Ls there never acbink in the world above, Where they list for words from below ? " Would he know her and love her again, when the grave gave up its dead ? Many a bereaved heart has asked that question before, and will again ; but never was the problem solved nor answer giv3D. until they too joined the " silent majority " and bright robed throng. At last the song was ended, the music ceased and father and daughter after exchanging affectionat^e good nights retired to their own apartments, each to ponder in their own way. Eose thought over the events of the day ; her father dreamed the hour he had awaited so long had come at last, and he was again with his long-lost love, " the love that loved him so." But two happy hearts sank into sleeps oblivion that night, two lives that were so strangely to become entangled with the other, knew their last night of unruffled repose. Morning dawned, and after breakfast Hose armed with the necessary fund of knowledge sauntered out to •seek her future pupil. George's duties thus far had been meted out as house gardener, and although the youth was ignorant of the sayings, doings, writings, discoveries, and ideas of grand, gifted, noble men and women, he had taught himself as far as lay within his reach the glories and habits of mother earth's offsprings. Not only did the knowledge embrace choicest flowers, it extended outside of high ■■ cultivation, to the spontaneous growth of lowliest field weed, simple flower or poisonous vine. Whenever he could snatch time he wandered afar into wood land ..and o'er plain, digging and delving for new subjects 20 KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. closely following in their wake, giving unto each a sufficient length of time to enable him to discern the veri- est flaw or mightiest beauty. Much yet he knew was to be learned, but he never wearied in his pursuit. Time and patience was his motto. To his mother alone he un- bosomed discoveries and explorations, and she listened with fond maternal pride and interest to his explanations aud crude analysis. As Kose now observed him, some little distance from where she stood, he was busily engaged in trimming a huge luxuriant hydrangea. She thought what a rare specimen of manhood he was, his six feet of stature, deep chested, broad shouldered, smooth limbed figure, looked as thoUj^h it might become a more elevating and fitting position than that of a gardener. An eminent divine and noted statesman, something famous or re- nowned that Apollo-like lad looked destined to be. He, warned by that intuitive instinct which tells us we are being looked at, intently raised his eyes and saw her watching him ; but not until a signal from her, per- mitting him to do so, did he approach her. Advancing toward and meeting him, she bade him " good morning," and said :— " You doubtless would like to hear the plan I spoke of to you yesterday. I have it all arranged for you to receive lessons from me ; to teach you to read. Come to the place 1 have selected, there we will be undisturbed, and I will tell you all about it." He in obedience toj^her command, tossed aside his garden tools and followed her, as she led the way to an ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOUOON'S BRIDE. 21 unused summer house, which faced the sea, but was yet in view of the dwelling. Seating herself in front of |i small table, she pointed him to a seat opposite. Divesting himself of his straw hat he obeyed, and she looking ii.to his frank, hand- some face, said : — " I feel as though I owe you an apology for not having thought of this before ; but it is by no means too late, so the sooner we begin the better.'* She explained to him the assistance she was to give to him, all she in turn required of him, and by and by what she trusted he would prove to be. rroilucing a small primer she said: "Now for our first lesson. We begin here at the alphabet, you must say after me, watching the place where I point. A, B, C." Over and over they read it together, he with cheeks glowing in excitement and his warm brown eyes drink- ing in the white page and black characters. Backwards she went, skipping about to make sure he understood, and was not merely repeating it in parrot fashion. At the close of an hour the lesson was ended, and the alphabet learned. He was profuse in his thanks, but she said without much noticing it : " So far, so good, to-morrow we will recite it again, and then turn to a new page. Study well to-night, both the large and small alphabet, and if you know it perfectly without a single mistake, we will, as I said before, try a new page, and maybe learn some words." " Sha^l I come at the same hour ? " he asked. '• Yes," she answered. • " I ask of you an hour every day, and think we had better decide upon the morning. 22 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOHOON'S BRIDE. iii In a little while when we are further advanced, twice or three times a week will do." She avoided using you, and said we instead, thinking it sounded less personal. As he turned to go, she said : " Please bring me my dogs and cat, then you may resume your duties." While absent to fulfill this errand she thought it all over. She was so pleased her father had taken sides with her, enabling her to make this young lad an instrument of goodly benefit to his benighted race, and how her heart swelled alternately with joy and pity. How his deep toned voice faltered, how his cheek blanched white, when miscalling a letter, or grew crim- son when she had said, " That's right " how the muscles of his firm mouth twitched and nostrils quivered with suppressed emotion, how handsome he looked, his coarse white linen shirt, with its wide rolling collar turned away from his smooth olive neck and strong throat, his glossy mass of curls carelessly straying ov.ir his classic head. Now again he appeared with the mastiff grey hounds, the white cat, and added to the list a Yorkshire terrier — " Mignon " she had named it. Its silvery fluff was the pride of its mistress and marvel of all beholders; its tiny paws trotted nimbly over the gravel walk into the summer house, bounding into Kose's lap, jumping over her breast and shoulders, licking her scarlet lips, and creating great havoc with the tastefully arranged hair and soft neck lingerie. " Oh 1 Mignon," she cried, chidingly, ** how very boisterous you are sometimes. There, there, down, down.'' HOSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOUOOX'S BRIDE, 23 The eiiil of its silver collai had luifortuiiatly caught «oine of the white tender tiesh of her arm, and Iq trying to disen;,'a.L»e its grasp it liad bruised and rent her slender wrist. The tiny stream ot* blood trickling djwn -caused Rose to look slightly alarmed. George, watch- ing the whole proceeding, seized her delicate cambric handkerchief, and tearing it into strips, bound up the small wounds. How the touch of her warm flesh sent all his pulses astray and astart throughout his strong frame. Blusliingly Hose tendered her thanks replying to his anxious inquiries that it would prove trivial, and perhaps on the morrow would have entirely dis- appeared. JJuring the remainder of that summer the lessons continued, and George made such rapid process, that by the end of September the primer was laid aside for a reader. One bright October morning Rose was summoned to her fathers study, " Rose " said he, " I have noticed of late tliat you are paler and thinner than usual; your appetite, two, 1 notice has failed you. This is a sad state to leave home and recommence school again. I am in receipt of a letter from the Mother Superioress, sayiuj that they are daily expecting you, but I can not see my little girl going from me in such a reduced state of health What is it my child ? Perhaps you need more congenial companions than your old father and your dumb pets." " Indeed ^ apa," answered she, you are distressing yourstdf unnecessarily, I am suffering from no bodily ailment ; bat this I will confess, I do not see how I can ■ 24 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDES give up my life here now, and again resume the- restraint of the convent, and you need me, papa, more each year, my companionship is neccessary for you now. Besides, do you not think ten years schooling a sufficiently long time for any girl ? But if you insist I shall not rebel, I will do just what you think best." . . For an instant St Clare Wood paused before answer- ing, half tempted to yield to this faint entreaty ; but, upon reconsidering it was not best to humor young girls too often, he said : " Then, my dear, if you wish to please me, yon will return and finish this year. Fifteen is too young to leave school : and, even so, I could not ask } ou to re- main here in seclusion until the time of your dehut in society. Go, my dear, and upon your return we will fill the house with guests and companions more con- vivial than an old man and dogs." So the issue of this interview was, that one bright October morning, Rose bade farewell to the old planta- tion and all its inmates, to return the following Ju»\ . The night previous to her departure, she sought George and acquainted him with the fact, bidding him employ well his time during her absence, and inform her of his success through her father. It was well for Rose she had chosen night for this disclosure, or else the grief the young octoroon endured at this separation would have been too plainly seen by the young girl. She knew he would be sorry to lose his teacher, and in this, too, she shared his grief ; but that her absence would affect him otherwise, never for an instant crossed her mind. As she lingered at his side,. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 25 listening to his heavy breathing — heavy from the dull pain in his heart — and tracing his stalwart figure in the gathering gloom, she wondered at the strange feeling of desolation creeping over her. Could it be that the young man at her side influenced her aversion to going away ? Reluctantly she withdrew the hand extended to meet his parting clasp ; but when he, emboldened by his great love for her, and sorrow from knowing the morrow would tear her away from' him again, seized it and im- printed upon its rosy palm a burning kiss, then vanished into the foliage and gathering darkness, it dawned upon her for the first time — the cause of the despoidency and unwillingness to leave home — she stood transfixed to the spot. Was she dreaming, or deluded ? She looked at the hand thus carressed, and the sting of the pas- sionate kiss burned with leaden fire. Covering her face with her hands, she sank to the earth. She knew it all now. Stern reality heaped it upon her. " Oh ! George, George 1" she moaned wildly ; " I know now what makes it so hard to go away." Laden with confusion, she sought the privacy of her own room, and, throwing herself down upon her couch, sobbed long into the night, and hardly knew for what. Next morning the household assembled to see the young mistress off, and as she descended into the large hall she saw they were all there but George. St. Clare Wood, too, noted his absence, but not speaking of it then, failed to do so afterwards. But the day came when he thought more, and understood why. Tiry" 26 EOSE AVOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. A t-<'<' t '''■ CHAPTER IV. COMING HOME. NIGHT'S veil had crept stealthily over the pic- turesque State of South Carolina. A warm July- breeze was astir, that together was balmy and invigorat- ing. The latter charm had been lent it by the storm that had spent itself some two hours previous, down- ward in its course to flowery Florida and other sister- States. The wild elements, that had swept themselves with frantic fury and owl-like wails, were now lulled into a tranquil calm, such as the raving sufferer experi- ences after weeks of mad delirium. ^ ^ The heavens, that seemed to have wept themselves into a state of utter exhaustion, were now transformed into a vast canopy of dark-blue velvet, pinned into its place by twinkling stars, studdied unsystematically on its boundless expanse, and appearing as so many little fairy lights, to guide fair Luna unmolested upon the path assigned her, until " Old Sol," king of the firmament, would peep up over the eastern horizon, nodding and smilingly announce to all who beheld him that another great day had been born — ^,just in time to nod his adieu x to his pale sister, hurrying out of sight with her retinue of trembling attendants. This evening, more especially, did the far-famed plan- tation of St. Clare Wood appear fairer than ever. The house was a- blaze willi lights, n\ hich must have appeared ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 27 to those out on the now restful sea — calmed from its tetnpestuous fury into a fretful sobbing, like a tired child upon its mother's breast — as a beacon-light, and sweet reminder that terra flrma and home were not far away. The fair fertile lands were showing forth their grate- ful praise and thanks for the refreshing draught so eagerly gasped for from nature's founts, by wafting 3ver and anon sweetest breaths of mother earth's fairest flowers. Ever and abundant were the sounds of joyous praise sent forth from every bough and branch, every spray and twig ; the night bird's plaintive chant sounded less weird, the sweet-throated mocking-bird trilled sweeter songs than ever ; and from syringa bush, mag- nolia bough, honeysuckle vine, and geranium hedge oozed forth odours that seemed to have been swept afar from the bowery portals of Fairyland. • . .,• And to this scene of heavenly serene beauty a mortal queen was soon to arrive in its midst. That night, two hours hence, came to the old plantation Kose Wood from school. She had acquitted herself with highest honors, and informed her doting parent she would arrive home upon that July evening, and then he alter- nately paced and stood upon the broad veranda, waiting and longing to clasp the pride of his oM age and love of his heart to his bosom once more. Although the even- ing train did not arrive in the small village of • until half -past six, old Sambo, the coachman, together with Esther, the house-keeper, had been despatched as early as noon-day to convey their young mistress home. After a brisk drive of fourteen miles was reached, and durin-j: the hours that intervened the time was 28 ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCIOROON'S BRIDE. spent by Sambo in speculating upon the change in " young inissie," and by Esther in arranging and re- arranging the wraps and rugs brought to protect the 'delicate Southern beauty from the chilling sea air and misty (lew. Promptly at half-past six the iron steed, ^with its labored breathing, ponderous cLimboring on 'its steel path, shrill-toned whistle, echoing from its iron throat, dashed up before the village station, halted for a few minutes, deposited its freight, then dashed off again thundering in its exit. The faithfid old slaves were soon awarded tlie sight of their loved joung mistress. She greeted them with sweetest smiles to Sauibo, and a warm kiss on Esther's •ebon cheek. Lovingly and long lingered Esther's hands, when tucking in the wraps round the slender figure and pinning the shawl about the graceful shoulders. Old Sambo, too, lingered long, now whisking an imaginary fly off " Sunrise's" ear, and brushing again and again the carefully groomed mane of " Sunset," but at last, at an eager signal from Rose to be away, he sprang into his seat, picked up the reins, and turned the horses' heads homeward. An hour and a half's brisk drive brought them safely to the left entrance gate, and never before had that chestnut pair mounted up the long avenue so anxiously and carefully. Instinct seemed to have warned the sa- gacious animals to be more fleet-footed and use all pre- caution agninst anything befalling their precious burden. The tall palmento and locust trees, too, seemed aware some one unusually dear was passing beneath their stately boughs, and they waved and swayed an almost ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 29 frenzied welcome as if responsive to the joy in the young girl's heart. The gradual ascent came to an abrupt stop, the avenue was ended, and Rose Wood sprang from the carriage, bounded the broad steps into her father's embrace, each in their turn smotherin'j;' each other with words of greeting and endearment. An hour later Rose joined her father in the spacious dining-room to partake of the tempting supper planned b}^ Esther, cookid by Aunt Chloe. and served by Ike, the butler, Esther's better half. As father and daughter seated themselves to quell the cravings of the inner man let us with the fond parent note the change a few months has made in his fair dau2;hter. No artists pencil nor brush could portray to my readers imagination the herione of my tale. I might rake from the vocabulary of our well stocked language, rethorics fairest flowers, and endeavor to give a vague sketch of this glorious creature, but my efforts and pen would prove an ignominous failure, words would be inadequate. An exquisitely sculptured Venus, •converted into flesh and blood, compared to her could not more than give her that justice due to her. A little above the medium height, crowned by a head haughty and graceful in its pose, a head upon which any crown, whether from richest woodland woven by fairy fingers, or from king's court studded with priceless, matchless gems, would have felt honored resting thereon. Her hair, Natures own crown, was of that darkness known chiefly to the ravens wing, had just the faintest inclination to ripple as the swift running brook stirred by summers gentlest zephars. The tiny love locks that m :JJJi'. 30 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. escaped from the c.'iled mass of satin braids, strayed upon neck and temple, now licking the alabastar ear and chasing each other in elfish play upon the blue veined temples and marble brow. The eyebrows, natures pencil lingered no short time there, delicate in their start, swelling into the faintest arch, then stealing away meeting in their course the throbbing pulses above the ivory tinted cheek. . . ■ The eyes ! how can I describe them. Let me not try too hard, suffice it to say that never before had a spirits sanctuary dwelt within, nor souls window beamed forth from such unfathomable depths. Looking into their liquid lakes one lost themselves in their sweet power, eyes that bespoke all that could be hidden inner- most in a wildly loving woman's heart, eyes that in turn could flash forth bitterest scorn and hatred, sorrow deep and keen as a doleful faced Madona, or love pure and blessed as ant^fel's above. The jetty fringes fell from their waxen lids, kissing the pale cheek, and then though guilty of some rude act, timidly curled away. The nose acquline and clear cut, with its delicate nostrils above the imperial mouth, with its Cupids bow well arched turning mischievously away at the corners though as ta avoid the full under lip with its lines of calm pride and lurking traces of firm resolute will. A sweet oval chin unmarred by dimple half concealed the beautiful throat which lost itself upon the tender voluptuous bosom. The dainty waist from which her garments fell in soft clinging folds about her symetrically curved, smooth lined limbs. The shoulders and arms ! what sculptor could have chiseled more perfect ones than these ? The- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 31 hands ! the severest critic could not have found a flaw, in their tapering fingers and rosy pahns. This was the 1 picture the father devoureil, as she sat opposite him, tell* ing him over and over again how glad she was to be with Ihim again, to leave him no more. St. Clare Wood could [hardly credit that a few months would produce such a bransformation. This then was his daughter, the counter- )art of his dead wife, and he had never been awakened bo the fact before, that she was beautiful. Her name [was that of the queen flower in all earth's garden, she surely was the queen woman of all her gentle sex. ■ CHAPTEE V. ' ruth's discovery and ROSE'S PERIL. ^"' ■ ONE morning shortly after Rose's arrival, she de. scended the front steps equipped for riding, and I none would have recognized her now as the pale-faced, I sorrowful-eyed girl who had wept herself nearly blind [upon her father's breast on that October morning when [she left for Louisanna, 0)ie of the stableboys now ap- jproached leading a superb black mare, one of old Ken- [tucky's far-famed p?:oductions. What a magnificent animal she was, a perfect picture, Rose thought, looking [at her. The horse was one of her fathers gifts since her return. Advancing, she threw her arms around the proudly arched neck. 32 ROSE WOOD, 0]{ THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. Oh, Clio ! " she said, '• what a darling you are, and won't we have jolly times exploring this delightful val- ley together." ' " : The horse's mild brown eye looked knowingly into the girl's lovely smiling face and she rubbed her velvet nose on her shoulder, at the same time pawing the ground as if impatient for her mistress to mount and be off. Lightly she sprang into the saddle and turning the ►mare*s head seaward started off. Briskly they cantered away, Kose sitting her saddle with that grace habitual to a southern girl. An English girl may ride well, but the manner in which a southern girl sits her seat, cannot be surpassed. Eose had seen but little of Georcje since her return. She had from time to time heard of him through her father of his progress. He was now able to write a good hand. St. Clare Wood had furnished him copies, and it was wonderful the characteristic manner in which his writing had developed. Several times when JRnih had been collecting up his materials she was startled at finding what she, by this time, knew to be .the name of her young mistress, written over many pages of his scribbling book. George now comforted the labor slaves with readings from the bible, and had organized a small school for the growing-up generation. Kuth had not as yet made known to her son she had discovered his >/ell guarded secret, but nightly she prayed to her God to spare him from any further de- velopments of this soul consuming passion. She knew ^the fruits of such an entanglement. Had she not drank its bitter dregs from her overflowing cup ? Had not her ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BlilDE. 33r son's birthright been scored at ? Had he not been de- frauded of all birth entitled him to but his very breath ? [Whether the young girl had reciprocated this love was las yet unknown to her, but ratlier than slie should, she would have seen her boy plunged down de<-p into the [sea's pitiless depths. She dre ided the anguish such an dliance would involve, but not until she saw some proof" )f tliis all-absorbing fear would she lend her assistance io demolish it. Little did she realize love's powerful 3wav when two such natures were 'neath its maddenini*' influence. Rose had ridden far out of the line of the house, and as about to enter a thick woo'l when a figure with light footsteps bounded out and seized her horse's [ridle. She suppressed the scream that rose to her lips- id took a good view of her assailant. It proved to be short, heavy set negro, with arms and legs muscled . ke an ancient Hercules. His feet were bare and. [ceding, his garments were past being called such,, ley scarcely held together so ragged and jagged were ley. His bullet-shaped head, with its bumps of com-- Ltiveness and cruelty plainly discernable was hatless, . is thick coarse wool matted and grass tangled ; his Lce struck terror into the young girl's heart, with its [ering eyes and heavy sensual mouth, it looked like ^nething born and sent from the Satanical regions, one hand he held the bridle, in the other was clasped [huge thorny stick. Rose grasped at the situation in instant. Here was some fugitive negro from some [antation who had, broken from the oppressor's chain, id was endeavoring to rea ' freedom's soil. 1 1 ' fl 24 ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROO^"S BRIDE. ii ) I lllli! ffli Furitively she glanced around, a mile and a half from home and no living l)eing in sight from which she might implore aid, but nerving herself she asked, calmly : "Well, what do you intend to do next ?" " I cannot linger here much longer, neither can you, if I judge your predicament aright." The brute responded. " I wants dis 'ere boss, and if you have any chink about you I'll hab dat too ; if you haint, why some of dose pretty trinkets in your ears and on your neck will do. I wants to make Vargine to-night an' Ohio by de end ob de week. I'se trabbled until I'se aching in ebery bone clar from Charleston on foot, and I'll defy all de bloodhounds in de Souf before I gibes up in my plan. Arthur Gordon last week sold my Lizzie, and I'll die before I goes back again to him. Hurry up, y- ing missie, I'se no time to loose." Rose looked him full in the eye and answered firmly : "I understand full well your object in attacking me, and if I refuse to comply to your re(|uest it means rough treatment from your hands, may be death. But / do refuse. Mr. Gordon has never been a hard master. I am aware he sold Lizzie, I also kn(jw what iox ; you forget her diabolical temper and the way in which she mutilated all that came in her way when giving vent to it. His patience, I presume, at last, became exhausted, for twelve years he has borne with.it. Alter a certain length of time patience ceases to be a grace. I will aid you in no way to escape, but will help you to return and do all in my power to save you any severe punish- ment. But nothing would induce me to assist a slave ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 35 ing V. I you she eiit to usted, rtaiii t will eturn unish- slave to leave his master unless to spare him cruel treat- ment. I know how angry my father would be should any from his plantation be aided in such a matter, and unless you consent to my terms I will ride back and inform upon you, and my father's bloodhounds will not spare you." Swinging himself around to her side he raised his thorny stick and dealt her a heavy blow upon her tender neck and shoulder. Seeino: he had missed his aim he was about to repeat the outrage, when he espied the figure of a man running rapidly towards them. " George," shrieked Rose, " Save me from this mon- ster." Another blow from the merciless wretch brought her down from the saddle to the ground, and he was about to mount the mare when a corresponding one from George, who had at this time reached the scene, felled him to the ground with a loud groan. Gathering Rose in his arms he hastened down to the banks of a little inlet from the sea. Seeing she was in a state of insensibility he deluged her face with water brought in his hat. Fearing she was killed he bent low over her lifeless looking form. Was this death ? " My darling," he pleaded, " look at me — speak to me, Oh, heaven ! say you are not dead," at the same time covering her pale face with kisses, and showering upon her deaf ears endearing names. Long he waited 'ere she showed signs of returning life ; and when she at last stirred and opened her eyes, she buried her bruised ach- ing head on his shoulder, throwing her arms around his neck, sobbed long and hysterically. George awaited in silence until she had regained composure ; then, releas- L ■V 86 TtOSE AVOOD, OK THE OCTOROONS niJIDE. 3 Mi,:! ! I mtm, mm- im m III ing herself from his unwilling embrace, she stood upon her feet, sayinL> : " How ca7i 1 thank you ? How shall my father ever repay you ? And that unfortunate wretch, where is he ?" she asked, looking back upon the scene where a crime had so nearly been enacted. '* Oh !" she cried, seeing his prostrate tigure stretched upon the ground, " I hope you hiivii not killed him," and she started to go forward to ascertain his injuries, when Georgv, seized her again in his arms, sweeping h*>r off her feet to his strong breast, saying : "No, no ! darling! you must not look upon his \ile face again. What should I have done had he killed you ? Hose ! Kose 1 you know not how dear you are to me. Look at me, love, and say you are not angry at the passionate words this outrage has drawn forth." Kose looked gratefully and lovingly into his face. *' No, George, I am not displeased ; but find Clio — I must go home — I feel quite ill." He folded her closer to him, and bending down, their lips met in a long lingering kiss. ;, The mare had strayed some little distance in the excitement, and by the time George had secured her, and led her to where Hose stood, pale and weak, she submitted willingly to be lifted by him into the saddle, which he did with tenderest care, and walked by her side, holding aer hand all the way home. That evening, Kose related to her father, as he went her room to learn the cause of her absence from dinner,, all that had transpired with the savage negro. He charged her never to again venture out without an escort 8e( he sin] tani Bol ROSB WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S imiDE. 37 of some kind ; and before the interview ended Georf,'e was appointed groom to the planter's daui^hter. A loud peal at the door caused the footman to nearly collapse, and when, upon opening- it, he discovered a posse oi men, one endeavouring to control a brace of vicious looking blood-hounds, " We are looking for a ^-un-away nigger," said the leader. " We heard of him at the last plantation. Tie was seen skulking about there last night, so he can not have got. t'uither thiin the end of this one. We have come to ask permission of St. Clare Wood to turn the hounds loose on the scent." St. Clare Wood now appeared upon the scene, and willingly gave leave to have the plantation searched oil'enng hi-? hounds to aid in the chase. He also related the perilous position in which his daughter was placed that morning, which so enraged the searchers that I fear the negro would have been harshly dealt with, had not liose rushed upon the scene and softened the hearts of the angry men by her intercession to spare the fugi- tive any severe punishment. They promised, if he proved manageable, to be lenient ; then started in pursuit, Eose and her father accompanying them in a carriage to where George had left him lying upon the field. They found the miserable wretch not far distant, secreted in a clump of drift-wood, and only too glad was he to return to his master's plantation. The thoughts of a good bed and good food — comforts he had not known since his flight — indt ^ed him to with-hold any resis- tance. He was wholly overcome when he learned Iiow Kose had begged him off the punishment generally given 3 {.' iiiliiii 38 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. -• t . . . ■ ' .' ■ to a run-away, and swore a solemn oath to some day *' do her a good turn." CHAPTEK VI. LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. IT was many days ere Eose ventured out of her room. The effects of the cruel blows from the desperate negro rendered her unable to make her appearance until tney had disappeared. The next time she indulged in a ride the new groom escorted her, as did also the mastiff : " The day G.eorge so providentially rushed to her rescue he had been out on his floral expedition. Kose had dis- covered this taste, and resolved in aiding him all that lay in her power ; and once, when upon a visit to Charleston, purchased certain botanical works that enabled him to see clearly what could be gained by hard study and perseverance. He now adopted his new course of study, and often, in their rides together, they dismounted and searched, dissected and argued upon plants, shrubs, and vines. They learned more than one lesson, too. The lesson, reader, you and I, being only mortal, gloried in, wept over, and suffered for. Slowly but surely they weaved a web around their lives and became tangled in its meshes, that would oost more than one human being its happiness in trying to rend it asunder. Kose had long since closed her eyes to the differences in their spheres. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 39 She saw George as he was visible to Heaven and its court — high-minded, good, gifted, and praise-worthy. His sterling qualities as a man were not to be denied nor sneered at. He came into the young girl's life, as many men have before to other youthful hearts, and brightened its solitude, filling her soul with purest and dearest thoughts. She had learned the story of his birth and its shadow, and comforted him much by not giving an atom of credence, and telling him a day would come when with- out doubt it would be lifted. She drew high-colored pictures of when they would take a position in the world together before all mankind, and neither would blush nor cast back bitter regrets. Little she knew this uncharitable planet of ours. Oh ! this youth of ours, more's the pity of it when the vorld rudely snatches away the inpenetrable veil. What a delightful, un- marred existence for suffering, disappointed humanity, could it but last. She prided herself in being the fortunate possessor of this young lad's love, his integrity, his nobility of character. His ambition to reach the goal he had mapped out for himself; his diligent, never-swerving perseverance in his studies, had caused to spring up in the young girl's heart admiration, esteem, and love^ that time nor circumstance could never erase. True, he never forgot for a moment his position of bondage and subordination ; but she forgot it, and abandoned herself to castle-building and its delusive draught. Brighter and higher built she thes.e mythical stractui'es, bathing their turreted battlements in high- I " ^1 r 40 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. ^t'..: I crested waves of imagination. Little dreamed she, in the illuminated hour of the day, when they were bom- barded by stern realities, of the mighty debris shattering around her oceans of inconsolable woe, then bitterly rue the inebriating moments of love's brief day. Love is a patient, sure, rapid, sometimes a cruel teacher, and remorseless of his extravagant cost. Madly yet blindingly the young lives drifted down his non- retrograde stream, seeing not reflected upon his calm bosom the depth of his unfathomable channel, seductive power, nor dangerous breath. %., ; ; i During one of these rambles Eose had told George of a ball to be given the following week, in which she was to be introduced upon life's frivolous wave — society. " George," she had said, " Papa gives me my first ball next week. Think of all that means to me, there will be music, dress, and people I so long to see and hear. I am really, at last, to gain a glimpse of the wide world. Do you know I have been thinking of late I should like to meet with some one who will differ with me in taste and opinion, as yet everything and everyone has co- incided with my views. I wonder how it will seem to be crossed and contradicted ? It will not anger me, I think I will only laugh and think it capital sport, I will have my private thoughts just the same." Seeing he made no answer, she said ; " I thought 3^ou would be glad with me, George, we will have something different to talk about, I can tell you all I" see and hear and we can laugh together about it," ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON.S BRIDE. 41 George sighed audibly and looked vacantly out upon the sea, at lenojth he said bitterly : "I knew this would one day come and I have dreaded it ; you will in a month's time have changed your ideas about everything — everything Eose, even me." " You cruel, silly boy, such an absurd speech, it is very unfair to give words to such thoughts, I would not do it of you, George," said Kose, reproachfully looking into his face. . ; , • ^^ Bearing his head he said, with much contrition in his voice : ■ • ;- ,". ..;-.■ ■'•■,.■ ■ .■; - ■ ** Forgive me. Miss Wood, I foolishly thought aloud, what right have I to give utterance to aught that may cause me painful thoughts ? I who look upon my very existence as a curse. I who cannot lay claims to any of this earth's good things, pleasure, liberty, nor a name. I am not entitled to dreams of a future. I should live my poor life as my sorrowing wronged mother has tried to teach me as a blank. Forgive me, punish me as I deserve, I acted upon rash impulse, but the sun is only J an hour high and we are miles from your father's house; my master will doubtless be anxious about you." Rose sat immovable, the color swiftly coming and going in her cheek, her eyes down cast. " George," she at last said, stretching forth her hand, " Gome near to me, nearer yet, close to me, where I can see your face and look into your eyes. George, for your own sake, it grieves me to hear you giving utterance to •such abuse against yourself. Of the stain you imagiae upon your birth I have tried to assure you will one day foe arighted. Of your subordination you are no different ' {.. ';■. f 42 EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROOKS BRIDE. to any one of US in this land, no matter how we are- situated we are all subject to a master, we all bend before some iron will. Out in the world you will meet with many masters before you meet a kinder one than my father ; none from the lowliest upon this plantation can ever have, any cause tp do aught but bless him. As for liberty, our President enjoys less than you. Do not be so easily cast down and loose heart so readily. You aspire to becoming a botanist or taxidermist, strive to be one or both, a man can not achieve to much good or gain the world's praise, and God's reward, without more or less straggle. You have been placed here for something, and God has been very good to you ; He has endowed you with talents and graces which you must cultivate and use well, for some day you will have them all to answer for. . _ ., " Young as I am, I know we are all tried in the crucible, the greater the struggle, the greater the reward. No miner ever found gold nor jewels without days and nights of hard labor with pick-axe and shovel. The grandest poet learned his alphabet, the famous musician his scales, the renowned soldier faced the cannons mouth and battled with the perils of plain and desert ere he was given honors, the saint suffered a martyra death ere awarded heaven's glorious crown. With God's grace, your own prayers, and my love, you have every inducement to win your laurels. " My love you have never asked for, I have given it freely, and would give as much again, and deem it as naught, to see you all I know you can with time- and perse verence prove yourself to be. My heart, my ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 4a 'life and ray wholly undivided love is yours henceforth for all time and eternity, time, world, nor man cannot change me.",, , . ,,. The sinking sun sank lower and lower until it finally disappeared, and its long rays painted the western horizon with their roseate and golden hues. They sought the sandy beach, whereupon the child lovers stood clasped hand in hand, heart to heart, pledging vows of eternal devotion and fidelity. The tide of the blue sea was ebbing, and nights lanterns began to dot heaven's carpet, both warning the young couple they must hasten home or excite anxiety at their long absence. Silently they rode home side by side giving word to naught but some casual remark upon some little shrub or night birds song. As Rose was bidding (leorge an affectionate good night, she again spoke words of encouragement. " Remember, my dear boy, anything worth having we are taught is not gained without hard, earnest endeavors. You want freedom, a place in the world, a name, a life* long companion, fight for them, and they all will be yours eventually." He folded her close in his arms once more, and she felt that in his strong embrace she could rest for aye Reverently George thanked God for sending to him such a consoling angel, together with her priceless love> for he really believed God had sanctioned their union' now only known to them. Dinner was awaiting Rose, and hastily she changed her habit for a dress of white serge made without drapery and low in the neck, ' the sleeves just covering the I 44 EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. v:, ;!" '■ THE GORDONS OF CHARLESTON. ^^ ;' : ' ON" the outskirts of that fair city stood a large brick mansion surrounded by luxuriant foliage, and a few acres of ground which were now in the highest state of cultivation. Arthur Gordon a wealthy coffee planter and orange grower had been in his youth a school companion of St. Clare Woods, and now at periods during the year they •exchanged visits. He too had suffered the loss of a much beloved wife, leaving behind a son and a daughter ; the latter had married and gone north some years ago, but Gerald, his oldest child, had up to the present time, escaped ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 45 the matrimonial yoke and passed most of his time upon the continent. He paid flying visits to his father, but was always so impatient to be away again, that he had but little of his companionship. He was now at home, and this morning?, in the August of 1861, as father and son sat at their breakfast the elder gentleman apprised that young man of the fact, that he was in receipt of an invitation from his old friend to spend a few weeks in gaiety. " Of course you will accompany me," he added, " and by the way, he has a daughter who must be quite an age now. L-^t me see — sixteen or seventeen, perhaps our visit may prove quite interesting to you, however, don't tear her away too soon from her fond father." " And how about my fond father ? Would he not grieve to lose his son ? It would make a great differ- ence I know, for I have devoted my life to you with such stay-at-home fervor," rather shamefully spoke the young man. " I really believe I would see more of you than I do ; but don't jest my dear boy, you cannot expect to avoid "Cupid's dart much longer, and I would not be afraid to wager he'll shoot his first shaft at Rose Mount," taunt- ingly spoke the father. " Rose Mount is a fine place, and if I am not mis- taken Rose Wood is a fine sjirl. Her mother was as lovely a Cuban beauty as ever sailed this side of her Ouban home, and, if I remember aright, the girl gave promise of looking exactly like her. I suppose you are a'vare of the condition upon which her father gives her up?" i , 1 I j ■ ^ q: i ;* . ,« ^ i < k'M Lj 46 KOSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. " Yes," answered Gerald, " I have heard of it — rather a queer freak. In England it happens occasionally, but over here in our land he will be considered somewhat of a crank. Let me see — Wood, Gordon — two letters les& to write. And how would * Gerald Wood ' sound ? Very nice, indeed — ratlier prettier than ' Rose Gordon.' Well ! if that's the only sacrifice I must make to win this young lady, after I have had a good look at her I'll think it over, and let you know whether or no you win your wager. How much did you make it? Don't remember ? Oh, well, never mind ; I know you like to- be on the safe side. But when do we start ?" . .. The father paused a moment, then said : " This is Saturday. Well, Monday morning, bringing us in there Monday evening. Then its settled? You won't want to run across the herring pool between then and now?"^ " Well, if I do," answered the son, " I'll conquer my desire, and go with you to Rose Mount to see you — Oh !: I beg your pardon — to let you see me fall in love with lovely Rose W 00(1.'' -, / "All riglit, my boy; see you stick to your promise of giving me your companionship for a few weeks to come, and don't forget to fall in love witli St. Clare's daughter.'' The following Monday evening Arthur Gordon and son arrived at Rose Mount. There were many dis- tinguished guests, including a Senator and family from Washington.- When the dinner hour arrived, Gerald found himself anxious to behold the mistress of that rich plantation. Descending to the lower apartments, he strayed into the drawing-room, and there his wish ROSE WOOD, Oil THK OCTOROON S BRIDE. 4T i !i was gratified. Rose was there alone, taking a mental survey of herself in the lon■ "Was this a living woman ?" he asked himself, "or a statue?" No! it moved, the eyes turned, the head posed in different attitudes. This, then, was the beauty divine his father had teasingly prophesied he was to fall down before and idolize. How lovely she was, to be sure. Arrayed in a costume of soft Indian silk, gathered high about the neck, with sleeves covering the dimpled elbows, its rich lace mingling with the dainty wrists ; the skirt swept down from the slender waist in graceful folds, that swayed, when she walked, with poetical motion. Her flowers, chosen for this occasion, were lillies of the valley. Gerald Gordon had seen man/ famous beauties — England's fair women, Ireland's rustic belles, France's brilliant sirens — but never before had anything like this come under his observation. He was half inclined to think it an optical illusion, but that, too, was dispelled. She turned, saw him, and advanced, and with sweetest smiles, holding out her hand, wel- comed him to Kose Mount. But not until he had pressed the sott hand, and listened to the sweet voice,, did he fully believe he was awake and in full possession of his faculties. " " I knew you, she said, from ttie strong resemblance you bear to your sister. We would have liked very much to have had her here in our midst, in fact we in- vited her but she thinks the distance from New York too far, and now that her husband has joined the war his company has been ordered out and she says many things hold her to her home." ^™^ Ii4:-! ! I: f m I* «fl»"pl 48 HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BUIDE. '■'L, mmo "Yes," lie answered, "Marion has written me. A number of ladies, together with herself, are busy oruan- izing societies of benefit and comfort to the afflicted poor and those who have surrendered the mainstay of their family to the war." "She will have many, many calls upon her noted ;' generosity, and her tender heart have many a sad rent ere this ([uestion of life and blood is settled," thought- ; fully answered Rose. Then adding, more cheerily, ' ■''But we will not dwell now upon such a sad subject. I do not want to spoil my first dirmer party, and this is my first, you know." Then musingly, " I wonder what my last will be like ?" ' • Gerald Gordon, looking at her, wondered how such a creature as she, surrounded by every blessing and com- fort, could have anything but calm serenity throughout all her days. The drawing room was fast tilling, and Rose moved into the gathering group to exchange words and smiles with other guests, and welcome Arthur Gordon to Rose Mount. Dinner was soon announced, and as the long train of merry guests passed in to partake of the sumptuous spread Rose was haunted with the conversa- tion she and Gerald Gordon held in the drawing room a few moments previous. Lots of her friends had been drafted, others had volunteered, but so far the son of her father's friend had not joined in the strife. Her ^yes wandered and rested long upon his face. How handsome he looked in his blonde beauty. How some woman's heart must have beat wildly looking into that fair frank face with its firm mouth and chin, clear cut NHIIIIfllllilll! ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 49 Grecian nose, high patrician brow and purple blue eyes, always beaming with candor and good humor. His hair one sunny golden mesh waving over his handsome head. Would a bayonet or ball mercilessly slay that slen- der frame ? Would some unheeding steed's hoof, with its iron shoe, crush and trample that bonny, sunny head dov/n into the grassy turf and smothering dust ? Would those laughing eyes be darkened in cold oblivion,, fixed in their glassy stare on death's black abyss ? Would agonizing sighs and soul-pleading prayers be rent from those smile wreathed lips where naught but silvery laughs and merry speeches were wont to ripple at leisure ? Away with the horrid picture, it chilled the blood in her veins and filled her with a desire to cry aloud to God to spare an old man's love and pride such a cruel fate ? Ah ! Rose, spare your fears and petitions for days, dark days too, to overtake you in their rapid approach and slothful in their flight. Her vision of terror was broken by an unusual stir. Arthur Gordon had proposed a toast to their charming hostess and around the table it went, each gentleman in his turn expatiating upon her charms and goodness. No queen at her coronation looked more regal than she as she arose to respond. In years after, that fair picture rose up before one man's gaze and was liis only solace in hours, days and months of hardship, peril and woe. The stream of gay guests now wended their way to the drawing room, conservatories, and through the French windows out on the broad veranda. Rose had TT^ 50 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. ' Ml '#iii' been requested to sing, and after favoring her party with many brilliant chansons, Arthur Gordon asked for * Annie Laurie." Annie had been his wife's name and something in the dear old ballad was, he imagined, as- sociated with her.' She closed the festivities with John Howard Payne's " Home, Sweet Home." St. Clare Wood prayed long and earnestly that night that his home and daughter might long be spared to him in their purity and grandeur. Gerald Gordon's dreams were mingled with battle- field scenes, comforting nurses, all wearing the planter daughter's beautiful face, and at last for Bonnie Rose Wood and South Carolina he " layed him down to dee." Rose prayed for all those in distress over the cruel war, and that any of her friends might be spared going down to an unknown grave and untimelj' death, for her father and her George. Another soul that nio'ht wafted his prayers to heaven for the Southern mrl, and for God's Gjuidaiice in His love for her. He prayed slie might long be spared from the v^orld's blandishments and snares. jor George ! no sleep wooed his wakeful eye lids, ..ticking brain, nor high beating pulses that night. Rest- lessly he tossed and turned until the first faint glimmer of dawn broke upon the eastern horizon. Turning again to his window and drawing aside the curtain he was startled to see the earth and heavens bathed in fiery hue. Springing to his feet he stood erect. "Mother!'' he shrieked, "mother. Rose Mount is on fire." iillllil! ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 5i to on " God have mercy !'' she cried. " But hasten, my son ; there will be work for you to do." He vanished ere she completed the sentence ; and when, upon arriving at the scene of conflagration, found the field slaves doing all in their power to stay •the ravishing monster in its course. The guests, who had all re tired, were rushing, scramb- ling and screaming, in their fight for liberty. At last a cry of " All's safe !" came gladly to their "ears ; but following it rose clear upon the air a woman's wild agonizing voice. " My God 1 my Kose !" cried St. Clare Wood. " They told me she was saved. Save her ! save her !" he fran- tically called out. The hall stair-case was fast disappearing. None look- ing at it dared to test its now tottering support. The slaves' black faces blanched ashen at the knowledge of their mistress's peril. At last, as another wail echoed forth from the burning building, St. Clare Wood said, in tones of clearest accents : "I GIVE TO ANY SLAVE HIS FREEDOM WHO RESCUES MY DAUGHTER !" A stampede ensued ; but from the window of the girl's room two forms were plainly discernable. George, the octoroon, bearing in his arms Eose, in a half- cremated state, his arms burnt to his shoulders, but his head enveloped in a towel. The flames were fast gain- ing upon them. Kose's long hair was now ablaze. One glance he gave at the distance from the earth to the window, and then vaulted with his burden, alighting a burned, bleeding, insensible mass, upon the heads and 52 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. j i IS" ill il||:i!iil!i! sh*" ulders of the crowd below. Scarcely had he left iho- window casement when the walls fell in with a far- resounding crash. But Eose was saved, and George had earned his reward without knowin^^j it, as he was in the building when freedom was proclaimed. The sun was high in the heavens, and^Eose Mount — grand old Eose Mount — lay in ruins. None escaped without some injury and a great deal of loss. St. Clare Wood v\ „o the greatest sufferer. Nothing to speak of was saved but his wife's picture and Eose's harp. Euth's cabin had been turned into a harbour for the unfortu- nate victims of the previous night's fire, and thither were borne the insensible rescued and rescuer. A physician from the village of was dis- patched for, and soon arrived. He soon restored Eose to consciousness, but she suffered from nervous prostra- tion and a few slight burns; but the medical man, look- ing at George's half-cooked body, solemnly shook his head, saying, " I won't vouch for his recovery. It may be some hours yet, but the end is not far away." Tears dimmed the eyes of all who listened. The mother was inconsolable. St. Clare Wood's heart bled as he watched the physician carefully and soothingly dress George's wounds. His hands and arms showed the bone in some places, and his body was half-cooked to his waist. Eose, listening to him as he lay in his agony, strove to rise and go to his side, feeling her presence would aid to ease him. St. Clare Wood and Euth watched by the bedsides of son and daughter, and by the next dawn Eose was more composed, but in George there was no visible change. mm mi i §1 HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 53 Through the night he showed signs of consciousness, and ab last opened his eyes and recognized his mother. He tried to rise, but hastily sank back wiih pain. He enquired for Eose, and a satisfied smile passed over hi? pain-convulsed face, learning she was not seriously hur^. She soon joined in nursing him, but there were oimes when his suffering was almost more than she co ild wit- ness — times when his agony deprived him of hU reason, and he would rave wildlv about Rose in the buininor building nlone ; then they were together, he i-jarning the alphabet ; then on the shore, watching Mie tide's never ceasing roll. _,, When reason came again, she prayed for him, read to him, and smg to him ; and these were golden hours for George ; he fed his large starved heart upon her sweet face and beautiful voice, and love's delicious draught to his heart's content. Of all the sacred songs Rose sung, the one he loved most was — it I ; (C re. Will any one be at the beautiful gate, * Waiting and watcliing for me ?" 'Twas there the lovers vowed, 'whom God should call away first, they would wait and watch at the golden portals until the other spirit joined the one keeping its anxious guard, and then together they would hand in hand tread the streets of God's city. During the period of George's convalescence, Rose Mount was again being built, and soon no traces were visible of the recent destruction. The guests, as soon aa a suitable wardrobe reached them, went back to their ■ ifi' , , i ' I'' ill 1 I'll I mil iiilll ;j|jf!i|i! mm ^4 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. homes, each speaking words of cheer and praise to the lad who had proved himself such a hero and knew not yet his reward. ■;:^'V;,:>5vv-/>' v. '^r '-:":; ■7v- ,;•.■.■::::.. One morning, some months later, Eose and her father left the little cabin and re-entered their old home re- newed. Kose would fain have remained longer by George's side, but he was now soon to discard his band- ages, and resume his duties again, .t How I' *se kissed and cried over those scarred arms and hands, scars that would remain for life. The loss of her luxuriant hair, never once greived her, she would gladly have born some of George's pain and results, thinking it only just to share in his misfortune. One morning in early spring George was summoned to Eose Mount, and conducted to St. Clare Woods study that gentleman advancing extended his hand ■saying. ,„,^.- ., . ,,•,.„ ,,.,...^.,, " My young man, I have sent for you to repay you in part for your bravery in risking your life to save my daughter from being burned alive, I have purposely withheld your reward until you had fully recovered from your injuries, and because I wciiited to give it to you here under my own roof. Here it is my boy and I give it as I never have given anything before in my life, with all my heart and soul. Take it and consider it as but a poor recompense for that which you accom- plished, and the suffering you have endured." ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 55 re- > Handing him a long envelope, he bade him open and read its contents, which the octoroon did to the very end, then fell upon his knees and sobbed aloud for very joy. The old gentleman advanced and laying his hands upon his bowed head rejoiced with him and blessed him bidding him arise and they, looking each other full in the face, realized it was not a case of master and slave any longer, but man and man nov^. Eose now entered the room, and knew in a moment what had transpired. " Oh! papa I am so glad" she said, and going forward to George, said sweetly : " Allow m(3 to be first in offering my sincerest con- gratulations Mr. Stevenson." That name caused the blood to surge through his veins with Quch pride as had heretofore been a stranger to him, and he seemed to breathe again a new man, born into a new life. St. Clare Wood bade him hasten to his mother, and tell her of his joy, and when he had decided on a step in life, to come to him for advice and assistance. George now found his voice ; but was at a loss for words to thank his benefactor, with trembling tones he faltered fortl"*, '* Your kindness sir, overwhelms me I am unable to make an attempt to thank you, I must leave it to your heart to know all I can not express. He turned to leave the room and seeing Rose stand- ing near the door their eyes met, conveying to each other all that was lurking down deep in their hearts but could not then be given utterance too. ;'•;;! 1 m 56 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. ■. J Poor Euth how tenderly she caressed her boy, the delight in the fond heart swelled up into her bosom and throat making speech impossible. Her son was free I free to roam o'er God's green earth ' when ever and where ever he may chose. All her years of patient untold sorrow vanished in that moment of supreme joy, its gnawing sting was dulled. It was the first real joy she had known since the day he was first laid in her arms and his tiny infantile heart throbed responsive to her own. What a long talk they had that afternoon, and what a delicious little supper she prepared for him that night, and waited upon him, as though he was a royal subject, and such he certainly was to her. He was her king. Surely heaven had been kind at last. He still applied himself to his studies and resumed his old duties on the plantation. In six weeks time he sought St. Clare Wood to make known his intentions and what they were, and how he succeeded we will f errit out in the following chapters. , . .; ffli'iji iiilii! ill (( CHAPTEE VIII. UNTIL DEATH US PART. O NE morning as St. Clare Wood was walking in the grounds he saw George advancing towards him, after they had exchanged greetings George said : PM ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 57 " I have finally concluded upon a vocation, but of course want your advice. I have studied botany now some months and think I should like to perfect myself in its pursuit. This necessitates my going to a large city and entering college, studying under masters. What do you think of Washington or Boston .? " Before the elder gentleman responded, he added, " I prefer the former city as I do not wish to go too far av7ay from mother." " Yes ; answered St. Clare Wood, " you will find every advantage there. I will make inquiries and ascertain every particular. About what date would you like to enter Uj.;on this study ? It is now nearly the end of March.'^ ' ^ ,.•.■;. ,-: ,.,.:• ■■,..■■..;■:■•■-■:. I would like to be fairly launched the beginning of April," answered George, " and will of course take no vacation. I will need all the time I can get." " Very well," said Sc Clare Wood, " I guess we can settle and make satisfactory arrangements by that time. Now we must consider a most necessary point, — your financial resources. I will place five thousand dollars at your command, and there will be more forthcoming when needed, . George consented to this last proposition, on condition that St. Clare Wood would regard it as a loan, and his benefactor agreed to this, telling him he would give him ten years to repay it, and then without interest. After a few more words upon the subject they parted, and St. Clare Wood wrote that night for the information. In the twilight, Eose sought George to learn more fully his intentions and plans. 1 i HI 1 1 i f 1 ; 1 i [ 1 ? i I ' \ \ ii hi 1:1 Mi ijiii i'iil li;illi(ij i fill i'liiH ^ ii lliiillli I!) 58 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. " And so you will leave Eose Mount "^ Do you realize what that means to me ? How I wish we could live in Washington where I could see you and be with you, I shall die here alone." George drew the young girl close to him and tried to console her, picturing to her bright visions of him be- coming someone in the world holding a prominent posi- tion ; but she refused to be consoled. " George," she said, " you nor I have but little know- ledge of life, you less than I, out in in the world, meeting and associating with changeable humanity, you have no idea what its influence will be upon you. Sup- posing it changed you towards me. You whom I live wholly for now. Oh ! George, should I lose you, I would go mad." ** Ah ! Kose, you little dream how your cruel asser- tions wound me, little are you aware of the strength of my undying love for you. Have I not equally good cause to fear your constancy ? Will not your home be filled with guests, distinguished, wealthy and gifted ? Will they not stand a better chance of bearing away my peerless beauty than I, a poor obscure boy unknown to none save those on the plantation ^ And my darling,^ who will be most sought after, a beautiful prospective heiress, or I, a cipher, a mere speck in the wide uni- verse ? Ah ! my love, could I think that any man would win your heart from me, I would cast myself this instant in yonder sea ere such a sorrow overtakes me. My freedom is sweeter, my ambition higher, my life stronger, when I, thinking of your love for me, love, that if like my own will prove an unquenchable flame trej I: .-. HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BKIDE. 59^ for aye. There is but one woman the world over for me. Say you trust me darling." Looking up into his face, she answered with love-lit eyes. ■•■'■" ■'^■'' • -' "" '■ ;■■'■'■ '■^■■■-' " I do trust you, George, only I dread this separation^ something, some terror I cannot surmount forces the belief upon me, that sorrow will in some way come of it, Yot may be tempted to volunteer, and you know all the grief, the hardships such a step involves, if you were in pain or trouble and I not near you to comfort and aid you, the suspense and knowledge of it would kill me. If I could only this hour proclaim you to the world as my own, then my right would entitle me to accompany you and protect you, for George, man as you are, with high principles and love of truth and goodness you will find oft-times you will be the better of a good womans love and companionship. But I cannot go with you now, my father, though much interested in you and will be gladdened by your progress and advance- ment in life, would ne^er approve of our union. He has had such ambitious dreams for me, we may, before the war is ended,, be made destitute, and then if I could aid him by a good marriage, he would look for me to deliver him and save myself from poverty. Oh I I am a foolish girl to say these things ; but he has. hinted at them, and all these fears overwhelm me, they come as a whirlwind on the plains and sweep me off my feet." Stroking her dark hair he tried to conquer her dis* tress saying to her tenderly. i ; ii!!!i ;i: '!!■■ m 60 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. *' Were it in my power to take you with me I would, but my manhood forbids me to ask you to share a blighted unknown life with my victory yet to win. I have dared to hope that at some distant period to claim you as my own when my name is established and a home secured, but I have never given utterance to any- one but my soul of these feelings for fear of asking you to* take some rash step, which in time you would regret and curse my very remembrance. You are young yet, hardly knowing whether your heart belongs to me or not ; the feeling cherished for me may only be sympathy for my wronged birthright and heretofore situation in life. Calm yourself, dear one, time and courage may yet work wonders for us. You know the old adage, *An hour of triumph comes at last to those who watch and » »» wait. Rose answered not, but presently turning full upon him and he looking at her knew something new was passing in her mind, ,he was half afraid for her to frame her thoughts into words. , > . ,. . ; - '" George," she said, half frantically, " would it be v6ry wrong to ask you to do something woman never asks man to do ?" " My darling, do not use the word wrong, it can never be associated with your pure sweet self." *' Say what you will, it can not be 'wrong ?'' " Then, George, I want you to (with quick short gasps), / want you to make me your wife hefore you go away. It would make me so happy. I could share more fully your every care, your every joy. I would be yours and you would be mine, I could endure the separation ll::;'! ■ •. "Away upon the Lord's plantation where we'll hoe the golden corn.'** Again and again came the words. Involuntarily, Rose crept closer to George until her head rested on his breast, and it struck terror into the young man's heart as Rose confided to him a secret that soon would not be a secret longer, but a life. 'V ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROONS BRIDE 75 ' Althougli maternal joy's fincjers had touched the heart of the young wife, she dreaded the event transpiring in secrecy and away from lier husband's side. Oh the words of comfort he poured into her ears and tenderly he strove to kiss her tears away again and again, but the negro chant distressed her. Was it an omen of good or evil ? Something whispered to her she would never listen to it again under such circumstances. She felt woe's iron rod would probe her heart ere she and George sat together in that spot again. They settled upon her paying a long visit some place, and she had chosen Xew Orleans,and would in time send for George's mother to act as nurse to the little one. She would tell her when she left that she would send for her,and leave money to defray all expenses, and when she received it she must not ac- quaint any one with the real truth but hasten to her des- tination without delay. So eighteen months after her final return from school she left Eose Mount to return not this time a light-hearted school girl, but a woman,, wife and mother, beset with many anxious fears. * * * * * * Some distance from the city of Xew Orleans lies a beautifullake, called Lake Pontchantrain, and there, in obscurity, in a little cottage. Rose passed her summer, known as " Mrs. Browne and servant from the North," and there also, one bright fine day, Ruth laid into the pale, sweet-faced, fond mother's arms her baby son. " The darling, the treasure," she said, pressing him with feeble embrace to her throbbing heart. ! I t I I, it- : li hi 76 y*e ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. I'l :i''\ I'll' ' M !■*'■" r''" !;■■■■ ['' 111 !»!' I'llllllll 'In';' i;.. X-'^':. I W4m ■1 -; I =i;;|: fell " My precious angel that has come to cheer Mama's life. Hear him cry Kuth, isn't it sweet." " There, there, you must be still and rest," said Ruth, taking the infant a^/ay and eagerly scanning its fea- tures. Once before had she held just such a precious burden, but where couM there ever have been anything lovelier than this ba' Ruth had been as. .^ tainted with her son's marriage ever since her arrival, and tenderly and lovingly she cared for the young wife and mother, but at the same time wept bitter tears for what she called her folly. Rose's convalesence was not as rapid as either she or the doctor wished, and it was September ere she was herself «gain. Her father had wiitten her that he was going on a trip north with a party of friends and might possibly go as far as the Pacific Coast ere he returned. In such case he would not have returned until the summer, and he bid her remain in Louisiana until he did so. Her let- ters from her father were addressed to New Orleans, as he knew naught of lier living at Lake Pontchantrain. This circumstance sorelv crrieved Rose, as she had an abhorence of anything pertaining to dect^t, but she reasoned it. was best not to disclose this chapter of her life until she was advised by her husband to do so. Little Lionel, as she had christened him, grew to be a fine boy, the very life of his mother and pride of Ruth. Often Rose passed hours with the infant on her lap talking to him in that language best known to mothers, and he would coo and smile, with George's lips, looking at her with her dead mother's eyes. Her one grief was ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 77 (•: '' 'that George had not seen him, the fruit of their love, life of their life. An extract from one of his letters read as follows : " And now my darlin^^ wife, so happy "in your new born treasure, be of good cheer and bring back to your own sweet self all your bloom. Think of me always as workinj;- hourly for you and our boy, God •bless him. Kiss him for me on those dear eyes so like . your own. Nightly, as I pray to my God, I ask him to protect and keep you both until I fold you together on my breast, there to rest and rejoice throughout all the days to come." • ' Summer, with her floral garb, floated in again, and Lionel was now a year old and Kose had decided upon •going home. Ruth was to go first with the boy and was to assume sole charge of him. To any questions •asked she was to answer he was a protege of hers, hap- pening so from a dear friend and relation of hers, which of course was (juite true. Two weeks ere Rose's return Ruth started with the little one and sought and obtained permission from St. Clare Wood to keep him. That gentleman, seeing the little fellow, his heart warmed toward him and he was only too happy to consent, feeling khe sound of childish prattle would be sweet music on the old plantation. Rose came back to her home looking fairer than ever, «,nd listened with delight to her father's interest in "" Ruth's boy. Many happy hours she spent with her son each day. He had been taught to call Ruth mamma, which he in his infantile prattle transformed into **Mamy." 78 I{08K WOOI>, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. i Wi U-1 ilit'i ■. George caine home the last days ofJuly, and although the little one had never seen him before, some- thing, some instinct, prompted him to submit to the caresses lavished upon him and cuddle down with his little head upon his breast and said, '• Mamy glad, Rose glad,. I'se glad." Rose never permitted Lionel t(j be seen with her, for once upon going down to the cabin, she found the house slaves inspecting him, commenting upon him thus, " Pears to me I've saw eyes like dose before," and' said another. " "Pears to me I've saw'dat'ere mouff, and smile too, but I reckon it mast have been on some white nigger." And thus one and all in their turn passed their opinion. The little fellow stood his inspection well, saying when any offered a caress. *' No, no, you's dirty, go wash your face." ' To all these queries and remarks, Ruth was silent as- a mute, let them " reckon," all they chose she would answer in neither way. . Rose had fled unobserved ; she knew it would be best to keep apart, in case disagreeable conclusions were- umped at. " Rose my dear," said George, as they sat in his mother's cabin one night, I want to speak to you, upon something, I can no longer keep to myself. Can you. guess what it is ?" "No dear," she answered " tell me." ; \ ** Then listen, I want to volunteer. Rose sprang to her feet and rocked to and fro like a frail aspen bending before a cruel blast. Mh ^■■i^ R08E WOOD, OR THE OCTDROON'S UUIDE. '9 " Oh George, George, my liusbanrl, it cannot be, it will break my lieart, I can give you up to the world to gain knowledge and notoriety but to this 1 never can con="Mit, even at the very mention of it my brain turns ; what will it be when reality comes. I feel you slipping away from me and when you are gone. — Oh ! God pity me ! Many a life will* be swept away, many hearts broken, homes made desolate, but why oh why, must I be made to sutler ? The bullet and bayonet will have no respect of persons, you may fall as may the mightiest and lowliest. Do not be carried away with this wild desire, I should die. Oh ! it must not, can not be." ' "Eose," he said, a half reproachfully, "your own words may be taken home to you now; you told me I had been given my freedom for more than one cause. I have been placed here for some mission now. I feel I must fight for the liberation of my down- trodden race. You know my mother is yet a subject of bondage. Yes, this emancipation must be and it calls me hither, I feel it in every pulse of my body down to my finger tips. I hear it in the beat of the drum, the notes of the bugle call. And darling'Jthere are honors to be won upon the battlefield ; fame and titles await he who proves him- self worthy. For my peoples sake, for my own sake, for your sake, and our boy's sake, I beg of you to sanctioa this step — for our little one's sake Kose. Should I return with honors, how proud he will be of me in time to come ; should I fall a certain pride will fill his heart in saying. ' My father died for his country.' " " Oh ! George," moaned Eose, only a little more than a year at your studies, and I had built such I so ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. bright hopes upon you winninj^- laurels through them in a \ ear or two. Had I known you would have in this way abused your freedom, I would rather have perished in that burning building." *' Rose, you take the darkest side. Women always •do. They never seem to realize it is man's duty to aid liis country, even if by so doing the blood-thirsty foe must be fed by gallant lives and brave hearts' blood. I am sure the North, my side, will win. I must not let the opportunity pass without lending my assistance to gaining right." " It is not right," she screamed. " Don't try to make me believe that a war between brother and brother father and son, is a deed God will sanction. It sur- passes my comprehension how He allows this heinous crime to be daily and yearly [)erpetrated. No, dear, it cannot have arisen from merely a motive to abolish slavery. Even though i\.braham Lincoln said it must be protected where it was, and not allowed to extend fur- ther than it has, he never dreamed his Government would goad him until he issued the proclamation that there would be war. And we'' for wliat ? To satisfy the greed, the vanity of the ivv^rth 3rner. Slave agitators have enlarged upon our laws until we are a set of the -cruelest barbarians in the eyes of every continent, "while there are people in subordination under the starry flag treated worse than any slave-holder ever treated his slaves. True, there have been instances where some of these creatures have died from harsh treatment, brought on through their laziness and stubbornness. But did the master himself enact such a deed ? Tliere are men KOSE AVOOD, OR THI', OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 81 as of in the North, calling themselves Christians, calling themselves gentlemen, vvliose wives and children are subject to such treatment as the dogs in our land know not. Women are going down to their graves every day more crushed in spirit, sadder at heart, than will ever be known through the annals of slavery. These emanci- pators are aiming at more than abolishment ol' bondage. Those large plantations, wiih their luxuriant vegetation, and fertile tracts of land,wiil do much to enricii and beau- tify their domain ; and they aie striving to gvt this, even though it costs the dearest price on earth — a man's life,, a woman's love, a famih 's home. George, let them fight, let them lay devastation where they will, let the wail of the orphan and widow fill the air above us with lamentations — yes, curses if they may —but do not, I implore of you, aid them." George was silent some minutes, and sore at heart to hear this outburst fp m Rose. Was it because he took sides with the North ? Could he do otherwise than help to suppress this law of bondage ? But Kose was so opposed to it all. But he must keep his ground. He had made his stand ; he must stay by it. At length he said to her — " Eose, you have only studied your own side of the question, or you never would have taken up sue wrong ideas. There are two sides to this (][uestion, as there always will be ; and, my dear, such vindication on your part is wholly because you ha\'e been called upon to make a little sacrifice." "A Zi'7(^ sacrifice ! Then (lod help the woman who thinks she is making more than I ! God keep her brrin m f;:'!: 82 HOSE WOn]>, OJi THE OCTOROOX'S BlIIDE. from tnriiiu^L; I — lier heart from being rent in twain ! Do not be angry with me, George. I cannot help' •expressing my views. Perhaps I have said too much. I forget I am no longer a girl, with everything going my way, but a woman, with all the trials of her sex to battle against. It is because I have had so little sorrow, that I now feel this ordeal so acutely." Thev had strolled out into the orounds, and Eose seeing her father advancing left George to join him, she Inirrying away to the house to sob out her new trouble. " How long do you remain with us this time ?" en- quired the planter. " I :nust make my departure the beginning of tlie month, so can i.'ot remain longer now than a week, but it may surprise you when I say I am not going back to college," answered George. St. Clare AVood looked at him in amazement. Surely he had not become proficient in these seventeen months* "Then," exclaimed he, "what are you going to do?" "I can answer you in the words of the '' Spanish Cava- lier,' ' I am oil' to the war, to the war I must go.' " St. Clare Wood stood long gazing into vacancy, then said with much disappointment in his voice : "Well, you are under my control no longer; even were you, 1 could not advise you to iight against your opinion, T am sorry to see a young man like you just at the dawn of his day sacrifice liimself to this bloody strife. But they are all alike, the smell of powder, th'j sound of the bugle and (h-um and siglit ol blood stirs them up until they are more like beasts of prey than human beings, I suppose you take sides with the Xorth ?" HOSE WOOD, OR THE OGTOROOX'S BRIDE. 83 m " Most undoubtedly, sir," answered George. "Then my good wishes go with you, but I'll warrant you'll be sorry. The South has made a sorrow for you and it certainly has been hard to bear. It can not be said vet who will come off victorious. I am sore afraid sometimes that we will lose. Personally you have nothing to lose, but I have everything; it will be a sorry day for me when I see South Carolina given over to the stars and stripes and "Uncle Sam." So saying he turned away leaving George rather crest- fallen, yet it was just what he had expected, but nothing now would alter his course unless Rose persisted, even then he would hesitate about giving up this decision. When Kose again met him she was more reconciled, yet how she dreaded it, and long she clung and bitterly she wept when parting time came. He, as he pressed kiss after kiss upon her tear-stained face felt inclined to weaken, but if all men who had witnessed like scenes had given in there would have been but few to meet and fight. Ituth and Rose lingered long over his preparations with every article of clothing was woven in tears and pray- ers for the welfare of husband and son. As he hung over Lionel's little crib, big tears rolled down and disturbed the little slumberer's dreams. Thinking it was rain, he murmured unintelligibly, " Tum out in de wain, black Mamey ; you get washed clean like white Wose Mamey." One more kiss to wife and mother, then gathering up his personal effects, he tore himself away to the spring waggon awaiting to convey him away for a long long Si i,' , ;';, p- Ill' 84 , ROSE WOOD, on THE OCTOROON's BRIDE. time from the home lie loved so welL They heard from, him when in AYashington. General Grant was his com- mander, and he daily awaited to be summoned to hi& first battle. In camp and in quarters he intended pursuing his studies. He wrote long, cheering, affectionate letters to^ the loved ones at home, who prayed for the safety and preservation of the dear one in such a perilous position.. Thus we leave him for a few months and introduce to- the reader some new ac([uaintances. CHAPTEK XL ADOLPII STRUSS, M.D., Was a noted physician of New Orleans and a native of Germany, who left the Fatherland some twenty years before my story opens and touched America's free shores for the first time in New York. After considerable misfortune and struggle well known to the medical man, he gained a little footing and established a small practice. Then he met, wooed and won a fair northerner, a Miss Grace Field, a sweet innocent girl of some seventeen summers. She had hesitated some time before finally consenting to link her fate with tlie peculiar foreigner, but when she remem- bered theve was a large family, five marriageable daugh- BOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. S5 III! ters besides herself and five smaller brothers and sis- ters, also their scanty store of this world's comforts, she overlooked his odd appearance and gross tastes of saur kraut, limburger and bock beer. Grace's father was a stationer on a small scale, and although a good man, was not adapted for such a busi- ness. A farmer's calling would have been his proper vocation, but when his better half argued that her family must be brought up in a city, with all its advan- tages, he submitted like the meek, henpecked man he was. In appearance Dr. Struss was not a girl's ideal lover or husband. His small body set on his smaller bowed legs, his bullet shaped head with its shock of red bristles looming up from his rounded shoulders minus a neck, his small leering eyes that squeezed themselves up so tight that no one could tell what colour they were, his uncharacteristic nasal appendage, heavy expressionless mouth, short stubby beard of a decided vermillion hue, large coarse hands and feet, did not tend to make one fall m love with his non adonis-like form and features, but Grace thought he would be good to her and make a good husband (ugly men generally do) and then it would be one less in the large household and make the drain on the small purse less, so she banished all thoughts of love in a cottage with a handsome knight, and pledged her hand and troth to Adolph Struss. He had ere this made application to a large hospital jn New Orleans to enter upon the medical staff, and some months after his marriage with Grace Field he occupied his new position. He was a young man o r m ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. it twenty-five and entered upon lii.s new duties with zeal on s ardor. In time he became noted, for lie certainly was clever. He made large speculations, and his investments turned out well for him. Truly New Orleans was "the goose that laid the golden egg" for Dr. Struss. In disposition he was keen, crafty, avaricious and egotistical, with an instinct sharp as a ferrit. Should a patient prove to be in any way in- volved in mystery, he left no stone unturned to hunt it out. Oft times, when upon a couch of pain, the wretch(-d creature would in a moment of heart's dis- tress unbosom itself to some kind, confiding nurse, and he clianced to appear, none knew how, he too was acquainted with the whys and wherefores, and the se- cret became a secret no longer. Not that he published it abroad, he just gloated silently over his fund of this life's mysteries. At the expense of other's follies, he gleaned much of life's dark paths, and prided himself upon being a moral, model man. He was not famous for charity but he was lor skill ; his fee was always enormous but health and success was always assured. The poor, never by their own resources, employed him, nor would he lend his aid where he saw no lucrative issue. He had no friends, less enemies; people shunned him more from a feeling of awe and uncongeniality than dislike. Men of his own profession consulted with him merely because without his scientific knowledge and assistance success was not forthcoming, for like services he de- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 87 mancled large sums of money, but never did any one of them gratuitously offer a simple " lliank you." Money, money, was his idol, yes, his God. He lived in a tine mansion, drove elegant horses, Kentucky's best productions ; wore good clothes, ate good meals ; was a good husband but not an affectionate one; a good father but not an indulgent one. Each of his children when they reached the age for toys got a supply but never any more. He gave Mrs. Struss means enough to meet household demands but never over- stepped the limit. Should any of the family need their wardrobe replenished they must be satisfied with wliat he selected, even though the design and pattern had been expelled from Dame Fashion's list years previously. He never entertained socially nor allowed any invita- 1^'ons to be accepted. -^", never permitted his wife to visit her parental liome ; thought it folly to assist railroads in becoming- rich to satisfy a woman's home-sick whim. Her home was with him now, she had her house duties and chil- dren to employ and keep her from, being lonely. So poor Grace never demurred. She was young when he took her, and he had in all these years moulded her pretty much to the way he wanted her, which by the way is a failing of all foreign men, particulq-rly his kinsmen, but the man is not to blame. The women pamper, and dance attendance upon them, making the rod for their back that we American women liave observed was so hard to bear up under its blows. In Germany, more especially, is man recognized as king, but here in our dear old land womayt reigiis sv]}reme. Poor Grace, all the glimpse she i* •88 HOSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE. got of her childhood home and tlie dear ones tlieie were what heaven sent to her in dreams. If ever she had realized her mistake in wedding with- out love she hugged the knowledge to her breast, and stifHed the small voice of conscience but the worm of remorse gnawed on, she meanwhile aware of its active sting cast not one useless regret. Ah ! girls, young- girls, never wed a man to whom you cannot give all the love nature has given you to lavish, for no matter who your paragon ^nay be you will find plenty to bear with in him without trying to overlook it in one whom you do not love. But these are words wasted. Only through the long nights, when tired Nature's sweet restorer refused to be won did a sigh escape her lips, a tear moisten her eye, not for what she had not done but for that which she had done. Thus she trod the path allotted to her, silently and lonely. True, Adolph Struss did not abuse her, but there are other ways of saddening woman's heart besides bodily abuse. He neglected her, that was all. Was it not enough ? All the little tender attentions that other men were wont to lavish upon their wives, a drive, a walk, caressing touch on the cheek, a parting and greet- ing kiss, a shawl for her shoulders, a stool for her feet, a loving husbandly embrace, a little word of praise or admiration, all the little nothings yet great, some things that go to making woman happy, yes, undeniably happy, were not given to her. Things like these were foreign to his nature. I dare say had he taken the proper course she would have learned the lesson many women have learned under such circumstances. But men forget wm KOSE WOOD, OR THE OGTOROOX'S BRIDE. 89 that if it is a sweet blessing to win woman's love it is doubly so to keep it after it is won He should have prompted in her feelings of esteem a)id admiration, and the one sublime would have followed. All the love and devotion that had been shiit out from his uninflammable heart Grace added to that which she cherished for her children. She reared and watched them from the cradle with a love duplicated a hundred fold, guiding each tiny step, teaching each lisp- ing prayer, and instilling into each little heart with the love of uprightness and purity. Some of the household auxiliaries who had gained an insight to her disappointed life loved ^nd served her with touching tenderness. She brightened and blessed every life slie touched. She was regarded by all as their criterion of patient, self-sacrificing devotion. A fairer face the sun never shone on, with its sweet, sen- sitive mouth , the fair wavy bands of hair, now edged with silver, falling low on the fair white brow; the large blue eyes half timidly meeting your glance, with a soul, sad heart-starved look haunting them, her fragile little form always clad in sombre nunish-like garments, the Martha Washington neckerchief gathered around the small swan-like neck, the small delicate hands that busied themselves deftly with woman's choicest em- ployment—needle work — looked a story in themselves, those hands that had given many a painful wrench re- sponsive to the didl throbbing pain in her heart. None knew her but to bless her and extol her virtues. At the opening of the war, after the first battles, when nurses volunteered and were drafted, she too was \ r II ' < I'':' 90 llOSK WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S lUIIDE. ill J Ml h'' '! Jij . ■: '■' filled with a wild desire to Hy to the scenes of inutila- tioii and alleviate the af:»onies of the wounded. Her three brothers, all younger than she, were drafted in one of New York's many regiments, and day after day she felt herself being called to the laud of bullets and life's blood. Once she had hinted at such a step to her inestiTuable spouse, but the way in which it was received and i-e- pulsed, warned her never again to broach the offending subject, nor did she until the second battle of Bull Eun,. when news came that Jimmie, her youngest brother, her favorite too, had been stricken down in that awful slaughter, that she declared her firm intention of solun- teering as nurse. In vain did the enraged husband re- monstrate and storm, but she proved unrelenting and made her arrangements for her new vocation. The children were left in good care with an old black, who had acted in the capacity of uurse since the birth of her eldest. So one September day Grace Struss left her southern home and madly embittered .spouse, and started en route for Washington, whither the wounded boy had been carried. Kneeling beside his bed of pain, she kissed and cried over him, comforted and soothed him in his distress. She flitted to and fro amongst the other sufferers, carry- ing balm to every broken heart and aching limb. Jimmie's wound necessitated an amputation of the right leg, and never had her courage failed her so as when she stood by while the surgeons administered the nar- cotic and performed the operation. None but those who have witnessed like scenes can conceive the sharp I" ROSE WOOD, OR TlIK OCTOROOjJ'S IJUIDE. 01 probe every moan was to her tender heart. She resumed the sole charge of him, only restino- when exhaustion drove her to it. She shared liei* vigils with other atUicted comrades as well, and soon her name became much revered on the lips of father, husband and brother. Long and tedious were the hours spent by Jimmie's bedside watching for the wished-for change. It came at last. One morning the heavy eyes looked once more knowingly into her own, and the fever parched lips called " sister." Tenderly she bathed his wasted frame, bringing and arranging fresh linen for the bed and aching body. He began to talk of going home again. " Poor mother," he sighed one day, " how she will feel when she sees this," pointing down to the half leg. *' When I tried to comfort and cheer her, telling her of her boy coming home with a stripe on his arm or may be with an epaulet on my shoulder, she would shake her head, Grace, oh ! so pitifully, and say * No, no ! if they ever bring you back to me it will be when you are past telling me how they killed you, shot you down like an animal, and you will not be able to see how your broken-hearted mother grieves for the loss of her last born.' " Tears rained down the pale sunken cheeks. Grace dried them, taking his shorn head on her breast, pres- ently he said again : " And I hate to go, Grace, like this; the boys will call me stumpy or pegleg, for I used to say I would go home awarded high honors and be a ' blood.' But I can't go back to the ranks, and now sometimes when I think it all r4^%. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // /./ ^^ ><^4fe /.. - .** 7; '/ /^ ■■ ji |iij I' 92 ,1, ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. over I don't care if I do die only for poor mother's sake; if I could see her this minute I know I would feel better. I have such a faint feeling here on my chest where General Banks' horse crushed my breath away, and the pain in my side is sometimes more than I can bear, that's when I cry, Grace, it does not make as much noise as groaning. I was among tlie last to be brought here, and all night 1 laid out in the rain with not a thing to cover me. By morning I was so sore and cold I thought I would die on the way. If 1 had not made out my injuries were less than they were, they would have left me there to die, maybe because they don't want to fill their wards with dead soldiers. But a lot of us fellows made it up to be jolly and get sent to Washington and get our wounds well attended to. Oh ! Gee ! it was funny the way they dumped us into the ambulance, just like rubbish, and we were squeezed in like sardines. One fellow tried awfully hard to make us laugh, telling jokes, but at times when he was jolliest he would faint in the midst of it. I tried 30 hard not to get shot the very first thing, but the bullets flew about us like rain before we had our first charge, and just as I had leveled my gun and charged for the first time down I went. I couldn't think what was the matter until Tom, who was behind me, groaned. You would have thought it was he instead of I who got the bullet. He carried me away some dis- tance from the fight and I never saw him again, but I saw so many of my comrades cut down like corn stalks with a reaper's scythe. Have I been talking long, Grace ? Iguess-so-for-it-is-growing-dark,-and-where-is-the-river- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROONS BRIDE. 93 rushing ? — Tliere it is, a big river, and oh siteli a lovely boat, mother's there too. Look, Grace, she's got a big flag, and it says no more vmr on it. I am there with two legs, two legs, Grace. It-is-coming,-coming,-and-I-am going-aboard. Here we go, but leaving you behind. Good-bye,-good-bye." — Lower sank his giddy head on the pillow, and Grace looking at him knew her mother's words were only too true, the sunken cheek, blanched blue with death's pallor, ^he lips grew ashen with a ghastly hue. Jimmie never rehearsed his hardships again, no words escaped his lips but an occasional cry for water; the pain in his side grew worse, and lie, groaned now. The doctor of that ward as he passed through on his rounds at twilight knew the end was near, and after the bell tolled the midnight hour. Jimmie Fields soul wafted its flight to be awarded its honors in a land brighter and better than ours, which land we hope and believe were more than a stripe on the arm or an epaulet on the shoulder. Grace clung to the dead emaciated body of her brother until it was arranged for burial; then her attention was turned to a new arrival proving to be Tom, the oldest one. So while one body was was carried away, to be hidden away from her grieved gaze, another was brought in groaning and praying for death,/©/- death. Both legs had been shot away, leaving nothing but the quivering stumps, care- lessly wrapped in coarse pieces of blanket. He knew nothing of his brother's departure nor his sister's position. The fingers of one hand had been torn away by some cruel bullet, and great scars on his fore- head showed how mercilessly the guns had dealt with 94 ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. I him. Jimmie's body had been sent home for interment^ and following its arrival was a letter telling of Tom's sad condition. How the father, bowed down with grief, sobbed aloud in his distress for his boys ; and the sweet faced sw^eetheart, who had been so loathe to give up her Tom was stricken powerless by the sad news. Tom's case proved less hopeful than Jimmie's. Groan after groan of pain, which made others forget their similar distress, filled the ward for many days and nights. He never knew a moment's ease, and by degrees sank into a state of insensibility, from which he never awakened, * So once again, all within a fortnight, Grace bade an eternal farewell to another treasured member of her father's household. Never again was he to answer to the bugle's call, with beating heart and quivering limbs, nor shoulder his gun to march to the solemn beat of the drum. His weary tramp was o'er, and away floated his bruised slaughtered life to a mightier commander than Lincoln to answer the final roll call. Grace now eagerly and dreadingly scanned the faces of any new arrival, watch- ing for Harold, the wayward one, but she was spared the sad duty of administering to his last needs. They brought her the heart-crushing news that " not enough of him could be found together to make up a decent parcel,'' At this last blow she sank an insensible heap upoir the floor, and while she lough t with mad dehrium for a return to reason and life, we leave her in the toils of fever's consuming flame and the infinite mercy of the ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 95 Good Deliverer to answer the question, "To be or not to be r CHAPTER XII. i ROBERT GRAY. Away to the north-east of Virginia, not far from the village of Chancellorsville on the banks of the bright blue Rappahannock river, stood a rude looking dwelling, in the center of a small tract of land. It was known as the farm of Widow Gray. She was known far and wide, her hospitality, like the Kentuckian, had made her universally beloved and renowned. IJer family consisted of two sons and a daughter, Clinton the elder boy was the main stay since the fathers death, some five or six years before. Robert the younger, light hearted Bobbie, was the flower of the family. The widow worshipped her boy with a devotion known but to few mothers ; sister and brother shared in this idolization as well. Phoebe, the youngest of the three, was a true type of a southern country girl, brown ^yed, brown haired, brown skinned and rosy cheeked. " Brownie " the boys commonly called her. The Gray's were poor, very poor, their little farm afforded to their scanty larder the only luxury of table life they knew of. They cultivated for the market, corn, melons imd potatoes, and it all " depended upon the crops," whether or no they indulged in such dainties as shoes, ea, meat, etc., etc. :ti^j t^. 96 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOi:OON'hi BRIDE. They toiled early and late, doing all the Work of the farm themselves, never calling in an outsider. But the greater share of the work fell to Clinton, " Clint" Eobert called him, saying the balance could just as well drop off and take a rest as not. « Phoebe's duties were principallyfamongt the cows and poultry, and in the village near by she found ready market for the few pounds of butter and fewer dozens of eggs they could ill spare from their scanty horde of viands. The proceeds of these delicacies were trea- sured and sparingly taken from for necessaries they found impossible to do without. Eobert was an impetuous, loitering kind of a boy, who worked by fits and starts ; nothing was ever exacted of him as he was rather delicate, but any assistance offered by him was always gratefully received. He had a round merry face, beaming blue eyes and a mop of chest- nut hair, worn rather long and curly. One looking at it would have thought it either rafractory or else it strayed in all directions from want of proper care. To night there was trouble in Widow Gray's home. Trouble which had come to them early in the day, telling them that the previous night at a meeting in Chancellorsville which had been held|l'or the purpose of drafting soldiers, that Clin ton j had been draited to the war. The poor widow had many nights prayed to heaven to spare her son. Robert she ^knew|was too young, but now, despite prayers and tears Clinton must go. A doleful group was now gathered around the tea table, but eating proved a farce, their sore, swollen ^w ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 97 throats were past swallowing the staff of life^ and they had reached that stage, dear reader, which I dare say you have at sometime in your life felt, when a huge lump of something comes up and refuses to go down ^ even blithesome llobert's cheery powers failed him. " Eat, my children ,eat," repeated Mrs. Gray, for about the sixth time, ** it will be our last meal together for many a long day." Again and again they tried, but finally gave it up, and Clinton, who had not broken bread, moved to the open door. On the morrow he was to wend his way to the Confederate capital, so while his mother and sister busied themselves with tearful preparations he stood looking far away into the greyisli blue gathering twi- light, the calm glassy river which they had rowed upon and fished within, and last upon the little farm where he had spent weary yet happy hours. Poor boy, the soil had been tilled by his breath, his very soul, and who would do all this now ? Not Eobert, he was not so constituted, not his mother and sister, they were women. He walked down to the small barnyard and one by one he recounted l*hoebe's feathery tiock, then stroked their two cows more tenderly than before, but when he went into the stalls and saw the two bay horses, Darby and Joan, he flung his brawny arms alternately around the necks of his two field companions and sobbed aloud his grief at the coming separation. The mother and sister, missing him, stepped outside the farm house door to search for him and watching him in the distance knew what it all meant. They gazed into !, ,'\ ^k^%\ 98 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. each others eyes in mute despair, and Robert, standing some little distance apart, was blinking his blue eyes, battling with the salt tears that wonld appear despite his efforts to keep them back. He was pegging stones at a harmless toad by way of diversion. . Back again to the house came Clinton, his head bowed low on his strong chest ; however the necessity of con- troling his feelings impressed itself upon him and in this he succeeded tolerably well until after evening pruyer and then when Phoebe and Eobert were safely launched into the land of Nod, mother and son sat talking and trying to comfort each other, long into the night. Taking her son's large horny hand in hers the mother pressed it, saying with quivering tones : " My son, I felt we would be called upon to make some sacrifice of this kind before the war was ended, and I have nerved myself by players and tears to see you torn away from my breast and humble home. I knew it would be you, our Eobbie is too young, and although none but God knows how much it costs me to part with you, my first born, my support and comfort in my old age,, I can better give you up than were it my bright, sunny-eyed, curly headed darling." Over the furrowed cheeks poured torrents of tears and her aged frame swayed to and fro with the crush- ing grief. " Don't mother," pleaded Clinton, " don't, it will entirely unman me. I do not grieve to surrender my poor life to the war, let them take it if it is to forward any s;ood to their cause, I only grieve at leaving you without more assistance on the farm. When necessary ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 99 you must call someone in occasionally to work and I will forward my pay to defray such expense. Do not attempt too much yourself and watch Robert that he does not overdo his share. You shall hear from me whenever the opportunity presents itself and remember mother, a great deal of my peace of mind depends upon you. Do not be too despondent and I'll feel more assured of a speedy return home to you. Of course a great many vvho are going from Chancellorsville cannot return, but I may be among the few who are spared. And now, mother, this has been a hard day for me and I need rest. Promise me you will not deprive yourself of your sleep beset with these anxious fears. The war cannot last forever and the sooner I go the sooner I will come back. Good night, mother," he concluded tenderly, turning away from his broken-hearted parent, and sought his couch for the last time in many nights under the old farm house roof. Morning dawned and all in the house were astir with the sun's first rays. There was a journey of some seven miles to be made ere Chancellorsville was reached, where Clinton was to join his company. For the last time he went to the stable to harness Darby and Joan, as- sisted by Robert. He made vain endeavors to be gay, but finally gave it up. He was puzzled by his brother's manner ^e was so thoughtful and abstract. He had tried hitching Joan to the rear of the wagon, attach- ing the traces to an imaginary whiffle-tree, and at last made Clinton burst out in laughter seeing him trying to bridle Darby with the breeching. At last the little 100 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. party were en route for the little rillage where all was sorrow and excitement. Clinton soon changed his former home-spun garb for the uniform of a Confederate soldier. The ninety-six privates and four officers, one hundred in all, soon gathered at the depot, where the train, puffing and blow- ing, seemed to know they were behind time, and was anxious to bear away the precious freight of husbands and sons, sweethearts and brothers. Again and again the order to *' fall in" was 2:iven, but it seemed they never would form rank. The little drummer boy had mounted upon an empty flour barrel and drummed away at the assembly with deafening perseverance, and at last, in a fit of desperation, called out in a loud, impatient voice, '' Confound it all, boys ! why don't you fall in ?" He either placed too much confidence in his point of elevation, or else the imperious stamp of his foot which accompanied the above exclamation was too much for the weather-beaten barrel top. However, the conse- quence was it caved in, leaving nothing visible of the drummer boy but his capless head. This little epi- sode caused a break in parting scenes, and a final ringing of the locomotive bell warned them that the iron steed 6ould not linger longer. A minute more, and wives, daughters, sisters and sweethearts were alone on the platform, watching a cloud of grey liats being waved wildly from the fast receding train. Clinton Gray sent word home from Virginia. He was all enthusiastic over his new venture, and seemed to have forgotten all the heart aches this new step ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 101 involved. He promised to let them know when he was •called upon to face the foe, and the mother, perusing that letter, prayed he might be spared to them for many days to come. Robfci't to them was a study. He relasped into long fits of moody abstraction, and when roused from them looked like some guilty criminal trying to flee from jus- tice. • The journeys into Chancellorsville with the farm pro- •ductions were now deputed to him. One morning in late September he started with a large load, and both Phoebe and her mother were startled with the sight of the pale face with which he had bidden them good-bye. They attributed it to the little extra work which had fallen to him, and his loneliness at his brother's absence, for oft in the night the mother was awakened by sobs from the boy's couch. " What is it, Robbie V she would ask ; and when, upon receiving no answer but louder sobs, she would say again, " Are you lonely for Clinton ?" he would sadly answer in the affir- mative. All through the long day mother and sister watched anxiously for his return, not confiding any of the strange misgivings in their hearts to each other. At sunset they •espied the team and wagon leisurely coming down the hill, Phoebe hastened to arrange the table, preparatory to the evening meal, while the mother moved closer to the door to await her darling's coming. As the wagon neared the gate, she saw the seat had no occupant, and to one of the horses' heads fluttered something white. 102 ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. I SI! " Ph(X'be !" she cried excitedly, " run and see if any- thing has happened to Robert. He is not on the seat. The heat jnay have overpowered him, and he has either fallen out on the way or lies prostrate on the wagon bed." Rapidly the girl ran down the road. Undoing the bars where tl f^ horses had stoppeid, and springing on one of the whee. , looked into the bottom of . the wagon. It was empty of all save a roll of clothing, which she recognized as a suit worn by Robert that day, and his straw hat lying loose under the seat. He had been murdered, and his body thrown into the river, her first thoughts were. But whence the clothes ? Joan turning her head, attracted her attention to the piece of paper fluttering in th e evening breeze. She flew to the bridle, and upon examination it proved to be a letter, directed to Mrs. Gray in Robert's hand-writing. By this time the mother had joined her, and Phoebe was reading the letter at her mother's bidding ; she read it aloud. *' Dearest Mother and Sister," it ran, " When you re- ** ceive this I will be on my way to Richmond. I leave " you to join Clinton and the war. I knew I could not "be drafted, so have volunteered. I tried to make up. " my mind to tell you, bit each time my heart failed '* me. I am not acting wrong in this matter, but it may "be thought by you rash. But, mother, something urged " me on, and yet I did not want to go. Dear sister, com- " fort mother, and tell her I'll surely come back. I " I kissed old Darby and Joan right between the eyes- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDB. 103 I "for ou both. Try and not be angry. Pray for me, as *' I will for you. You will find all the money i did not " need together with this letter. " Good-bye to both of you, with love. From your " devoted son and brother, " EOBERT." They read it to the end without inte.Tuption. Phoebe then turned to her motht , and was frightened at the wild, liaggard look, upon her aged face, then watched her as she sank an insensible heap to the earth. At this mo- ment a young man appeared, and one looking at him soon would recognize him to be one of their own class. He arrived just as the widow swooned. " Oh Joe !" cried Phcebe, " what shall I do. Kobert has volunteered rnd it has killed mother. What shall I do ; what shall I do ?" " Keep a stiff upper lip, ol' gal," said he thus ad- dressed, " and give me a hand here while we carry the old lady into the house. I'll go after the young rascal myself and bring him back or else break his neck." They conveyed the senseless form of widow Gray into the house, laying her on the bed, and while Phoebe administered to her wants, Joe Higgins attended to the tired, hungry horses. To all Phoebe's wild entreaties and restoratives, her mother yielded not. " Oh Joe," she sobbed, as he again appeared, " I knew she was dead ; can't you go to Chancellorsville and bring a doctor ?" " That's what I can and will, girl, right smart. I'll run over home and set a fresh horse and send mother 104 EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. ! and one of the girls over to stay with you, and be back here again myself quicker than you can say Jack Eobin- son. True to his word, he hastened away and was soon, en route for Chancellorsville at break-neck speed, first sending Mrs. Higgins to the Grays, accompanied by her eldest daughter, Martha. In due time the physician arrived. He remained during the rest of the night and brought the widow from out her death-like swoon, but for many days her life was despaired of. She hovered upon death's precipice until the anxious watchers had ceased to hope for a return to life ; but she did not die, grief is quick to wound, but oh ! so slow to kill. Back she drifted, into conscious^ . Bobbie. Joe Higgins doing. When i \nd loudly bewailed the loss of her i not go after him, as he had declared realized he had twenty-four hours the start of him, he gave it up and proffered his services to work the widow's farm, now that both the boys were ab- sent. Joe was exempt from the war on account of poor lungs. He was, as my readers will have surmised, a lad without education or culture, but a better-natured, more tender-hearted fellow never lived. He had long been an aspirant to Phoebe's hand, but she had never given ear to any of his declarations, nor had she, which was unknown to him, reciprocated the tender feeling cherished for her. Although Phoebe was not to the manner born, she felt her future companion through life would be of a different degree in the universe than un- taught, unpolished Joe Higgins. guej the ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 105 CHAPTER XIII. CAPTAIN STEVENSON. g :e ST. CLARE WOOD, seated at the breakfast table one morning in July, was intent upon a long letter written fine and closely. His daughter had entered and stood regarding him with a look of anxious enquiry upon her face. He was so absorbed in its perusal he was not aware of her presence. She advanced into the room and seeing several letters lying at her plate seated her- self and glanced over the hand-writing; one proved to be from George. She, unseen, slipped it into the pocket of her morning gown, the others were not im- portant enough to open at present. She looked again at her father. He had finished reading the long letter and was now rapidly scanning a short note ; raising his eyes he saw Rose had joined him. " Ah ! good morning, my dear, I have plenty of mail this morning, some of it qui ue interesting, too. I'll acquaint you with its contents later on, but, by the way, I ex- pect a visitor to arrive this week. I made his acquaint- ance last month at Mr. Gordon's, and rather landed him, so have invited him to visit us for a week or two. maybe a month. We'll see." Rose was anxious to be away to peruse her precious letter, and through her anxiety forgot to enquire the guest's name. The meal was partaken of in silence to- the end, then, as Rose was about to leave, her father said 106 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOIJOON'S BRIDE. '' Come into my study, I have a surprise for you." Ee- luctantly she obeyed. Eeachiiig that apartment he bade her be seated and then produced his letter of sur- prise and commenced reading it aloud without further explanation : Chatanooga, Tennessee, September 10th, 1863. To St. Clare Wood, Rose Mount House, Village of South Carolina. Dear Friend, — Some time has elapsed since I have had the pleasure of addressing you, and I now embrace the first opportunity as I have several things of import- ance to inform you of. You doubtlessly liave learned ere this of the surrender of Yicksburg. We had a hard battle ; there were times when I would have given but little, for my chances of living longer than a moment more. After a long and dusty tramp we arrived at our point of alfray, or I may add, our many points, for five times down the Mississippi we encountered and defeated our enemy. I think it better not to dwell upon such a subject as will be as painful to read as it is to write. However, the last month has been a very eventful one to me. During one of our battles I was in the front line, and I perceived a big confederate taking aim at our gal- lant commander, when I reversed my aim and shot his (General Grant's) horse from under ]iim. He compre- hended the situation in an instant, and drawing himself from underneath the poor brute's embrace, extended his mm ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 107 hand, at the same time saving to me, " God bless you, my good fellow, I have a wife and family at home who will sing your praises for mciny a long day." He whis;- pered in my ear later on, that as a token of reward and tribute of respect a lieutenant's position would be award- ed me should I come out of the toils safely. I stayed by him for some hours, another horse was soon forwarded him and mounting it he again led his men on afresh. In the thickest of the affray a bullet brought hiui down at my feet ; tossing aside my gun and seizing the bullet-riddled flag I sprang to his seat on the saddle and dashed furtlier into the foe. I do not think many of our soldiers noticed the change so- intent were they upon the struggle for life or death. I was soon called upon to give the General my place, his wound turned out only a slight one in the arm. It being attended to he was anxious to resume liis post. A long and fearful battle ensued lasting six weeks, but we turned into camp with less loss than our opponents ; foot-sore and powder-blackened, blood-stained, ragged and unshaven, pitiable objects, but victorious. Yester- day my new digrdty was raised to that of Captain and although won at the cost of many brave fellows lives I cannot help but feel proud, and you my friend I know will be pleased to hear I have been thus honored. We- are just snatching a few days rest and getting a little recuperated before it is decided where our next battle will be. God forgive me if I write about these Scenes in such cold blood, but should I stop to ponder upon the many, many scenes of woe and desolation I have witnessed I would be rendered unfit for the services required of me ir 108 KOSE WOOD, Oil THK OCTOROOX'S BlUDE. Now comes the most interesting part of my budget of news. To-day we buried a comrade who had been my companion during this last campaign. He was a man of about forty-three but lookec nmch older, he volunteered from California whither he had gone in his youth to the mining districts and had a mining claim on the Sacramento river. He received a fatal wound and from the time the bulliit felled him I never left his side ; he clung to me and allowed none to wait upon him but me. Here in camp he made me aware of his history which is rather a sad one. In his childhood days he was a waif in New York, he never remembered a parent, nor knew a home, he was about eighteen when an excitement of gold in California arose and he turned his steps toward the Pacific coast. Alter experiencing many hardships he reached the place chosen, the KSacramento. Fortune favored him, he found gold in abundance. The most of it he had transformed into money and it was always ■deposited in a San Francisco bank. Year by year he added to it until his wealth had grown enormous and when the war broke out he sold out his claim and gave up his isolated life and became a Union soldier. He had never made a settled plan concerning his wealth until after his first battle, then he divided it equally between an institution for unfortunate miners and to alleviate the suffering on the Union side, but yesterday after his burial, when a gathering up of his personal effects was being instituted, a will was found recently made, witnessed and signed, by two of my •comrades, in favor of me, making me sole heir ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE. 109* ly to all he possessed. "Keep it, boys, I am gone, then give it to him as until after a surprise and a reward for his kindness to me," he had said so they slipped it into his Bible (poor fellow, he had one and used it too) and there it remained until it was found yesterday. Yes, the wealth is indisputably mine but I will not touch it until the war is over and then if it pleases God to spare me I will do jusi as poor HaL Reed intended doing with it. It is growing very dark and I must close and I feel I have not written half I wanted to. Tell my dear mother her sou is still un^ harmed, that she is in my thoughts even in the midst of it all, and I, like many, yes, all of my comrades, am weary waiting for the dawn of peace and the war to be ended. I cannot say when I will write again but will avail myself of the very first chance I have. This state of affairs cannot last much longer, but I mean to see it throughto the end if I am allowed to by Divine Providence. " And now good-bye until the next time. I trust soon — very soon — to meet your hand in greeting again. I hope there is still a warm corner in your generous heart for " Your devoted Federal friend, '* George Stevenson." The letter ended, St. Clare Wood awaited a comment from Eose. But she uttered not a word ; she seemed lost to all surroundings ; her thoughts had soared away to scenes of battle horrors and the poor miner. Her father broke into her reverie by saying : " A penny for your thoughts.* . * Iff^ 110 HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. I I A little embarrassed, she resprnided : " Pardon me for being so abstract, but I was silently rejoicing at George Stevenson's good fortune, and sorrowing a little for the poor miner's fate. I am glad for Euth's sake, her son has become so distinguished. I think I will run down and tell her, she will be so de- lighted. She has missed him greatly, poor soul, but now she will feel somewhat repaid for the sacrifice made." " Yes," added her father, " I was much interested in the lad. In fact I am still but a little sore to sanction a step contrary to my political creed. I daresay he will come home some day, heralded by brilliant bands, and may be accompanied by a northern wife. But I forget ■all this glory hangs by the merest thread. The war is not yet ended, and we must not build our castles too liigh, nor allow Ruth to indulge too extravagantly in them either. In this world, my dear, we are ' certain of nothing but uncertainty.' But run away and tell his mother the c^'od news so far. By iha way, how is that protegee of her's? I have not seen him for some weeks. I trust you do not take too much notice of him ; it would be the means of making him precocious, and •cause him to be an object of jealousy with the slaves attached to the house." ' Rose's face beamed with gladness as she answered : " Oh, he is a bright, strong, clever little fellow. I see him frequently. His life is rather a lonely one. You know the isolated manner in which Ruth lives prevents iiim from mingling with any of the little blacks on the plantation. I have given him some blocks from my own do ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. Ill nursery, and it is really wonderful to see how readily he can distinguish the letters from the animals, and name them, too." Turning to depart, she looked back, adding : " I am going out for a ramble, papa, and if you would like to accompany me I will drive rather than lide." " No, no, my dear, do as you choose, but be careful, do not wander too far ; you have no attendant now, and the country is filled with rebellious negroes. I am very anxious about you when away upon these soli- tary explorations, and a weak woman in the hands of those villains can hope for but little mercy. You: remember your experience some time ago. Do you not ?" Did she remember ? Could she forget ? She hastened away seeking Ruth's cabin, and the day wore into twilight ere she quitted it. There was a long discussion about the news in her father's letter; her own to read and re-read. Lionel was ailing too that morn- ing ; he had reached that stage allotted to infancy ; teething time, with all its perils, had seized him, and he was very iretful and required a great deal of atten- tion. He would not suffer Ruth to administer any comfort or caress ; it wks " white Mamey" who must bathe the flushed face, soothe the inflamed mouth, brush the mass of long black ringlets falling low upon his little shoulders, draw on the little socks, lace the tiny boots^ She sang to him, played with him, but, notwithstand- ing, he Iretted and sobbed with a petulance unknown 112 ROSE WOOD, on THE OCTOllOON'S BRIDE. to him, aiirl by the time Rose withdrew from the cabin she was much alarmed and distressed to see he had worried himself into a fever. Ruth tried to calm her, saying it would pass off with a night's rest, and promised if it grew more serious she would inform her, and then they could procure medical aid. All night long Rose's dreams were disturbed with the figure of little Lionel Hitting about in wild distress. Sometimes his little suffering mouth would appear to be inflamed to a fiery hue and swollen to an enormous size, and through the lacerated gums protruded teeth of prodigious dimensions. His cries for " white Mamey ■' resounded in her ears without cessation. She was awake at the dawn of day. and, dress- ing herself, hastened to ascertain his condition ; there was no improvement. " Do not disturb him nor force anything upon him, ' and I will come again in the C(nn'=!H of an hour or two, and if he proves no better we will certainly send for a physician," she said as she left the cabin. She was engaged all morning superintending the ar- rangement of the apartments her father's guest was to occupy. When noonday arrived she was informed of his unexpected arrival. Of course she must be present at luncheon, after that she would attend to her boy. The bell telling the hour had arrived caused her to hasten down to take a final look at the table. While thus engaged the door opened, and turning around she beheld the butler and the important personage who, ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 113 judging from the expression of her face, she had met before, the butler clotied the door and left them together. " Dr. Struss !" " Mrs. Brown !" They both simultaneously ejaculated. St. Clare Wood now joined them, he having on his way to the dining room with his guest stepped aside to say something to the house boy. Both occupants of the room collected themselves, with a most miraculous power of self-control. " I beg your pardon," said the host in a most apologetic man- ner. "I was necessarily detained a moment." My daughter. Miss Wood, ])r. Struss, of New Orleans." The two acknowledged the introduction with all the •conventionality due to the occassion, and most placid indifference. Who can picture the tumultuous riot being enacted in Rose's confused brain and apprehensive heart. It was obvious to Dr. Struss, that her father was in ignorance of her secret, which he by some freak of ill -fortune was in full possession of. Once or twice she caught his eye and what was it she read in it ? Surprise, incredulancej 'Curiosity, and yes even, insolence ; he in return, read from the depths of those liquid orbs, defiance, entreaty, fear and despair. But Rose had no cause to fear an expos^ there. Dr. Struss knew only too well what silence would gain for him. Surely, he reasoned, Providence sent him there; he had a nice little scheme all " cut and dried" before he •started for Rose Mount, and this " played right into his w in just what position you and yours are placed Should you be tempted to destroy it, upon second tliought you will see it will be useless, as it can again, be renewed. Here':ofore I have scorned at what mortals call love ; but now, at this advanced age, the flame has reached me, and I have succumbed to its clutches. Be guided by me in this, and agree to my views, md / will •destroy the paper that stands between you and beggary. St. Clare Wood can never redeem Rose Mount, but you can — by in time becoming tny wife. Now it is in your own hand to make or mar your future happiness. Think well over all I have written, and you can not but see I am to be your redemption. " I remain, yours devotedly, '• Adolph Struss." At the end it dropped from her nerveless grasp; ter- rible fears and bitter truths crowded themselves into 126 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOUOON'S BRIDK. it i;- her aching head. She had read and re-read the mortgage- until she knew it verbatim ; had learned the cause of her father's pale, careworn face. He had in his old a.'>e gambled and lost all but his name, and should the- mortgage not be redeemed, that too would be gone. And she had been asked by the man who held their future in his hand to wed him after he had put av/ay his lawful wife of long years. He believed her to be a woman, with all woman holds dear besmirched, but would overlook it would she consent to his vile propo- sitions, and if she refused — as she certainly should do- even were she free — he would pour forth the awful lie that she was not a wife. Even should she prove it un- true it takes time and courage to live down and quench such detrimental rumors. Come what may, she would never see nor address the wretch again. Her father knew her incapable of such wrong ; her husband would protect her and punish the perpetrator of such false- hoods. Ah 1 yes, her husband^ and she smiled lovingly as his image arose before her. To see her father, to console with him in their mis- f 01 tune would be the means of revealing what was yet unknown to him of herself. George had asked her to await his return from the war, so she would brave it now to the end. Kose Mount was not yet Dr. Struss' irretrievably, and although a large sum of money must be raised to free it from the present dangerous encum- brance there were ways of doing it ; economy was one Even should the mortgagee close the compact, the law allowed them some mercy. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 127 She would absent herself from home ere his return, and failing to see and interview her he could take no decided steps to further her ruin. She would keep him in ignorance of her whereabouts until George would come forward and clear her of her present painful po- sition. But a long and fierce struggle must ensue ere all this came to pass. Rose saw not the future, it was best she could not. It is wise fate never unveils the transpirations of €oming years, or I fear there would be but few to keep the wide world wagging. CHAPTER XV. A WASTED LIFE. WE left Grace last in grim death's toils. Twice he almost succeeded in wrapping his cold mantle around her fever-spent frame, but she rallied and came back to figure a little longer on life's checker board. That she had suffered much was no reason that she should not again drink of the myrrhed draught of woe's chalice. For more than a year we have heard nothing 0£ her. It was early in the autumn of *63 ere she was allowed to resume her duties as nurse to the General Hospital ; duties which she would again adopt despite the advice and warnings of wise, interested phy- sicians. She J^^ ' given up her life to this cause and would st. y nov» until it was ended. 128 PiOSK WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S HKIDE. Her husband had never written her since her depar- ture ; she had not bargained for his displeasure to last such a length of time. Her oldest boy wrote child- like letters, but which sufficed to keep her in the knowletlge of how affairs were at liome. True, she yearned for a caress from her little ones and to hear the ring of their merry voices once more, but some day jhe would see them again, the war must soon be over, she thought, but at present she was needed there with the suft'ering bullet pierced victims. Many a man fell into death's long sleep with her name along with those of others dear upon his lips. Here again we meet her, her sweet face crowned with its white dimity cap, bending low over the iron cots, with angelic beauty, and the white hands bathing and soothing aching heads and flesh-rent wounds ; her flute-like voice praying for and comforting the agony of battle field victims. Two days after the scene between the planters daugh- ter and Dr. Struss, at Eose Mount, Grace was startled on the morning of the third day by a loud unmusical voice at her elbow saying : "You seem quite an adept at this business now. What do you say if you give yourself a rest and come back with me to your home ? '' " Oh ! Adolph," she cried, " how you startled me. Why did you not tell me of your coming ? This is no place to receive you in, here with the dead and the dying." " That's not an answer to my question," he sullenly replied, " I want you to give up this foolish mission More than a year and no word of your cominp- home. ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. U'9 Do you intend to desert me and your family altogether for these strangers ? They have wives, sisters and mothers who can as well fill your place. This thing has gone on to<> lon.i; already and I am here to put a stop to it. I go back to-night, so be ready to accom- pany nie, I cannot wait longer nor shall I ever ask you again. t< Go back to-night ! " she exclaimed, " surely you do not mean it ; if so I can give but one answer, it is No. I am needed here as you have by this time not failed to see. When tlie North and South cease fighting and all the wards are empty then will I cease nursing and withdraw my services. I intend to finish as I have commenced and nothing but like services required in my own home will induce me to leave my post. My children are well and as tenderly cared for as I could do myself, so do not urge me — it will only be words wasted. This is the first time in all my recollection that I have thus asserted my will and it is my firm in- tention to adhere to it." He glared at her a moment and then said — " You refuse to go home with me ? " " Yes, at present I do. I will go back to my home long before my husband will feel the want of my com- panionship." This was what he had half expected and wholly de- sired. " Very well," he ansv/ered, " you have certainly made a nice little speech and I have been good enough to listen to you, listen to such words as woman never dared to address me with before nor will again — he foroot his interview with Hose Wood it seems — and if 130 liOSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOllOON'S BUIDE. |M you still persist in making a Florence Nightingale of yourself, — I know nothing else tempts you to remain — all right, my fair lady, but remember if there are any disagreeable ('orise(|uences to be taken you are the sufferer. I now bid goodbye to my obedient, loving wife and go home to prepare for and aivait your coming." He vanished ere she had time to reply. Disagreeable conseque^ices, what did he mean by that ? But then he was always ranting in such like strains. He could do nothing, slie thought, but refuse to take her back when she did return, and she thought she knew him better than to allow any such proceeding to tarnish his immaculate reputation. So Grace Struss stayed on, devoting her unselfish heart and good life to the mission she had learned to love so well. Winter, after holding his frigid sway, gave place to verdant spring, and with the flowery index to gentle summer the disagreeable consequence Grace had pon- dered upon and half expected came to her one March day in the shape of a divorce summons. It was served in person by a sheriff. He read it aloud to her and she listened with strange silence, but when the following clauses were repeated to her she felt and looked turned to stone : — 1. " The said action is brought to dissolve the bonds of matrimotiy existing between the plaintiff and defendant, upon the ground of said defendant disregarding the solemnity of her marriage vows, wilfully and without just cause ^Pf ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE. having deserted and abandoned the plaintiff in the year 1862, and ever since that time has and still continues so to wilfully and without cause desert and abandon said plaintiff, and to live separate and apart from him without his consent. Said plaintiff also prays for the cus- tody of the four minor children, Herman, aged fifteen, Phillip, aged twelve, Will' ., aged eight, and Alice, aged five. And you are here- by notified that if you fail to appear and answer the said complaint, as above required, the said plaintiff will apply to the court for the relief demanded." 131 The officer long awaited an answer, and wondered in his own mind how she would agree to the above pro- position. She, after some minutes had elapsed, said, " I acknowledge the receipt of the summons and fully understand its purport. I shall appear in court next month, and when they have heard Dr. Struss' side of the story, then they shall have mine, but I will never relinquish my claim upon my little ones and see thein submitted to such a monster. These are strong words for a woman to use against a man who has been nearly twenty years her husband, nevertheless they are true, as I shall soon take steps to prove. Has my answer been satisfactory ?" " That is not for me to judge, Madame," answered the officer, ^:ity swelling his heart for the outraged Vr'ife and mother. " We, when we are sent upon a message of this sort, are supposed to bring an answer of recep- 132 t'^ ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON S BRIDE tion or rejection. From your words I infer you will contest the case, so I will carry back words to that ef- fect." After he liad left her she seated herself upon an empty cot to think it all out. This, then, was the dis- agreeable consequence he had meant. Could it be that he had premeditated this step ere he made this trip north ? Yes, she saw it all clearly now. He had waited a year without asking her to return, and then when he did, he did it in such a manner as to make her rebel. And she was to be dragged into a divorce court. Her name was to serve as food for the hungry newspaper public, and for interest and sport of the lawless, mouthing herd of common people who frequent such scenes. Oh ! horrible, horrible, it must be a cruel joke, just to frighten her ; she would write and ask him if such were not the case, and if it really were she would go home and endeavor to repair any wrong and unhappiness she had caused through her anxiety to help the wounded and dying. She wrote that day and soon received an answer confirming all the officer had read to her. She could contest it if she chose, but it would be useless. Her little ones then were to be torn away from her. Those treasured darlings torn away from the breast whereupon their little lives had been nourished, their imaginary sorrows sobbed out, their little heads lulled into angel's slumbers. In all the annals of slave cruelty did any appear more barbarous than this ? It has been said, and I have read, that slave's mothers were subjected to such treatment, but I, the writer, did not make my debut into this charming earth until after ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 133 the slave question had been settled, so of course it is impossible for me to corroborate or contradict the story either way without having been an eye or ear witness to such statements, but I, like all my fellow beings, am entitled to my opinion, and I undauntedly here pro- claim that / do not believe it. However, I am open for correction and conviction. Grace now wrote to her parents acquainting them with her painful position and what she termed her hus- band's madness, and avowing her intention to let him have his freedom, but she would fight hard to retain her children. She was answered by a letter from her mother bid- ding her hasten to New York, and soon following this epistle her father arrived, and he persuaded her to re- turn with him. She, now nothing loathe, agreed, feeling that ere this sad ordeal was ended she would need some support more staunch than her own unflinch- ing determination. With the first days of April Grace started for the south, her mother going also. She intended remaining in the vicinity of New Orleans until the ugly affair was ended. Grace prevailed upon her to go up to her former home with her, which she did, but upon arriving there a new servant answered their ring at the bell, but when upon learning their names she told ^hem she " had strict ord'ahs from massa' not to let Mis' Struss in.'' Accompanying this crushing announcement was a rough bang of the door in their faces. Poor Orace would have fallen to the stone pavement had not her mother spoken words of comfort, and then half 134 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. dragged her to the carriage they had quitted a moment before. Grace, after she was seated, gave orders to drive to a hotel near by until some steps were taken to secure- more suitable accommodation. The case of Stniss v. Struss was arranged for the third week of April. Grace wended her way to the Court-Eoom, and, for the first time since tliat memorable scene at Washington, confronted her husband — his sullen countenance lighted with a sinister grin at be- holding her in all her woe. The complaint .being read, the defendant was then questioned as to how she should defend herself. In a bri^f manner she stated the circumstances by which she absented herself from her home and husband, conclud- ing that should judgment be brought against her, she still demanded her children. Work for the lawyers now began, and a hard battle- ensued. The case lingered until after six o'clock, then adjourned The strong tention upon Grace's nerves now gave way> and she was carried insensible from the Court-Eoom. The suit was not resumed again that sitting of Court,, but carried over until the following September term. Long days, mounting into week«^. elapsed ere the sorrow-stricken wife's condition was pronounced not dangerous. Brain fever had been the harsh result. As soon as it was deemed safe for her to travel, her mother bore her away to New York again. Once only had she seen and caressed her little flock ; it was when Her- man, the oldest boy, had — regardless of all commands to the contrary — stolen them away and brought them to KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 135 lier anxious embrace ; but she afterwards learned it had nearly cost him his life, and, as soon as it could be arranged, he was packed off to a Switzerland school. With Grace's convalescence came a dry, hacking cough. In vain was mountain air prescribed and fol- lowed out ; it only seemed to grow worse. She pined ^nd withered away inio a ghost of her former self. No- thing now aroused her — even the thoughts of losing her little ones served to bring forth nothing but a dim moisture in her faded, hollow eye. The mother and father devoted themselves untiringly to the care of their daughter. There were times when they cherished wild hopes of seeing her restored to her health again, but they would be rudely snatched away by an attack of hard coughing and hemorrhage. Letters came occasionally from Phillip, the second oldest boy, and throughout their pages Grace read how much the little ones loved and missed her. Sometimes she exerted herself to answer them, and long she dwelt upon loving messages sent to little Alice, her last born. One lovely June day, as it waned into the twilight hour, mother and daughter sat talking of and relating little incidents of the brothers and childhood days. Grace half forgot her own sorrows in listening to the mother's sad strain. At length she said, with a deep- drawn sigh : " Oh ! well, mamma, we must look upon the sad deaths of our boys as the will of God. He doeth all things well. It had to be, I verily believe. And, mamma, it is not so hard to die ; in some cases it is much harder to live. There is 'nothing in life worth the struggle of 136 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. many. I have thought it all over since I have been here — my wasted, neglected life ; my starved, hungry^ heart ; my cruel treatment from my husband, and hard opinion from the world — and I, like poor Jimmie, don't fear nor grieve to die. My life and happiness are- shattered, and I don't want to live. I feel the happiest minute of all my days would be were I this minute called away. Yes — I believe — I — would — like — to — die — now " She leaned back in her chair, and the white, wan face, resting against the crimson velvet pillow, shone with a supernatural glow ; the lips were parted as in a heavenly smile, and the sorrowful eyes fixed upwards on some vision of heavenly glory. She looked, at that moment, more like one of Heaven's angels than a broken hearted mother and discarded wife. " Grace, dear," said the mother, " will you take a little tea now ? It has been hours since you have broken your fast." No answer. What was the meaning of the strange- silence ? The listless hands moved not, as was their wont, to toy with the fringes of her silken shawl — prompted thus by the riotous nerves. The mother felt alone ; but another presence, reader, stood in the room now. Cold Death, in all his majesty, issued in and was " master of the situation. With noiseless tread he walked up to Grace's chair, pausing long enough to pass his icy hand o'er her leaden heart, and breathe his chilling breath on the broken life, until it passed away into his dark abode. Bift the soul, reader, he could not touch HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. UT that. Up it floated to its rightful owner, to dwell with. Him in His peaceful realms above. Yes, poor Grace was dead, Gods holy will again was done. He longs to fill His celestial abode with just such spirits as sweet unerring Grace, and he called her to His embrace and restful home. It was all over now, she had her wish at last, she found the panacea which mortals know n( t of nor how to give. You and I reader will one day, I trust, find this all true. It was a sad household in the Field's home that night, and the next day they carried all that was earthly of Grace Struss to Greenwood cemetery, and laid her in the clay recepticle allotted to all mankind when he reaches this last stage. Side by side she and the two brothers sleep in their last slumber, and the weeping willow that kisses the green sod over the new made mound sobs out a doleful requiem in the summer winds like strains from the melancholy lute or plaintive Eolian harp. Dr. Struss, when informed of her departure from this vale of tears fully realized the infallible power of his just Creator ; he was divorced by God, He had denied man that degrading privilege ; but he sent out no re- grets after the wronged woman. He was free, he thought of nothing else. Free to win Kose Wood and after a respectable length of time he took immediate steps towards securing the coveted prize. ■*■ ♦■ 138 150SE AVOOl), Oil THE OOTOHOOX'S BKIDE. CHxVPTEli XVI. THEY ALL SANG " ANNIE LAURIE." ON the banks of the blue Eappahaniiock were camped two armies, the blue and the gray, with- in two rifle shots of each other. General Grant had crossed the Eapidan, preparatory to the morrows battle. The bugle had blown the retreat, the roll call answered, the soldiers were scattered around in groups discussing the morrows probable slaughter, home and the dear anxious ones. The rival bands struck up their national airs and. alternately each responded with the song of either land. Everyone must know of how one musician was inspired to warble out the well known strains of " Home Sweet Home," and ere many notes were sounded, both bands swelled into the grand old air. They might be foe and foe and bitterly and determinedly adhere it, but now they were man and man, lovers and members of home. No response echoed to the beautiful tune, so all elapsed into silence again, the heart strings had been tugged at too hard for anything else but reveries of "the dearest spot on earth," and with the last notes of the familiar air, "something on the soldiers cheeks washed off the stains of powder." One more boyuant than the others said. song, something we all know and join in.' 'O' ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 13^ " What shall it be ?" questioned another, and from a slender gray clad figure lying on its back looking up- into the blue depths of nature's canopy came the words " Annie Laurie." So Annie Laurie it was and they all aang it, just as in the Crimea, when some one sang it alone and it was echoed in the hearts of all. Gerald Gordon— for it was he ^ho named what their song should be — turned over and burying his bearded face in his arms, lived again the scenes in which he had heard that song sung last. The liquid-eyed, dark haired girl who kissed his forehead and blessed him on his departure for his present position, arose now before him and long into the night he dreamed of her and of the time when he might possibly call her his own. Where- was she at that moment, he wondered, and did she ever think of him, or perhaps dream ot him. She was ma}' be awaiting him to return with honors from the war. Thus far he had been awarded none, but he would be, he felt sure, and now he solemnly vowed to fight hard - to win them ere his services were ended. Kobert and Clinton Gray had become great friends of his bince their entrance into his regiment. Poor little " Robbie," — the long tramps, poor food and hard beds told how much he had suffered during the past nine months, but Clinton and Gerald did much to lessen his hardshi[js, filling his empty canteen, leaving but a few drops in their own, sharing their scanty rations, carrying his knapsack, even when it was unfilled, it proved a burden to his tired frame, shouldering his gun, bathing his tired feet, soothing his aching head and 140 KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOIfOON'S BUIDE. •often making him lean upon their own tired arms in 'the long dusty marches and thus he walked for miles when awake, or was dragged when sleep or exhaustion ^overpowered him. To-night he lay near Gerald Gordon, not speaking nor moving and to all observers he was apparently asleep ; but Gerald saw the tears steal out from under the closed, sunken eyelids and run down the liollow, dirty cheek. To-night Kobert's thoughts were all with his liome, his Annie Laurie was his aged mother. He thought of how when he went home again he vvould tell her how sorry he was he had made her grieve when he volun- teered, and how he always fell asleep with her image in his heart and lier name on liis lips. Somehow to-night the thoughts of home made his heart ache, oh, so hard, and the tears would come in spite of all he could do to stay them. " Robert," said Gerald, "come here and sleep with me to-night." But the lad feigned sleep already ; Gerald arose and taking his unfolded blanket spread it down double on his own, and then, lifting the still figure of the boy, carried him as though he had been an infant to the bed prepared for him. Lying down beside him, he drew »him to his breast, pillowed his frowsy head on his shoulder, and folding his arms about his sobbing, tired body, they fell into rest. Thus Clinton found them some hours later as he made his bed beside them. Long he looked at his brother ere he sought sleep, and he felt like crying aloud on seeing how he had failed. Nearing him, he undid his faded blouse and the ■■ ROSE WOOD, 0J{ THE OCTOROON'S BUIDE. 141 s 1 1 throat button of his soiled tlanriel shirt, ao as to let him breathe easier, and he was startled to see how his collar- bones stuck through his fair skin ; it seemed as though the slightest touch would break the skin so tightly drawn over them, leaving them bare. His little arms through his l)louse sleeve looked rathe and frail, and his slender legs looked like those of a skeleton. Poor boy, big, sturdy man that Clinton was, he turned away with tears in his eyes, saying, "He has gone off dreadfully. I hope mother does not see him looking like that. She would never forgive me, though — God knows — I have done all I could to keep him up better." The night passed away, and morning dawned. It was the 5th of May, 1864. Who does not remember what happened that Sabbath morn ? Reader, it was the Battle of the Wilderness — the dav on which Grant encountered Lee in that terrible contest.. Xone have ever nor will forget it. Clinton, Gerald, and Robert faced the foe together ; the trio stood upright in the second line at the first volley. All day long the battle raged, and still they clung together. The two older men shielded Robert as best they could, and when night darkened upon that scene of gore, they still were unharmed. Robert had been much refreshed from his night's rest — his step was more elastic, his arm steadier, his face brighter. When the next day dawned, hotter than the one before, the scene of carnage was most appalling^ Our three Confederates fought again inseparably, but toward noon-day Robert disappeared. Clintron thought -ir m lliil, •*•* 142 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S HRIDE. Tie must be wounded, and prayed God that might be all. At sunset the battle closed. The Confederates were victorious. In the afternoon Gerald CJordon had observed a sol- dier on the Union side standing beside a gallant, stalwart Captain. He recognized the private as his sister's hus- band. He saw them fall together, and he almost sank to the gory earth in his grief, as it was a shot from his own rifle that brought Willie Marney down ; his com- rade, Clinton Gray, brought the Captain down. It was the first time either of them witnessed such marked work of their unaimed shots. Once he saw the officer rise, and extend his clasped hands heavenward, but another shot behind him felled the Unioner, and he never rose again. He fell this last time shot through the palms of his clasped upraised hands. Cerald re- solved to see Marion's husband, and ascertain whether he was dead or only wounded. So when the shadows deepened and darkness fell, he stole away from camp> some distance from where the bittle had been fought, and made a desperate move to reach his brother-in-law. But could he do so in that uniform i He thought not. Crawling on his hands and knees, over battered can- teens, lifeless, headless, armless, legless forms, and dis- carded knapsacks and rifles, he reached a Union soldier who proved to be quite dead. Quicker than it takes to tell it, he tore off his Confederate uniform, and donned the one he had taken off the Unioner. Rolling up his own, he secreted it in an old tree, where he intended to stop on his way back and array himself again. -Standing upright, he now advanced to the spot where ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 143 Willie Marney fell. Luckily he encountered no one ; for had he, and they asked for the countersign, he could not have given it, and then death or capture were the alternatives. Tlie groans of the dying and wounded almost frenzied him. The Union side had lost heavily. He soon found Willie's body. Poor fellow ! he was quite dead. Throwing himself on the blood-bespattered form, he cried out: " Oh ! Marion, Marion, he's dead, and by my hand, and she loved him so. Speak to me, old fellow, say you'll forgive me, let me take home a message to the lonely wife. Oh ! God, he cannot. How can I ever tell her I saw him fall, and by whose hand ?" A groan from the prostrate figure of the officer at- tracted his attention. He neared him and, bendino; down, saw that he still lived and was conscious. " What can I do for you, my poor fellow ?'' he asked tenderly. " Shoot me !" cried the officer, " kill me and be done with it. But who are you, friend or foe ?" " A friend, though from the other side, but I saw the poor fellow at your side fall ; he was my sister's hus- band, so I came to see how it was with him, but he is gone ; that shot fired by myself did its work well." " Are you the brother to Willie Marney's wife ? then you are Geralfl Grordon, from Charleston. Oh ! God, the pain and the thirst. I have lost so .nuch blood ; can you find any water ?" Gerald hastened away and found at some distance a little hot muddy stream, it may have been a tributary from the Mattapony river, Filling an empty canteen,. iiftV 144 ROSE WOOD, OK THK OCTOKOON'S IIRIDE. 'he hurried back to the officer, but the suffering aian was insensible. He deluged his face with the water, and then finding his wounds, tried to check them; the flow was very scant now. There were two wounds be- sides the pierced hands, one in the right leg above the knee, the other in the left leg in the thigh. The water in the canteen was now exhausted and more must be got. It would take a good deal to resucitate him, and he •could do nothing better than to get him to the stream near by. Half carrying, wholly dragging him, he suc- ceeded in getting him near enough to leave him un- harmed, and then, after walking some little distance, he filled the canteen and two others found on his way tliere. The Captain soon showed signs of life, and Gerald A/as eager to hear him speak again ; he did so, but with some efibrt. " You are Arthur Gordon's son, my master's old friend. I am George Stevenson, St. Clare Woods liber- ated slave.'' "Captain Stevenson,!" excbdmc 1 GGrald, I liave heard much of you, but let me find a xloctor and get ^ou to a hospital to have these wounds attended to. Don't talk now. Captain, I beg of you, it will waste much previous time." " No ! no ! my good fellow, I must talk now, while I •am able, or, I fear, I never will again. Bear with me patiently, I have much to say. Do not go for aid ; you forget the risk you will run." " I have dressed mvself in union uniform so if not asked the password I will be safe enough," answered •Gerald. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOItOON'S BRIDL. 145 George continued, without replying to these last "words. " At Rose Mount, I have a good friend , he was the kindest master in the south ; he treated me as though I were his own son. You must tell him if you are spared liow I longed to see him and thank him once more for his kindnesses to me. I have a mother there too, poor soul she will grieve much after my death but comfort her for me. If the south is victorious and slavery still continues tell St. Clare Wood it was my (lying request that she should be freed so in case of his death or a sale of his plantation at any time, she ■will not fall into another owners hands. Put your hand into the left inside pocket of my blouse and there you will find some letters, a bible, and a locket. Be care- ful of the paper in the bible. Now listen to what I have to say, it will seem to you incredible. I left a 'wife at Eose Mount ; the dearest, purest woman in all the world wide. Gerald, she is St. Clare Woods' daugh- ter and has been my wife for more than two years. •Our marriage was to have been made known upon my return from the war, but it need never be now unless it is to claim a certain sum of money which has fallen to me, and now after my death belongs to my wife. These are her letters to me, in them are passages refer- ring to you which made known to me your affection for her. You now understand her silence to you when you asked her if another man was the possessor of her heart and love. I was her husband and alive at that time, but when I am dead and she is alone in the world without me, tell her from me she will need a protector 146 ItOSE A\'OOD, OR THE OCTOIiOON S BRIDE. for her old age and our little son. Her father must, pass away, and she must not be left companionless. Tell her I am willing it should be as you once wanted it, and my little one Gerald, be the father to it — I would have been had I lived, love him and be good to him after I am gone, for I am going my friend, and the end is not far off. Oh God ! the pain again ! the weakness, I f d ver}' strange, this is not a faint this time, this is death, let me say good-by while I may. Take good care of yourself old fellow, and Eose, and Lion — " the voice ceased. Gerald, like one in a stupor, leaned down and saw what he thought the death bead on his sun- burnt brow. Once again he spoke in slow empty tones: " Into Thy hand I commend my spirit oh Lord," then it died awav. Gerald straightened the tired, wounded limbs, wiped the powder-stained face, folded the blood-stained hands and hastened Jiway, dropping beside the cold form the bundlfci of letters, Bible and locket. He had not gone far ere lie encountered a Confederate party searching amongst the dead for relatives he supposed. Seeing a soldier in L^nion garb, ihey watched him approach, and thinking him a foe, fired, and he fell wounded in the shoulder. " Hold," he cried, " 1 am private Gordon ; I, assumed this dress to search among the Uuioners for a friend I saw fall. Come here and see what you have done. Why didn't you ask the countersign ?" Quickly they rushed to him and bore him into camp,, first tearing off the blue uniform. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 147 His wound necessitated him being sent to an hospital. It must be probed to find the ball, so he pleaded to be sent to Eichmond. On the morrow he was forwarded there. He grieved much at the loss of t le pa'^-kages George had given into his care, but t^e revelation he had been given by George so overpo^vered him that he had forgotten about them until he had been days at the Confederate capital. This then was the cause of Eose '^/^ood's woe and agi- tation when the war had been discussed and when he had used the words until " death u i part.*' That lovely woman was that gp.dant, martyred, Cap- tain Stevenson's wife, now his widow, and he at one time had been her father's slave. It was like fiction. Poor George ! And he at one time threatened to kill him, or words to that effect, if they ever met, and he knew him to be the man who had Eose Wood's heart and love. They had met and how Gerald thanked God lie had been with him and comforted him in his last mo- ments. , Yes, he deserved a better fate. Why could he not have lived to have enjoyed his distinction, his wealth his wife and child, and his home ? Poor Marion, she too was widowed. Gerald would willingly have given his young life to have spared the two women he loved so dearly this awful bereavement. He had sent word to send Willie Marney's body to New York, and Captain Stevenson's to South Carolina, but news came back that the body of his brother-in-law had been disposed of as be wished, but that that of his friend could not be found. 148 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. Poor fellow, he had likely been, buried after the man- ner of soldiers who fall on the field, and Gerald groaned' aloud thinkin!:> over the cruel fate of those two noble- lives and of the sad duty he had yet to discharge. CHAPTER XVII. A NEW NURSE AT RICHMOND, WHEN Dr. Struss returned to Rose Mount, after his interview with his wife at Washington, he found Rose had gene to Charleston on a visit. " Confound the woman, she thinks to avoid ma, but Charleston is not such a large place but what I can find her ; but no, PU wait until I get this other business settled up. She knows how the field lies with her, and it is only a n" itter of time until it is all as I have planned. She won't dare marry ony one else ; she knows what a sword would then hang over her head ; so I will just keep ([uiet and let her come over to my side on her own account. I dare say some men would rather have Rose Mount than Rose Wood. I thought so myself until I saw her, but now I'd forfeit all the plantations in the south and all the wealth in North America rather than lose the woman I love. Love her ? I do — something I never did before nor will again, and by G- — I'll do anything, even murder, before I'll give- her up." ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 149 Thus resolved he went quietly back to New Orleans, and how he succeeded with his " business" there we already know. Eose while at Charleston wanted to volunteer as nurse to the Richmond hospital. She wrote her father to this effect, and he gave his full consent, upholding her in her decision ; so there we find her upon the morning Gerald Gordon was borne wounded, tired and field-stained into her ward two days after the, battle of the Wilderness. How his heart bounded with joy as he saw her and knew she would aid in nursing him. She was very much changed ; her face was none less lovely, though pale, and the eyes none the dimmer, though wistful How could he ever tell her all he must ere long? How would she bear it ? Would it kill her ? She, of course, had prepared herself for reports and news of all kinds, but even so the blow would be a hard one when it came. He would wait until he was compelled to ; that would be soon enough. His wound was not serious enough to confine him strictly to bed, but he was altogether debilitated and the doctors ordered perfect and complete rest. So as he lay through the long hours watching Rose he knew what; made her step listless and her face sadder than when he saw her first. She had heard George was mis- sing but knew not whether he was wounded or captured. Then again she heard he was neither one, so it must be that he was safe. It never flashed across her mind that he was dead. ll£l!IHia> •i 150 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. One morning, a week after the battle, she entered the ward with a newspaper which contained a true detailed account of it. Hastily and fearfully she scanned the list of wounded. No, he was not there. Then the cap- tured ; no, not there. Gerald, watching her, at this minute called to her, only to postpone it a little longer. Attending to his pretended wants she sat down beside him. Why would she persist in reading that paper, or if she would read it why did she not leave the room. He knew now it was coming, she was reading the list of the dead. So burying his face in the bed clothes he awaited the dreaded outburst of woe. Wondering at the long- silence he looked cautiously up at her. He was pre- pared, as we know, to see a change, but surely that was not a living woman. Oh ! The woe, the unspeakable a,nguish on that beautiful face. He must speak to her, this silence would drive him wild. Of all the pain he had suffered this was the most unbearable. Stretching out his hand be touched the one hanging at her side; it was like an icicle. "Kose," he whispered softly, but she showed no signs of hearing him. ** Rose, my poor girl, I know all, I was with him to the last.'' The white lips parted and she whispered hoarsely, "You saw him die — you heard his last words — you know he was my husband ? " Gerald replied, saying, " I will tell you all if you like to listen now or will you wait until you can bear it." *' Bear it ? I can bear anything now. Oh, yes, yes, tell me now, tell me all." ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 151 Then like a maniac she stood erect, throwing her arms wildly about, laughing and shrieking in such a man- ner that all in the ward and those adjacent started from their beds of pain and nurses and doctors came hurriedly to the apartment. " She has lost a dear friend," Gerald Gordon said, " take lier away to oome quiet place and give her some- thing to calm her, and keep her from a worse fate than death, — going mad." She was borne away by strong men and women, who needc ■ all their strength to control her in her wild woe. She was like an infuriated panther torn from its young. All who witnessed it shuddered at what they feared was insanity. Gerald had bargained for great grief, but anything like this he never dreamed of. Picking up the news- paper he too read the account and in it he received a shock, for the name of Kobert Gray was numbered amongst the dead as well as that of Captain George Stevenson. He saw Eose again after a week had elapsed. She came to him one morning and startled iiim out of a sleep by laying her soft warm hand on his forehead and saying in a heartbroken voice, " I can listen now, tell me all." It was his turn now to fill the ward with wild screams. Had he gone mad ? Or was this a dream ? Truly that was Rose Wood's voice and her eyes that looked into his face, but how came the silvery hair ? He looked again, the tall form, divested of the nursing costuaie, was habited in a loose black gown and the 152 IIOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOIIOOK'S BRIDE. white cap gone, and in its place a coronet of snow white hair. The once fresh young lace looked now aged twenty years, the lines of care and sorrow looked as though they would never be erased ; they were drawn in deep semi-circles around the sweet mobile mouth and in deep furrows on the white brow. Gerald related in detail all that bad transpired in George's last hours, omitting parts about himself for a future time. When he had finished, the tears, so long pent up, started and oozed in continual torrents. Kneeling at his side, she buried her face in the bed clothes and sobbed — it seemed to Gerald listening — her very heart out. He, her idol, her husband, her brave, handsome love, was dead, gone out of her life forever, taking with him all the sunshine and joy away from existence, leaving a rent unmendable in her heart, a blank, void spot in her soul. And her little one would never see him again — would grow to manhood fatherless — never even remember him. The bright visions of their life together in the future were to come to naught but idle dreams and bitterest disappointment. Never again would they wander through the woods of the old plantation, nor down by the sea-shore, to revel in sweet words and coming- pleasures. All through the long nights she must slum- ber and dream alone If she had only but seen his cold mutilated form, only to have pressed a farewell kiss on his lips, hushed in the stillness of death. But now she must live on alone, thinking of him always as HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 153 "being huddled into a soldier's unknown grave. On she sobbed. Gerald would fain have comforted her, but he thought it better to let the torrent of woe flow on unchecked. During Eose's absence, Arthur Gordon had written St. Clare Wood to come to Charleston, as he antici- pated trouble was in store for him. His slaves had turned riotous and created great havoc on his small plantation, and then in a body, accompanied by a herd of other blacks from the states adjoining, moved north- ward. He knew they would lay waste all plantations they encountered on their route, and, as he had aban- doned his home, he wished his old friend to escape any such awful misfortune ; so he asked him to flee to pre- serve his life, bidding him to come to him, as he had taken a house in the city. St. Clare Wood saw that it was best to act under this advice, and he resolved to leave before he witnessed any rebellion. So, the week Eose's grief came to her, he left the old home, little knowing how or when — if ever — he would see it asjain. ^ He wrote his daughter, telling her of hi? new move, :and should she tire of her work at the hospital, or be taken ill, to join him at Charleston ; but she, in her trouble, neglected to read his letter, so it lay unnoticed and unopened. After her outburst of woe at Gerald Gordon's bed- side, she made up her mind to go home and acquaint her i:y 154 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. father with her sad predicament ; and Gerald Gordon' told her it was the only thing left for her to do. So she must look to her parent now for comfort, protection,, forgiveness, and love. She was unfit for future duties in the hospital^ so back home she would go, and devote her life to her father* and her little one. What new sorrow awaited her there, another chapter,, further on, will unfold. CHAPTER XVIII. (( SOMEBODY S DARLING. )» OVEE the hills through the dense timber, the morning after the battle mentioned in the pre- vious chapters, came a lumbering waggon drawn by two large work horses, tired and dusty. It had two occupants, a man and a woman. The for- mer, freckled-faced and farmer-looking, the girl at his side tearful-eyed and anxious looking. As they neared the scene of ruin and dead, mutilated soldiers, we recognize them as Phoebe Gray and Joe Higgins. They had waited until after the battle, and then, at the mother's bidding, hastened to find news of the brothers. If they were unharmed, of course they must return alone,|but if they were wounded or dead they had ob- tained permission to take them away. Something told Phoebe that she would not find either of them alive, and in such case they must be taken home for proper burial. nj ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 155 Trenches were being dug for the dead, and many strangers were there searching amongst the slain for dear ones. One soldier in grey was busy scanning the lifeless faces, and as Phebe and her companion drew nearer they saw that it was Clinton ; he was spared and unharmed. Jumping out of the waggon, the sister ran to him, throwing her arms about his neck, and exclaim- in f' " Oh ! Clinton, my brother, how glad I am to see you. We have come, Joe and I, to see if you and Eobert were dead or alive. Thank God, we have found you safe. But where is our brotjier ?" Fondly embracing his sister, Clinton said, " He stayed by me until noon yesterday, and then I lost sisfht of him. He did not answer the roll call last night, so he must be here some place or else taken prisoner by the * blue jackets.* It was over there near that clump of trees where I saw him last Come, let us go there, he may be only wounded and lying under- neath others dead or in the same state." Joe had by this time joined them, ami together the three started for the spot Clinton had pointed out| Beachino" there they found no traces of him. Phoebe went further back into the wood, Joe and Clinton down into a little ravine. They had not cfone far when they were startled by a cry from the sister, say- ing : " Here he is. I liave found him. Look, he has been hiding from us all the time. See him standing up asfainst that tree with a smile on his face. Oh ! you naughty boy to frighten us so." . life;. 156 ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. They call advanced to the spot wliere Robert stood, and, as Phoebe said, with a smile on his face. As tliey neared him he showed no signs of recognition. " Oh ! liobbie, cried Phccbe, " why did you frighten us so, we thought you had been killed." Clinton seized her as she was in the act of embracing him, but spoke not a word, and, advancing toward him, touched his cheek ; it was like marble. Upon ex- amination it was found that the bullet that shot him through the heart, then lodged in the tree, and had taken in his clothing, thus pinning him. there, and thus he had died. He had been shot also in the leg, and it was supposed he got to the tree, leaning against it, placing his foot on some of the roots sticking up, and thus pre- vent! noj him from fallins;. The blood from the wounds had become a tenacious substance, and he was glued as it were to the support he had taken. His gun had fallen to the ground, and it showed he had just been in the act of charging when that random shot found him and did its deadly work. Poor liobbie, he would never enlarge again. Wild was Pha?be's grief when she fully comprehended his cruel fate, but there was no time to be wasted in laiuentation ; Eobert must be taken away from the heat and the dust, so Clinton and Joe cut his garments free from the cohesive gore, then, lifting him tenderly, carried him dowm to the little stream where Gerald Gordon the night before procured water for George Stevenson. On their way they passed the offi- cer lying just as Gerald had arranged him. Clinton, seeing him, said, liOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 157 " Oh God! I shot that brave fellow myself yesterday. See, some one has been good to him, and trying to bring him back to life. He is dreadfully riddled. It was better to die, perhaps," He has not been claimed yet. Phoebe, pick up his cap and put it c^er his face ; see how the hot sun pours down on it ; I cannot let him lie like that, even if he is dead." Phoebe stooped to obey, and takinj^ the dusty, faded cap of some poor victim, was in the act of doing as her brother asked, when the eyes of the officer opened and looked full into her own. She was so terror-stricken, she could not move nor cry out. An audible groan came from the lips, and then she touched the clasped, pierced hands. Thev were cold, but not with the chill of death. Tearing open his blouse and shirt, she felt for his heart. Did she imagine it, or was it really beating? It may have been her own pulse, she thought, so, pressing her •ear close to the spot, she was soon undeceived. His heart was faintly throbbing. Eunning down to the stream, where Joe and Clinton were with Robert's body, she breathlessly told them of her discovery. Bidding her remain there until he returned, Clinton hastened to where the officer was lying. By this time George had regained full consciousness} and, seeing Clinton, said : " Water, water ; give me a a drink." Clinton hastily procured it, pouring into it some brandy brought by Joe, then went back to where Phoebe and her companion were keeping guard over Robert. He held a hurried consultation with them, then Joe went for the waggon. When he returned with dt, tenderly and slowly they lifted Robert's lifeless form II::- 158 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S URIDE into it, then Clinton bade Thoebe prepare a bed beside- hini. His powder-stained, dusty face had been bathed, and the)' covered him with one of his mother's home- made patch-work quilts. They then started in tlie direction where George lay moaning, and raising him, laid him too in the wagon — on a softer bed than he had known in many days. *' Tell mother," said Clinton, "to nurse him well, and bring him back to life — ^just as though he were her own. I fired the shot which almost sent him to his death. You, too, Phoebe, must do your best, and when he re- covers, send him to his home and friends. And now good-bye to you both. I'll go home as soon as it is pos- sible. The war won't last much longer now. These scenes are telling fast on both sides. Slowly tlie wagon and party wended its way back in the direction whence it came, leaving Clinton prostrate on the earth weeping heartrending tears over his brothers sad death. Two days later Pho3be and Joe arrived at the farm house again with their painful burdens, and the poor mother, although prepared for such a blow, was for many days inconsolable. Lovingly they prepare! her last born for his last resting place, dressing him in a new suit of homespun grey. After the burial they devoted themselves to George. " He is somebody's darling," said Pho?be, " and we must do all we can to get him well and send him home to them." Hut it proved a hard and almost hopeless task, a slow dangerous intermitting fever set in and his wounds ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOKOON'S iiRIDE. 159 were in danger of becoming gangrenous. It was late in the autumn ere he showed signs of recovery and his- former life and connections were still unknown to them. He asked one morning, when he seemed blighter and stronger, if they had the paper containing the account of the cruel battle in which he had fallen. They had, as in it was the death of their Robert, and he knew after he had read it that he too had been num* bered amongst the silent majority. Rose believed him dead. His mother and St. Clare Wood shared her belief. It would be months ere he could go back to them and his hands were still stiff though healed and thus he was prevented from writing to them. He would wait until he could travel and then he would take them by surprise. Winter came and still George lingered with the Grays. He was able to go out now, and often Phoebe rowed him on the blue Rap- pahannock, as winters in Virginia sometimes pen \it of such sports. Christmas came and when the new year would come George resolved to go home to the dear ones. He had striven often to write but his hands were too stiff, and sorrowfully he realized that he would never be able to use them again. True he could have asked Phoebe to write, but it might alarm Rose to see a strange handwritinaj, and then they knew him not as a married man. It may have been just a foolish notioi:, but he could not allow a stranger to address her as wife. No, he would wait a little longer, seeing he had waited so long, a few days would not make much dif- ference. Delays are dangerous, someone has written, li: 160 KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. and from my own personal experience I corroborate the saying. It wanted but two days mitil "Father Time" issued in the new year and George and Phoebe were out rowing on tlie river. Phoebe looked sad and pale-faced, but her •companion was radiant with good spirits and his com- ing delights. Suddenly Phoebe ceased rowing and rested on her oars looking into George's face she said with a tone of pathos in her voice: — " So you leave us the day after New Year ? Tell me about your home, and are you sorry to leave us ? " " My home was in South Carolina," he replied, " and a very happy one it was until I joined the war. It had been a year raging before I volunteered and by so doing I caused two very sore hearts, my mother's and my wife's." What was that ? a sudden keel of the skiff, a splash and both occupants were in the water. ** Don't save me, save yourself," cried Phoebe, " I do not want to live. I turned the boat over on purpose " George held her in liis urms now and she al^ieked, " let me die, let me drown. Oh ! George, married and I loved you so." This certainly was a revelation to George, but the desperate, foolish girl's life must be saved, and he struck out for the shore. She was insensible ere he reached it and then the excitement, the cold water and the effects •of his previous hardships and illness proved too much for him and he lost all consciousness as well. They were found in this state late in the night and borne home more dead than alive. ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 161 CHAPTER XIX. T A DESERTED HOME. HE gates were unhinged, the hedges crushed and broken, the Howers uprooted, the fountains crammed with rubbish, the gravel walks bore traces of many footprints, the broad stone steps strewn with bits of broken furniture, the pots of pahns overturned, the window panes broken and their draperies hung in rib- bons, the shutters partially demolished. Euth's cabin had been gutted by fire, and the ani- mals from the stables and poultry from the barn-yard, roamed and feasted throughout the once beautiful gar- dens at wiL. No living soul was in view, and ruin,, utter ruin, stared out from every nook and corner, every vestige of everything lovely had vanished. This IS what Kose's home appeared one morning as. she drove up and alighted from the village of in a creaking carryall drawn by an asthmatic, cadaverous horse. She harl wondered why there was no family conveyance awaiting to bring her home, but she had arrived one train earlier than she telegraphed she would, and so that ixiust have been the reason that there was none of the household, as on former occasions, to meet her. Her home had been visited by ruinous, bloodthirsty blacks and lionie looked home no longer. Where were her father, Ruth and Lionel ? Driven awav or mur- dered perliaps. Those terrible creatures were perhaps 162 TJOSE WOOD, OR TrfE OCTOKOOX's BRIDE. lurking about awaiting the chance of taking her life. It did not matter much. What had she to live for now. Husband, father, home and child had been swept away and she was alone in this wide sphere, knowing not where to turn for shelter and rest. The vandalism that surrounded her was abhorring. Eapidly walking about the disordered grounds she stumbled upon her silver-haired terrier lying dead in the grass, a great gaping wound in its little side. This was the last straw ; it broke the camel's back. Sinking down beside her canine pet she sobbed convulsively. Ten thousand mocking, clattering demons seemed to hiss and laugh in her ears. Looking about wildly, all seemed to be absolute darkness and queerest sounds like echoes from some hellish region filled her turned brain. She heard the roar and swish of seething, angry waters, coming as it were from cavernous depths. Now she was borne away by some awful unseen power on and on, reaching at last the brink of some mountain- ous precipice. Looking down into the yawning chasm below she saw unearthly, revolting looking monstrosities flitting to and fro in a weird contortioned manner. They then climbed the awful heights, coming towards her, seizing her garments, dragged her down into the crepuscular, lurid abyss. Down, down, amid foul airs and hostile satanical shrieks, casting her abroad the black boiling waters, she floated down their gall-sea- soned channel, leaving behind the contemptuous gibber- ish tongues, until she met a huge rock standing im- moveable in ils vortex. Grasping at its stony surface for rest and protection, she then mounted to its summit. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 163 Floating from a topmost peak was a black banner bearing strangely written letters which spelt Despon- dency on its folds. Hollow-eyed woe and pale-cheeked misery closed about her in their habiliments of mourn- fuUness and probed her crushed heart with their long, bony, irony fingers, hooting in her face with harsh sepulchral tones, ''forsaken" '' frieiullcss''^ *' OA, vjoe to thee." Turn where she would there was the same lurid light, beyond it an impenetrable darkness met her gaze, dis- tress greeted her ears. Surely " Dante's Inferno " could never be more horrible than this ? Overwhelmed with horror, frenzied with suffocating odors, she vaulted into the vast space below and was again in the de- vouring merciless waves. On she drifted, coming to the waters of Lethe at last. Hugged in its kind embrace, they closed over her head and she sank into its untroubled depths and the chaotic scenes and sounds were over. She knew no more. What was this ? An awakening in a new world, per- haps ? Kind faces bending over her, familiar voices speaking to her, warm breaths on her cheek ; Euth smoothing her brow ; Lionel on her breast ; " Sultan," the mastiff, licking her face and hands, whining and talking in the langaage peculiar to dogs. Had she found friends again ? She was in her own room and no traces of the ruin which first met her gaze were now visible. i! 164 ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE. Vivid recollections of the ghastly scene she had passed through and escaped from arose before her, and she wondered if ^/tis could be a myth and the other a reality. Eising from her lying position she looked about. There were all the old slaves, their kind dusky faces looking troubled and anxious. How came she there clothed in white cambrics and nestling among sweet linens ? Euth now advancing bearing in her hands a cup, liftin^ it to her mistress's lips bidding her drink.. Mechanically she drank the warm potion, sinking back upon the pillows listening to the confused tales of all that had befallen the household since she left. Euth succeeded in getting the room cleared, then sit- ting by the bed, holding Eose's hand, related the follow- ing disastrous events : " Our master left us without any warning three weeks ago. On the afternoon of the day after his departure we were startled by an uproar of coarse voices coming up from the labor field. Looking out we beheld a party of strange negroes, some hundred in number, coming to- ward the house, our own slaves amongst them, with murder and devastation written on their faces. Esther's^ husband told us to fly for our lives to some secluded spot, these brutes would press us to join their band and refusal meant death. They first attacked the dwelling, but all the house servants were now in m}^ cabin. It took until dark to complete their villainous work, and when night had surely fallen I took Lionel in my arms and started for the woods, all my companions following me, not one remained behind. Eeaching the woods in safety we crouched about in bushes and behind trees to^ EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 1G5 escape observation. About midnight we were horrified at seeing the reflection of fire. Abe, who had perched himself up in a tree, cried out, ' The devils are burning the place/ We afterwards found out it was my cabin. We stayed in our harbor of safety until starvation drove Chloe's husband in search of food. He came here and seeing the rioters had vanished came back and per- suaded us to return with him as he believed all danger was past. We found some food terribly strewn and wasted over the kitchen and pantry floor. The wine cellar had been plundered and nearly all the wine drunk. Anything of value had been destroyed or car- ried away, the fireplaces and stoves are filled with bric- a-brac. Euin is stamped upon everything. We found you two days afterwards lying on your face in the grounds with Mignon dead in your arms ; we thought you killed also. But now I know the crisis has come and to-morrow will decide the result of this long fever. My master has never been heard of. He must have known of this wreck going to transpire and was afraid to warn us fearing we might become rebellious too. We must believe him safe and unharmed until we learn otherwise. The danger is all over now ; we have not been molested since, and Miss Eose, dear, I want you to calm yourself and when rested tell me of my son." At this last remark Eose groaned aloud, and turned her face to the wall. Euth was apprehensive of the truth, but refrained from further questioning then. Eose's silvered hair had at first aroused her suspicions, but it might perhaps have happened from scenes at the hospital, or tlie discovery made upon her arrival home. 166 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S 'BRIDE. Little Lionel, cuddling down in her arms, said : " White, mammy ; all white now, like the angels black mammy tell me 'bout." How Eose kissed and caressed him, calling him all the endearing names imaginable ; and he was wild with delight at being thus fondled. His little voice, and the touch of his little hands, put new life and vigor into her, and she no longer wished to die. To die and leave a darling like him alone ? Oh, no ! Heaven forbid. Folding him tightly in her embrace, they fell asleep. Kuth hastened away to help the others in straighten- ing out the ill-used household goods and clear away the debris. The fiendish desperadoes were possibly away at that minute enacting like ruin in other cherished homes. It was many days ere Eose was able to make a tour through the plundered house, and when she did she found many traces of the awful havoc. Many costly articles were gone. Nothing of her mother's picture re- mained but the face — the rest had been slashed to atoms by some sharp instrument. They buried the bloodhounds, terrier and greyhounds all in the same grave, and erected a suitable and appro- priate epitaph to mark their last resting-place. " Teddy," the cat, made his appearance, looking lean and lank, and as though some one had dipped his imma- culate coat into a pot of tar. He had taken refuge in one of the chimneys, going up through a fire-place. He and " SulLan " were " the last of all the crowd." Eose had written to Charleston to the Gordons for news of her father, but so far had received no response ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 167 The slaves tried all in their power to obliterate all traces of the destruction wrought by the wicked crew of slaves, and by the end of summer everything was in a little better order ; but many decorations and valuable ornaments were gone, and would never be replaced. Autumn came and still no word of her father. One November day a visitor arrived at liose Mount who proved to be none other than Gerald Gordon. He was off duty now, in fact discharged, as his wound per- vented him from further active service. He brought news of St. Clare Wood. He was still with his friend, Arthur Gordon, and would; upon learning the state of affairs at home, return were it possible. All the labor slaves had gone and the fields were lying in waste and overgrowth. Rose lived on in a lethargic state, her bereavement eeking out tlie vital spark, making her heart leaden and life dull. Long were the conversations she and Gerald had about the lost one, and although she knew it not, she found a panacea she would not have known had she lived on in silence, not speaking of her sorrows. It does one much good, though painful at the time, to talk about departed ones, and the time comes when we can look upon little mementoes and hear them spoken of without being plunged into grief and tears. Gerald did not linger long, going to Charleston ; he again returned with St. Clare Wood. Rose still deferred telling her father of her marriage. That he would be pained che never doubted, because she had done it without his knowledge and sanction, and had kept it quiet so long. He would not be angry ; 168 EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON's BRIDE. George was dead, and he had loved and lost, so he could have no bitter thoughts against the dead; even were he inclined to censure, he could not add more coals of anguish to the smouldering fire of disappointment. As winter passed away and spring approached, Eose began to dread a new sorrow. The mortgage in a few months would expire, and then she must leave her old home where she had known days of joy and hours of woe. In May, after the anniversary of the battle which cost George his life, Gerald Gordon sought her and made known George's last wishes concerning themselves.. Kose cried a little and thought how unselfish he had been to the last. He knew her and loved her first, and some say first love is best, and it had been given to him, but he wished her to be happy again if possible and have a companion throughout life. She could not answer Gerald just then, nor did he wish her to, but she promised to think kindly and favorably of him, and maybe in another year slie would do as he wished her to. She had George's approval, and he wished her not to spend all her days in mourning for him ; so she slowly and wil- lingly made up her mind to wed Gerald, but not until after the unpleasant mortgage affair was settled. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 169 CHAPTER XX. a "HE WAS MY FATHER. GOOD evening, Joe.'' " Good evening, Mrs. Gray." The lad thus addressed was on his way to the farm house, and meeting Widow Gray in the twilight alone going down to the river in rather an excitable manner, asked her errand, and accompanied her. " I have been sounding the horn for Phoebe for more than an hour. She and Captain Stevenson went out row- ing late in the afternoon, and 1 did not get anxious until after sundown. Fearing something has befallen them,- I have started out to see," said the widow, in answer to Joe Higgins' questions. They had reached the river now, and saw the boat was unhitched from its moorings. They listened for the splash of the oars or the sound of their voices but all was still, save the gurgling waters, a wild owl hoot, and a sobbing breeze in the great oak trees. Walking rapidly up and down the river bank, Joe called loud and lustily, but nothing answered him but mocking echoes. " I have found them," cried Mrs. Gray , " but oh, Joe, I am afraid they are both dead." He hastened to her side, where the missing ones lay still wet and insensible. " Something awful has happened," sobbed the mother, "I cannot see the boat, and Captain Stevenson will iliil! lip I I -•S.J' wm. 170 'V- ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S IJRIDE. surely die from the effects of this ; he was not very strong you know." Lifting Phoebe in his arms, Joe carried her to the house, leaving Mrs. Gray with George. He then ran home for his father to help him to carry the Captain,, which they hastily did, and gave him strictest attention. The result ^ his cold douche was inflammation of the lungs, an, ,din a long, doubtful, desperate struggle ensued to bring him safely back to life.- All thoughts of reunion with home and the dear ones must now be abandoned until fine weather, and it was not until the first days of May that he was able to be proppeil up with pillows for the first time in four months. The old village doctor told him he could not safely travel for another month, the uuich lacerated organs would not stand a sudden change of atmosphere,, and it would also be many months ere he could use much freedom with himself. So George fretted and fumed, impatient for the expiration of his confinement. In the meantime Clinton came home from the war,- no longer a Confederate soldier, but an American citizen. He was much rejoiced at seeing George on the road to health, but grieved at his recent misfortune. Phoebe had never seen George to speak with him since the night she made known her long hidden secret to him in the embrace of the waters, but she often stole into his room and visited him in his slumbers. Early one night, as he sank into a light sleep, he awoke and knew by some peculiar instinct he was not alone. A little dark figure was kneeling at his bedside. R03E WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. in Stretching out his hand he strove to touch it, and asked, in a low voice, "Who is there?" but it responded not. IJising up, it advanced nearer, and, bending down, pressed a passionate kiss on his brow, then cautiously and noiselessly vanished. George knew it was Plui;be, and a faint blusli crept over his face at the knowledge. He had wondered much at the startling confession she had made on that memorable night, but always banished it upon second thought. Perhaps it was all imagination on his part, hut even were it all true, he was wholly exonerated from winning the unsophisticated girl's love. Now she knew he was a married man, and this know- ledge would keep her from making her love sinful. How horrible it must be to become thus entangled when one or the other are bound by the solemn tie; and yet, I believe, in this world of ours, it happens sometimes, but let us hope not often. The next day the widow arranged George in the chnir where he had made his first convalesence, and wheeled him into the cheery living room. Phoebe was no where visible, but he made no inquiries. He noticed the mother often glance toward the door and occasionally going to the window and looking long down the road. About noon two farm waggons came rattling over the ' hills, and the sound of many hearty voices fell upon the two inmates of the farm house. The widow now cast aside her needle- work and advanced to the door ; evi- .xcntly she anticipated the party. As they drew nearer George discerned in the foremost vehicle Joe Higgins clad in a new suit of black, and Phcebe looking verv pretty sitting at his side dressed in a gown of spotless IS IS" \r ¥.■■ 172 HOSE WOOD, OU THE OCTOROON'S BKIDE. muslin, with ribbons of the same tied about her ample waist, a lar<^e slouching white hat decorated with white field daisies and mull covering her bead. Clinton was doing the honors as coachman. Darby and Joan had their shaggy coats nicely groomed, and the old mended harness was well oiled and polished. Each of the horses wore in their bridle a sprig of sweet seyringa. The waggon following contained all of the Higgins family, in Sunday attire. They soon passed through the live- barred gate and drove merrily up to the door. Joe assisted Phoebe to alight with an air of pride and pro- prietorship in his manner. After the mother had embraced her daughter, she led her by the liand to where George sat with wonder and amusement depicted on his handsome olive face. " Mrs. Joseph Higgins," said she, with a smile on her aged countenance. George tlien wished her all the happiness and prosperity her new life would bring to her, and as Joe advanced he congratulated him on wiiming such a prize. Phoebe looked wistfully into his face and wondered if he really considered her all he said. A very palatable little wedding repast was then par- taken of, George being a participant. Then came more stir and confusion. Mrs. Higgins was to make a journey of about live miles to her new home, a farm which her husband had rented ; so by four o'clock the widow was left with only one lamb of her small flock. There were traces of tears on her face as she joined George, but she acknowledged she was happy . nevertheless. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 173 I She had guessed some of her daughter's secret con- cerning her attachment for their guest and patient, and though she very much admired the Captain and was much interested in his welfare, she was well pleased to learn from Phoebe that he was a married man. The poor girl had a fierce struggle with herself, after her re- turn to health, to conquer her innocent passion ; sh« avoided seeing or waiting upon George, as it would never have done to rush into such a temptation. The mother, noting this, aided her all that was possible. When Clinton returned from the war Joe then pressed his suit harder than ever. After considerable reflection on Phoebe's side, she at length willingly consented to his proposals, and they were married m Chancellors ville in their little Church of England on the fair May morning just spoken of, the mother remaining at home to take care of George. The farm house was very lonely for a time without *' Brownie," and Mrs. Gray spent all her spare t' ne be- side George. Early in June he spoke of finally leaving ; he was making rapid progress toward regaining health under good nursing, country air and summer weather. Near a low front window where the summer breeze wafted in the sweet perfume of sweet herbs and clover, the widow, her son and George, sat one evening talking of home affairs. " You have never told us of your home, Captain Stevenson. It is in the north, I presume?'* queried the widow. 174 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. - "Mj home is in South Carolina ," he replied, " but my birthplace is Louisiana." " All my family were born in Mississippi, in the town' of Brookhaven." "I was married there, too," said Mrs." Gray. " My husl>dnd was for some years occupying an office as Justice of the Peace, but he was never a very robust man and he was obliged to resiga and give up life in that State, so after the birth of Robbie we came here and settled upon this farm which I now cultivate without him to aid me. For ten years he labored and toiled making but little headway, but he never demurred. A day came though when he gfve up to the disease so- long persecuting him, and he acknowledged he was dying. How well I remember it. It had been a very warm day and a hard one for him in the field. He had worked very steadily and came home a little earlier than usual for tea, looking pale and weary worn, but his eyes shone with unnatural brightness, and on each cheek was the hectic flush I knew so well. ThrowinLj himself down out there on the grass without changing his field clothes^ as was his custom after a day's work, he fell asleep. I allowed him to re- in about an hour. Going to awakea him I was starded at learning he was unable to rise, and a severe pain in the lungs caused him much difficulty in breathing, Clinton was a little fellow then, but with his aid we succeeded in carrying him into bed. About midnight a heavy hemorrhage get in which continued in- cessantly until early morning. The doctor was with him by this time, and to all my questions he turned a deaf ear. We had none of us breakfasted yet, and I had gone to the kitchen to prepare that meal when I waS' ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 175 summoned to his side. Eeacbing there, he looked up so sorowfully, saying, "Bessie, I am dying," and he never spoke again. She paused here a moment and wiped her eyes re- peatedly, but ere long she lesumed 'ler narrative. " It will be needless to add I suffered much from this terrible loss, but my family was young, so I had to . smother my grief as best I might and try to keep up the farm. So I have lived on pretty much as you see for the past eight years. Mr. Gray liked farming very much and we were very happy while he lived. During our first few months of residence here we were some- times a little lonely, so, often in the evenings he would entertain us with incidents of the court room and re- gistrar's ofhce. Many amused us, some saddened us, others [juzzled us. One I particularly remember which puzzled me much at the time, as T figured in it and we often talked of it years afterwards. If you would like to hear it I will tell you of it," she said, turning to George. He was quite anxious, he said, and as the widow had a pleasant voice and a good mode of delivery he was always pleased when she talked at length. ' ' It must have been about 1840, soon after we were marricvd, when one evening Hugh came tiome to tea and said he must return after the meal to his office on busi- ness. He told me I might go too if I wished and in fact urged me to. I was only too happy to agree as I never liked to be separated from him an hour unneces- . sarily. I must have been seated in the office about half an hour, Hugh was at his desk c.irelessly looking through some legal papers I suppose, ^'vllOn the door 176 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. opened and a man, a gentleman entered. I think I never before or since saw such a handsome face, such a fine figuie and courtly, knightly manner. His age miglit have been forty-five or fifty ; being fair, one would easily have mistaken him to be some years younger than he really was. I knew at a glance he was a gentleman and a stranger in our town. At his side, clinging timidly, was a young woman with such a sweet pensive face and jetty ringlets tailing over her shoulders down past her slender w^aist. She had a very Spanish look about her and such a strange hunted expression iu her oyes. The man at her side never offered word of comfort, nor explanation, nor noticed her in any way. She had thrown aside her long black cloak and stood arrayed in a plain white woollen gown, so well suited to her style of beauty ; a black lace scarf was tied loosely over her pretty head. An office clerk now entered and Hugh then told me that these people were to be married and 1 was to " stand up " with then). So I and the clerk witnesseH the marriage cere- mony which made the strange couple man and wife. She had such a pretty name, Ruth Bruce, her husband's was John Stevenson." George sprang from his chair and said in a loud clear voice: — - "Tliat man was my father. My mother was his slave. And he married her. Thank God for this, I have a name, my mother was a wife. I knew it would some day be proven that T was not what those wicked men said I was." KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 177 Then followed from George his life with minutest details. It was the widow's and Clinton's turn to give vent to exclamations now. Such romance had never before been recited under her humble roof. George's heart was gladdened when Mrs. Gray told him how after the ceremony was finished his father took his mother in his embrace and kissed and caressed her lavishly. She, poor girl, fairly wept with joy. He had done it all as a surprise to her. This accounted for the hunted look in her eves. " " • This discovery made George happier than he had ever been in his life, and did more to making him feel better in health than all the medical treatment of months past. Thoroaghly rejuvenated, he resolved to start for South Carolina at the end of the month, bringing him to Kose Mount — God willing — the beginning of July. He had been nearly two years away, and little Lionel was over four years old now. The war was endeil, all the slaves liberated, and his moilior was a woman now lilted to her proper level. He was a man with a name, with one of America's titles awarded him, and would have wealth LOon at his com- mand. He could prove his mother's marriage and his lawful birth, both by AVidow Gray's corroboration and a search through Brookhaven records of long years' pre- servation. All that was left for him to do was to start for home, make known these facts, and claim his wife- and child before the world. Surely there was much joy in store for him. . Was there ? A little time will unfold all. M m 178 HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. ■ ■...■::''■:;:[ :, CHAPTEE XXL / ; ;' . ■ r DOWN BY THE SEA. ' .^ ;- A SOUTHERN-BOUND train was steaming along an route for Charleston towards the close of a warm day, the second of July. '. - Reaching the above named place it halted, and one passenger, whom we recognize as our hero, alighted and hastened with light step to take the accommodation train which conveyed passengers to the village of , near Rose Mount. - "; Entering it, he found all the seats occupied but one — not a desirable one — near the door. But it mattered but little to him now, as he was so near the dearly loved home. Seating himself in it, he was 'lardly arranged when another passenger entered, and looked about for a place to be seated. Seeing the one only half occupied by George, he asked if he might share it with him. The former willingly consented, and made room for his unknown companion. After the train was fairly started he took a hasty sur- vey of the tall, handsome young man at his side. Some- thing in his dark face struck him as being very familiar. It was the mouth and chin, he discovered at last, and a terrible suspicion rushed upon him of who this man might be. He at last ventured to ask : "Are you travelling much further ?" KOSE WOvOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 179 " I have come quite a distance, but will nearly end my destination. I am going to St. Clare Wood's plantation — Eose Mount." ' " Yes ?" interrogated his companion ; but seeing he offered no further information, he said again, " I am going there, too. I have visited the place often. My card," and he handed George the conventional little slip of card-board, upon which he read : . ; ADOLPH STRUSS, M.D., ■•■,,,;;;,■ v/..; ■,,'v,;;,:. ■/;;;-„. Xew Orleans. " I have not such a thing about me/* smilingly answered George, " but my name is Stevenson. Per- haps at Eose Mount you may have heard of me ?" " Oh ! yes," responded the doctor, " I believe St. Clare Wood told me you were once his slave, but liberated as a reward for some service to his daughter. Do you still recognize Eose Mount as your home ?" " Most undoubtedly I do ; my mother, I trust, is still there, as is I hope my wife and rhild," he answered proudly. Dr. Struss said no more and treated George through- out the journey with silent indifference. If he felt startled at George's information, he showed it not ; it was against his ideas of manhood to ever show surprise or emotion. But I fear if our hero could have looked down deep into his villianous heart he would hardly have sat so outwardly calm and happy during the re- mainder of the journey. The two men presented a striking appearance, the one so young, tall, manly and :'i: I ni:: iii !' I 180 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. handsome, with a face of candor and trust, the other elderly, caricature, and loathsome-lookinsf, with his sul- len countenance wearing an unusually grim, repulsive expression. He was on his way to Rose Mount unin- vited, for the purpose of winning or forcing a promise from Rose Wood to become his wife at an early date. He had granted an extension of the mortgage for another year ; now, as the time for the expiration was near at hand, he was bent upon seeing some prospects of either the return of the money or Rose Wood's hand. The former he knew could not be forthcoming, the lat- ter he never had doubted would be granted to him. Now, this man had unfortunately appeared and would frustrate all his deep-laid plans. Would he allow him to dash the cup of oreed and pleasure so nearly raised to his lips ? They believed him dead, and Rose had mourned for him thus. Was there any reason wliy he should not be so in reality ? No, he must never per- mit him to reach Rose Mount acrain. But how could he prevent it ? Not much time remained to scheme, but he made the best of it. He could not draw a revolver there on the spot, and with one shot send him coolly out of existence ; that involved too great a risk. The village of was reached at last. " I sup- pose," said the. doctor, "we may as well go on to the plantation t ogether." George willingly agreed. Doctor Struss then sig- nalled to a carriage standing near, evidently awaiting employment. The black who drove it advanced with the vehicle and George's companion bade him enter, he speaking a few hurried words to the negro ere he did EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 181 ti!« likewise. George took no notice of this ; his mind was filled with the joys he anticipated now near at hand. After they had journeyed some miles he looked out and, though the country was familiar to him, he knew it was not the road which led to Rose Mount. He spoke of this to his moody companion, and he re- plied, " Yps, they are making a new road to the planta- tion, the old one is entirely abandoned, and access is now gained to it by a road which leads round by the sea. Reaching the shore of the ocean, he bade the driver halt, and as there was no luggage but sm.all hand sat- chels, he paid him and told him to be off. " We must make the next two miles on foot, as the road has not been quite, completed," he said to George, as he knew some explanation was necessary for this last proceeding. George wondered a little at this, but would have uncomplainingly walked double the distance knowing what awaited him at the end. Turning toward the sea, he greeted its briny face, again saying tenderly, " You dear old ocean, many happy days I have known by your shores." " Yes," said his companion, " you get a fine view of it in its glory and its fury from this point, advancing as he spoke near the edge and then stopped. The shore was high and rocky at this point, and one must look down some feet before they saw the waters. George followed the speaker, and stood l)y his side in silence. Then suddenly he felt himself swept off his feet, and a moment more touched the surging waves below. One 10 '•I I. ■ u. 182 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. long unearthly shriek he gave and disappeared into their cold embrace. The perpetrator of this heinous deed, turned and tied with elastic rapidity, never halt- ing in his speed until more than a mile was covered. At last he came in sight of the plantation, and reaching the gate, he walked (quickly, up the path, sprang up the stone steps, pausing a moment to regain composure ere he rang the bell. A moment more and he was admitted and conducted to the library, where were seated St. Clare Wood, Gerald Gordon, and Rose. V The planter and his daughter greeted their uninvited, unexpected, unwelcome guest with marked coolness and studied courtesy. Neither of these facts escaped the M. D's observation. After he had completed his toilet and eaten a hearty supper, he again joine'd the party in the library. Seating himself between the planter and his daughter, he addressed no one in particular, saying : " You were surprised at seeing me here to night." " Very much so," responded St. Clare Wood seeing no one tendered an answer. " : "I am welcome I suppose ?" queried he. " I am always pleased to welcome any of my ac- quaintances to the house I call my home, and it is always open to any stranger or traveller for rest and comfort. You are enroute north perhaps or why are we indebted to you for this visit ? " satirically asked the planter in slow measured tones.^ " My business here to-night is with your daughter, and if you will pardon us we would like to be alone while we discuss it ; either she or I will acquaint you with it afterwards." ROSE WOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 183 " Hose answered him in cold deliberate tones, " Any- thing Di. Struss wishes to say to me may be said here, I am perfectly a«»reeable to aquaint both my father and my guest with anything you are pleased to term business • with me, otherwise I fear it must I'emain unsaid." Antagonistically he retorted : " I am afraid some of it may surprise and shock either your father or your guest, thereby placing you in an embarrassing position." " I am willing to be thus placed and it will be for our audience to judge whether the facts you are about to disclose are surprising or shocking. The parts in which you figure may no doubt call forth horror and indigna- tion."^ : ■ . ■ Clearing his throat a number of times, crossing and re-crossing his crooked legs, he commenced without further delay with a wicked glitter in his eyes and a hard smile on his ugly face : " In the summer of '62 I was summoned from my home in New Orleans to attend a lady who was said to be very ill at Lake Pontchantrain, a summer resort per- haps known to you a few miles distant from the city. I hastened to do my duty without a moment's delay. Upon arriving there I was introduced to a Mrs. Browne, said to be from the north, with her one servant living alone and secluded in the little cottage then occupied by them. I gave the lady all the attention due the oc- casion, remaining until morning came and with it came also the lady's little son. I visited her as often as was necessary during the whole of the summer, perhaps I made unnecessary calls a^ I was much interested in her. l!''I!i m m 184 ROSE WOOD, OR THE 0CT0R002s'S BRIDE. I knew instinctively her circumstances and was sorry for her misfortune. When my services were no longer needed I was dismissed, seeing no more of my patient until the autumn of '6P) when I visited you, St. Clare Wood, here, on some private important business. At my first meal in this house I recognized your daughter as the Mrs. Browne I attended more than a year past at Lake Pontchantrain, known here as Miss AVood." St. Clare Wood, during all this narrative, uttered no word but sat in stoical silence with his eyes fixed on vacancy. Gerald Gordon and Rose sat immovable, their eyes bent upon the carpet. " She recognized me," continued the narrator, " and after I had attended to her child, who, you will remem- ber, needed my aid, I came to you and settled the busi- ness I came to Rose Mount to transact. Then your daughter and I had an interview at midni«^ht out in the grounds, in which I made known to her the state of en- tanglement which surrounded her home, at the same time offering her my sympathy for what I then and do still consider her misfortune, and vowed vengeance on her betrayer. I have since found out who he really was, and a bigger ingrate never trod the soil than he;, you will agree I am right when you learn his name- She admitted her maternal relationship to the child in charge of your quadroon slave Ruth, and tried to make' me believe she was a lawful wife, but that such fact was hidden from the world tor some reason best known to themselves. I believed as much of her well-told tale as I \A ished, later on I wrote her a letter to which she has never yet responded. In it I told her 1 w ould cancti ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S RKIDE. 185 >:, the mortgage and destroy all traces of it if slio consented to become the wife of a mail who loved her. That man was myself. I believe, yes, I swear, I loved her from the first moment I saw her. She haunted me night and day, and I saw nothing after tlie death of my wife to prevent our union. All these months she has remained silent to my pleadings. Now that I am driven to it, I am here to let you know I will accept nothing at the expiration of the mortgage but the solid cash or your daughter's hand. I will give you back your home un- encumbered if she agrees to my terms, not a very high price, as it will preserve your honor and her reputation, I have said all there is to say. It is for her to decide." A hush lay on the small party, nothing was heard but the ticking of the ormolu clock on the mantel ; then IRose's father spoke to her saying, " Is this all true, Rose ? Come to me and tell me your story now." Rising she obeyed, going to his side, she knelt down, looking into liis face with clear, open countenance and said in a firm voice : — " Yes, papa, it is true that I met this man as he says and that I am Lionel's mother. A lawful mother, papa, for George Stevenson was my husband, we were married shortly after his liberation, by God's holy minister in the church at . This was at my own suggestion before he commenced college. I could not suffer him to go away, loving him as I did, without first knowing lie was mine by all that was sacred and holy. Lionel was born a year afterwards. It has caused me much grief to withhold all this from you and often since my darl- ing's death there were times when I could hardly sup- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) / // // /- .ft^ ,V^ r/ fA 1.0 I.I 1^ Ui lU 12.2 S 144 """ 2.0 11.25 i 1.4 1.6 <^ VI V v: V /A 186 ItOSE wool), Oil THE OCTOROON'S BKIDE. press my desire to tell you all, then I would start up to- find you and confess all, but something still held me back. I would have told you at the time, but George asked me to spare him, he could not have you think of me wedded to a liberated slave, a man unknown to the world, not known to anyone save the few on the plan- tation. This was his misfortune, papa, not his fault. I loved him because I saw in him talent, goodness, pure heartedness and all the Stirling qualities that are to be found in a nobleman of Nature, that marvelous handi- work of God. Our friend, Gerald Gordon, was with him in his last hours and saw him die. He has known my secret ever since. It was my husband's dving re- quest that if in the course of events I should marry again Gerald Gordon should be my choice. I have never given a decided answer, as my sorrow is young yet, but Gerald will always be the truest and best friend I ever knew outside of you, papa, and my poor George. Our marriage is on record down in the church, I am free from the black accusations this man has dared to heap upon me and I have borne it all with patience and in silence. Now, papa, do not withhold from me your forgiveness and love me any the less. I have suffered much for withholding all this for so many years from you." The father drew her closer. Shielding her with his strong parental arm he turned to Dr. Struss, looking foiled and enraged at them, and in thundering tones said : — " Now, sir, I have listened to both sides of the story and it is needless to add which I believe. Were I less IIOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 187 the man, thank God, he has made me, I would drive you from my door like a venomous monster and bid you not hope for mercy. I now charge you that with to- morrow's rising sun you leave these premises and never darken my door again while I am master here. In September you may enter as the rightful owner, until then I say be goj^e." He cowered before that awful voice and gaze of the insulted father and was only too glad to quit his presence. 'Twas late in the night ere father and daughter sought their apartments, so much had they to talk of. Gerald Gordon withdrew shortly after the exit of the doctor. 1^ CHAPTER XXT.~G(mtini(ed. When Dr. Struss dismissed the negro who had driven George and himself to their lonely terminus, he reluctantly turned away, and, reaching the carriage, sprang into ^be seat chirruping to his horses, started back in the direction of . He had gone but a few paces when he drew rein and listened intently for the sound of voices, but all was as silent as the tomb ; but something whispered to him that all was not right, so he sprang from the carriage, and with a light tread hitched the horses to a tree and stealthily cre^^t to where he had left the two mysterious travellers. On a small rock he secured a good coign of vantage, w 188 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. and from there he saw in outline the figures of the two men standing close to the shore. Then the shriek fell upon his ears, followed by a splash, then all was still for an instant ; then the sound of rapid running footsteps were heard, soon dyin^ away. Hastily the black ran to the scene of the tragedy, deserted now. Peering into the darkness below, he waited for some sound from the sea. Suddenly an object appeared in the water, and without waiting for further proof that it was the victim, he leaped into the black waters and struck out in the direction whence the figure appeared. Once again it floated to the surface, and slow death-like rattles echoed from its throat. In an instant the strong black seized him, and tossed and lashed by the seething billows, struggled to the shore not far distant with his human burden on his back. Much weakened by his contest with the sea, he dropped George with a heavy thud on the sands. When rested he turned to the insensible man to ascer- tain his condition. Joyous to relate, life was not yet extinct. Drawing him farther from the water, he then climbed with much difficulty the jagged rocks and hastened to the carriage, and, gathering up rugs, took a small black bottle from under the box seat, and went back again to the man he had rescued from a watery grave. Forcing open his mouth, he held the bottle to his lips, and was pleased to listen to George swallowing the draught. Wrapping him in the rugs, he thre^ himself down by the victim's side to await consciousness. Slowly George drifted back to sensibility again, and looking about in HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. 189 ^he daikness, asked in tones of bewilderment, " Is any- one near?" " Yes sah !" answered the black, " A friend. You feel •^better now, sah ? If so you must get away from here. It am mighty cold for you, I reckon, though if I had not come along when I did, I 'spects you*d have been colder before you'd been warmer." *' Who are you, my good fellow ?" kindly asked George. *' You must be strange in these 'ere parts to ask me dat question, sah. Maybe not, though, 'cause it 'pears to me I've seen your face so liie where, but don't exactly recomember now ; but come sah, you must get •away from de cold air of de sea. Let me help you. Now lean on me and we may find a road near by. I 'spects you can't climb." After much search they found steps that George re- membered seeing often in his rambles with Kose, Reaching the carriage, the negro assisted him to a seat in a semi-conscious state. The negro whipped up his weary, impatient horses, and long after midnight reached . Going at once to his home, he alarmed the household, and soon George was borne into a com- fortable bed, where dry clothes and restoratives awaited him. He was recognized by the master of the house, who was a liveryman, and the negro who rescued him was none other than the one who had years ago so nearly killed Rose Wood in his brutal assault upon her, which our readers will remember happened in the be- ginning of this story. After he had fully recovered .from the effects of the previous night's adventure, he . m -■•I 190 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON S BRIDE. tdld his tale, and was impatient to be oft* to the plauta--^ tion, but Tom Hastings, his protector, would not permit such a proceeding until he had been more rested and nourished. Great was his deliverer's joy when he heard who he had so miraculously saved, and he praised God loud and long that the time had come when he could repay the girl who had once spared him his miserable life and a harsh punishment which he richly deserved. About nine o'clock Mr. Hastings, George and the negro started for Kose Mount, the former gentleman using all his powers of persuasion to keep George from jumping from the carriage and running all the way as he felt inclined to do. As they neared the plantation George was afraid that the scene that met his eyes was a mirage, and he seemed as though borne up the long avenue on air. Mr. Hast- ings prevailed upon him to wait in the carriage some distance from the house until he had prepared the in- mates of the dwelling for their surprise. Like a martyr on the rack he submitted, and while he was enduring agonizing suspense awaiting his summons to his loved ones, let us take a peep into the dwelling and see what was transpiring there amid tears and loud exclamations of rage and sorrow. ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOKOON'S BRIDE. 191 CHAPTER XXII. JOY COMETH WITH THE MORROW. THE morning after Dr. Struss bad been given his- conge from Eose Mount, St. Clare Wood and Gerald Gordon breakfasted alone together. When the meal was finished the planter rang for the butler, bidding him send breakfast to the unbidden guest, in his room, and afterwards he was to see that the single carriage was in readiness to convey him to the depot. The aged black soon returned saying that the doctor had evidently taken his departure, as the room bore no traces of occupancy; the bed had not even been slept in. At this moment Rose, in negligee attire, came running into the room wringing her hands and crying in a wild voice : " Oh ! papa, that horrid man has gone and he must have taken Lionel with him as he is nowhere to be found. I know he has stolen my boy, and what may he not do to him in his thirst for revenge and bis vileness." St. Clare Wood ordered a search for the missing child, thinking he might have strayed alone from Ruth's room and was, maybe, amusing himself or had fallen asleep somewhere in the great rambling house. But the search proved fruitless. The child was not in the- house. Frantically the slaves rushed throughout the plantation, beating the hedges, rooting in bushes and tiiil i 192 ROSE WOOD, Oil THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE •outhouses, but were forced to return with the same message, not there. Kose groaned and wept aloud, sob- bing pitifully. " Oh ! no, he is not here, not here, but where, oh where, is he." St. Clare Wood sent despatches at once to detectives in , antl they at once telegraphed north, south, east and west. It would be night, possibly, ere they had any returns, so the father strove hard to tj,uell his daughter's frenzied distress. The Doctor must have made his fliglit between the hours of three and four, and it was discovered that he had appropriated to his use one of the two saddle- horses in the stable. St. Clare Wood's stock was now reduced to four horses — two carriage and two saddle. The best of these had been taken by the German Doc- tor, who by so doing had avoided taking a train, and was at this moment riding in some obscure route, bear- ing little Lionel to some unknown destination. A hush fell upon the occupants of Kose Mount, as though there was a death in it, lor with this new trouble liad come to all the knowledge of who Lionel really was. The slaves stood about in groups convers- ing in low tones, with solemn faces and tearful eyes » while in the library, grief-stricken unto death, lay the mother, the planter and his guest — Gerald .Gordon — striving hard to stem the furious gush of intolerable anguish. Softly the door opened, and the footman motioned to St. Clare Wood. Kising in obedience to this summons, Rose grasped his arm, crying, " Do not leave me, papa ; ROSE WOOD, OR THK OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 193 I will die if left alone. Oh, my boy ! my boy ! my dar- •>» r.ng little son ! " Be calm, dear," said her father ; " remember it is too early to despair. Wait until we have had some answer to our en({uiries before regarding his recovery as hope- less. You will not be alone — Gerald will stay with you — and I may not be a minute. Now, dear, try to be less worried; do, for my sake,'' kissing her as he spoke, then leaving the room. In the hall he perceived a man standing near the door, where the footman had left him. Advancing to- wards him, he instantly recognized who he was. Think- ing his errand was about the sale or purchase of horses, he greeted him with the hospitable, chivalrous manner characteristic to his race — which, please God, may never degenerate — saying: " Good morning, Mr. Hastings ; I am pleased to see ■ yuu. This is the first time I have ever had the pleasure of welcoming you to Kose Mount. Come inside and get rested; you have had fjuite a drive. Luke, tell Ike to bring some refreshments for this gentleman." "No, no; I thank you very much," responded Mr. Hastings. " I can not tarry a minute. I am here, Mr. AYood, as the bearer of great — it will seem to you in- credible—news. Joyful news, I must say." Joyful news ! Then it must be that the Doctor was captured, and his little grauv^ -^n was safe ! " Can you prepare yourself for a great shock — a tre- ■ mendous surprise ?'' continued Mr. Hastings. Great shock ! Tremendous surprise ! . Joyful news I — very extravau;ant lani!:uaue, surelv. 194 nOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S liRTDE. " Speak, man ! This suspense is killing!" cried the planter. "Well, then, you believe (Jeorge Stevenson to be dead ?" " Believe him to be dead ? i have every and the best of proofs that he is so. The man who witnessed his death, and was with him in his last moments, is at pre- sent here in this house." " You have all been deceived, replied Mr. Hastings, " He is alive and well, 1 know the whole story I heard it from the lips of George Stevenson himself this morn- ing. He is out side awaiting to prove all I have said." " Man, you are mad," cried the planter " such a thing is utterly impossible after all these months. He is an impostor. Show him to me, I will know and should he be such let him beware of the punishment due to such adventurers," Springing to the door he tore it open and seeing no one in view he was satisfied Mr. Hastings was suffering from some derangement of the brain. But that gentle- man stepped out after him and with an assuring smile on his pleasant face, whistled, and in an instant the carriage appeared ; one of its occupants jumped from it and rapidly approached the dwelling. The moment the planter saw him he knew it was the true George Stevenson and none other, only one man he had ever known had that light swinging gait, and that smile and eyes ; no one could counterfeit them. The aged man embraced the younger one and shook, as if in a palsied fit. George could give utterance to neither word nor sound and tears uncontrollable rolled I i HOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 195 down his cheeks. Taking him by the hand as though he were a child, St. Clare Wood led him up the steps through the door and along the hall, when they at length reached the partially closed door, and the words that fell distinctly upon their ears were : " How can I bear it, my boy, my boy, my starry-eyed darling. Why, oh why, must I suffer thus. Father in heaven, how have I displeased Thee to be punished in this manner. My husband filling an unknown grave, my child stolen from my breast, my father fail- ing fast and slipping away from me, and soon alas I will be alone. George did you know all your Rose would endure, how hard it would be to live without you when you drifted away to that unknown shore ? Come back to me darling, and let me tell you all just as I used to in your dear arms. George, George, come back just a minute love, come back, come back." " Rose, I am here, I have come back again not for a minute but forever. See dear, it is George alive and loving, not dead as you have mourned for me." Kose sprang from her crouching posture on the floor. Gerald Gordon who sat with his face buried in his hands, listening to that wild wail stood erect and felt rooted to the spot. Mechanically the wife approached the husband, who was held back by her father, and with eyes dilated, face paled, lips parted, breast heaving and with a loud cry of surprise and joy fell fainting in his embrace, sinking low on his bosom. When she re- covered from the shock, the planter drew Gerald Gor- don from the room to explain what little as he yet knew, and closing the door left the long separated pair alone. 196 IJOSE "WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. Let US not dwell upon this picture ofjreunion. Only to» God and his angels will it ever be ^known what tran- spired there, CHArXER XXIII. TWENTY YEARS' PENAL SERVITUDE. THE new giiefwas forgottei in the new joy. Ruth's- reason was for a time a danger of being un- seated at the miraculous resurrection of her son. Eagerly the household surrounded him, and pressed him for the story of his hardships and deliverances, of which my readers are fully aware. The day wore into twilight, and still there was much to be told of the strange, incredulous tale. He stopped often to caress his much loved wife, and for a time "joy reigned supreme." Two days elapsed ere any news of the missing ones came to them, and then, early in the evening of the second day,- 1 telegram reached St. Clare Wood, worded thus : " The man captured, but alone. Shall we detain him ? Waiting instructions. '*Grabb & Co." And the answer went speedily back : " Yes ; put him under arrest. He is to be found guilty of two crimes. Particulars will foMow soon. St. Clare Wood.'' ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 197 All were too much ^sorbed in rejoicing to give vent to such wild sorrow as heretofore known, but Lionel was by no means forgotten. Only his return now remained to complete their happiness. As it had been telegraphed, the Doctor was placed imder arrest for abduction and for assault with intent to kiU. Dr. Struss had been overtaken in Savanna.i, Georgia, ^whither he had travelled, and dismounted the ridden-to- death steed some distance from the city, leaving it to die upon the commons. Then he sneaked into town, and took refuge in a second-rate hotel — first assuming the disguise of a minister, in clerical garb and smooth- shaven face. After he had made a second toilet in the hotel, and eaten a hearty breakfa t, he sauntered out, Bible and tracts under his arm, to find some secluded spot to think it all out. Crossing a public square, he was accosted by a beggar for "ch-a-r i-t-y p-1-e-a-se," and, turning savagely upon him, he sent him away in anything but a ministerial - like manner. The beggar — who proved to be a detective, who had dogged his steps ever since his arrival in the •city — now motioned to two officers, and they, overtaking the M. D. alias divine, conducted him to a place of safety, then, after reporting success thus far, awaited further orders. What they were we already know. After his arrest he was removed to Charleston, to which place St. Clare Wood, Gerald Gordon, Mr. Hastings, and " Brutus " — the rescuer of George — Kuth, Kose and her husband went also to witness and stand evidence in Jiis trial when the Court" convened. As to the disposi- 11 198 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. tion of Lionel, he admitted with sullen insolence that he had given him to a couple — a man and a woman — whom he met on his way to Savannah. They were jouruciying overland with a waggon and horses to some of the Northern States, and, having no family, eagerly accepted the child. But who they were, from whence they came, or whither they went, still remained a mys- tery. Dr. Struss' sentence was ttventy years penal servi- tvde, and he received it with stoical indifference. On his way out he was heard to remark, ** It's some better than death. I am not an old man yet, and twenty years more will not superannuate me. The only way, and the best way, is to grin and bear it." Large sums as reward were offered for the discovery of Lionel, rewards that the Woods could ill spare as they were poorer than ever now after 'ue 7ar, but days and months passed away and still no nb came of the little one. The mortgage was now overdue and ^o. Clare Wood and family were about to ^complete arrangements to move into Charleston, where he and George were to en- gage in some active business, as it would be necessary for them to do thus to sustain a livelihood. Four of the old servants and Euth insisted upon accompanying them, and in vain did their ex-master expostulate, tell- ing them of his inability to give them wages, but wages or no wages they would not be driven away. Euth, of course, was now one oi the family, and her home was always to be with them. Through Arthur Gordon'« influence some northern friends had written to St. Clare Wood offering him a KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDl 199 treasurership in a well-known Railroad Company, but he refused on the plea of old age. He would not mind being responsible for his own affairs, but to adopt those of others he felt he must refuse, but at the same time recommending a substitute in the form of his son-in- law, George Stevenson. That he was, on the other hand, rather young but at the same time fully competent of acquitting himself with satisfaction. The package of letters, etc., that Gerald Gordon had so unfortunately lost on the battle field was greatly missed and sorrowed for now. Had they been preserved there would have been no occasion for vacating the old home, and neither of our two southerners would have been pushed to such straits for a living. Arthur Gordon was extremely kind to his friend and family, and they made their home with him until de- cided plans were settled upon. Seated one morning in his smoking room he was read* ing a northern newspaper when suddenly something attracted his attention, and let us now follow the lines upon which his riveted gaze was fixed. " If this should chance to meet the eye of friends or relatives of the late Captain George Stevenson, let them communicate with Major H. T. Arlington, Boston, Mass. Box 109, and they will hear of something greatly to their advantage. A package of valuable papers are in my possession and will be relinquished upon positive proof that claimer or claimers are lawfully entitled to such possession. Southern and Western papers please copy. In previous advertisements the South has been omitted." 200 KOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON's BRIDE. Immediately he started in search for George. Find- ing him engaged in conversation with St. Clare Wood, he, without ceremony, advanced, saying, pointing to the advertisement, " Read that," which our hero did with- out delay. ' ** This is certainly a streak of providential luck," he exclaimed, jumping from his chair and rushing about the room. " This means Rose Mount again and money, lots of it, at my command. I will start at once, taking Rose with me, and I shall never rest now until my boy is found if he be alive. It is just a year since he was taken from us. God knows how it has been with him. I must find Rose and tell her, I feel wild with delight." Suiting the action to the word he did so and at the end of a week he started northward accompanied by his wife. CHAPTER XXIV. THE CUP OERFLOWS. I George had no difficulty in proving his identity and as soon as the package was recovered he took immediate steps to secure the wealth, which had in these three years increased, and then started south again, stopping in New York to get rested and to insert advertisements in ail the leading papers for the whereabouts of Lionel. The day alter their arrival Rose and her husband ROSE VOOD, OK THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 201 were driving through one of the principal streets of our far-famed city, and Eose seeing some very fine fruit at an apple venders asked for the carriage to stop, as she wished to purchase some. To her disappointment the apples she desired mostly were sold, but the woman promised to get some more of the same and send them in the evening to where she was stopping. Giving her address she drove away and left word that she would pay for them upon delivery. Eose was somewhat her olu self again and but for her silvery hair, which still remained white as the snowy crested waves in the sea, would not have looked a day older than she really was. George, despite his many hardships, was now only bursting full into manhood's prime. If only her boy had been spared to her she would have considered herself one of the few perfectly happy mortals who are found on this sphere. But she always lived in hope of finding him some day, but when or where she knew not. Sitting in their apartments that evening the husband and wife were talking over again their eventful lives and dwelling much upon the subject nearest their hearts, their son. A loud rap at the door broke into their conversation and reverie — it was a bell boy, bearing in his arms the promised fruit, saying, " The boy is waiting to be paid." " How much does he want ?" asked George. " I did not ask, sir, but he is down stairs. 1 shall go and ask him, if you wish." " Very well," said George ; and, as the boy turned to. go, Eose said : 202 EOSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. i I I "We must give him something extra for his trouble, don't you think ?" The bell boy hastened to fulfill his errand, and ere many minutes passed he again opened the door, saying : " Here he is, sir." A little fellow of about five or six entered, bare footed, cap in hand, poorly but cleanly clad. His face had a puny, sad look, which made his large eyes look much larger. His head was a mass of short black curls. George advanced to pay him the small sum for a dozen of apples, when suddenly the room was filled with a wild shriek from Eose. ** Lionel ! George, look! — our son !" and seizing the startled child, she hugged him to her breast, covering his face with kisses. " Oh, white mammy !" he sobbed, " I am so glad — so glad ! I have prayed to God to let me see you and black mammy once more." ,"0h, darling 1" she cried, "you have had your prayer answered. You have seen white mammy, and I am going to take you to black mammy to-morrow ; but I am your own mamma now, dear — and see ! this is your papa." George carressed the 'little one lavishly, but Kose would not let him be taken from her arms. Quickly they hastened to where Lionel said he lived, which was only two blocks from the hotel where they were stopping, and learned from the woman they had seen at the apple-stand early in the afternoon how she came by Lionel. » " We were travelling from Jacksonville, my husband and I, on our way here to make our fortune — as we ^ -t ^ ROSE WOOD, OH THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. 203 iw id re thought. We had a team, and, not having money enough to travel by rail, decided to start overland. We had just left Savannah when we met a man on horse- back. He stopped us, and said he was a stranger in those parts, and that his wife was dead, leaving a little boy. He had no way of taking care of him, and he was sick,so he asked us if we would take him and keep him as our own. My husband hesitated a minute ; but when I begged of him to take him, and whispered to him I guessed the man's trouble had turned his brain, as he looked actually crazy, and that he might do something awful to the child, he then gave in to me, and the man tossed the little one into my lap, and rode away without another word. I have done my best to be good to him, and I love him very Uiuch. I am afraid he cannot say the same of me, as he has never ceased to cry for his white mammy and black mammy. Sometimes he has talked about some lady he called Bose ; a lady, he says, who could sing lovely songs about God and the angels, and who sometimes cried until her head was sick. By degrees I came to the conclusion that he had been stolen, and was about to make known the case to the public when trouble came to me ; my husband died of fever, and I had to struggle hard to get bread for myself and Lionel. He remembered his name, and I never changed it, thinking it would some day discover for him his parents. He never spoke of a father, but he said that white mammy and black mammy used to sometimes talk of George, and then white mammy would cry; he guessed it was for George she cried ; he maybe was a naughty boy, and naughty boys always made ladies cry." 204 ROSE WOOD, OR THE OCTOROON'S BRIDE. Kose and George listened attentively to all the woman related, and felt sure she was a good soul and had hai a hard struggle since she had left her Florida home. The large reward offered was given to her, thereby making her independent for life. She was loathe to give Lionel up, and sobbed a little as he took his departure that night. The happy parents started for Charleston the next day, and their happiness was indescribable. Eeaching home, there was much rejoicing for many days. The large sum that caused Rose Mount to be taken away from Rose and her father was placed to the credit of Dr. Struss' heirs, and in autumn the planter and his family returned to home, sweet home again. George liberally remembered widow Gray, who was much pleased upon learning of his good fortune. In due time the plantation was restored to its former glory, and " all went merry as a marriage bell." Gerald Gordon never married ; iie devoted his days to his widowed sister and fatherless nephews who had come to reside in the mother's parental southern home. Dr. Struss never served out his sentence ; some years after his transportation he tried to escape, and was shot and killed by a guard. Those who read of his fate said, ** Verily the wages of sin are death." My story is told, and all its pages of sorrow and joy have come to a close. There is nothing more for the author now to write but THE END. n- -ij